Latest news with #Southwestern-style
Yahoo
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
'Eddington' Is a Wigged-Out Modern Western Overstuffed With Ideas
Joaquin Phoenix and Pedro Pascal in Eddington Credit - Courtesy of the Cannes Film Festival How many times in the past few years have you heard, or used, the expression 'The pandemic broke our brains'? Particularly in less densely populated parts of America, plenty of government officials and citizens still hold a grudge over the way businesses and schools were temporarily shut down. In some places, mask-wearing is still treated as a sign of wimpiness. Parents blame their kids' social awkwardness or inability to keep up in school on the 'lost' years of education over Zoom. Forget that COVID-19 actually killed people, and that some who survived still suffer lingering effects. The pandemic is the global event we just can't let go, a handy scapegoat for people's anger over how and why their lives aren't exactly as they'd like them to be. How did we get here? That's the question writer-director Ari Aster's somber comedy-Western Eddington, playing in competition here at the Cannes Film Festival, appears to be asking. The story opens in late May 2020. Major cities like New York were already facing frightening death tolls that climbed higher each day—but that's not what Eddington is about. It's set in the (fictional) city of Eddington, NM, where the local sheriff, Joaquin Phoenix's Joe Cross, tools around town responding to minor crises like noise complaints. He has a wife he adores, Emma Stone's Louise, who wiles away her days making whimsically creepy dolls; she even manages to sell some once in a while, though it turns out Joe is paying friends-of-friends to buy them. She's also emotionally fragile, and some unspecified trauma has caused her to have zero interest in sex. It doesn't help that her overbearing mother, Dawn (Deirdre O'Connell), has moved into the couple's cozy Southwestern-style home, toting along a figurative suitcase of conspiracy theories. Joe is stressed at home and annoyed at work. He's basically a decent guy, but you get the sense he's ready to blow. He hates the recently established local mask mandates: An asthmatic, he claims that wearing a mask prevents him from breathing properly, oblivious to the fact that his asthma makes him more susceptible to serious COVID complications. But what he hates more than masks is the town's sanctimonious mayor, Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal), who's up for reelection. Ted is promising a 'tech-positive future' for the city, but that really just means opening an AI deep learning facility that will gobble up resources and ultimately put real, live, thinking people out of work, though he's also pro-wind and solar power. He's one of those guys who'll put his stamp on anything, as long as he thinks it will make him look good. It's easy to see why he drives Joe crazy. And in a fit of pique one day, Joe decides to enter the mayoral race himself. He enlists the help of his two loyal deputies, Michael (Micheal Ward) and Guy (Luke Grimes), to figure out the requirements. He carefully makes his own signage, decorating his sheriffmobile like an elaborate circus wagon. (The signs have a confident, professional look, made by a guy whose enthusiasm is greater than his knowledge of punctuation and grammar. One reads 'Your Being Manipulated.') And he proceeds to both annoy and destroy his opponent, who's such a glad-handing windbag you don't mind seeing him being taken down a peg or two. (Pascal is good at playing these types of sleazy charmers.) One of his campaign commercials shows him laughing and smiling with random Black citizens, in numbers larger than the city's actual Black population. Joe wonders aloud if he's had them shipped in. But Joe's droll swagger can't hide the fact that he's beginning to fall apart. Louise has fallen under the spell of a slippery self-help guru, played by a buttery-smooth Austin Butler; there's another complication in that she and Ted have a sexual history together, though Ted denies it. Just as Joe launches his campaign, the murder of George Floyd spurs protests around the country, and not even little Eddington is spared. Small bands of protesters gather, brandishing Black Lives Matter signs. They mean well, but there's hypocrisy there too. In one of the movie's most cutting lines of dialogue, an insufferable white liberal do-gooder, played by Amélie Hoeferle, scolds Michael, who is Black (and whom she briefly dated), for not taking to the streets in protest. 'I haven't experienced racism, but you have,' she tells him, practically poking her finger in his chest. There will always be white people who just can't stop themselves from telling Black people how they ought to feel. Eddington is an intelligent, questioning movie. But Aster just tries to pack in too much. He jabs at the sometimes-questionable veracity of recovered-memory syndrome. He's annoyed, justifiably, by the way activists with good intentions can be so piously bullying they can actually drive you away from a cause. The plot spirals into murder and mayhem; it takes way too much time to wrap up. And I have almost no clue what the ending means, though there's a great sight gag of three unlikely people crowding into one queen-size bed as if it were simply business as usual. As a filmmaker, Aster is two parts visionary to one part irritant. He knows how to translate his ideas into evocative visuals: in his terror-round-the-maypole reverie Midsommar, Florence Pugh wears a flower crown made of what appear to be blinking, breathing, sentient flowers—the effect is creepy and beautiful at once. Beau Is Afraid is an ode to human neuroses in movie form, and if it's wearisome by the end, its opening sequence is wickedly brilliant, a shaggy-dog rondelay in which a hapless New Yorker (played by Phoenix) encounters, in a span of minutes, the worst of all Manhattan has to offer, from neighbors bitterly complaining about nonexistent noise to a crew of dirty, crazy-eyed street people pouring into his apartment for an impromptu hootenanny of debauchery. Aster has so many ideas he doesn't know when to stop, which is why it's easy to lose patience with his movies. And while he has a sense of humor about his own neuroses, he's often guilty of oversharing. But he's observant about the way humans interact, and about their tendency to let their fears and insecurities rule them. And he's clear-eyed about the ways even well-meaning people can do horrible things if they're pushed to the breaking point. One of the strengths of Eddington is that even though it's a story about people preoccupied with politics, and a society under great strain, the last thing Aster wants to do is lecture us. Some of the movie's views may be his own, but mostly it seems drawn from weird, aggravating, or poignant behavior he's observed firsthand. (It's worth noting that while Aster was born a New Yorker, he spent much of his childhood living with his family in New Mexico.) And the movie's score, by the Haxan Cloak and Daniel Pemberton, is wonderful: there are sweeping passages of Elmer Bernstein-like jauntiness. If this wigged-out modern Western doesn't quite work, it's at the very least a cry of vexation over what our country, messy at the best of times, has become, thanks to a virus that found its way not just into our lungs, but into our very lifeblood. Dr. Aster has listened in on America's heartbeat; the diagnosis is that we're basically a mess. Contact us at letters@
Time Magazine
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Magazine
Ari Aster's Eddington Is a Wigged-Out Modern Western Overstuffed With Ideas
How many times in the past few years have you heard, or used, the expression 'The pandemic broke our brains'? Particularly in less densely populated parts of America, plenty of government officials and citizens still hold a grudge over the way businesses and schools were temporarily shut down. In some places, mask-wearing is still treated as a sign of wimpiness. Parents blame their kids' social awkwardness or inability to keep up in school on the 'lost' years of education over Zoom. Forget that COVID-19 actually killed people, and that some who survived still suffer lingering effects. The pandemic is the global event we just can't let go, a handy scapegoat for people's anger over how and why their lives aren't exactly as they'd like them to be. How did we get here? That's the question writer-director Ari Aster's somber comedy-Western Eddington, playing in competition here at the Cannes Film Festival, appears to be asking. The story opens in late May 2020. Major cities like New York were already facing frightening death tolls that climbed higher each day—but that's not what Eddington is about. It's set in the (fictional) city of Eddington, NM, where the local sheriff, Joaquin Phoenix's Joe Cross, tools around town responding to minor crises like noise complaints. He has a wife he adores, Emma Stone's Louise, who wiles away her days making whimsically creepy dolls; she even manages to sell some once in a while, though it turns out Joe is paying friends-of-friends to buy them. She's also emotionally fragile, and some unspecified trauma has caused her to have zero interest in sex. It doesn't help that her overbearing mother, Dawn (Deirdre O'Connell), has moved into the couple's cozy Southwestern-style home, toting along a figurative suitcase of conspiracy theories. Joe is stressed at home and annoyed at work. He's basically a decent guy, but you get the sense he's ready to blow. He hates the recently established local mask mandates: An asthmatic, he claims that wearing a mask prevents him from breathing properly, oblivious to the fact that his asthma makes him more susceptible to serious COVID complications. But what he hates more than masks is the town's sanctimonious mayor, Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal), who's up for reelection. Ted is promising a 'tech-positive future' for the city, but that really just means opening an AI deep learning facility that will gobble up resources and ultimately put real, live, thinking people out of work, though he's also pro-wind and solar power. He's one of those guys who'll put his stamp on anything, as long as he thinks it will make him look good. It's easy to see why he drives Joe crazy. And in a fit of pique one day, Joe decides to enter the mayoral race himself. He enlists the help of his two loyal deputies, Michael (Micheal Ward) and Guy (Luke Grimes), to figure out the requirements. He carefully makes his own signage, decorating his sheriffmobile like an elaborate circus wagon. (The signs have a confident, professional look, made by a guy whose enthusiasm is greater than his knowledge of punctuation and grammar. One reads 'Your Being Manipulated.') And he proceeds to both annoy and destroy his opponent, who's such a glad-handing windbag you don't mind seeing him being taken down a peg or two. (Pascal is good at playing these types of sleazy charmers.) One of his campaign commercials shows him laughing and smiling with random Black citizens, in numbers larger than the city's actual Black population. Joe wonders aloud if he's had them shipped in. But Joe's droll swagger can't hide the fact that he's beginning to fall apart. Louise has fallen under the spell of a slippery self-help guru, played by a buttery-smooth Austin Butler; there's another complication in that she and Ted have a sexual history together, though Ted denies it. Just as Joe launches his campaign, the murder of George Floyd spurs protests around the country, and not even little Eddington is spared. Small bands of protesters gather, brandishing Black Lives Matter signs. They mean well, but there's hypocrisy there too. In one of the movie's most cutting lines of dialogue, an insufferable white liberal do-gooder, played by Amélie Hoeferle, scolds Michael, who is Black (and whom she briefly dated), for not taking to the streets in protest. 'I haven't experienced racism, but you have,' she tells him, practically poking her finger in his chest. There will always be white people who just can't stop themselves from telling Black people how they ought to feel. Eddington is an intelligent, questioning movie. But Aster just tries to pack in too much. He jabs at the sometimes-questionable veracity of recovered-memory syndrome. He's annoyed, justifiably, by the way activists with good intentions can be so piously bullying they can actually drive you away from a cause. The plot spirals into murder and mayhem; it takes way too much time to wrap up. And I have almost no clue what the ending means, though there's a great sight gag of three unlikely people crowding into one queen-size bed as if it were simply business as usual. As a filmmaker, Aster is two parts visionary to one part irritant. He knows how to translate his ideas into evocative visuals: in his terror-round-the-maypole reverie Midsommar, Florence Pugh wears a flower crown made of what appear to be blinking, breathing, sentient flowers—the effect is creepy and beautiful at once. Beau Is Afraid is an ode to human neuroses in movie form, and if it's wearisome by the end, its opening sequence is wickedly brilliant, a shaggy-dog rondelay in which a hapless New Yorker (played by Phoenix) encounters, in a span of minutes, the worst of all Manhattan has to offer, from neighbors bitterly complaining about nonexistent noise to a crew of dirty, crazy-eyed street people pouring into his apartment for an impromptu hootenanny of debauchery. Aster has so many ideas he doesn't know when to stop, which is why it's easy to lose patience with his movies. And while he has a sense of humor about his own neuroses, he's often guilty of oversharing. But he's observant about the way humans interact, and about their tendency to let their fears and insecurities rule them. And he's clear-eyed about the ways even well-meaning people can do horrible things if they're pushed to the breaking point. One of the strengths of Eddington is that even though it's a story about people preoccupied with politics, and a society under great strain, the last thing Aster wants to do is lecture us. Some of the movie's views may be his own, but mostly it seems drawn from weird, aggravating, or poignant behavior he's observed firsthand. (It's worth noting that while Aster was born a New Yorker, he spent much of his childhood living with his family in New Mexico.) And the movie's score, by the Haxan Cloak and Daniel Pemberton, is wonderful: there are sweeping passages of Elmer Bernstein-like jauntiness. If this wigged-out modern Western doesn't quite work, it's at the very least a cry of vexation over what our country, messy at the best of times, has become, thanks to a virus that found its way not just into our lungs, but into our very lifeblood. Dr. Aster has listened in on America's heartbeat; the diagnosis is that we're basically a mess.
Yahoo
14-04-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
This $6 Million Southwestern-Style Estate in Central California Has a Helipad for Your Chopper
Fresno, California, or, more specifically, the census-designated place known as Friant, may not be the first place that comes to mind when you envision multimillion-dollar living, but for one couple it was just the ticket. Back in the 1990s, the local pair saw great potential in this Central California property, trading their home at the time plus $100,000 to make it their own. Instead of tearing down the original home that stood on the 6.4-acre rural property, they donated it to the local fire department and SWAT team for training exercises. And, during the process of building up the more than 6,000-square-foot compound, they lived in a tiny guest house with their pets. More from Robb Report Meet the Speed Brokers That Will Help You Drive 200 MPH-Legally Meet the Bush Pilots That Navigate Alaska's Most Perilous Terrain Courtney Love's Former Manhattan Loft Is Up for Grabs at $9.5 Million What they ended up with is a highly personalized abode modeled on the Southwestern-style architecture they saw admired during trips to New Mexico and Arizona. The six-bedroom, five-bath complex is now on the market for $6 million, with Sarah Hedrick at Realty Concepts holding the listing. To achieve an authentic Santa Fe style, the house was built with hand-troweled plaster walls, and Saltillo floor tile is found throughout the home, from the high-ceilinged living room to the bathrooms. The chef's kitchen sports travertine countertops, dual copper sinks, and not just one but two pantries. There's a mini wine fridge here too, but you'll want to store most of your vino in the 1,600-bottle wine cellar, which is accessible by elevator and has a tasting room, to boot. The primary bedroom, meanwhile, has its own gas fireplace—one of five throughout the property. The closets here are lined with cedar, and the ensuite bathroom includes a jetted tub as well as a sauna/steam shower. Friends or family members can make use of the two separate guest houses. Outside, the owners have created a resort-style paradise, complete with a built-in barbecue and outdoor fireplace for alfresco dining. The pool is accompanied by a mosaic-tiled hot tub, and there are ample options for sports enthusiasts. The court complex encompasses tennis, pickleball, and basketball, and there's a putting green for perfecting your stroke. Gearheads can keep up to 14 cars in the massive garage, and if you're planning to arrive via helicopter—because why not?—a helipad is found on the grounds for your convenience. While the Southwestern-inspired residence is perhaps one-of-a-kind in its Central California setting, Fresno and its surrounding towns are steeped in agricultural history. Among the area's most interesting properties is a grand, 1910 Colonial Revival in nearby Del Rey that hit the market earlier this year for $4 of Robb Report The 10 Priciest Neighborhoods in America (And How They Got to Be That Way) In Pictures: Most Expensive Properties Click here to read the full article.
WIRED
21-03-2025
- General
- WIRED
Hungryroot Is Maybe the AI-Guided Meal Plan of the Future. The Present Is Much More Familiar
My colleague Molly Higgins, who is vegan, simultaneously tested out her own very different goals and preferences on Hungryroot. These involved no chicken at all. Ostensibly, when you sign up, a Hungryroot dinner will cost you $13 a serving, while lunch costs $12 and breakfast is a mere $4.50. But in practice, the number of meals you choose translates to a weekly supply of 'points' whose sum may be different for each dish. And so while one dinner plate is 11 points, another might be 12. Snacks might cost just a couple points apiece. And if you don't use all your points this week, next week is for ribeye. Easy, Breezy, Chicken-Caesary In any case, when I told Hungryroot's questionnaire that I wanted my meal kit to help me save time, the algorithm listened. Among five recipes and some prepackaged breakfast items, only one meal took more than 15 minutes to prepare. Most plates were as much assembly as actual cooking. One lunchtime meal's only prep involved slicing sous vide chicken breast atop a Caesar salad mix. An avocado chicken rice bowl mostly involved composing a few ingredients, after a few minutes heating a rice pouch and pan-searing some precooked 'chile limon' chicken breast. Add to this a pleasant Southwestern-style black bean and corn salad, plus a squirt of avocado crema, and voilà: a casual West Hollywood lunch. Photograph: Matthew Korfhage The only dish that took significantly longer to cook than to eat was a pair of stuffed red bell peppers—which featured a better-than-expected enchilada sauce, courtesy of new-school Mexican-American brand Saucy Lips. Here, too, the chicken came pulled, precooked, and preseasoned, and the rice again arrived in pouch form. My own cooking mostly involved heating peppers in a toaster oven, barely more effort than heating frozen lasagna. Indeed, my week of Hungryroot sometimes felt less like cooking than a week spent grazing in the prepared food section of an upscale grocery store, or one of the nicer fast-casual food courts—the kind that has Sweetgreen and Baja Fresh instead of Wendy's and Chipotle. Custom Concern That said, among my recipes, ease of cooking came at the expense of fresh produce. My box contained just two red bell peppers and an orange. When I mentioned this to my vegan co-tester, Molly, her response was quizzical. She didn't have this problem at all. Her meals were full of veggies. My own survey responses had accidentally convinced Hungryroot's algorithm that I'd rather not cook. 'All of the meals had fresh produce, took half an hour or less, most were under 500 calories, and those that weren't were high protein (plant-based protein, of course),' Molly wrote. Some meals mixed vegan proteins and vegetable sides. Others included veggie-filled stir frys and a plant-based taco plate made with chipotle-spiced, charred cauliflower. While I was gently warming a premixed black bean salad, Molly was out there charring brussels sprouts.
Associated Press
27-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Associated Press
Betsy Arakawa, concert pianist married to actor Gene Hackman, dead at 65
Betsy Arakawa, a concert pianist and co-founder of a home furnishing business, was found dead Wednesday in her Santa Fe, New Mexico , home along with actor-husband Gene Hackman and their dog, according to authorities. She was 65. Arakawa and the 95-year-old Hackman lived in a Southwestern-style ranch on Old Sunset Trail, in a gated community that looks out on the Rocky Mountains. They owned as many as three German shepherds at one time and often spent their free time watching movies. 'We like simple stories that some of the little low-budget films manage to produce,' Hackman told Empire magazine in 2009. Denise Avila, a sheriff's office spokesperson, said there was no indication they had been shot or had any wounds. Raised in Honolulu, Arakawa studied piano at an early age and was just 11 when she performed for 9,000 children at the Honolulu International Center Concert Hall, according to a 1971 report from the Honolulu Star-Bulletin newspaper. According to a 1981 column in the Honolulu Star-Advertiser, she attended a private prep school in Honolulu before moving to Los Angeles and studying at the University of Southern California, from which she graduated with a degree in social sciences and communication. After college, she played with the Honolulu Symphony Orchestra, now the Hawai'i Symphony Orchestra, and gave a more private show in 1989 at a Chicago-area nursing home used for Hackman's film 'The Package.' In Santa Fe, she helped found Pandora's in 2001. The store's website describes Pandora's as 'dealing in functional art, the art of life — what one lives in, sleeps in and wraps around one's shoulders on a chilly day.' She and Hackman met in the mid-1980s at a gym in California, according to a 1989 story in The New York Times, and they married in 1991. Hackman would deny that their relationship broke up his first marriage, to Faye Maltese. 'By the way, I did not leave my real life wife for a younger woman. We just drifted apart,' he told the South Florida Sun-Sentinel in 1985, when he was promoting the film 'Twice in a Lifetime,' in which his character is a family man who falls for another woman. ____ Associated Press writer Claire Rush contributed from Portland, Oregon, and Randy Herschaft contributed from New York.
