Latest news with #NatashaRichardson
South China Morning Post
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- South China Morning Post
Meet Liam Neeson's sons, Micheál and Daniel: they still take inspiration from the Taken star's late wife Natasha Richardson, but what about his friendship with his Naked Gun co-star, Pamela Anderson?
Hollywood legend Liam Neeson's new film Absolution hits theatres on November 1 – but the internet is already talking about his next project, thanks to a new team-up. The Taken actor is co-starring with Baywatch icon Pamela Anderson for an upcoming reboot of Naked Gun – and the two cannot stop gushing over each other. In a recent People interview, Neeson quipped that he was 'madly in love' with Anderson, while she called him a 'perfect gentleman'. Liam Neeson stars in Absolution. Photo: Samuel Goldwyn Films/TNS The 72-year-old also opened up to People about his sobriety, wishing he had given up alcohol sooner. He revealed that his drinking got out of hand after the tragic passing of his wife, Natasha Richardson, who succumbed to a brain haemorrhage from a skiing accident. Advertisement When he decided to get sober in 2013, it was for his sons, Micheál, 29, and Daniel, 28. 'I just thought, 'This isn't a good example for my boys, so I'm just going to quietly stop. Not going to announce it. Just quietly stop.' And I did,' he shared of the turning point. So, what do we know about Liam Neeson's sons? What was their childhood like? Liam Neeson's sons were used to having a busy father as young kids. Photo: @bgdans91/Instagram The Neeson brothers adapted to their parents' busy schedules at a young age. The Oscar-nominated actor told People that his wife gave birth to one of their sons on location. 'So they're used to Dad being away for long periods of time,' he joked. After Richardson passed away, her mother, actress Vanessa Redgrave, would babysit her grandsons for her busy son-in-law. Micheál is an actor
New York Post
13-05-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Post
Vanessa Redgrave makes rare comment about late daughter Natasha Richardson's tragic death
Natasha Richardson's family is remembering her over 16 years after her death. The late 'Parent Trap' star's sister, Joely Richardson, shared a heartfelt message on Sunday to mark a bittersweet occasion. 'Today would have been my sister Tasha's birthday,' Joely, 60, wrote in her Instagram tribute, which featured throwback photos of the siblings and their mom, actress Vanessa Redgrave. Advertisement 10 Natasha and Joely Richardson. joelyrichardsonsinsta/Instagram 10 Vanessa Redgrave with her daughters Natasha and Joely Richardson. joelyrichardsonsinsta/Instagram 'I asked my Ma if she'd like to say anything,' Joely continued. 'This is what she dictated to me.' Advertisement Redgrave, 88, reminisced on when her and then-husband Tony Richardson named Natasha during a trip to Greece. 'We sat drinking our coffees in Constitution Square. Tony said if the baby was a boy we should call him Tom. I said if she was a girl I would like her to be called Natasha after Tolstoy 's 'War and Peace,'' Regrave said. 10 Natasha Richardson and Vanessa Redgrave at 'The White Countess' premiere in London in March 2006. Scott Myers/Shutterstock 10 Natasha Richardson and Vanessa Redgrave at the 2007 Met Gala. WireImage Advertisement 10 Natasha Richardson, Vanessa Redgrave, and Joely Richardson at the 'Blue Sky' premiere in 1994. Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images 'Our Natasha, as yes she was a girl, came swimming out of my womb ready for anything,' the 'Julia' actress continued. 'I can't believe that she isn't swimming somewhere now, in one of the pools or seas we explored.' 10 Vanessa Redgrave, Natasha Richardson promoting 'The White Countess' in 2006. Corbis via Getty Images 'I will never be reconciled to her dying in the snow,' Redgrave added of her oldest daughter's tragic passing, 'and I'm sure that every mother who has lost a child will have that pain always.' Advertisement Others stars paid tribute to Natasha in the comments section, including Andy Cohen, Julianne Moore, Richard E. Grant and Amy Sedaris. Natasha died at age 45 in March 2009 after suffering head trauma following a skiing accident in Quebec, Canada. 10 Natasha Richardson at the amfAR New York Gala at Cipriani in NYC in Feb. 2009. Getty Images She complained of a headache after a seemingly minor fall, before she was rushed to a local hospital and then transferred to a bigger one in Montreal. She was finally sent home to Lenox Hill in New York where she passed. At the time of her death, Natasha was married to actor Liam Neeson. They got married at their farmhouse in upstate New York in July 1994, two years after Richardson's divorce from her first husband, Robert Fox. 10 Natasha Richardson and Liam Neeson at a special screening of 'Seraphim Falls' in NYC in 2007. Getty Images The 'Taken' actor, 72, spoke about his wife's death in an interview with People last year. 'It was a horrible thing to happen,' Neeson said. Advertisement 10 Liam Neeson, Natasha Richardson at 'The Other Man' premiere in London in 2008. AFP via Getty Images 10 Natasha Richardson's family and friends before her funeral in Lithgow, New York in March 2009. Getty Images He also credited Redgrave and Joely with helping him with his and Natasha's sons Micheál, 29, and Daniel, 28, in the aftermath. 'Everybody just pulled together. We were fortunate in lots of ways,' he said.
The Independent
13-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Independent
Vanessa Redgrave reflects on Natasha Richardson's death
Vanessa Redgrave shared a heartfelt message about her daughter, Natasha Richardson, on what would have been Richardson's 62nd birthday. Richardson tragically died in 2009 from a head injury sustained during a skiing accident. Redgrave expressed her enduring grief and inability to reconcile with Richardson's death. Joely Richardson, Natasha's sister, shared Redgrave's message and previously spoke about the devastating impact of her sister's passing. Natasha Richardson was married to actor Liam Neeson and was known for her role in the film Parent Trap.
Telegraph
08-04-2025
- Health
- Telegraph
What my stupid e-bike accident reveals about truly world class healthcare
When helicopters hover above central Tel Aviv, occasionally it signals something joyful: the release of hostages. After macabre handovers by masked militia, Israeli captives freed by Hamas are airlifted to the city, where they receive specialist care at some of the best hospitals on Earth. The tale of how I too ended up in one of these medical facilities does not, unfortunately, feature any war reporting heroics. Embarrassingly, it involves falling off an e-scooter – a nasty accident that nonetheless provided a taste of world-leading healthcare. Quite why I suddenly hit the deck as I was cruising along Tel Aviv beach promenade at 15mph, I will never be sure. What I do know is that I have only myself to blame for what happened while I was busy admiring the view. On the shores of the Mediterranean, bronzed twentysomethings played beach volleyball, while athletic types jogged along the boardwalk. The vista was all golden sand and golden bodies. As the sun set, the sky slowly turned the colour of a pale pink English rose. Speeding along alone, I felt at one with the world. Suddenly, the wind whipped off my cap, sending it sailing into the sky like a little beige kite. Next thing I knew, I was spread-eagled on the pavement, seeing stars. Perhaps I hit a bump as I turned to look at my disappearing hat, or just somehow lost my balance. Either way, I flew over the handlebars, landing hard. While my jaw and chin hit the pavement, the rest of me smacked onto the scooter's jack-knifed chassis. Two kind passers-by helped me stagger to a bench, where I sat in a daze, trying to work out whether I had broken bones or chipped teeth. I had cut my chin and it wouldn't stop bleeding, but everything else seemed broadly present and correct. I certainly didn't think I was a hospital job. Back at my hotel, I was in a better position to assess the damage. I was ghostly white, and developing a splitting headache. By now night had fallen and I was alone in a city I do not know with only a handful of shekels in my pocket and not a word of Hebrew. I really, really didn't want to go to hospital, but the more I Googled, the more frightened I became. Staring at my waxen face in the bathroom mirror, I tried to figure out whether my pupils were dilated, a potential red flag with head injuries. I could not stop thinking about poor Natasha Richardson, the actress who tragically died after an apparently minor fall on an easy ski slope. For several hours after hitting her head, she had seemed OK. In reality, she had suffered a fatal brain injury. What if I too was having what doctors call a 'lucid interval' – a brief period without any symptoms of a life threatening head injury? How could I risk falling asleep? And so it was that I found myself at the Sylvan Adams Emergency Hospital, a state-of-the-art facility designed to deal with casualties of war. When air raid sirens sound and locals take cover in bomb shelters, doctors and nurses at this hospital continue their work underground. It is all set up for electricity blackouts and flying missiles. As for idiots like me? They can be assessed and treated in the blink of an eye. No wretched NHS-style 12-hour waits here. Just expert attention in literally minutes. First, however, overseas visitors must pay. It's an eminently sensible policy that spares the Israeli taxpayer from picking up the tab for tourists who can't or won't cough up. (By contrast, the NHS tends to treat foreigners first, and ask nicely for cash second: a very expensive approach.) For an upfront fee of around £250, I would be thoroughly checked. Surveying the scene in Admissions, I noted the eclectic mix of ailments and injuries characteristic of all A&E departments: frail folk in wheelchairs; anxious mothers nursing sick children; sheepish looking students post misadventures. Among those waiting was the odd IDF soldier. That is where the similarities with NHS Accident and Emergency services ended. Nobody was lying on trolleys in the corridor; no ambulances backed up outside, unable to drop off patients due to lack of beds or staff; no police officers required to maintain order. The atmosphere was totally calm. In less than an hour, I would be in front of a consultant, a cheerful Polish surgeon with excellent English. He took a very good look at me; glued the gash on my chin and listened patiently as I fretted about Richardson. Blood tests were taken; results returned in less than an hour. My prognosis? Fine. I had come to Israel to learn more about war, and how it might eventually end. The plan was to talk to the IDF, listen to intelligence sources and hear the latest from the defence industry. I was also due to visit Technion, Israel's Institute of Technology – a world class seat of learning and innovation. Linked to Albert Einstein, it has a central role in national life, training 80 per cent of Israeli engineers. From creating a microscopic Bible (the entire Old Testament on a chip the size of a grain of sand) to developing cancer cures and artificial meat, it is behind some of the most wondrous innovations on Earth. Happily, I was still able to do all this, but the accident shifted my focus onto Israel's widely admired healthcare system. The contrast with the NHS was too glaring to ignore. Seemingly in no hurry (another novelty), my Polish surgeon talked of the benefits of dedicated emergency hospitals. (Our own acute facilities deal with both accidents and planned cases under one roof, a set-up that means backlogs in one area immediately affect the other.) Separate 'hot' and 'cold' sites might have saved much misery during the pandemic. Based on mandatory health insurance with not-for-profit providers, Israel's health system is means-tested but universal, ensuring even the poorest citizens are covered. By both efficiency and outcome, it ranks among the best in the world – as I can attest. By 10pm I was back in my hotel room, shocked, sore and feeling very stupid. I had been at the hospital for less than two hours. (In the UK, some 5,700 patients a day are forced to wait more than 12 hours to be seen at A&E). Sylvan Adams uses all manner of time- and life-saving devices and AI wizardry to get patients through and out fast. For example, those who can are encouraged to speed up the initial admissions process by using simple self-service devices to provide their vital signs. Robots buzz around providing directions and other helpful information. In quiet moments, staff amuse themselves testing the AI: seeing if it understands slang (it does) and can tell the difference between male and female voices (it can). Granted, Israel is a fraction of the size of the UK, with very different demographics. All the same, the NHS could learn lessons from this. So, of course, could I. A month after the debacle, my bruises have finally gone and I'm back on e-scooters. These days though, I'm considerably less cocky – and never wear hats that might fly off.
