Latest news with #familyDrama
The Sun
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Sun
Cruz Beckham begs for the ‘truth' in cryptic post amid family feud with brother Brooklyn
CRUZ Beckham has begged for the "truth" in a cryptic post, amid the his family's feud with brother Brooklyn. Brooklyn, 26, and wife Nicola Peltz, 30, first sparked rumours of a huge rift when they snubbed all of dad David's 50th birthday celebrations. 5 5 Now the youngest of the Beckham boys appears to want to put an end to the drama, with his latest post. Cruz, 20, shared a cryptic message on his latest Instagram Stories. The aspiring singer wrote: "It takes 43 muscles in your face to frown, and 17 to smile. "Be kind and tell the truth." Cruz's brother Romeo, 22, has also been sharing cryptic posts on Instagram as the rift rumbles on. FEUD DEEPENS Yesterday, the Beckham feud appeared to deepen when it was revealed how David, 50, and Victoria, 51, 'didn't even know' son Brooklyn was in London recently, when he failed to visit them amid their family feud. It was reported that the eldest of the Beckham kids snubbed his famous parents, during a low-key visit to the capital last week - and now the real reason has been "revealed". Insiders say retired footballer David and fashion designer Victoria 'can't deal' with the situation between them and their son. The source told US Weekly: 'It's sad, really. 'David and Victoria didn't even know Brooklyn was in London. It's becoming increasingly clear how strained things are behind the scenes. Brooklyn Beckham takes swipe at David and Victoria amid 'family feud' as he shares tribute to wife Nicola Peltz 'David and Victoria always turn up for Brooklyn and Nicola, whether it's for the launch of his hot sauce brand or her movie premiere. This is just very sad.' The insider added: 'Brooklyn's family adores him and will always be there for him. They just can't deal with this nonsense anymore.' The source also claimed that Brooklyn decided not to meet with his parents as he's "trying to let things go right now and is giving everyone space". DAMNING POST Last weekend Brooklyn made his feelings very clear with a damning social media post in which he vowed to always put his wife first. He said: 'My whole world. I will love you forever. I always choose you baby.' Fans were less than impressed, with one commenting: "Why do you need to do this post on social media , who are you trying to convince? There's no need to say these things publicly - odd." A second said: "What on earth forced you to choose…just miss those Beckhams together days." While at third remarked: "Remember kid, you are nothing without your parents.'
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Kataraina by Becky Manawatu review – a generous and masterful novel
The Māori and Pākehā writer Becky Manawatu's first novel, Auē (meaning 'to cry, wail or howl' in te reo Māori), came across my desk in a pile of books to judge for the 2020 Ockhams, New Zealand's most prestigious literary award. I'd never heard of Manawatu so the book arrived as blank as a newborn – and yet Auē read as if reincarnated for countless lives. It was an assured and flawless family drama exploring violence and redemption. It scooped the prize. In my notes I said the writing was 'like acid on the skin'. Manawatu has just released her second novel, Kataraina. Where Auē burnt, Kataraina heals; a soothing, rinsing, complex novel. Kataraina follows the eponymous character who is whāngai (aunty) to orphan Ārama, known as Ari and one of the narrators in Auē. This book acts as both sequel and prequel; one needn't read Auē to enjoy Kataraina, though their stories orbit each other in a tight dance. Kataraina, like Auē, is about family and violence, secrets and terrible inheritances. There is an incident involving 'the girl who shot the man' at the centre of the story to decipher, though crimes and their perpetrators in Kataraina are many and run deep. The plot is withheld for much of the novel; instead, this is a heart-touching portrait of Kataraina, from child to adult; the whenua (land) where she lives – the swamp, the river; and the ancestors that haunt them. Kataraina is told from a first-person plural point of view of the whānau (family), a collective perspective that spans centuries: 'It's an old story, and we can see it all as if we are there.' The story is nonlinear, and revealed in beautiful vignettes that weave together like the braided rivers of Kaikōura. The novel is as much about place – the braided rivers and the endangered kanakana (lamprey) – as it is about relationships between characters. Propelling the story forward is a secret – the identity of a murderer– that lingers as if 'once a dog barking somewhere distant, was now a shrill bird busting its head bloody against the glass pane of her heart'. Violence shimmers on the edge of the frame in Kataraina. It's the uneasy feeling of observation, of tiptoeing on eggshells before another character stomps over them. Words are powerful matter and Manawatu wields language like an axe against a stump, splintering across the page: We are dragons and demons and sluts and maggots and we cook a mean mutton chop and we roll a mean joint and write a mean essay and make a mean cuppa and can lend a mean ear and will let our patience be tested for love. It's all for love. We are mean Māori, mean. We're too much. As in Auē, Manawatu's descriptions are beautiful – the water's surface moves 'like a hand rubbing a dog's coat the wrong way'. There is so much mouthfeel in the writing – the 'soft fat water' of the ocean, the 'hot chips wrapped in creamy paper', in sumptuous, powerful passages like: 'The shamer is a beast, and it doesn't eat apples and eggs and creamed corn or pain. It slurps up hope and the people you might have been. Gorges on her brilliance.' Manawatu's writing style is reminiscent of Melissa Lucashenko, Toni Morrison and Keri Hulme – insofar as the author seems to be communing with these powerful characters on the altar of the page, and we, the readers, are opportune witnesses. Like Hulme, Manawatu is of Kāi Tahu (Ngāi Tahu) whakapapa (ancestry). Kāi Tahu has its own storytelling tradition, and it sits here within the New Zealand gothic like a glove, the past informing the present and all time. Her words are a balm; woven into the text is the guttural language of te reo Māori, using Kāi Tahu dialect. I felt my tongue change while reading Kataraina, and the experience felt tapu (sacred) as the language tumbled down the back of my throat to the guts. Sign up to Saved for Later Catch up on the fun stuff with Guardian Australia's culture and lifestyle rundown of pop culture, trends and tips after newsletter promotion There is a secondary narrative set in the present, in the form of a scientific field study of the river that 'flowed silver beside her, parallel timelines merging near the rising sun'. What I found genius about this thread was how it expanded my understanding of the observer and the observed through agricultural and botanical colonialism of the mahinga kai (food gathering places) of the Waiau-toa (Clarence River) and surrounds, while also adding depth and nuance to Kataraina's relationships, by examining them through historical changes and metaphors drawn from the landscape, past and present always conversing. The novel acts as a sort of river water; the swamp is the tipuna (ancestors), and we, the readers, are the kanakana swimming among them. Perhaps Manawatu, the storyteller, the whakahekenga (descendant), is scooping us up from the story of her ancestors, and walking us up the braided rivers, up, up, to Te Au nui (Mataura Falls) to learn, to be moved, to be changed. Whatever her intention, it is a wonder to read: Kataraina is a generous, expansive, masterful novel that drenches up and fills in at once. Kataraina is out through Scribe in Australia (A$35) and Mākaro Press in New Zealand (NZ$37)
Times
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Times
Beckhams in crisis? Grow up!
T he most baffling thing about the Beckham family feud — which both sides seem oddly keen to conduct both in public and in excruciating detail — is that it can be boiled down to one simple thing: first-born son marries woman his mother doesn't like. All the guff billowing from 'close friends' and 'sources close to' about how 'staggered and deeply concerned' Posh and Becks are — and how heartbreaking it is for all concerned — is a tale as old as time: mothers and their sons. Brooklyn Beckham with his wife, Nicola Peltz INSTAGRAM As far as I can gather, and you'll have to forgive me if I'm not word perfect on this, first there was the row between Nicola Peltz and Posh over her wedding dress, which was by Valentino not Victoria Beckham. And, to be fair, you can see both sides: it's easy to understand why Posh was a bit miffed but also why the bride insisted on choosing her own wedding dress.
Geek Tyrant
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Geek Tyrant
Holt McCallany Leads Family Crime Drama in Trailer For THE WATERFRONT Series at Netflix — GeekTyrant
Netflix has released a trailer for their upcoming series The Waterfront , a family drama led by Holt McCallany, Maria Bello, Jake Weary, Melissa Benoist, Rafael L. Silva, Humberly González, Danielle Campbell, and Brady Hepner. Series guest stars include Topher Grace, Dave Annable, Michael Gaston, Gerardo Celasco, and Zach Roerig. The series is created and showrun by Kevin Williamson, creator of the Scream horror franchise, as well as writer on Sick , The Vampire Diaries , and Tell Me a Story . The show was written by Kevin Williamson, Lloyd Gilyard Jr., Brenna Kouf, Michael Narducci, Hannah Schneider, and Katelyn Crabb, with episodes directed by Erica Dunton, Liz Friedlander, Marcos Siega. The synopsis reads: 'For decades, the Buckley family has ruled Havenport, NC, dominating everything from the local fishing industry to the town's restaurants. 'But their fishing empire has started to crumble as patriarch Harlan Buckley (Holt McCallany) recovers from two heart attacks, and his wife Belle (Maria Bello) and son Cane (Jake Weary) venture into the deep end to keep the family businesses afloat. 'As their attempts spiral out of control & into treacherous waters, Harlan steps back in to take command. Facing her own demons, their daughter Bree (Melissa Benoist), an addict in recovery who lost custody of her son Diller (Brady Hepner), finds herself entangled in a complicated relationship that could just threaten the family's future forever. This looks similar to other successful family crime dramas that have come from Netflix, so it may be worth a watch. Check out the trailer below, and watch The Waterfront when the first season hits Netflix on June 19th.
Yahoo
18-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
‘Die My Love' Review: Jennifer Lawrence Is a Mother Grappling with Postpartum Depression (and Punk-Rock Angst) in Lynne Ramsay's Showy Mess of a Marital Psychodrama
In one of the terrifyingly labored and overwrought scenes that make up Lynne Ramsay's 'Die My Love,' Grace (Jennifer Lawrence), who's suffering from an acute case of mental trauma — the film would have you believe it's postpartum depression, though you could make a good case that it's not — has had enough of the noisy dog that her partner, Jackson (Robert Pattinson), brought home for no good reason. The two are living in the country, in a home that Jackson inherited from his uncle, a house that definitely qualifies as a fixer-upper. These two just haven't bothered to fix it up. They have a baby, you see, a sweet little boy, and ever since he came into their lives everything has been falling apart. The dog literally never stops yapping (it's the most annoying dog in history), so Grace, who has brought over a shotgun, asks Jackson to shoot it. He says: Are you kidding that's crazy! So Grace picks up the shotgun and does the deed herself. More from Variety Ezra Miller Speeds Down the Cannes Red Carpet at 'Die, My Love' Premiere in Surprise Festival Appearance Visceral Chilean Docs Head to Cannes for Fifth Annual Showcase, Featuring Chile and Cuba's Parallel Battles, a Chilean Cowboy, an Argentine Sex Worker Man Dressed Up as Bird Shocks Cannes Red Carpet at Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson's 'Die, My Love' Premiere It's clear that she's got a problem. Yet I couldn't help but wonder why Jackson, with a new baby to deal with, brought home that dog in the first place — or, more to the point, why he seemed so flagrantly insensitive to the fact that Grace didn't want a dog. This situation typifies the dynamic of 'Die My Love,' which is as follows: Grace acts out in delirious, raging, violent, inexplicable ways — and Jackson, while understandably dismayed at her behavior, reacts to it by rarely lifting a finger to do anything that would help her. Is he insensitive or just dumb? Pattinson, in a rare bad performance, just plays him as an unpleasant clueless bro. 'Die My Love' presents us with a case of the blind leading the damned. Postpartum depression is a syndrome that was once in the shadows, and there are ways it remains so. It's still misunderstood and under-treated and not empathized with enough. Yet 'Die My Love' serves up a showy yet strange, in many ways baffling hyperbolic projection of what can take place in the hearts and minds of women during the first months (or even years) of motherhood. This is the first film directed by Lynne Ramsay in seven years, since the startling Joaquin Phoenix depravity-and-revenge drama 'You Were Never Really Here' (2017), and what she establishes in the film's early scenes, which feature a lot of in-your-face drinking and fucking, is that Grace and Jackson are a kind of dissolute punk-rock couple, the sort of nihilist parents who aren't going to let having a baby get in the way of their Budweiser regimen. That's okay; they have a right to keep drinking and raise a kid at the same time. But there's very little sense that either of them has decided to become a responsible adult. She's an aspiring writer who says, as soon as the baby is born, that she's done with writing. He's got…some kind of job, that he seems to do occasionally, on the road (we have no idea what it is), but mostly the two are just hanging out in that house. There's very little structure to their lives, or to the movie, beyond Ramsay's art-house showbiz instinct to keep cranking up the shock level of Grace's behavior. It's not really a dialogue-driven movie. Grace and Jackson never have a simple conversation about future plans, or health insurance, or buying groceries, or about how they intend to parent. They just seem like morose post-collegiate slackers who had a baby because they like to fuck a lot and, you know, shit happens. So when Grace starts to act out in a way that makes it seems like she's totally not with the mommy program, the context the movie has created for that is: These two already seem like they're not really with the mommy-and-daddy program. There's never a moment, for instance, when we see them beholding their son with joy; he's more like an accessory they have to take care of. And while there's no simple template for how postpartum depression expresses itself, it can often be incredibly inward. Grace's total alienation from motherhood, on the other hand, is flamboyantly outward. As a filmmaker, Ramsay is a mood poet who favors violence and needle drops (there's a lot of Scorsese in her blood), in this case literal ones, since our two hipster parents have a turntable. Grace first starts to transition into derangement when Toni Basil's 'Mickey' is playing, and the song starts to skip and repeat, and Grace keeps saying 'All right! All right!' and then licks the window pane. Ramsay has a lavish gift for staging that sort of baroque rock 'n' roll breakdown. (A little later, Grace will crash through that same window.) From the start, though, the film almost seems to be getting high on the dysfunctional flamboyance of the behavior it's showing you. 'Die My Love' keeps saying: This may be mental illness…but wow, is it ever cinema! On some level we're watching Grace crack up because wallowing in this much trauma is fixating. In pre-feminist times (say, the 1950s), it was the definition of unenlightened patriarchal myopia to view a woman as 'irrational' or 'overemotional' or — Freud's word — 'hysterical.' But just as many aspects of the past, including those that once seemed retrograde, can be reclaimed with a new consciousness, the notion that a new mother has every right to be irrational in her despair — something that just about everyone in the movie, notably Jackson's mother, Pam (Sissy Spacek), tells Grace — is very much at the center of where we are now. That, in its way, is progress. Because it's reality. The burdens of motherhood can be every bit as staggering as the joys. But 'Die My Love,' for all of Ramsay's talent, isn't designed to explore that experience. It's designed, rather, as a kind of thesis movie: reckless on the surface but overdetermined. And I think that's why Jennifer Lawrence's performance feels so explosive but, at the same time, so emotionally reined in. In 'Die My Love,' you feel the power of her presence, the hellbent quality of her rage. When it comes to chewing out a blabby cashier, crawling around like an animal, trashing the bathroom and pouring soap products all over the floor, or bashing her head on a mirror, she's an ace wastrel. But the very force of her destruction makes us want to go: What is happening? We want the film to offer some kind of answer. Jackson checks Grace into a mental hospital, and she gets 'better,' to the extent that that means she emerges eager to bake cakes and hide her darkness behind a sunny agreeability that looks like a parody of happy-homemaker domesticity. But by now we're onto the film; we're just waiting for that façade to crack. Frankly, it looked to me like Grace, whether or not she's suffering from postpartum depression, has borderline personality disorder. But that would be a different movie. By the time 'Die My Love' reaches its voluptuously incendiary yet somehow rather rote ending, you may wish you were watching a different movie. Best of Variety The Best Albums of the Decade
