Culture

In the end, the verdict in the most talked-about trial of the year, perhaps the decade, came in far quicker than most commentators had expected. Judge Arun Subramanian had wisely suggested that he wanted a unanimous verdict on the charges that Diddy had been arraigned on and that he wanted this verdict to come in before the 4th of July holiday. Many had assumed, given the sheer weight of evidence against Diddy (real name, as we were informed many times, Sean Combs), that it would take at least a week to sort through the often sordid and distressing material that the jury were presented with over the course of the seven-week trial. In the end, however, it took just over a day of deliberations.

When I studied English literature at Oxford about two decades ago, the issue of tutor-student relations was a vexed one. On the one hand – so the reasoning went – students were adults, over the age of consent and entitled to make their own decision as to whether they wanted to indulge in sexual congress with the men and women responsible for inculcating a knowledge and, hopefully, love of their subject into them. On the other, there were clear – although sometimes blurred – conflicts of interest relating to these invariably older figures also on occasion being responsible for marking their favored students’ examinations.

In a largely patchy summer for blockbusters – the excellent 28 Years Later aside – Joseph Kosinki’s F1 stands out for two distinct reasons. The film has arrived at an interesting time for the sport, which is finding increased popularity in the United States among demographic groups that previously may have ignored it – such as younger women – due to the success of the Netflix show Drive to Survive, accordingly name-checked in the movie. That show gives a behind-the-scenes look at Formula One racing and is now onto its seventh series.

Was anyone out there desperate for a third instalment of the 28 Days Later series? It has been nearly two decades since 28 Weeks Later. Many who were once thrilled to the adventures of hapless humans attempting to dodge the ravages of surprisingly fast-moving zombies have moved onto other genre fare, not least The Last of Us. However, the astonishingly visceral trailers for 28 Years Later, soundtracked by a vintage audio recording of Rudyard Kipling’s poem ‘Boots’, were some of the most compelling and attention-grabbing trailers ever made. So does the film live up to its advertisements? Thankfully, it does.

So, in the end, it wasn’t so much Oh, Mary! as it was Not Tonight, Mary! Cole Escola’s out-there, queer-as-they-come farce, revolving around the strained relationship between the “foul and hateful” Mary Lincoln, a dipsomaniac with ambitions to be a cabaret singer, and honest Abe, here presented as a pitiful figure so deep in the closet he may as well be in Narnia, was widely regarded as the play to beat at this year’s Tonys. There hasn’t been an out-and-out comedy that’s won the major awards for a considerable time, let alone one that emerged from off-Broadway, and it’s testament to Escola’s prowess (as well as some of the most laudatory reviews in recent memory), that it was front-runner for Best Play.

No one feuds quite as well as a celebrity woman. Don’t believe the sickly sweet farce between Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo, ego, bright lights and competition for stage time have always provoked infighting. But while leading ladies used to duke it out Bette Davis and Joan Crawford style, today’s celebrity duels are a lot nastier.Over the weekend, Patti LuPone did something unheard of – she apologized. Or, at least, she released an apologetic statement. While appearing on Broadway in The Roommate, LuPone complained to the theater next door about a sound bleed from the Alicia Keys musical Hell’s Kitchen. After the sound was adjusted, LuPone sent the tech team some flowers and a thank you note.

Almost three decades after the Good Friday Agreement was signed in 1998, it is possible, if not always easy, to see the funny side of the Troubles. Derry Girls, Lisa McGee’s coming-of-age television series, and Milkman, Anna Burns’s surreal novel, wring laughs as well as tears out of mayhem. There are few laughs in Steve McQueen’s Hunger, which did “for modern film” according to one critic, “what Caravaggio did for Renaissance painting.” For those who prefer horror unmediated by fiction, Patrick Radden Keefe’s Say Nothing is the best example of longform journalism since Capote’s In Cold Blood. But along with their setting, these dazzling creations have something else in common: to get made, they all needed the backing of a producer or publisher from the UK or US.

There are few American shows more acclaimed and successful in the past decade than Succession, Jesse Armstrong’s peerless study of the corrupting influence of money and power, as illustrated through a Murdoch-esque media dynasty led by Brian Cox’s bull-like Logan Roy. The series was magnificent because it blended hysterical, unexpected black humor (step forward the excellent Matthew Macfadyen as Tom Wambsgans, who is hilarious virtually every moment he’s onscreen) with the serious thespian pyrotechnics of a starry cast including Cox, Kieran Culkin and the great Jeremy Strong, who, rumor has it, did not believe that he was making a comedy but a serious study of moral decay.

If you haven’t yet heard the names Dominic McLaughlin, Arabella Stanton or Alastair Stout, then rest assured, in a couple of years they will be entirely inescapable. They are the three actors who have been cast in the new and highly anticipated Harry Potter television series, which is going into production for HBO later this year with a likely broadcast date of late 2026 or 2027. Respectively, they’re playing Harry, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and they have been picked after a long search that has seen 32,000 children put themselves forward (or, more likely in many cases, been put forward by their ambitious parents) to play the iconic trio in the new adaptations of J.K. Rowling’s wizarding series.

Tony Gilroy’s Andor, having concluded its second season on Disney+ this week, stands as a monumental achievement given the pressures of Disney-era Star Wars leadership and its Kathleen Kennedy authoritarian “The Force is Female” complex.  The excellence seems almost accidental, a trick of timing and opportunity. With Gilroy exercising the authority of an auteur director from outside the world of science fiction, equipped with sensibilities derived from corporate thrillers and conflicts that pit differing clans of elites against one another, the series is the standout of an otherwise unmemorable or eagerly forgotten era of Star Wars creations.

“And now, the end is here, and so I face the final curtain”... If Tom Cruise isn’t quite Sinatra performing “My Way,” then the long-anticipated, much-hyped apparent finale to the Mission: Impossible series has a similarly valedictory feel to it. Ever since a youthful Cruise first took to movie screens in 1996 in the first, Brian de Palma-directed film – which those with long memories might recall was unfairly criticized on release for being virtually incomprehensible – the movies have been a welcome part of the contemporary movie-going experience.

In February 1951, Leonard Bernstein led the New York Philharmonic through the première of a symphony by an American composer unknown at Carnegie Hall. The composer in question was Charles Ives, by then too frail to attend in person. He listened from home when the concert was broadcast a few weeks later. An experimenter by instinct, Ives’s work had already proved an inspiration to a younger generation of radical American composers including John Cage, Lou Harrison and Morton Feldman. But that Ives listened from afar to the première, at long last, of his Second Symphony – completed in 1902 – was symbolic of the distance he maintained from America’s classical mainstream.

Donald Trump has thrown another trade grenade. His latest idea – a 100 percent tariff on all foreign-made films – is crude, impractical and potentially disastrous for his frenemies in the Hollywood industry that he has suddenly decided to champion. Announcing the tariffs via Truth Social, Trump tried to paint movies produced overseas as a danger: not just to America’s film production industry, but national security too. “WE WANT MOVIES MADE IN AMERICA, AGAIN!" he thundered. Invoking national security to justify these tariffs is legally shaky. Practically, it’s not clear how you even impose tariffs on a complex, multi-national production like a modern movie. Films shot in Croatia, edited in the UK and funded by America pose an administrative nightmare.

When passions are aroused, all of us are liable to overstate our case. Dan Hicks, a curator at Oxford’s extraordinary Aladdin’s Cave of anthropology, the Pitt-Rivers Museum, is perhaps a case in point. A Swedish academic, Staffan Lunden, has convincingly argued that Hicks is guilty of "distortion" when writing about the British raid on Benin in 1897, which brought several thousand objects, including finely wrought brass statuettes, to museums across the world. Hicks published his uncompromising views in 2020 in a prize-winning book, The Brutish Museums: The Benin Bronzes, Colonial Violence and Cultural Restitution.

George Clooney isn’t afraid to politic. And last July he showed himself willing to speak truth to his own party’s power: by voicing the dramatic decline in Biden’s facilities in a New York Times op-ed, Clooney, a lifelong Democrat, helped force ole’ Joe out the race. Is it any surprise, then, that Clooney has chosen to make a splash on Broadway in a play that is explicitly political? Clooney’s resurrection of his critically acclaimed 2005 film Good Night, and Good Luck for the stage is timed for maximum impact. Good Night, and Good Luck dramatizes Edward R. Murrow’s historic takedowns of Joseph McCarthy on his beloved CBS show See It Now.

The critical reception to the second series of Andor has been nothing short of ecstatic. At the time of writing, it has a hugely impressive, near-unprecedented 99 percent “Fresh” rating on Rotten Tomatoes, far in excess of any other Star Wars movie or television spin-off. Its creator and showrunner Tony Gilroy, who has been open in the past about his relative disdain for fantasy in general and Star Wars in particular, has been doing the interview circuit and making it clear that he has no interest in fan service. He told the Daily Telegraph, “Some people have a problem: ‘It’s not for kids. There aren’t enough creatures in it.’ Well, I don’t make that show. Sorry.

As I write, I sit swimming in turbulence somewhere over Virginia, on the same jet as US Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth – heading to Panama City in an effort to restore the country’s critical canal to US control.But Saturday was a very different scene. A far more comfortable experience, too. In Box 3 at the Kennedy Center for the Arts, for the National Symphony Orchestra’s performance of Mozart and Mendelssohn.I hadn’t been to the Kennedy Center in a while (i.e., we are so back). Now run by Trump loyalist Ric Grenell, proudly displayed on the concessions counters are signs that read: “STANDARD STRAWS NOW AVAILABLE!”That means no more paper.

Charlie Brooker’s cautionary technological tales have now been running for well over a decade, and they are almost in danger of seeming old-fashioned. When Black Mirror began in 2011, Instagram was only a few months old, the iPhone was a new novelty just coming into the mainstream, and Elon Musk was best known for being CEO of Tesla. Now, virtually everything in the world has changed, and Big Tech plays roles in our lives that the ever-cynical Brooker could barely have imagined. There is, naturally, a residual irony that in order to afford the budgets – and starry casts – that the show continues to demand, it long since left its original home on Britain’s Channel 4 for the deeper-pocketed Netflix, which still funds it into its seventh series.

“The laughter of children is like the blossoming of a flower,” wrote French poet Charles Baudelaire. “It is the joy of receiving, the joy of breathing, the joy of opening out, the joy of contemplation, of living, of growing. It is the joy of a plant.” Conservatives and most right-wingers have a hard time understanding laughter, I’d vouch, especially the laughter of children – by which I mean the laughter of zoomers and their even younger peers, Generation Alpha. But laughter is an increasingly powerful political tool, one that has the ability to mobilize the young even as it confounds and confuses older generations. Today’s conservative establishment ignores laughter at its peril. Laughter is a vital force propelling the right to new success. Just look at Donald Trump.