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Scotsman
26-05-2025
- General
- Scotsman
WhatsApp is strictly for my own business, not my neighbour's
I use the messaging app WhatsApp for everything – from keeping in touch with friends I haven't seen for years to people 5000 miles away in Malawi. I use it to make calls because the phone signal in our flat is so bad I can't use my mobile network. Sign up to our daily newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to Edinburgh News, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... I share memes of AI babies pretending to be Donald Trump. It's even my informal filing system. But it seems I am one of the very few people in Edinburgh who is not a member of a neighbourhood WhatsApp group. A survey says eight in ten city folk are members of a local group chat A survey by online estate agents Purplebricks reveals that eight in ten city folk are members of a local group chat, where they discuss everything from upcoming events to nuisance neighbours and litter louts, and 37 per cent even admit to using the app to spread gossip. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad I can't think of anything worse than being in a neighbourhood chat group. I live on the ground floor of a three-storey tenement. If our building needs attention, or the grass is due to be cut, we will email each other. We say hello on the stair, take in each other's deliveries, and a couple of us tend the flowers and fruit bushes in our back green. We know a couple who live in the next door stair because their cat plays with ours, but that is about it. I have no idea who lives in the rest of the street, let alone have their phone number so I can message them about the state of the pavements or that Mrs X is having an affair with Mr Y. As for local events – the most exciting thing that has happened in our vicinity recently was the surprise appearance of a grey squirrel, which was soon chased off by the cats. I suppose if we lived in Currie or Corstorphine which have more of a village vibe, we might be more tempted to join in. And I was so involved in community activities when I lived in Wester Hailes that a WhatsApp group would have been a godsend. But back in the '80s and '90s we thought Spectrum computers and VHS recorders were the future. I love WhatsApp, but it's strictly for my own business, not my neighbour's.
Yahoo
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
‘Yes' Review: Director Nadav Lapid's Decadent Romp Through the Madness and Misery of Post-October 7th Israel
Israeli auteur Nadav Lapid has never shied away from the violence of his homeland, directing a handful of dramas — Policeman, The Kindergarten Teacher, Synonyms and Ahed's Knee — where characters face explosive situations both externally and within, pursued by a relentless camera targeting their every move. His movies are deeply political, but also poetic and personal, eschewing traditional storytelling for an expressionistic approach marked by bravura stylistics, inner turmoil and the occasional musical number. If Ahed's Knee, which came out in 2021, was already a furious cri de coeur against the powers-that-be in Israel, the director's latest feature, Yes (Ken), takes that premise to the next level. Focusing on a young couple, Y. (Ariel Bronz) and Yasmin (Erfat Dor), who sell their bodies and souls to the highest bidders, the film is deliberately in-your-face and outrageously decadent, assaulting the senses as it blatantly depicts acts of physical and psychological self-destruction. More from The Hollywood Reporter Cannes: Mubi Buys Wagner Moura-Starring 'The Secret Agent' for U.K., India, Most of Latin America 'The Six Billion Dollar Man' Review: Eugene Jarecki's Julian Assange Doc Is a Jam-Packed Chronicle of Legal Persecution Joachim Trier's 'Sentimental Value' Gets 15-Minute Standing Ovation at Cannes Premiere Lapid began writing Yes before the October 7th massacre and subsequent war in Gaza, but the conflict clearly marks the movie from start to finish. Not only does Y., a jazz pianist, hype man and gigolo, agree to compose a new patriotic hymn to accompany the IDF's massive — and still ongoing — attack on Palestinian territory, but certain scenes in the movie were shot with Gaza burning in the background. And while the director does acknowledge the war crimes committed by Hamas, his view of his own country is categorically bleak and condemning: In a regime ruled by violence, zealotry, and tons of money, you can either say yes and survive, or decide to leave such a place behind. It's baffling to see the Israeli Film Fund listed as one of the movie's financers, because Yes is not a work that makes you want to visit the place, unless you're a rich, patriotic cokehead. That description fits the people that Y. and Yasmine subject themselves to during an unsparing first hour filled with hedonistic blowouts and high-priced threesomes, all of them set to thumping techno that will blast your brains out. Both Paolo Sorrentino's The Great Beauty and Boccaccio's The Decameron come to mind as we watch the couple contort their athletic bodies, drown themselves in alcohol and give an older woman what looks like an orgasm in her ear, while they do everything they can to please their wealthy clientele. Lapid goes overboard to make these scenes intolerable, with Shaï Goldman's camera gyrating around like a drunken dancer on the verge of throwing up and production designer Pascale Consigny making sure to put Israeli flags in the background of nearly every location. And yet as much as these moments can be exhausting to sit through, both Y. and Yasmine appear, or at least pretend, to be having a great time, partying hard at night then waking up in a modest Tel Aviv flat to care for their adorable baby boy. They seem to be decent people — young, beautiful and in love, trying to make it in a country that has gone mad. Yasmine is a hip-hop dance teacher, while Y. is a talented musician in need of a big break. When he accepts to write a Zionist ballad paid for by a fanatic Russian oligarch (Alexey Serebryakov), he sells his soul to the devil and barely survives. Toward the end of the movie, we finally get to see a video of that song, and it's an actual clip taken from a propaganda film supporting the IDF, with a chorus of children singing lyrics that praise their nation's military might against the Palestinian enemy. Earlier on, Y. wanders through a delirious street celebration for Israel's Independence Day, passing by hordes of screaming men waving flags and dancing wildly to more thumping techno. Yes may be purposely over-the-top and unsettling to watch — at two and a half hours, it won't win over audiences looking for light arthouse fare — but Lapid is trying to show us that it's hardly an exaggeration of the truth, or at least his own truth about his homeland. He's made an aggressive movie about what he believes to be an aggressive nation, focusing on two Israelis who are searching for either success or an exit plan. Divided into three chapters, the film eveventually tones down in a lengthy middle section, entitled 'The Route,' during which the couple splits apart and Y. heads out of town to work on his song. He crosses paths with Leah (Naama Preis), an old love interest from music school who's now working as an interpreter. The two drive around the desert and make their way toward the Gaza border, leading to a sequence — shot in a single take — that has Leah reciting details of the October 7th atrocities that she translated on behalf of the victims. Later, they venture onto a hillside overlooking Gaza City, which is covered in smoke and resonates with the sound of gunfire and bombings. For all the crazy bacchanalia we witness in Yes (a friend referred to the movie as '120 Days of Shalom'), Lapid doesn't shy away from the suffering of his fellow Israelis, nor to what has happened in the massacre's aftermath. But if the director was already critical of his country beforehand, the place is in such a dire state right now that his only response this time seems to be a form of cinematic self-flagellation. His new movie offers little solace for those hoping the Holy Land will find peace again, and as an exile who's already lived in France for many years, he seems to be turning his back on Israel with an emphatic 'No.' Best of The Hollywood Reporter Hollywood Stars Who Are One Award Away From an EGOT 'The Goonies' Cast, Then and Now "A Nutless Monkey Could Do Your Job": From Abusive to Angst-Ridden, 16 Memorable Studio Exec Portrayals in Film and TV
LeMonde
21-05-2025
- Entertainment
- LeMonde
Cannes 2025: With 'Yes,' Nadav Lapid bids Israel farewell again
For a host of reasons linked to the tragic current events of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict – including the subordination of aesthetic judgment to political agendas, official or unofficial boycotts and general caution in the face of an explosively polarized debate – the presence of Israeli films at international film festivals has undeniably become rare. That is why there has been such anticipation surrounding the selection of Yes, Nadav Lapid's new feature, at the Directors' Fortnight, where it is being shown on Thursday, May 22. The film follows an artist couple – Y., a jazz musician, and his wife Jasmine, a dancer – who give the impression that they have never considered their art as anything other than a form of prostitution to the powers that have long corrupted a country under the banner of utopian socialism: rampant consumerism, unbridled hedonism and ultra-nationalism. This spectacle, which the film pushes to the point of nausea, quickly turns into pure obscenity as the spirit of exterminatory vengeance takes hold of the nation in the wake of the carnage of October 7, 2023. In this context, Y. is tasked by several powerful figures with writing a new Israeli anthem, which is reworked from head to toe for a long night of moral reckoning. The filmmaker thus conceived the idea of writing a "musical tragedy." In fact, "the song that inspires Y. is a classic of the Israeli repertoire, celebrating the brotherhood of men during the war of independence," Lapid explained. "Adapted from a poem by Haim Gouri, it was the favorite of Yitzhak Rabin, a man of war who gave his life for the cause of peace. As can be seen in the clip I show in the film, it was transformed, in the aftermath of October 7, into a hymn of hatred, sung notably by children, calling for the eradication of Gaza."
Yahoo
29-03-2025
- Yahoo
Fort Worth mom of 4 quit job to go to law school in her 30s. Her risk paid off
Y. Esther Sánchez Vigil decided to make a significant career change after she was passed over for a promotion at the Social Security Administration office on the south side of Fort Worth. Married with four children, she and her husband Emeterio Vigil Jr., a Fort Worth fireman, agreed that she would quit work in her 30s and enter law school. They tightened the family's financial belt for the next three years, risking financial loss or gain. But she was a risk-taker most of her life. Since her childhood, Vigil said, she had a calling to help the vulnerable, especially Latinos and Latinas who faced cultural and linguistic challenges to access services, to overcome racist practices, and to find justice in court. For example, she said, in a car accident, the monolingual, English-speaking police officer will more likely believe the English-speaking driver's account over the non-English-speaking driver's testimony. Vigil received admission notices from several law schools in northern states and UT Austin. Wishing to stay closer to home rather than move north or to Austin, she contacted Southern Methodist University about her application. She secured a missing reference letter and soon gained admission. She withdrew her Social Security retirement to pay for the first year. The SMU dean awarded her scholarships for the next two years from anonymous alumni donors. Rising at 3:00 a.m. every weekday, she briefed cases for class, prepared her children's lunches, and dropped them off at school and daycare. By 6:30 a.m., she was on the road to Dallas with a classmate who lived in Fort Worth, alternating weekly drive duties. In their 20s, most of her fellow students were about 10 years younger than she. Family responsibilities limited her participation in study groups on campus. Vigil rushed home at 4 p.m. to pick up her children, ensure they completed homework, prepare supper, and lay out their clothes for the next day. She studied between classes, at lunch, and in the early morning. Dallas Attorney Adelfa Callejo (the first Latina to graduate from SMU Dedman School of Law in 1961) employed her in the last year of school to review immigration cases and acted as her role model. Callejo encouraged her to enter politics, but she demurred, preferring to work with clients and volunteer in community advocacy. Vigil had experience in juggling mother and student roles. After a divorce from her first marriage, she entered Texas A&I University at Laredo (now Texas A&M International University) as the mother of a newborn and 3-year-old. Unable to afford a car, she rode a 10-speed bike to school and finished her baccalaureate in two and half years, majoring in Spanish and psychology. Raised in a family of 12 siblings, she came to Fort Worth when her parents moved with a sister to Duncanville, Texas. Her brothers and sisters encouraged her to persevere, and friends helped with babysitting and gas money. She received her attorney license in May, 1989, and worked in Fort Worth attorney Jo Ann Reyes' office for three months, assisting with immigration cases. (Reyes is a former deputy chief judge in Municipal Court of Fort Worth.) Vigil rented office space from Reyes and opened her private practice and represented mostly Latino clients. She credited the Fort Worth Mexican American Bar Association with case preparation and guidance. Vigil practiced mostly criminal law in Fort Worth and in surrounding counties for 35 years. She recalled in smaller cities such as Granbury, Denton, and Weatherford, male bailiffs sometimes restricted her access to judges and prosecutors. After she explained she was a bona fide attorney who wished to discuss cases with them, they allowed her to proceed. Former Fort Worth school board member Rose Herrera worked in Reyes' office at the same time Vigil practiced there. She observed Vigil was a no-nonsense, bilingual attorney who gave her clients realistic options surrounding their cases. Some disgruntled clients left her, but soon returned to seek Vigil's legal representation. Steve DeLeon, former Lockheed Martin engineer and co-founder of Pecos Country Energy, an oil and gas exploration company, admired Vigil's volunteer work with the Boys and Girls Club, Tejano statue project on Main and Center Streets, donations for Northside High band trips, and pro bono legal consultation. Recognizing the importance of honoring unsung female heroes in Fort Worth, DeLeon, business leaders, and others started the Local Women of Courage Celebration project in 2023. Along with fellow Latino business owners, Save the Youth nonprofit, and Fort Worth Independent School District, they honored several outstanding women at annual celebrations. Vigil and other women will receive dolls created by students in Manuel Jara Elementary School David Orona's art class to represent the women's strengths on April 5 at the Northside Community Center. Although Vigil retired as a practicing attorney in May, 2024, she continued to receive calls from former clients or residents seeking guidance through the legal labyrinth. She enjoyed hearing from young people who stated her speech to their class or community event inspired them. A young man who worked at the Hyatt hotel in Houston approached Vigil, who was in the city for a conference. He recalled her story about how she progressed from riding a bike to driving a Porsche. When she asked him what he was doing in Houston, he answered: going to college to buy a Porsche someday. Author Richard J. Gonzales writes and speaks about Fort Worth, national and international Latino history.
