The Justin Bieber Rehabilitation Tour has taken a detour through Motown Philly. After grinding a stage while singing the Boyz II Men panty-dropper "I'll Make Love to You," the Biebs did a much sweeter rendition of the song — this time for an engaged couple, as a TMZ camera stood waiting faithfully by. Wisely, Bieber realizes he probably shouldn't keep singing about throwing clothes on the floor and lets the fiancé take over midway through.
Back in March, Iggy Azalea suddenly postponed her upcoming first arena tour, The Great Escape, until the fall, losing its openers Nick Jonas and Tinashe in the process. Now the tour has reportedly been canceled altogether. Fans who purchased tickets for the tour were sent an email on Friday notifying them of the tour's cancellation and refund availability:
The Iggy Azalea Great Escape Tour scheduled for this fall has been cancelled and refunds are available at point of purchase. There will be a new tour planned around Iggy‘s new record to be released in 2016 and we apologize for any inconvenience.
Azalea has yet to comment. Aww, we were looking forward to deciphering her lyrics!
Anne Fontaine’s Gemma Bovery is a cinematic hall of self-referential mirrors. The English actress Gemma Arterton plays Gemma Bovery, an English woman who moves to Normandy with her husband, and whose life begins to echo that of Emma Bovary, the protagonist of Madame Bovary, which the 19th-century French novelist Gustave Flaubert wrote and set in Normandy. Meanwhile, a local baker and literature aficionado, played by Fabrice Luchini, marvels at the fact that the great heroine of his youth appears to have found her reincarnation and is living next door. Life imitates art imitating life imitating art. Got all that?
Bill Cosby's efforts to shut down a sexual-battery lawsuit have been denied by the California Court of Appeals, which today dismissed his appeal against accuser Judy Huth, who claims Cosby molested her in 1974, when she was just 15. In December, Huth filed a police report against Cosby for the alleged incident, but the L.A. County District Attorney's office declined to prosecute, citing California's statue of limitations for sexual assault. Huth also brought a civil suit against Cosby, and it was this lawsuit the comedian had been trying to get dismissed, saying Huth had attempted to blackmail him before coming forward.
This year’s edition of BookExpo America, the bookselling trade fair currently winding down at the Javits Center, is the first to be followed by a completely separate BookCon, the consumer-facing convention that runs this weekend. But that didn’t seem to take any heat off the annual frenzy of industry people hungry for news of big forthcoming titles and — more important — free galley copies thereof. Here are the books that store owners, librarians, and hangers-on talked about most and snapped up the fastest.
“Castratos of Moon-Mash” is what Wallace Stevens said we’d be “without the sexual myth, the human revery or poem of death.” Without these ravaged facts of physical life, organic depths and regrets, constant re-becomings, separation, fear, dreams, bodies, and defeats, Stevens said, we’re not human, only neutered beings — Platonic abstractions without flesh. Since her breakout show at the Ten in One Gallery in 2001, the 44-year-old Jessica Jackson Hutchins has wrestled with the sexual myth, revery, poems of life and death, human dependency, motherhood, clustered flesh, and social loci made material. In the past, she’s created couches and chairs with pulpy masses, hypersecretions of ceramic and papier-mâché spilling over like a body fermenting, rising into flesh, cratering away. There are vases and vessels resting in forms, possibly puckered openings, voodoo protuberances, erotic shapes, shelters, microcosmic colosseums. She’s equally gaudy and hermetic, ragingly vulnerable but cloaked; at once abstract but always alluding to figuration. Another sculpture finds a painted ceramic shape kneeling into another and performing what looks like fellatio on another mass. She has talked about “the powerful language of objects,” and I see nonnarratives of skin, geologic and biological mergings, big things being broken down, little things becoming immense. She’s uneven and abstruse, but I think she’s among the best artists working in America today. Certainly with ceramics.
The Duplass brothers Mark and Jay are on their way to becoming the most important brothers in entertainment since the Marxes (okay, fine, the Baldwins). In between their acting gigs on highly acclaimed TV shows and movies, HBO has announced a two-season pickup of Animals, an animated series produced by Duplass Brothers Television that premiered at Sundance earlier this year. The show is about the dregs of New York City — the rats, pigeons, and bedbugs — as they wrestle with existential questions. “Jay and I have been excited ... to have our first real experiment land at a place like HBO for two seasons is beyond what we could have imagined,” Mark Duplass said in the understated statement of the year.
Imagine: You love art, and your budget is limitless. Your private jet is fueled up at Teterboro. You’ve trained your internal clock to ignore time zones. Wait, which continent are we landing in? Who knows, but Dakis’s boat will be there! SEEN is ending and school's out, and this is where we wish we could afford to be.
Somehow, the rolling jamboree of biennales and fairs heats up with the weather, and that’s when things get a little dotty. Look, 10 a.m is simply the most amenable time for Champagne at outdoor vernissages. Of course there are open-air exhibitions on ancient Greek cliffs. And why not have artists show in palaces instead of galleries? Plus, hey, even Berlin becomes habitable in the season!
Emily Blunt is a five-foot-seven English actress best known, perhaps, for her expert comic turn as the harried assistant to a barely veiled and tyrannical version of Anna Wintour in The Devil Wears Prada. Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson is a six-foot-five former professional wrestler who boasts the unlikely combination of matinee-idol looks, a handy way with one-liners, and the physique of a contender for Mr. Universe. One of these people is poised to become America’s next big action star, but it’s not the one you might think.
The title of Stéphane Lafleur’s Tu Dors Nicole translates as “You’re Sleeping, Nicole,” and somewhat appropriately, the film opens with its protagonist, recent college grad Nicole (Julianne Côté), waking up in bed. She’s naked and next to a man, but she wants no attachment to this unnamed one-night stand. She leaves the room and steps out onto the sidewalk, where her bike stands hitched to a fence with what appear to be 100 other bikes exactly like it. Nicole’s name might be in the movie’s title, but the anonymity of this opening is overwhelming; she could be anybody at this moment.
Just six months after President Obama declared his intention of normalizing relations with Cuba, the 12th edition of La Bienal de la Habana opened on May 22, with the promise of new beginnings in the air — as well as up in the air: hospitality ventures, emotions, market speculation, venture-capitalist mouth-foaming, artistic output, and hope are all peaking.
And not just for the Cubans.
Every episode of NBC’s new David Duchovny drama Aquarius is now available to stream online, but we may never know how many folks end up watching the series that way. Despite years of broadcast and cable execs complaining that streaming outlets such as Netflix and Hulu don’t release viewing data for their programs, the Peacock pointedly isn’t saying whether it will release similar data for Aquarius. Sources tell Vulture that NBC has asked ratings giant Nielsen to do a custom study to see how the binge-play impacts the show’s audience and ratings, so it’s possible the network is planning to put out some statistics. But, perhaps worried those numbers will be pitiful rather than impressive, an NBC spokesperson wouldn’t comment when asked what kind of data, if any, the network will share with the media. So if it turns out that not a lot of folks binge Aquarius from start to finish, or if the data demonstrates that putting the show online siphoned viewers away from the NBC broadcast network, that information could remain private — much the same way Netflix won’t say how many people actually sat through all of Marco Polo.
The 220,000-square-foot Whitney Museum opened May 1 and is already a huge success. It’s almost three times as big as the dark old Breuer Building uptown, sun-lit, praised by critics and thronged with tourists. The oddball outside of the Renzo Piano building might be a bit controversial, but maybe that can be fixed with a deft addition: After all, the Whitney, like all museums in the city these days, has a plan to get bigger, too. The only question is how soon they’ll get to it.
This morning at BookExpo, gazillion-selling crime author and publishing giant James Patterson announced the launch of Jimmy Patterson, his new children’s-book imprint at Little, Brown & Company, whose profits will help pay for various literacy programs. The move is the author’s latest salvo in his crusade to help spread a love of reading — he’s given millions to libraries and independent bookstores, and frequently funded book giveaways. (He's also happy to put a thumb in Amazon’s hegemonic eye now and then.)
It’s noble stuff, and just a smidge ironic, given the curious spot Patterson occupies — the man who industrialized novel-writing is the same dude determined to inculcate a personal and passionate relationship with reading? But if anyone knows how to get books into readers’ hands, it’s Patterson. Here’s what he had to say about the problems with American literacy, the new imprint, and his old frenemy Jeff Bezos.
Right before her second lip-sync, Queen Latifah tells her competitor Marlon Wayans: "I'm about to smash you." Never before on Lip Sync Battle have truer words been spoken. Let's observe:
The most adorable aspect of Andrew Bujalski’s deadpan-goofy quasi-romance Results is the way two of the three main characters have the hardest bodies imaginable but soft hearts and wooly heads. Cobie Smulders is Kat, the seemingly humorless, compulsively buff (man, she’s in shape, and those cheekbones!) fitness instructor who’s apt to sprint several blocks after cars driven by customers who haven’t paid their bills. Guy Pearce plays Trevor, the taut Aussie owner of an Austin, Texas, gym called Power 4 Life — the “4” also standing for body, heart, mind, and spirit. This is both Trevor’s business and religion: At night he studies videos of fitness philosopher-entrepreneurs, bangs (none too well) on the drums, and curls up in bed with his dog. The wild card — the story’s catalyst — is rich, pudgy Danny (Kevin Corrigan), who moves from New York into an empty mansion with only a TV, gym set, and electric guitar for company. Monitoring his food intake at the behest of his private fitness instructor (Kat), he messages her photos of pizza and beer. She comes by his house (improbably) to smoke weed and (more improbably) wriggle onto his lap and smooch. But she says, “Slow down — no disrobing.”
Drake Got Name-Dropped at the Scripps National Spelling Bee, Giving Him More Fodder for His Next AlbumBy Dee Lockett
You never know where Drake will pop up next. Sometimes he's at Sotheby's soundtracking art, other times his name is being brought up at the Scripps National Spelling Bee. Yes, Drake, of all people, was used as an example for the word bacchius, which, according to some confused judge, is how Drake will begin and end every verse on a song on his next mixtape. (According to Merriam-Webster, bacchius is "a metrical foot of three syllables, the first unstressed, the other two having either primary or intermediate stress.") Naturally, the kid at the podium couldn't help but chuckle at such an absurd idea. And of course, Drake posted the whole thing on Instagram. Whoever wrote that example better ask for credit when Drake tries to rap about it on Views From the 6 — in bacchius.
Tyler, the Creator — the odd and future king of the hip-hop collective OFWGKTA — decided to wax sentimental Wednesday night, and people are losing their marbles because of it. Going through some of his old Tumblr posts, the rapper began a tweet-spree about how he misses his crew as well as the good old days. He reminisced about messing up his leg, making "Trouble on My Mind," and putting slugs on the faces of sleeping people. Oh, and here's what everybody's making a fuss about: He also kind of dropped a bomb along the way, implying that Odd Future might be "no more."