John Ford’s classic 1950 WesternRio Grande stars John Wayne as Lieutenant Colonel Kirby Yorke, whose regiment is tasked with defending settlers in Texas from Apaches during the late 1800s. Kirby is in charge of training new recruits and soon learns that his son, Jefferson, whom he hasn’t seen in more than a decade, has enlisted as a private in the Army. Kirby informs the teenage boy (played by Claude Jarman Jr.) that he won’t be getting any special treatment and proceeds to whip him into shape. However, before long, Kirby’s estranged wife, Kathleen (Maureen O’Hara), shows up to take their son home.
A little over an hour into the film, Kirby tells his wife that he’s decided not to bring Jefferson along with him in pursuit of the Apaches in Mexico. Though Rio Grande remains beloved for a great many reasons, this scene in particular has attracted considerable attention in recent years—and not for anything that was intended by the cast or crew. If you keep your eye on the top left-hand part of the screen as Kirby’s breaking the news to Kathleen, you’ll see what looks like a UFO shooting across the sky in the background. Check out the clip for yourself below.
Did John Ford Accidentally Capture a UFO in His 1950 Western ‘Rio Grande’?
Naturally, this discovery has sparked an ongoing debate regarding what’s actually happening in that footage. While several sources claim that Rio Grande was filmed entirely on location in Monument Valley, some parts of the movie were said to have been shot at Republic Studios in Los Angeles. The zoomed-in portions of the video above make it appear as though the sequence in question was recorded on a soundstage. So, for that to be an alien craft flying around behind John Wayne, keep in mind that it would have to be a pretty tiny one.
Is that enough to rule out the possibility of a UFO in everyone’s mind? Of course not, but the fact that neither of the actors in the scene noticed or reacted to what was going on reveals how insignificant it was. After all, even a really small craft would make a noise if it was right next to you, no? The more likely explanation is that Ford captured light reflecting off of the backdrop, and probably just didn’t realize it—or care enough about it to bother reshooting the sequence.
Peter Benchley’s 1974 novel Jaws was an immediate success upon release and was subsequently adapted into the blockbuster Steven Spielberg movie of the same name the following year. But despite the book putting Benchley on the map and making him a millionaire, the author began to second-guess his work as time went on. “What I now know, which wasn’t known when I wrote Jaws, is that there is no such thing as a rogue shark which develops a taste for human flesh,” Benchley was quoted as saying in 2000. “No one appreciates how vulnerable they are to destruction.”
Furthermore, Benchley explained that he never would’ve written the hit novel if he’d realized how much damage it would do to the reputation of the great white shark. After the book’s debut, Benchley became a shark expert and spent the rest of his life advocating for the creatures he’d unintentionally demonized. “Considering the knowledge accumulated about great whites in the past 25 years, I couldn’t possibly write Jaws today…not in good conscience, anyway,” Benchley told the Cape Cod Times ahead of the premiere of his National Geographic documentary Great White, Deep Trouble.
The Author of ‘Jaws’ Became a Shark Conservationist After Learning the Truth About Great Whites
According to scientist Simon Thorrold of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, Jaws helped legitimize shark hunting. An estimated 50 to 100 million sharks are killed by humans each year, but sharks are only responsible for a small number of human deaths by comparison. “If you bought into the fact that you had this rogue, cold-blooded killer going around hunting humans, then obviously anything you could do to stop those sharks was good,” said Thorrold. “It provided cover for people who simply wanted to go out and kill sharks under the guise of somehow making people safer.”
However, Benchley, who died in 2006, insisted that reports of him regretting the book were untrue. “Regret is a waste of time in a case like this,” he argued. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” He eventually learned that stories revolving around sharks attacking boats and staying in a single area to feed on humans were implausible. As he tells it, things wouldn’t happen that way in real life because the animals have a tendency to spit people out.
The Party at Kitty and Stud’s is a softcore porno flick from 1970 that would probably be completely forgotten today if it weren’t for one minor detail: it happens to star Sylvester Stallone. The story, appropriately enough, revolves around a young couple named Kitty (Henrietta Holm) and Stud (Stallone). Despite Stud having his fair share of flaws, the two have a very active sex life, which sometimes ventures into sadomasochism. After Stud posts a party invitation on a bulletin board, a few people drop by the pair’s apartment, and their little get-together quickly turns into a full-blown orgy.
While speaking with Playboyin 1978, Stallone explained that he was destitute when he decided to take the part, which ended up being his first starring role in a movie. “I’d been bounced out of my apartment and had spent four nights in a row at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, trying to avoid the cops, trying to get some sleep and keeping my pens and books in a 25-cent locker,” the actor revealed. “That’s why I thought it was extraordinary when I read in one of the trade papers that I could make $100 a day,” he continued. “And the fact that I had to take off my clothes to do it was no big deal.”
Why Sylvester Stallone Agreed to Star in a Softcore Porn Movie Before He Was Famous
Though The Party at Kitty and Stud’s only appears to have had a limited release initially, the owners of the film, of course, tried to milk it for what it was worth when Stallone had his big breakthrough with Rocky a few years later. Stallone’s raunchy debut was subsequently reissued under the title Italian Stallion—a reference to Rocky Balboa’s nickname. “I can assure you that everything you ever wanted to see of Sylvester Stallone can be seen in this new X-rated movie,” editor Gail Palmer promised viewers in the trailer.
However, this was only after the film’s producers offered Stallone the opportunity to purchase the footage from them. “I think they asked for $100,000, but I wouldn’t buy it for two bucks, and my lawyer told them to hit the pike,” the Rambo star recalled. Looking back on his involvement with the project, Stallone said, “You know, when you’re hungry, you do a lot of things you wouldn’t ordinarily do, and it’s funny how you can readjust your morality for the sake of self-preservation.” He went on to say, “It was either do that movie or rob someone, because I was at the end—the very end—of my rope.”
The folks at the Goodrich Capital 8 movie theater in Jefferson City, Missouri, have some weird ideas for entertaining their patrons. For example, in May 2013, when Iron Man 3 premiered, reports said a man walked into the theater wearing tactical gear and carrying guns. As it turns out, the theater hired the guy to give customers a little more bang for their buck. Not everyone realized that, however.
“We had just finished watching Iron Man 3. We’re just getting into the car when I spotted a man in full assault gear, carrying what appeared to be a modified M4 and 9mm on his side,” John Morlock, a retired Army veteran who suffers from PTSD, told ABC News. Morlock didn’t tell the police, but according to JCPD captain Doug Shoemaker, the department received a series of calls pertaining to the incident. As a result, officers believed they were responding to an active shooter investigation.
The Time an ‘Iron Man 3’ Publicity Stunt Went Horribly Wrong
The theater manager, Bob Wilkins, later claimed the man with the guns was there for promotional purposes and that the stunt was planned months in advance. Wilkins also said only a few people were upset, but “hundreds were entertained.” When asked if he’d taken the Aurora movie theater shooting from the previous year into consideration while planning this bizarre gimmick, Wilkins replied, “Absolutely. That’s my number-one priority every day. It’s the safety and security of our guests.”
The theater quickly posted an apology on its Facebook page afterward. “We apologize and are sympathetic to those who felt they were in harm’s way with our character promotion for Iron Man 3,” it began. “We have worked with the Cosplacon group on many movies to dress up and help entertain our customers,” the statement continued. “We have had many complaints about the members dressed specifically as S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives carrying fake guns. We didn’t clearly tell our customers and some people didn’t realize it was for entertainment purposes.”
For the record, S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives weren’t even featured in the movie.
Mr. Lars von Trier is a self-proclaimed idiot. And he made the polarizing yet truly inventive film Idiotene (1998), or Dogme #2, for idiots and about a group of idiots. Idiotene, which I initially decided to watch after seeing that celebrity author Karl Ove Knausgård had given his endorsement, just might provoke your pearl-clutching indignation with (what may initially appear to be) its brazenly bad taste. During my first viewing, I had to keep pausing this graphic oddity because I was laughing so hard it hurt. But in the end, the profound meaning, which is revealed by way of the absurd, earned my tears in streams. (Von Trier has a knack for making women weep, as his previous masterpiece, Breaking the Waves, caused Georgia Brown of The Village Voice to run out of its 1996 Cannes screening crying, with rock-star journalist Janet Maslin of NYT following to comfort her.) The outrageous shenanigans throughout Idiotene make sense and are justified when one considers what Mr. von Trier, the auto-diagnosed “best film director in the world,” truly had in mind. I could discuss this milestone and what I take away from it endlessly. However, that is a rant for another time…
In 2025, I watched a film by a different notable Nordic director responsible for another one of my favorite movies… In infinite respects, it was thoroughly insufferable — a big empty, albeit ambitious, slab of rubbish, or what one might call ego fuel for those vanilla and undiscriminating normies wishing to pride themselves on their self-perceived depth, sensitivity, and rarefied nature. Needless to say, the film failed to activate a single one of my facial muscles, except to yawn. Alright, I’ll admit: I couldn’t resist a solitary smile upon seeing a Danish veteran actor step in to make a cameo of sorts. Having been a script reader and knowing more than a bit about acting, I could dissect the audio-visual banality in question bit by bit. And yet, since it is genius that isn’t typically received kindly in its own time, this contrived two-plus-hour pretext for adults to pat themselves on the back for the feat of having endured it would garner comparisons to the work of the immortal Ingmar Bergman — as if there were any modern-day Bergmans, Dreyers, or Tarkovskys. (And where are the genuinely fascinating characters like Agnès Varda?)
Hollywood Needs More Weirdos Like Lars von Trier
I came away from this-since awarded soporific with a sense of sadness, resulting both from now having to bear the memory of one of my favorite actors participating in something so worthless as well as disappointment in the director. Granted, I shouldn’t have been at all surprised that the now-Conformist Without a (Much of a) Cause exposed his true (gray and beige) colors, as his loss of edge even predated his perilous transition to fatherhood, which can either dull or enrich a person’s perspective. Yet, fortunately, there is a silver lining: My respect for Scandinavia’s true reigning king, “The Boss of It All,” was renewed. Thank you, Lars von Trier, for your completely uncompromising, incorrigibly obnoxious (in a real way, not a pandering marionette way), and forever utterly brilliant approach to cinema. Von Trier does not seem to have lost an ounce of that childlike wonder with which he animated his first short film as an 11-year-old, Turen til Squashland (1967), and he continues to impart that same unshakeable, (ir)reverent, wide-eyed awe in audiences. His titles aren’t messy and outlandish because they are flawed, but because they are human and impregnated with the (oftentimes manipulative) unpredictability of life. Von Trier delivers raw emotion, transformative power, and everlasting cinematic images. In short, the rogue Lars von Trier is everything that the vast majority of prevailing filmmakers are not — an auteur genius, brave, inspired, inventive, chokingly hard to swallow. These are the elements missing from the contrived, derivative, and meaningless cesspit that cinema has become.
Whereas von Trier co-founded Zentropa, his own production company, in 1992, in part, so that he could take risks and embark upon endeavors that might lose money, other filmmakers and the systems they exist within are obviously too money-oriented, which is especially unfortunate given worsening consumer taste (You are what you’ve been fed, so the loop continues…). The entertainment business generally does not award opportunities to the best directors, actors, writers, etc., and can make it difficult for more innocent souls to persist. True (as in challenging) individualism and eccentricity (as opposed to superficial outward weirdness) are discouraged. I’m not a fan of today’s Hollywood’s workings and releases (and I sigh because the American influence has quite clearly had a corrosive effect on foreign offerings, creeping into matters as minute as the way actors hold themselves, as annoying and fake little behavioral Americanisms have infected people across the world)… State funding can allow uniquely gifted creators to emerge, but it comes with its own problems.
What’s Wrong With Modern Movies? Too Many Filmmakers Are Afraid to Take Risks.
The fact that hardly anything is well-written, well-directed, and well-acted can also, to an extent, be attributed to professors and pedagogues. A shocking number of prestigious institutions claiming to teach film and the dramatic arts have degenerated into sad jokes — the useless humiliation rituals frequently required of aspiring thespians can, indeed, be even worse than one might imagine, as I can well attest. Let it be understood: Great performances don’t always come from “professionals,” as demonstrated with especially moving effect by the French giants of yesterday like Louis Malle. Poor training is even more disadvantageous than none at all — the awkward results of the former, with its telltale signs, and (the even worse menace that is) a lack of talent are presently reflected in most recent motion pictures. Cringe-inducing and artificial are the words that describe most popular actors… and civilians. Part of the charm of old movies lies in the fact that a good percentage of our ancestors were more poised and better dressed than us — I am of the view that Western civilization, for one, has been on the decline, and the state of cinema is naturally symptomatic of that.
Most casting directors need to do a better job, yes. While we are all aware that nepotism is running rampant and is responsible for some unfairness, there are certainly countless bad and bland actors who haven’t earned their places and yet do not come from positions of privilege. (I would like to acknowledge that some so-called nepo babies are incredible, hardworking, and natural talents, and there are obviously cases where it makes sense for family to work with family.) Blaming casting agents too much can be problematic, however, as they don’t call all the shots, and their efforts can be undermined by their collaborators’ stubbornness. Moreover, sometimes, a movie is just so dreadful that even a superb actor will just fail in their role.
Along those lines, films frequently suffer from having too many cooks in the kitchen, some of whom are literally scribbling over each other in counterproductive manners. I once heard a writer reveal that he never had the experience of feeling proud of his work because, by the time it hit the screen, it no longer remotely felt like his. It can be especially irksome when those on the business end decide to give nonsensical input or hire more writers than necessary. The sense of cohesion in productions can feel almost nonexistent, especially since industry egos seem to be constantly inflating. Not to mention, heavy-handed editing or forced sanitization can destroy so much.
Women’s rights and more aren’t a way for your grubby paws to make money to spend cheating on your wife, pal.
Returning to the truth that an actor can’t save a drowning ship, I have observed a disappointing related phenomenon: Especially as skilled performers age, they might become more susceptible to flattery and/or the thought of helping out, as in signing on to a passion project by a subpar filmmaker who really admires them. Thus, you can have established titans eagerly involving themselves in utter garbage. Critics will then be even more likely to join in, lending a hand to the ceremonious w*nking festivities. While there are still some amazing reviewers, a decent portion have either become afraid or discouraged from penning what they truly mean, lest they offend a bigwig by attempting to hold them accountable for wasting the public’s time and money. Have you ever noticed that a lot of reviews aren’t reviews at all but rather synopses?
Let’s explore another culprit behind the decline of cinema. Why is James Ivory’s Maurice (1987) a memorable film? Not only did it feature true talents and was it based on a 1971 novel by the same name by E. M. Forster, but this romantic drama, which focuses on the relationship between two men, was directed by a gay man and produced by another, Ismail Merchant, with music by yet another, Richard Robbins. The product of their shared labor is heartfelt. On the contrary, I’ve overheard dissolute producers giddily expressing that they thought pursuing topics like feminism and gender identity would lead to commercial gains because they considered them “trendy.” Women’s rights and more aren’t a way for your grubby paws to make money to spend cheating on your wife, pal.
Such thinking can backfire at the box office, as a fair share of viewers are actually hoping to be entertained and can see through the (ab)use of social issues as mere selling points by, in many cases, the last cretins, or (regardless of gender) serial sexual harassers, who should be taking on such subject matter. In a similar but less insidious vein, maybe you’ve seen a lesbian sci-fi flick or two made by a possibly decent, but aging and bored, man, attempting to connect with a younger audience while quite obviously lacking any connection to the characters and their struggles, hence giving the story the profundity of a car commercial (a reminder of the kind of work they used to do)? That said, if one dives into an area they have no first-hand experience in with enough care, then admirable outcomes can be achieved, and distance can be turned into a perspectival plus in gaining insight. The point, however, is that I think we can all agree that in desiring to be “current” in themes and practices, certain disingenuously preachy filmmakers have spawned results worthy of South Park and Ricky Gervais’ mockery. Now, I’m fully aware that there are plenty of exceptional human beings in the entertainment industry, so, for their sake too, let’s call the pretenders what they are.
As far as I’m concerned, Jessie Grant of Movie Magick gives excellent takes. I mention him here because he reminds us that Orson Welles posited that the cinephiles were ruining cinema by their excessive copying, or, as some might put it, homages. “In short, filmmakers should be more in love with ideas and philosophy than they are with movies,” Grant stated when summarizing Welles’ views. These words are very true. Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange (1971), The Emigrants (1971) by the underrated genius Jan Troell, Bille August’s Pelle the Conqueror (1987), Volker Schlöndorff’s The Tin Drum (1979), and Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (1985), as penned by director Paul Schrader with the now-late Leonard Schrader, all epitomize respect for literary tradition. As such, they provide unbelievably rewarding food for thought. I will say that some degree of on-screen worship for one’s cinematic forebears can be fruitful too: If a director is brilliant enough, their nods to their idols won’t come across as that odd mix between sycophantic and hollowly pretentious that we regularly see, but rather as genuine and clever acts of love, refreshing little caprices even.
If screenwriters took more instruction from fine and ennobling literature (and were encouraged by their bosses and colleagues), then perhaps their scripts wouldn’t be so impossibly formulaic.
The fact that our filmmakers need to be more erudite (and scrupulous) routinely comes across in period pieces, as they are not always accurate enough to warrant our belief. (Just as today’s filmmakers often seem to despise the authors they adapt, they rarely properly appreciate the nuances of past eras.) On a related note, historically, spirituality has played a massive role in art, and it simply isn’t incorporated enough in (at least, Western) cinema these days — there is no modern-day Andrei Rublev (1966), Ordet (1955), or Babette’s Feast (1987). It’s been 20 years already since Pavel Lungin’s religious triumph The Island (2006), which starred the eternally reposing one-of-a-kind master Pyotr Mamonov.
Speaking of Mamonov, if I may be a bit tangential, Nordic actors may be among the most dazzlingly natural gems, but Slavic cast and crew have taken commitment to another level. For example, child actor Aleksei Kravchenko was nearly killed during the filming of our lost hero Elem Klimov’s anti-war classic Come and See (1985), not to mention his hair temporarily lost its color due to starvation, and yet this gentleman, whom I used to see dutifully walking around The Moscow Art Theatre, still acts — almost any actor of a younger generation would have run away to the cops, but I digress…
If screenwriters took more instruction from fine and ennobling literature (and were encouraged by their bosses and colleagues), then perhaps their scripts wouldn’t be so impossibly formulaic. During a recent screening of a brand-new atrocity, I whispered, “Now he gets a call that his brother died,” approximately two whole seconds before the destined ring occurred. I can usually look at the time on my iPhone snuggled in my purse and have a pretty good sense of what is coming next.
In short, cinema has become infested with talentless morons with, behind, and in front of cameras, trying to impress us with the sense and sensibility they wish they possessed… But what we really need are more playful idiots. Idiots not only like von Trier but also Paprika Steen! Vibeke Windeløv. Molly Malene Stensgaard. Bodil Jørgensen. Jens Albinus. Nikolaj Lie Kaas. Anne Louise Hassing. The sadly deceased Mogens Rukov. And the other bouquet-worthy Danish trolls who made Idiotene, which correctly prophesied that idiots are the people of the future, the cerebral tour de force it proves.
If you’re a movie buff, then you’ve seen a lot of hype surrounding Wicker, starring the likes of Olivia Colman, Alexander Skarsgård, Elizabeth Debicki, Peter Dinklage, (one of my all-time favorite actors) Richard E. Grant, and other exceptional talents. The team, including creators Eleanor Wilson and Alex Huston Fischer, has worked hard to promote the film. In doing so, Mr. Skarsgård has made headlines for his outrageous outfits (one of which featured a shirt reading, “Lick my worm”…), while his father, the great Mr. Stellan Skarsgård, has shown his support, posing for photos at a screening with his beloved eldest. Wicker will officially release in the United States on October 23, with a nationwide expansion following on October 30.
However, this charming, comedic romantic fantasy, based on Ursula Wills-Jones’ short story “The Wicker Husband,” has already gained attention for a reason less cute than its merits and the rock-star talent involved: Impressionable women are apparently at risk of sticking wicker objects where they don’t belong. As the New York Post dutifully reported, since Wicker’s trailer premiered, women have been publicly sharing rather unwholesome dreams about the sexually satisfying husband of wicker, woven specially for Ms. Colman’s fisherwoman of a character and played by the aforementioned Mr. Skarsgård.
This has translated into joke videos and other types of posts on social media involving wicker fetishes, which range in nature from seemingly innocent and cuddly enough… to downright obscene. The impact made by Wicker is of such a grand scale that IKEA even joined in on the fun, posting in regard to their furniture, “We’ve got plenty of husband material. Be honest…how many times did you watch the trailer?”
Thus, OB-GYN Amy Novatt has issued an urgent warning about the sensitive female space below the belt. “What it was not designed for is receiving trees, shrubs, or other plants,” the Post quoted Dr. Novatt. It shouldn’t take a doctor, however, to realize that wicker should not be inserted into the female (or any) body and can, of course, lead to tears and infection. Bedroom stunts gone wrong lead to a shocking number of hospitalizations each year, though the sense of embarrassment associated with sexual injuries often wrongly deters people from seeking treatment right away, therefore sometimes worsening matters.
Wicker Is NOT ‘Husband Material’: OB-GYN Issues Warning Following Disturbing ‘Wicker’ Craze
Of course, not all women understand the (sex) appeal of wicker objects. Hearing this very story provoked uncontrollable laughter from Johnette Cruz of 93.1 WIBC-FM. Granted, women cannot be totally blamed for getting the oddest ideas after watching Skarsgård — he truly seems like such a doll, as demonstrated by the fact that he recently gifted outstanding television host Graham Norton the precious pair of nipples from his wicker suit.
If I may offer a bit of a ballsy take, then I’ll say that if you are struggling with masturbation problems and sexual desires that might be harmful if acted upon, then you might just want to consider overcoming them. While Saint Benedict of Nursia and Saint Francis of Assisi, for example, threw themselves into thorns to overcome lust (which I mention since we are plant-themed today), I suggest a gentler approach. You can start with a good trip to confession and/or a visit to a mental health professional. Masturbation can become an addiction with a broad spectrum of negative physical and psychological consequences.
Addiction Center pens, “Some people may use masturbation as a way to self-medicate or cope with past trauma or negative lifestyle factors. However, doing so will only increase the physical and psychological consequences. […] The cycle can be vicious and, without masturbation addiction treatment, tough to overcome.”
The team behind director Takashi Yamazaki’s new film created their kaiju roars by setting up speakers on top of an outdoor dam. The people walking by weren’t prepared for what they heard.
Zach Cregger’s Resident Evil adaptation is currently in theaters, but another smaller adaptation is also arriving this month from a former Walking Dead star.
Chandler Riggs Stars As Ethan Winters in Biohazard Short Film
and here we go. my short film BIOHAZARD hits youtube this wednesday, 10/14. can’t wait for y’all to see it. check out my exclusive interview with @IGN from the link in my bio for all the info.
Chandler Riggs has grown up quite a bit since his long run as Carl on The Walking Dead came to a close, but now the actor is attaching himself to another beloved franchise.
Riggs has been working on a short film called Biohazard that adapts some of the most iconic moments from the open hours of Resident Evil: Biohazard. The short film runs roughly 20 minutes and debuts on YouTube this week.
Riggs plays Ethan Winters in the unofficial short film and will offer Resident Evil fans a closer look at the characters face than they got during the original game, which was almost entirely in the first-person from Ethan’s perspective, aside from a few segments.
According to Riggs the short film was aiming to release before Zach Cregger’s Resident Evil adaptation hit theaters, but things didn’t quite come together in time to hit that goal. Instead, the short film debuts on October 14.
Riggs spoke with IGN about the project and shared details about the process around deciding to show Ethan’s face and how to handle that aspect of the adaptation:
“We’re trying to do so much else super faithful and true to the game, but this is a huge aspect that we are breaking from it. But there isn’t really another good way to tell [the story] in a live-action format. I was going back and forth like ‘Okay, could we do first person the whole time? Could we avoid getting his face in or anything?’ But the more we went back and forth on it, the more I was like, ‘I mean, if we are going to do this and are going to appeal to a wider audience — more than just the people who played the games — then we’re going to have to break those rules. It was very intimidating. Hopefully people are okay with it.”
The teaser trailer is definitely high-quality and it looks like a faithful adaptation with strong acting and a good sense of building suspense. It should be very exciting to watch the whole short film later this week and see how film and gaming fans react to the this take on the franchise.
Be sure to check back soon for lots more Resident Evil and video game movie news and updates.
The Biohazard short film will be available on YouTube starting October 14, 2026.
It’s audition day at New Jersey’s Brook Arts Center, and everyone is a bundle of nerves. Actors dot the lobby, doing vocal warm-ups between mini panic attacks and greeting old friends from past shows. This year’s production is “Nosy Neighbors,” a forgotten musical about a New York apartment building and its kooky tenants, including its superintendent, Miss Danielle — a dreamer who, despite repairing clogged toilets and collecting rent for a living, hasn’t let the city spit her out. The role is a bit part, but features a showstopping centerpiece number, the kind of song musical theater performers eat, sleep and breathe. But for mousy housewife Mona Friedman (Julianne Moore), the size of the part or the strength of the song don’t matter. Miss Danielle seems like the right choice to audition for because the role is age-appropriate, and Mona wants to be included however she can be.
And though this might be New Jersey community theater, the standards are just as high as on Broadway. Renowned local director Jerry Blankenbuehler (Paul Giamatti) demands perfection; anything less than excellence won’t touch his stage. Mona, of course, has no way of knowing this. She’s an interloper among established thespians, a woman in her late 50s who has only just begun listening to the little voice inside her, the one begging her to step outside her comfort zone. She’s up against seasoned actors and singers who know what they’re doing, whose every step, gesture and note resonates effortlessly. Yet, somehow, that doesn’t stop her. Despite her nerves, she stands in the spotlight and sings Miss Danielle’s big number. It doesn’t matter how timidly the words might’ve come out; what’s important is that Mona did it.
(A24) Julianne Moore in “The Debut”
Mona transforms before our eyes from a diffident mother of two in an unhappy marriage into the star she always could be, though not without a few bumps in the road. It’s these obstacles that make Eisenberg’s film feel all the more realistic, accurately representing how much work it takes to find oneself, an arduous process that must be experienced over and over in different ways.
This is the brilliant way writer-director Jesse Eisenberg thrusts us into his third — and best — feature, “The Debut,” screening at this year’s New York Film Festival and premiering in theaters December 11. We meet Mona in media res, nervously tapping her shoes on the carpeted lobby floor and fretting over her audition. But instead of the traditional cutthroat audition setting, where every actor silently sizes up the competition, the Brook Arts Center fosters a warm environment. Fellow actors Stef (Halle Bailey) and Trish (Bonnie Milligan) assure Mona she’ll be wonderful. And though Mona’s audition might be far from it, that little spark of community and care is all she needs to feel like she’s right where she should be.
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Finding this sense of contentment isn’t easy. Some go their whole lives searching for it, aching to find where they belong, or what gives them purpose. The longing is what makes life beautiful and also impossible. We’re so often told in childhood that we can be anything and anyone we want to be, dazzled by illustrations of astronauts smiling through their helmets while floating in space, or ballerinas gracefully twirling while dancing “The Nutcracker.” But just as often, these turn out to be children’s fantasies — wide-eyed dreams of imaginary futures, tempered by real life. Bills must be paid. Kids have to eat. We have to survive. And in the pursuit of survival, there’s rarely time for side quests.
That’s precisely why “The Debut” is such a brilliant revelation. There’s no shortage of cinematic depictions of people getting their groove back, but seldom is the search for the self portrayed with as much tender empathy as Eisenberg and Moore have for Mona — an instant all-timer in Moore’s stacked repertoire. Over the film’s blissful 105 minutes, in which Moore appears in every scene, Mona transforms before our eyes from a diffident mother of two in an unhappy marriage into the star she always could be, though not without a few bumps in the road. It’s these obstacles that make Eisenberg’s film feel all the more realistic, accurately representing how much work it takes to find oneself, an arduous process that must be experienced over and over in different ways. As Mona discovers, the stumbles are as important as the triumphs. There is no greatness without embarrassment.
(A24) Paul Giamatti and Julianne Moore in “The Debut”
But to be embarrassed, one must first get the chance to be embarrassed. The role of Miss Danielle is Mona’s to lose, and lose she does to local legend Serena Cherry (a wonderful cameo by Bernadette Peters), who gives Mona’s big song all of the polished oomph of the Great White Way. But competition isn’t any concern of Mona’s. She’s more interested in what simply auditioning made her feel, how she came alive, if only for a brief few moments until Jerry cut her off. On a double date with her husband and their best friends, Mona, beaming, tells the group that she’s auditioned for “a musical show.” Her inadvertent gaffes with industry terminology might make her seem silly and out of her depth. But they also indicate an eagerness to learn, a will that makes Mona’s eventual callback after Serena Cherry drops out of the show seem almost like manifestation.
And, really, that’s all achieving anything in this life is: manifestation. While the word has been co-opted and corrupted by vision-board romantics and TikTok gurus, it’s still the key to making what we want happen. Manifestation doesn’t mean something we want pops out of thin air just because we think about it; it means hard work and relentless effort. And if struggling is how Mona will mold herself for the theater — stretching and shaping her performance into something worthy of the greater New Jersey area’s most prolific stage — so be it.
It takes immense skill for a great actor to convincingly play a novice performer. And because Moore is so talented — so uniquely proficient at finding the human depth at the core of all her characters — she can make Mona unforgettable. Here, Moore shows reverence not only for her own craft, but for all the hopeful idealists who pine to know what it feels like to lose yourself in someone, or something, else. As Mona goes deeper into Miss Danielle, turning a minor role into something far bigger and more unwieldy than anything she or Jerry prepared for, Moore reminds us why we lie awake at night, convincing ourselves there might be more to life. We don’t just search for something that fulfills us because we want to know what it feels like to be happy in our work or hobbies; we do it to make sense out of a nonsensical life, to understand what being a human is all about.
To say I can relate would be an understatement. I rarely find myself both crying with laughter and crying through my laughter in the span of the same film. It moved me deeply to be tossed headlong into Mona’s life, to sit beside someone who, one day, decided that she wanted something else for herself. I saw reflections and heard echoes of all of the reservations I had about becoming a writer, telling myself that I’d never be able to conjure the commitment it takes to write consistently, afraid that everyone else had sharper, smarter worldviews than mine — that they could see things I’d never be able to. I’d convinced myself that it would take too much time to start over, and that it wasn’t worth trying.
Moore reminds us why we lie awake at night, convincing ourselves there might be more to life. We don’t just search for something that fulfills us because we want to know what it feels like to be happy in our work or hobbies; we do it to make sense out of a nonsensical life, to understand what being a human is all about.
But, like Mona and her fond memories of childhood church choir, I couldn’t let the urge go. It wasn’t enough to simply watch films; I needed an outlet for all the ways they made me feel and all the ideas they inspired. My life didn’t feel complete just watching other people’s art. I wanted to make my own, too. And, again, like Mona, accepting that dream as a potential reality can shift your self-perception entirely. I’m not the same person I was when I first started this, and I often feel like I don’t recognize the person who first put finger to keyboard. Getting here now — typing away while I sniffle with a cold, a life I wouldn’t change for the world — required carefully deflating a rapidly overblown ego.
There’s a tendency to think that, because one has had any success at all, be it a musical callback or a greenlit freelance piece or a short story selected for publication, that they know best. But that’s never the case, at least not in the arts. And as Eisenberg continues to remind us that this is not Mona’s musical — that everyone in the cast and crew is just as important as she is — “The Debut” starts to sing even more beautifully than it already had.
But “The Debut” is not only for those in, or interested in, the arts. It’s a film for anyone who has put aside their desires and told themselves it’s too late or too scary to try something new. Be it gardening, ceramics, hang gliding, mountain climbing, swimming, competitive hot dog eating (well . . . consult your doctor), photography, skeet shooting, upholstery, or even just journaling, trying anything and everything to be closer to your happiest self is worthwhile. You may crash and burn, sure. But you might also come to understand your reason for living. Either result will paint a fuller picture, widening the spotlight little by little, until everything begins to glow.
Though writer-director Aaron Sorkin’s “The Social Reckoning” fancies itself a journalism thriller, the film offers only a handful of real thrills. Fans of the subgenre, known and loved for its depiction of journalism’s slow yet effective behind-the-scenes processes, might see this as a fatal flaw. After all, isn’t a journalism thriller without tension just a drama? Perhaps. But in the case of Sorkin’s latest — billed as a companion piece to the massively successful, defining 2010 film “The Social Network,” which he also penned — the lack of twists and revelations is a feature, not a bug.
Set between 2019 and 2021, Sorkin’s film stares down the dawn of a new decade, preparing for the birth of our current web of chaos, cruelty and thinly veiled deceit. Fifteen years after Facebook first took the web by storm, the company has now grown into a conglomerate whose arms shuffle politics, culture and social mores around the world’s face like pieces on a game board. Facebook’s users are being radicalized at alarming rates thanks to algorithms that feed them extremist groups and all of their content. Facing problems everyone else turns a blind eye to, Facebook civic integrity team member Frances Haugen (Mikey Madison) reluctantly begins a working relationship with Wall Street Journal reporter Jeff Horwitz (Jeremy Allen White). At the risk of losing her job and being indicted for violating her NDA, Frances provides information droplets that eventually become the Journal’s “Facebook Files” series, exposing a deluge of damning, ethically dubious information against the company. In other words: The perfect material for someone like Sorkin.
(Sony Pictures Entertainment) Jeff Horwitz (Jeremy Allen White) and Frances Haugen (Mikey Madison) in Columbia Pictures’ “The Social Reckoning.”
Of course “The Social Reckoning” arrives too late to feel revolutionary; it would be late even if it depicted something that happened last week. Wedged in the tiny space between irrelevancy and timeliness, Sorkin’s companion piece doesn’t need to say anything new to do its job. The film only has to persuade us to pay attention to its shouts.
Between “The West Wing” and “The Newsroom,” Sorkin’s indulgent forays into the sociopolitical have long been criticized for their hubris. But despite his work being a bastion of Hollywood’s overwrought liberal optimism, “The Social Reckoning” presents a similar but discernibly different picture from the ones Sorkin’s already painted. Here, Sorkin funnels his penchant for self-important sanctimoniousness through the journalism thriller’s always-intriguing lens. And though the result is sometimes stale, the banality creates an eerie dissonance between the film’s subject matter and the world outside the cinema, pitting the snail’s pace that good investigative journalism requires against an external culture that moves at 5x that speed. This same discrepancy has made the journalism thriller itself feel somewhat archaic. If audiences already know the intimate details of how a very real public leak, whistle-blow, or scandal came together, what’s left for them to learn by fictionalizing it all?
The answer, unfortunately, is very little. But just because the viewer might not learn something new by watching “The Social Reckoning,” doesn’t mean that they won’t understand something better. Sorkin’s film highlights the conflict between slow-moving reporting and the light-speed pace of modern culture, a velocity enhanced by the very tech the film has in its crosshairs. The movie isn’t so much about the Facebook leaks as it is about an era when bone-chilling data revealing a company’s malevolence isn’t enough to stop evil machinations in their tracks. Of course “The Social Reckoning” arrives too late to feel revolutionary; it would be late even if it depicted something that happened last week. Wedged in the tiny space between irrelevancy and timeliness, Sorkin’s companion piece doesn’t need to say anything new to do its job; it only has to persuade us to pay attention to its shouts.
And persuade it does — for the most part, anyway. While “The Social Reckoning” might stand in the shadow of its formative predecessor, the film confidently asserts its own merit. It’s a well-oiled machine, moving at a perfectly amiable pace thanks to Madison and White’s lead performances alongside a host of quippy, Sorkin-style side characters. (Few things in the film are more enjoyable than Betty Gilpin’s wise-cracking Wall Street Journal bureau chief.) Granted, much of this pleasantness relies on watching the movie anytime before sunset. This is a matinee coffee film, not a popcorn feature, lest anyone expect edge-of-your-seat tension.
Because, really, what’s ultimately compelling about a movie peering into Facebook’s impropriety? That’s like asking someone if they know that violence is bad, or puppies are cute. The funny thing is, though, that nowadays, surveying 10 people about those questions could easily return 10 different answers, or responses rife with caveats and asterisks. That intentional confusion and misdirection is exactly what Sorkin gestures to in vignettes of Mark Zuckerberg (Jeremy Strong), intercut throughout the film, preparing for a civil hearing about Facebook refusing to fact-check political ads on its platform. Zuckerberg is a spin artist, skilled at worming his way out of trouble by tailoring the world around him to suit the beast he created. Facebook feeds a culture where up is down and left is right, and vice versa. Sorkin’s depiction of Zuckerberg as a sniveling coward might be smug, but it’s not inaccurate. The intention is not to show the audience who Zuckerberg is — Sorkin spent one film doing that already; it’s to assess the trickle-down effect of his spinelessness.
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Zuckerberg and his cronies have the upper hand. They can change things in the blink of an eye, so imperceptibly that users will barely notice a change if at all. Journalism can’t move at that pace — not good, well-sourced, fact-checked, influential journalism, that is.
To do this, Sorkin compares Facebook’s reluctance to fact-check political advertising with its enthusiasm for spinning the truth to get engagement. Naturally, these two things are the same, but their effects eventually diverge, meaning that political ads are only one metric for inciting engagement. The most frightening aspect of mining engagement — the part we might not always think about — is how the tools and algorithms designed for it must change as users age out of different platforms. How do Facebook, Instagram and all of Zuck’s other spawn remain integral parts of our lives until we die if users eventually get weary enough to figure out their existence is better off without them? For publicly traded companies like these, declining engagement results in lost value.
This is the crux of Frances and Jeff’s concerns. (And, by extension, Sorkin’s film.) They want to expose the obscure operations, to implore users to reconsider their relationship with these platforms. The problem is that Zuckerberg and his cronies have the upper hand. They can change things in the blink of an eye, so imperceptibly that users will barely notice a change if at all. Journalism can’t move at that pace — not good, well-sourced, fact-checked, influential journalism, that is. When Frances hands Jeff documents that confirm Facebook knows all about Instagram’s negative impact on teenagers, she urges him, “Get it out there, before they start marketing Instagram Kids.”
The line chills not because something like Instagram Kids feels plausible, but because it’s already a reality. Impressionable people of all ages around the globe have direct access to the platforms that exacerbate rage and depression for monetary gain and immeasurable power. They had that access before “The Facebook Files,” and they have it today, years after those stories ran. So, what’s the point of all this?
I’d wager the film’s purpose is not to explain, but to appeal. “The Social Reckoning” exists to make what we already know compelling again, reminding — perhaps even convincing — viewers that journalism is not only worthwhile, but critically important. So, too, are the movies that depict journalism’s procedures and how arduous and exhausting they are. Everyone’s mileage will vary, but I find the film’s matter-of-fact formal structure more convincing than not. “Spotlight” won the best picture trophy only a decade ago. And while that film far exceeds “The Social Reckoning,” I wonder whether the reaction would be entirely the same today. Haugen and Horwitz battled similarly daunting foes, and the rot they uncovered was just as systemic and frightening as the reporting. The primary difference is that the corruption Sorkin points to is unique to the digital age, where everything is ephemeral — trumped by the next headline. Maybe, he posits, we shouldn’t forget so easily.
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about thrillers that aren’t entirely what they seem
Only a few days ago, I noted that we're entering another golden age of video game adaptations after the 90s put us off the whole idea for a while. I love when I'm proven right almost immediately.
Unlike The Finals or ARC Raiders, Cyberpunk 2077's biggest strength is arguably its world and story: the game is an adaptation of a tabletop roleplaying universe that's been running since the 80s, and its revised version of that world has spawned spinoffs of its own. — Read the rest
Ben Affleck is going viral for his deep knowledge of AI, from neural networks and transformers to open weights. The actor, who sold his AI filmmaking startup to Netflix earlier this year, is proving he's more than just a Hollywood star.
Do me a favor: Picture Charles Bronson. Black moptop over a face lined like a well-traveled map, and a jacket with the collar turned up against the perennial winter of cinematic 1970s New York City. His hand’s in the coat pocket, resting on the only argument anyone he encounters will listen to. He turns to the camera and gives a rapid-fire lecture on the declining birth rates of white Americans and the need to read classical philosophers and reject post-modern thought.
Ridiculous, right? Bronson’s aggrieved architect in the classic “Death Wish” films didn’t have a guiding philosophy. All he had was a gun and the bad luck to run into nearly every petty criminal on the island of Manhattan, and he sure wasn’t trying to convince the audience of the correctness of his conservative worldview. He wasn’t a debate club member. He was a hammer meeting a nail, traveling to the run down parts of towns all over America to shore things up — to entertain rather than win over audiences. If moviegoers came away thinking that cities were hellholes full of criminals who need to be tried by 12 or carried by six, so much the better.
It’s a lesson that the team of writers, directors and producers at The Daily Wire failed to learn. The film studio arm of the conservative commentary empire created in 2015 by Ben Shapiro and Jeremy Boreing, who left the company in 2025, is pushing out films that double as lectures on how America went wrong by going woke. The latest offering, a campus action film titled “Run Hide Fight: Infidels,” delivers on the hectoring and little else.
From its first original film in 2016, the studio made clear its political orientation — and intentions. “Shut In” features a protagonist, who was a recovering addict and single mother, fighting off a home invasion from a crazed pedophile, and it heavily implies that her former drug use is to blame for the current trouble. She escapes her fate by forcing her ex-boyfriend to overdose and lives happily ever after as an apple-butter-making tradwife. The Daily Wire kept the hits coming in 2020 by making director-writer Kyle Rankin’s “Run Hide Fight,” a paper-thin good-guy-with-a-gun parable that follows a 17-year-old girl whose school is under attack from a squadron of active shooters. (The title comes from a common safety protocol for everyday citizens who find themselves being shot at.) Two years later, Daily Wire commentator Matt Walsh fronted “What Is a Woman?”, a street harassment documentary centered on attacking non-traditional gender identities and transgender issues.
“Infidels,” though, sees the studio outdoing itself in centering reactionary politics. Starring disgraced Marvel star Jonathan Majors, the film takes the school-shooting premise and injects it into the campus culture wars. Under the guise of pro-Palestinian protests, terrorists take over a small liberal arts college, and a group of college students, with the help of Majors’ “protect Western civilization”-spouting veteran, fight to take back their campus.
“Infidels” spouts arguments familiar to any Daily Wire watcher at a blistering pace. College students are either misinformed about the reality of Israel’s war on Gaza, or they are completely oblivious to it.
“Infidels” spouts arguments familiar to any Daily Wire watcher at a blistering pace. College students are either misinformed about the reality of Israel’s war on Gaza, or they are completely oblivious to it. The campus protest organizer, a literal blue-haired college student in a keffiyeh, is unwittingly working for a splinter cell of murderous terrorists. In contrast to the actual police crackdown on campus protests across the country, the college’s trustees and president sit on their hands for fear of causing offense. The town’s mayor refuses to call in the SWAT team because of bad optics. Graffiti primes right-wing watchers to fume with a laundry list of leftist slogans. Land acknowledgements statements, agnosticism, the utility of college education and mixed-race families in commercials all get a moment in the over-stuffed script by Kyle Rankin.
If hearing the arguments of Shapiro, who acts as a producer, in the mouths of supposed twentysomethings doesn’t give the game away, the baffling characterizations in the film do. The students’ tastes veer almost embarrassingly close to those of suburban middle-aged men. They drink (unaged) whiskey that one student distills in his dorm room while listening to ‘90s butt-rockers Seven Mary Three. One character is introduced swinging a sword in his pajamas while chomping a cigar and quoting Rudyard Kipling. If you have been unfortunate to see a Daily Wire hang session, then you will know that Shapiro and Company aren’t setting up a spate of undergraduate methanol blindness. They genuinely think these kids are cool.
Focusing on the cast of college kids uncovers the core problem of the film. You’re meant to root against villains who, outside of their devotion to a radical strain of Islam, believe everything The Daily Wire’s average opinionator believes. For the logic of this siege thriller to make any sense, you have to want those college kids, who spend the first hour taking over quads and discussing polyamory, to get away unscathed. Rankin clearly doesn’t; he luxuriates in the deaths of the blue-haired activist and her gay right-hand man. The former has her throat slit in a startlingly graphic manner, and the latter is thrown from a roof in a literal interpretation of a common counterargument against LGBTQ+ supporters of Palestine. The shot of the student falling from a roof to his death is drawn out and examined from several gleeful angles.
On the opposite side, the audience is meant to root for Majors’ character, who warns that Islam is coming for “the wombs of our women” and that the U.S. will be undermined by a strict devotion to the rights of citizens. That sword-swinging cigar chomper calls a dying Egyptian dorm neighbor a common ethnic epithet before rushing off to save the day, which in turn serves to highlight a larger issue that The Daily Wire runs into each time they sit down to hammer out a script. When they try to sneak their liberal bogeymen into a film, their debate team muscles kick in. Soon, the film is more “well, actually” than action.
In a vacuum, Bronson’s “Death Wish” vigilante was just as unlikeable. For four films, the actor played a grief-crazed man looking for trouble and shooting anyone who looked at him crossways. But Bronson wasn’t one for speechifying; he never turned to the camera and explained how the big-city carnage was all Jimmy Carter’s fault. He certainly never decided that his late wife, who had been killed by gang members, deserved her fate because of his household’s liberal views at the series’ outset. In the hands of The Daily Wire’s would-be auteurs, the criminals would have spent the opening hour of “Death Wish” hopping subway turnstiles and taking free classes at City University of New York.
The problem of unlikeable heroes is also evident in the leaked script of the studio’s upcoming pro-ICE thriller. With a working title of “Pawn Shop,” the film is set to follow a pair of Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents facing down a mob of supposed antifa counterprotestors and members of the gang MS-13 as they attempt to take a suspect into custody. There is even a showdown with a Renee Good stand-in, who is shot by one of the film’s hero agents. From a draft script shared by The Bulwark:
The first shot takes the [sic] Melanie in the neck, below her covid mask. The second in the head, above her covid mask.
The inclusion of the mask might make The Daily Wire’s supposedly small-government audience feel less sympathy for an unarmed woman who was killed. But asking audiences who haven’t already bought into Shapiro’s schtick to root for her killer across the next few hours of action and culture war arguments is a heavy load no Daily Wire film has shown they can lift.
UPDATE: This column has been updated to clarify the departure of Daily Wire co-founder Jeremy Boreing from the company in 2025.
An activist protests the merger of Paramount and Warner Bros. Discovery in Hollywood on September 22, 2026. | Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
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The Trumpy tech billionaire Larry Ellison has wrapped his tentacles around the US branch of TikTok, an entire Hawaiian island — and now, officially, a very large share of the world’s news and entertainment production.
The merger combines a sprawling collection of brands, including HBO, CBS, and Paramount Pictures under one rebranded umbrella. It also concentrates much of the US film and television business in the hands of just five companies. Unions, theater owners, media watchdogs, and several state attorneys general were accordingly concerned: Combining two major competitors in any industry inherently concentrates power over what gets made, what consumers pay, and what workers earn.
Critics of this deal argued that, in the media industry, the fallout could be particularly intense. In addition to layoffs, opponents warned the new company could produce fewer, more boring movies, raise subscription prices for its combined streaming services, and inject political bias into news programs on CBS and CNN. (We’ll review the evidence for some of these claims in a minute.)
The new company agreed to address some of these concerns in a September 21 settlement agreement with 12 state attorneys general, which let the merger proceed. A group of consumers also launched a last-minute bid to block the deal, but the Supreme Court declined their emergency request on Monday.
One of the conditions of that September AG settlement was a minimum film guarantee: The merged company agreed to release at least 30 films a year for the first two years after the merger, then 32 films a year for three years after that. The requirement was designed to address one of the major fears around the deal: namely, that mergers can result in fewer films.
Recent history, and the basic economics of acquisitions, help explain the concern. Debt-financed acquisitions, like this one, can leave companies under pressure to cut costs. There are a few ways to do that, such as producing fewer new films or cancelling unreleased films that they don’t want to promote. According to Cinema United, a theater industry group, Disney and 21st Century Fox put out about half as many theatrical releases after their 2019 merger as they did before it, excluding 2020 and 2021.
But that doesn’t mean the new Paramount/Warner Brothers (formally rebranded Skydance) would do the same thing. Disney, for instance, makes a lot of its money from properties and products that aren’t movies. When the European Commission took up the question of whether this new merger would reduce output earlier this year, it concluded that Paramount and Warner were comparatively more dependent on film revenue. In other words, cutting back the number of movies they make post-merger “would not make economic sense” the way it did for Disney after its acquisition.
Still, consolidation could certainly change which movies get produced. Critics argue that fewer studios mean fewer opportunities for Hollywood creatives and less pressure on the remaining players to take creative risks.
In a report released over the summer, academics with the Media and Consolidation Research Organization at UC San Diego warned this particular deal would likely result in less diverse and more formulaic films. I, for one, won’t be holding my breath for a Larry Ellison biopic.
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➨ Resist the temptation of the Prime Day “deal.” Today marks the start of Amazon’s twice-yearly discount days, which have spilled over to many other retailers. But before you load up your cart, double-check that the sale is actually a good one…and that you truly want or need the item in question. The psychological rush of scoring a deal is so strong that it can lead you to buy things you never planned to purchase.
Before you go…
Did you know…that Hollywood (and communism) brought the Reagans together? The pair met when Ronald was the president of the Screen Actors Guild and Nancy was a young actress trying to prove she wasn’t a communist sympathizer.
Today’s trivia: What is the 24th and final letter of the Greek alphabet? (You can find this and other brain puzzles in Vox’s daily crossword. Look for the answer in tomorrow’s edition.)
Yesterday’s trivia: Yesterday we asked you for the name of the Indian Ocean island where the UK displaced inhabitants roughly 55 years ago. That would be Diego Garcia, which was forcibly cleared to make way for a joint US-UK naval base.
From their dorky parties to their weird walks, the movie holds OpenAI CEO Sam Altman and other stakeholders with contempt, while demonstrating their recklessness.
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