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Yahoo
20 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Swoon! Dawson's Creek's Joey and Pacey Are Reuniting On Screen — This Is Not a Drill!
Katie Holmes and Joshua Jackson don't want to wait for their lives to be over to work together again. The former Dawson's Creek co-stars — and one-time real-life couple — who captured hearts as TV lovebirds Joey Potter and Pacey Witter (pictured below) will once again share the screen for the feature film trilogy Happy Hours, written and directed by Holmes. It will mark the first time in 22 years that Holmes and Jackson have acted together in a project. More from Is Doctor Odyssey Cancelled? There's More Bad News for the ABC Series The movie is described as a 'story about two people (played by Jackson and Holmes) navigating their relationship within the challenges of careers and family responsibilities and the pursuit of love despite life's inevitable obstacles,' reads the official description. 'The film is a character driven dramedy that explores the emotional journey of young loves who reconnect as adults, with the connective thread of shared joys, loss, and hope.' The cast also includes Mary Louise Parker, Constance Wu, Joe Tippett, John McGinty, Donald Webber Jr, Nathan Darrow, Johnna Dias-Watson and Jack Martin, although it's unclear at the moment if Holmes, Jackson and the rest of the ensemble will appear in all three movies. The first film begins production this summer in New York City, with the subsequent installments shooting closely after. The news of Holmes and Jackson's collaboration comes not long after his ABC series Doctor Odyssey was, effectively, cancelled. ABC let the cast's options expire, allowing Jackson and the rest of the ensemble to pursue other projects. Holmes and Jackson are, of course, known for playing one of TV's most popular couples on The WB classic Dawson's Creek from 1998-2003. Their characters' on-and-off romance kicked off in Season 3, rejuvenating the series and spawning the infamous 'Crying Dawson' gif after Joey picked Pacey over her ex. The series finale concluded with Joey and Pacey rekindling their romantic relationship as adults. Off screen, Holmes and Jackson also briefly dated during the show's early years. 'I am so very grateful to be working again with so many of my wonderful friends on this film HAPPY HOURS,' Holmes wrote on Instagram. 'And working with Josh after so many years is a testament to friendship. HAPPY HOURS is a love story that includes so many people I adore. We can't wait for everyone to see what we make.' While you try to contain your excitement for the pair's reunion, check out the gallery below of 20+ primetime next season. Solve the daily Crossword
Grazia USA
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Grazia USA
Katie Holmes & Joshua Jackson Have A 'Dawson's Creek' Reunion In NYC
NEW YORK, NY – JULY 21: Katie Holmes and Joshua Jackson are seen on the set of 'Happy Hours' on July 21, 2025, in New York, New York. (Photo by MEGA/GC Images) Two decades may have passed since the cult TV show Dawson's Creek faded to black, but Katie Holmes and Joshua Jackson, the forever teen-dream romance of the late 90s, are proving chemistry can endure. Reunited in New York City, the now-grown-up duo comes together again for Happy Hours , Holmes' new trilogy of films. As they filmed, the former co-stars were photographed laughing between takes, looking relaxed and joyful. Dressed down in an oversized flannel shirt and jersey grey tank top, contrasted with tailored navy trousers, tan boots and a dark brown Chloé Paddington bag, Holmes is bringing her effortless street style to the screen with a noughties twist. Meanwhile, Jackson also brought a touch of Indie Sleaze with a khaki cargo jacket, a graphic t-shirt, faded jeans, and a cross-body messenger bag. NEW YORK, NY – JULY 21: Katie Holmes and Joshua Jackson are seen on the set of 'Happy Hour' on July 21, 2025, in New York City. (Photo by Jason Howard/Bauer-Griffin/GC Images) Holmes, 46, is on triple duty as writer, director, and star of the project, which Deadline reports as being a dramedy chronicling the lives of a couple navigating the frictions of ambition, family, and time over the years. Jackson, 47, plays opposite her, in what the outlet says is the first of three instalments, set to be shot back-to-back—meaning, there's still plenty more of Joey and Pacey to come. 385450 05: Actress Katie Holmes stars as Joey and actor Joshua Jackson stars as Pacey in the Warner Bros. television drama 'Dawson's Creek,' circa 2000. (Photo by Columbia TriStar International Television/Courtesy of Getty Images) Though their on-screen love may have been the stuff of teenage dreams, Holmes and Jackson decided they were better off as friends early on. After a year of off-screen dating, the two called it quits, going on to have a handful of other public romances. Still, the affection remains. 'Katie and I are very close,' Jackson said earlier this year on Jesse Tyler Ferguson's podcast, Dinner's On Me . 'There's always that, 'I know, you know.'' And to that we say, who better to portray all of love's messiness over time than two people who've already lived it? topics: Katie Holmes, joshua jackson, celebrity, celebrity news, entertainment, dawsons creek, movies, film, Film News, Film + TV, Happy Hours, Trending
The Guardian
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Girls gone bad: Lena Dunham's Too Much is just not good enough
There is one TV show that has been enjoyed most often, and most reliably, among my cohort in New York: Girls, the seminal HBO dramedy about Brooklyn's downwardly mobile and highly self-important creative class of the 2010s. Though a cultural lightning rod when it aired from 2012 until 2017 – its whiteness, convincing narcissism, frank sexuality and frequent nudity all catnip for the cresting blogosphere and cyclical moral panic – Girls has rightfully settled into its status as one of the best television series of the 21st century, a foundational text for millennials as well as a biting satire of solipsistic, Obama-era striving. (Although viewers too young to remember it as anything other than canon now see the girls' flailing – their freedom to wear terrible prints, listen to Vampire Weekend and be earnest – as something to be envied rather than derided, a core tenet of the millennial redemption arc.) The show was always sharper than tendentious criticism acknowledged, a knowing send-up not to be taken too seriously, though it did seriously shape the TV that followed – the idea of an 'unlikable' female protagonist was always ahistorical, but messy, compelling women on television proliferated in Hannah Horvath's wake, from the girls of Broad City to Insecure's Issa, Phoebe Waller-Bridge's Fleabag to Pamela Adlon's Better Things. It is unfortunately still radical to see someone who looks like creator, writer and star Lena Dunham be naked on screen without judgment; though television has explored sex much more successfully than movies in the years since, no show has fully succeeded Girls' unvarnished vision of sex as something both banal and essential. No wonder so many people are rewatching it. All of which is to say: expectations were high for Too Much, Dunham's new TV series for Netflix. Though not her first project since Girls – she helmed HBO's ill-fated series Camping, made two feature films (one much better than the other) and directed the (excellent) pilot of Industry – Too Much is the first true follow-up to the show that made her a cultural flashpoint at the age of 26. From the jump, Jessica, played by the comedian Megan Stalter, appears as a natural successor to Dunham's annoying but subtly endearing Horvath. Once again in Brooklyn, Jessica does something headstrong and inadvisable: she breaks into her ex-boyfriend Zev's (Michael Zegen) apartment and screams him and his new girlfriend Wendy (longtime Dunham friend Emily Ratajkowski) awake, hysterically demanding that he declare leaving her to be the worst thing anyone has ever done. The amateur and ultimately futile home invasion is the first sign that Too Much will, like Girls before it, concern at least one prickly and off-putting character who is refreshingly and unashamedly not skinny. It is also the first sign that something is off. Whereas Hannah annoyed with a recognizable, skewering self-obsession, Jessica's Too Much-ness – shocking volume, machine-gun delivery, inherent awkwardness – is a gag. Stalter comes from the world of front-facing camera internet comedy, where heightened bits and jarring phrases reign supreme (her best work – 'hi, gay!' – will get stuck in your head for hours). The translation to television works in small parts, as in Hacks, but flounders as a lead, particularly one supposed to attract a handsome musician (Will Sharpe) at a pub and succeed as an advertising director while showing up to work in bunny ears. Dunham is now in her late 30s and married (her husband, the indie musician Luis Felber, co-created the show with her); no one will begrudge her avoiding a repeat of the Girls formula, which no show has been able to crack (Adults tried this spring, and failed). With Too Much, she steers far from any specific scene, instead focusing on the relationship between Jessica and Sharpe's Felix, loosely based on her own. The 10-part romcom features the welcome presence of Dunham's underrated acting, a buzzy lead in Stalter, a refreshingly grey vision of London, a murderers' row of cameos – among them, Andrew Scott, Naomi Watts, Stephen Fry and Kit Harington – and sensitive scenes between two weirdo lovers. But without a scene or a trope to satirize – Dunham, through Jessica, is thoroughly enamored by English romcoms from Pride & Prejudice to Notting Hill – its comedy falters. Long on grating gags and short on zingers, Too Much is, and I say this begrudgingly, an overlong and underbaked disappointment. It is, however, very much of its era in television, when the downsides of the streaming boom have come into clearer focus. Episode lengths for Too Much vary from 31 minutes to a baggy 50+, less evidence of creative flexibility than a resistance to editing. Like Jessica's favored nightgowns, the chapters are oversized and diaphanous, standard Netflix second-screen fare; some, such as the standout third episode depicting an accidental all-nighter punctuated by repeated, insistent sex as Jessica and Felix fall in love, believably advance their relationship with Dunham's distinctive sense of erotic realism. Others, such as a Jessica meeting Felix's friends and, true to form, doing too much ketamine, trap the characters in a cyclical loop of dysfunction. Dunham is, as the critic Lili Loofbourow put it, an excellent miniaturist – Too Much shines when the world falls away from Jessica and Felix, as they build the couple's secret language of bits, vulnerabilities and callbacks. But as soon as the show meanders – to some egregiously overdrawn co-workers, to Jessica's mother (Rita Wilson) on FaceTime across the pond, Dunham loses her grip. One scene, Jessica is getting a dressing-down from her boss (Richard E Grant) for her performance; the next, they're bingeing coke at a work party at his house. But perhaps most disappointing to me, as a fan of Girls, is the show's tenuous grip on the reality of the body. It is refreshing to see Stalter, a plus-size actor, play an unabashed character who generally gets what she wants, and whose romantic rivals are played by Ratajkowski, the epitome of conventional hot on Instagram, and the French movie star Adèle Exarchopoulos. It also feels a bit disingenuous to not acknowledge appearances at all, particularly when the culture is regressing back to the eating disorder-riddled 'thin is in' of the 2000s. During one early sex scene, Felix lays a hand on Jessica's bandaged stomach – always hapless, she burned herself – but does not grab her, as if he respects her curves, but does not crave her, as if they are beside the point of attraction. Such is the muted energy of Too Much, a show at once too broad and not enough. Dunham, once the tongue-in-cheek 'voice of a generation', has succeeded again – unfortunately this time, it's in making Netflix background TV.
The Guardian
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Girls gone bad: Lena Dunham's Too Much is just not good enough
There is one TV show that has been enjoyed most often, and most reliably, among my cohort in New York: Girls, the seminal HBO dramedy about Brooklyn's downwardly mobile and highly self-important creative class of the 2010s. Though a cultural lightning rod when it aired from 2012 until 2017 – its whiteness, convincing narcissism, frank sexuality and frequent nudity all catnip for the cresting blogosphere and cyclical moral panic – Girls has rightfully settled into its status as one of the best television series of the 21st century, a foundational text for millennials as well as a biting satire of solipsistic, Obama-era striving. (Although viewers too young to remember it as anything other than canon now see the girls' flailing – their freedom to wear terrible prints, listen to Vampire Weekend and be earnest – as something to be envied rather than derided, a core tenet of the millennial redemption arc.) The show was always sharper than tendentious criticism acknowledged, a knowing send-up not to be taken too seriously, though it did seriously shape the TV that followed – the idea of an 'unlikable' female protagonist was always ahistorical, but messy, compelling women on television proliferated in Hannah Horvath's wake, from the girls of Broad City to Insecure's Issa, Phoebe Waller-Bridge's Fleabag to Pamela Adlon's Better Things. It is unfortunately still radical to see someone who looks like creator, writer and star Lena Dunham be naked on screen without judgment; though television has explored sex much more successfully than movies in the years since, no show has fully succeeded Girls' unvarnished vision of sex as something both banal and essential. No wonder so many people are rewatching it. All of which is to say: expectations were high for Too Much, Dunham's new TV series for Netflix. Though not her first project since Girls – she helmed HBO's ill-fated series Camping, made two feature films (one much better than the other) and directed the (excellent) pilot of Industry – Too Much is the first true follow-up to the show that made her a cultural flashpoint at the age of 26. From the jump, Jessica, played by the comedian Megan Stalter, appears as a natural successor to Dunham's annoying but subtly endearing Hannah Horvath. Once again in Brooklyn, Jessica does something headstrong and inadvisable: she breaks into her ex-boyfriend Zev's (Michael Zegen) apartment and screams him and his new girlfriend Wendy (longtime Dunham friend Emily Ratajkowski) awake, hysterically demanding that he declare leaving her to be the worst thing anyone has ever done. The amateur and ultimately futile home invasion is the first sign that Too Much will, like Girls before it, concern at least one prickly and off-putting character who is refreshingly and unashamedly not skinny. It is also the first sign that something is off. Whereas Hannah annoyed with a recognizable, skewering self-obsession, Jessica's Too Much-ness – shocking volume, machine-gun delivery, inherent awkwardness – is a gag. Stalter comes from the world of front-facing camera internet comedy, where heightened bits and jarring phrases reign supreme (her best work – 'hi, gay!' – will get stuck in your head for hours). The translation to television works in small parts, as in Hacks, but flounders as a lead, particularly one supposed to attract a handsome musician (Will Sharpe) at a pub and succeed as an advertising director while showing up to work in bunny ears. Dunham is now in her late 30s and married (her husband, the indie musician Luis Felber, co-created the show with her); no one will begrudge her avoiding a repeat of the Girls formula, which no show has been able to crack (Adults tried this spring, and failed). With Too Much, she steers far from any specific scene, instead focusing on the relationship between Jessica and Sharpe's Felix, loosely based on her own. The 10-part romcom features the welcome presence of Dunham's underrated acting, a buzzy lead in Stalter, a refreshingly grey vision of London, a murderers' row of cameos – among them, Andrew Scott, Naomi Watts, Stephen Fry and Kit Harington – and sensitive scenes between two weirdo lovers. But without a scene or a trope to satirize – Dunham, through Jessica, is thoroughly enamored by English romcoms from Pride & Prejudice to Notting Hill – its comedy falters. Long on grating gags and short on zingers, Too Much is, and I say this begrudgingly, an overlong and underbaked disappointment. It is, however, very much of its era in television, when the downsides of the streaming boom have come into clearer focus. Episode lengths for Too Much vary from 31 minutes to a baggy 50+, less evidence of creative flexibility than a resistance to editing. Like Jessica's favored nightgowns, the chapters are oversized and diaphanous, standard Netflix second-screen fare; some, such the standout third episode depicting an accidental all-nighter punctuated by repeated, insistent sex as Jessica and Felix fall in love, believably advance their relationship with Dunham's distinctive sense of erotic realism. Others, such as a Jessica meeting Felix's friends and, true to form, doing too much ketamine, trap the characters in a cyclical loop of dysfunction. Dunham is, as the critic Lili Loofbourow put it, an excellent miniaturist – Too Much shines when the world falls away from Jessica and Felix, as they build the couple's secret language of bits, vulnerabilities and callbacks. But as soon as the show meanders – to some egregiously overdrawn co-workers, to Jessica's mother (Rita Wilson) on FaceTime across the pond, Dunham loses her grip. One scene, Jessica is getting a dressing-down from her boss (Richard E Grant) for her performance; the next, they're bingeing coke at a work party at his house. But perhaps most disappointing to me, as a fan of Girls, is the show's tenuous grip on the reality of the body. It is refreshing to see Stalter, a plus-size actor, play an unabashed character who generally gets what she wants, and whose romantic rivals are played by Ratajkowski, the epitome of conventional hot on Instagram, and the French movie star Adèle Exarchopoulos. It also feels a bit disingenuous to not acknowledge appearances at all, particularly when the culture is regressing back to the eating disorder-riddled 'thin is in' of the 2000s. During one early sex scene, Felix lays a hand on Jessica's bandaged stomach – always hapless, she burned herself – but does not grab her, as if he respects her curves, but does not crave her, as if they are beside the point of attraction. Such is the muted energy of Too Much, a show at once too broad and not enough. Dunham, once the tongue-in-cheek 'voice of a generation', has succeeded again – unfortunately this time, it's in making Netflix background TV.
New York Times
11-07-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
‘Rage' Is a Wild Spanish Dramedy About Women Who Are Pushed Too Far
The Spanish dramedy 'Rage' (in Spanish, with subtitles), debuting on Friday night at 8 on HBO Latino, is a distinctive anthology of female anger. Each episode includes a true plate-smashing meltdown, the culmination of decades of frustration and neglect. People rip cabinets off the wall, light fires, destroy entire kitchens. And while the show has an amped-up soapy lilt, all the indignation is grounded in real despair and grief. The stories connect and coincide; some of the women are neighbors, or catch glimpses of each other on television. Some of the women are rich and impulsive while others scrounge for each rent check, but disappointment knows no tax bracket. A prized pig wanders through the chapters connecting the arcs, too. Marga (Carmen Machi) is a visual artist and hobbyist markswoman whose slick husband is sleeping with their housekeeper, Tina (Claudia Salas). Tina's mom, Adela (Nathalie Poza), struggles to make ends meet while taking care of her own ailing mother. Nat (Candela Peña), prim and stylish, loves her job at a high-end department store … until she is forced out by a blasé boss who prefers to hire less-qualified Instagram influencers. Vera (Pilar Castro), a celebrity chef, vents to her pal Marga about how hopeless she feels, how sinister the world seems to her. But it isn't just perception, it is also projection: She winds up torturing a journalist who antagonizes her. 'We're all just selfishness, meanness and madness,' she tells him while he's tied to a table. When Victoria (Cecilia Roth) realizes the award she is getting is sponsorship nonsense and not a belated recognition of her work, the humiliation overwhelms her, and we watch this tidal wave of self-recrimination crash on shore. Have I been a fool this whole time? How much of my life have I wasted operating under these misapprehensions about myself, about the world? Everything on 'Rage' escalates, quickly, and the behaviors are extreme — and exciting. While the characters are motivated by pain, the show itself is bright and funny, colorful and surprising. Two episodes air on Friday and the remaining six air weekly after that.
