“Did Beyonce really meet Selena at mall as Netflix show depicts? - Entertainment Weekly News” plus 3 more |
- Did Beyonce really meet Selena at mall as Netflix show depicts? - Entertainment Weekly News
- Maya Rudolph on Burnout, Beyoncé and the Magic Link Between Music and Comedy - Variety
- Victoria Beckham Recalls the 'Iconic' Beyoncé Telling Her the Spice Girls 'Inspired’ Her - PEOPLE
- Netflix series signals racial breakthrough in Italian TV - The Associated Press
| Did Beyonce really meet Selena at mall as Netflix show depicts? - Entertainment Weekly News Posted: 05 May 2021 01:33 PM PDT  this link is to an external site that may or may not meet accessibility guidelines. |
| Maya Rudolph on Burnout, Beyoncé and the Magic Link Between Music and Comedy - Variety Posted: 05 May 2021 09:31 AM PDT Maya Rudolph is one of six creative leaders in comedy honored for Variety's 2021 Power of Women. For more, click here. When Maya Rudolph was a kid, she'd stage one-girl musicals in her living room and play make believe in empty corners of her mother's recording studios, creating makeshift stages anywhere she could to satisfy her performing itch. Some 40 years later, though, she has so many platforms to choose from that it's become genuinely overwhelming. "Before any thoughts of quarantine, I was feeling very burned out," she admits. "I was weirdly well on my way to retooling, and I think I'm still there. I feel less ashamed to admit that I would like to go a bit slower." Before the pandemic hit, Rudolph was booked solid. She had once again become an "SNL" mainstay to play then-Senator Kamala Harris, while her portrayal of a goofy, almighty judge on "The Good Place" made her one of the show's most memorable guest stars. Her malleable voice had become ubiquitous across the wide world of animation, especially with her portrayal of a gleefully filthy "hormone monstress" on Netflix's "Big Mouth," a brilliant showcase for her ability to turn any single phrase (e.g. "bubble bath") into a luscious dessert (e.g. "bwuuuuhbble bayaaaath").  Sophy Holland for Variety All three of those roles landed Rudolph Emmy nominations and then her first two wins in 2020. (The only reason she lost the third was because she had been nominated twice in the same category.) But the constant stream of obligations left her exhausted, burned out by her own enthusiasm for being a part of as much as possible, as often as possible. "I was just saying 'yes' to everything," she sighs. "It took a toll, and I was tired." So when the opportunity came for her to pump the brakes, she gratefully did. Speaking from her home in Los Angeles a week after hosting "SNL" for the second time, Rudolph is contemplative about this potential turning point in her life and career. "Something that I feel has been a big awakening for me as I look at work is what makes me happy, what makes me unhappy, and how do I establish those boundaries?" she explains. On a macro level, that might mean taking on fewer projects even if she loves everyone involved in them. On a smaller, more immediate level, that just might mean wearing whatever the hell she wants. "Heels and I were already on the outs, but now we've gone our separate ways, which is fine by me," Rudolph laughs. "And I no longer have a waist, so there's that. My thighs haven't seen pant legs in a year. I'm just going to become Elaine Stritch and wear a shirt." Even over Zoom, Rudolph already seems perfectly content with this ethos. Her distinctive voice turned down from 11, she blinks into the Zoom camera through clear-rimmed glasses, her dog Daisy curled in her lap. And while her flowered smock isn't exactly the crisp white button-down for which Stritch became famous, Rudolph draws inspiration from brassy broads like her who insisted on being themselves, expectations be damned. Take Rudolph's comedic idol Madeleine Kahn, a forcefully funny woman whose impeccable glamor came arm-in-arm with her ability to make every line a standout. Growing up with Mel Brooks films as a household staple, Rudolph would watch in awe as Kahn outshone everyone else as an impetuous empress, a jaded madam, a film noir heroine climbing out of a pristine Cadillac in a matching jumpsuit. Rudolph didn't have to know exactly what Kahn was imitating to know that she was always, as Rudolph puts it, "the beautiful woman doing something hilarious." Later, as she became more aware of comedians like Catherine O'Hara, Gilda Radner and Jan Hooks, she realized this niche of comedian was her ideal. "Whether I realized it or not, I was watching these women that I wanted to be, who were gorgeous and funny — which to me is the ultimate combination of perfection," she says. "They could just do anything." Then again, Rudolph's also partial to less glamorous comedic turns, like so many of the scenes in "Bridesmaids" that made the movie such a standout 10(!) years ago. While her infamous "shitting in the street" moment was mostly just stressful — you try sliding to your knees in a wedding gown across a full lane of traffic — she fondly remembers the setup of everyone sweating through food poisoning before all hell breaks loose. "Knowing what was coming and everyone having to hide it, constantly being sprayed down with everyone in different stages of duress…it was just a really fun slow burn," she recalls with a laugh. (More than anything else with "Bridesmaids," Rudolph remembers laughing.) She grew up with a keen eye for what makes performers great, not least because she spent her early childhood watching her mother, the singer Minnie Riperton, dazzle crowds on tour. As she watched musicians crush their sets with wit and flair, she'd long to do the same. "And then I'd see something funny, like a movie or a comedian, and think that I want to be like that, too," she adds. "It wasn't tangible to really understand what it was, but some magical quality." She quickly came to revere this indescribable connection between music and comedy, the two defining creative forces of her life. "They're kind of the same language, weirdly," she explains. "They're both things that, when they're done well, they can't really be taught. You're either good at them or you're not." Rudolph will soon get a musical comedy opportunity like never before with a juicy villain role in "Disenchanted," the highly anticipated sequel to Disney's "Enchanted," starring Amy Adams as a wide-eyed princess navigating modern New York City. In a follow-up call the day after the table read, Rudolph gushed about the lively "school play" vibe of the movie and the delicious pleasures of getting to play a villain with "Dynasty"-level camp. ("It's so dramatic!") "If this had been 15 years ago and someone asked if I wanted to be the bad guy, I might've been like, 'geez, I don't know,'" she says. "But I've come to learn in my many years that the most fun thing to get to do is when you get to play The Most." She also recounted director Adam Shankman approaching her about taking on the part, and how gratifying it was to realize that he knew exactly why he wanted her for it. "It's nice to be in a place work-wise where I feel like a lot of what I've done can speak for itself," she says, "so I don't have to explain who I am or what I do." Because as anyone who's seen even a minute of her performing will know, so much of Rudolph's comedy is intrinsically musical. Every one of her characters, whether Beyoncé or a Bronx mom or a dizzy game show host, speaks with an infectious, uniquely bizarre lilt as Rudolph's wraps her voice around their lines. Her Beyoncé impression in particular came almost as second nature. As a fervent fan, Rudolph says, she'd already been paying such close attention to how Beyoncé composes herself that when it came time to imitate her, it felt like "when you're telling a story about a friend, and when you say what they said, you say it in their voice." Rudolph's skill at twisting a single word into a wonderfully weird waterfall of sounds is unparalleled; she doesn't have to be telling a joke to be hilarious. So it's unsurprising to learn that Rudolph might feel most at ease in the voiceover booth, where she's been able to experiment since her "SNL" days of volunteering for whatever narration might be needed that week. "It's probably where I feel the most myself: not on camera, and not a musician, but sort of a blending of the two," she muses. It's also thrilling for her to step outside her own body to be anything at all without limitation. On "Big Mouth," for example, she portrays everything from the Hormone Monstress to a school principal to a dirty pillow. "It really feels like a place of freedom," she says of her prolific voiceover work. "You're not limited to male, female, human, animal, monster, whatever you're made up of. That's a place where I feel very comfortable." It doesn't escape Rudolph that she's spent a lifetime defying categorization both through her comedy and as a person. "As somebody who's not white, not Black, not just mixed, but my own particular mixture of mixed: Jewish, and speckled, with a big nose…I always identified as being very singularly myself, and not really belonging to any club," she says. The scrutiny crept its way under her skin, but now, she reminds herself that other people's attempts to label her says more about them than her. "People really try to figure out who or what you are because it makes them comfortable," she insists, as forceful as she'll ever get throughout our conversation. "It doesn't have anything to do with me." And that, ultimately, is where she also lands on the age-old question of what it's like to be A Woman in Comedy, which plagued her at "SNL" and reemerged when "Bridesmaids" dared to spotlight funny women with no qualifiers (and very few men). When asked if the conversation has changed at all since, she's wary in a way that makes it clear just how many times she's had to go down a road she finds truly frustrating. "I feel like it's my obligation to continue doing what I do best as opposed to, like, methodically thinking about my gender in order to be funny or not," Rudolph shrugs. "I don't give a fuck about that stuff." As Daisy clambers off her lap, Rudolph sighs and adjusts her glasses, as if making sure she can see her next point clearly enough to make it. "It's a funny one," she says, "because the minute I stick my toe into the conversation, I feel like it allows the conversation to exist…this leftover conversation that won't die." She rolls her eyes, cocks an eyebrow, lets loose the ghost of a grin. "In reality, it's like we threw a great party, and then somebody walked in and was like, 'wait, this is a girls' party!' And it's like, 'uh, what are you talking about? It's just a party.'" For the 2020 Power of Women issue, Variety spoke with several women in the entertainment industry who are using their voices to benefit worthy causes. For more, click here.
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| Posted: 05 May 2021 05:57 PM PDT  this link is to an external site that may or may not meet accessibility guidelines. |
| Netflix series signals racial breakthrough in Italian TV - The Associated Press Posted: 05 May 2021 11:44 PM PDT  MILAN (AP) — The Netflix series "Zero," which premiered globally last month, is the first Italian TV production to feature a predominantly Black cast, a bright spot in an otherwise bleak Italian television landscape where the persistent use of racist language and imagery is sparking new protests. Even as "Zero" creates a breakthrough in Italian TV history, on private networks, comedy teams are asserting their right to use racial slurs and make slanty-eye gestures as satire. The main state broadcaster RAI is under fire for attempting to censor an Italian rapper's remarks highlighting homophobia in a right-wing political party. And under outside pressure, RAI is advising against — but not outright banning — the use of blackface in variety skits. ADVERTISEMENT With cultural tensions heightened, the protagonists of "Zero" hope the series — which focuses on second-generation Black Italians and is based on a novel by the son of Angolan immigrants — will help accelerate public acceptance that Italy has become a multicultural nation. "I always say that Italy is a country tied to traditions, more than racist," said Antonio Dikele Distefano, who co-wrote the series and whose six novels, including the one on which "Zero" was based, focus on the lives of the children of immigrants to Italy. "I am convinced that through these things — writing novels, the possibility of making a series — things can change," he said. "Zero" is a radical departure because it provides role models for young Black Italians who have not seen themselves reflected in the culture, and because it creates a window to changes in Italian society that swaths of the majority population have not acknowledged. Activists fighting racism in Italian television underline the fact that it was developed by Netflix, based in the United States and with a commitment to spend $100 million to improve diversity, and not by Italian public or private television. "As a Black Italian, I never saw myself represented in Italian television. Or rather, I saw examples of how Black women were hyper-sexualized,″ said Sara Lemlem, an activist and journalist who was part of a group of second-generation Italians protesting racist tropes on Italian TV. "There was never a Black woman in a role of an everyday woman: a Black student, a Black nurse, a Black teacher. I never saw myself represented in the country in which I was born and raised." "Zero," which premiered on April 21, landed immediately among the top 10 shows streaming on Netflix in Italy. ADVERTISEMENT Perhaps even more telling of its impact: The lead actor, Giuseppe Dave Seke, was mobbed not even a week later by Italian schoolchildren clamoring for autographs as he gave an interview in the Milan neighborhood where the series is set. Seke, a 25-year-old who grew up in Padova to parents from Congo, is not a household name in Italy. "Zero" was his first foray into acting. "If you ask these children who is in front of them, they will never tell you: the first Black Italian actor. They will tell you, 'a superhero,' or they will tell you, 'Dave'," Dikele Distefano said, watching the scene in awe. In the series, Zero is the nickname of a Black Italian pizza bike deliveryman who discovers he has a superpower that allows him to become invisible. He uses it to help his friends in a mixed-race Milan neighborhood. It's a direct play on the notion of invisibility that was behind the Black Lives Matters protests that erupted in Italian squares last summer following George Floyd's murder in the United States. Black Italians rallied for changes in the country's citizenship law and to be recognized as part of a society where they too often feel marginalized. "When a young person doesn't feel seen, he feels a bit invisible,″ Seke said. "Hopefully this series can help those people who felt like me or like Antonio. ... There can be many people who have not found someone similar to themselves, and live still with this distress." That protest movement has shifted from targeting Italian fashion, where racist gaffes have highlighted the lack of Black creative workers, to Italian television, where a movement dubbing itself CambieRAI held protests last month demanding that Italian state and private TV stop using racist language and blackface in skits. CambieRAI plays upon the name of Italian state TV, RAI, and the Italian language command "you will change." The movement, bringing together second-generation Italians from a range of associations, also wants RAI — which is funded by mandatory annual fees on anyone owning a TV in Italy — to set up an advisory council on diversity and inclusion. Last week RAI last responded to an earlier request by other, longer-established groups asking that it stop broadcasting shows using blackface, citing skits where performers darkened their skin to impersonate singers like Beyonce or Ghali, an Italian rapper of Tunisian descent. "We said we were sorry, and we made a formal commitment to inform all of our editors to ask that they don't use blackface anymore," Giovanni Parapini, RAI's director for social causes, told The Associated Press. He said that was as far as they could go due to editorial freedom. The associations said they viewed the commitment as positive, even if it fell short of a sought-for ban, since RAI at least recognized that the use of blackface was a problem. Parapini, however, said the public network did not accept the criticism of the CambieRAI group "because that would mean that RAI in all these years did nothing for integration." He noted that the network had never been called out by regulators, and listed programming that included minorities, from a Gambia-born sportscaster known as Idris in the 1990s to plans for a televised festival in July featuring second-generation Italians. Dikele Distefano said for him the goal is not to banish racist language, calling it "a lost battle." He sees his art as an agent for change. He is working on a film now where he aims to have a 70% second-generation Italian cast and crew. "Zero" has already helped create positions in the industry for a Black hairstylist, a Black screenwriter and a director of Arab and Italian origin, he noted. "The battle is to live in a place where we all have the same opportunity, where there are more writers who are Black, Asian, South American, where there is the possibility to tell the stories from the point of view of those who live it," he said. ___ Trisha Thomas contributed. Follow all AP stories on racial issues at https://apnews.com/Racialinjustice. |
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