It was an acting challenge that Naomi Watts couldn’t pass up.
In “Lakewood,” the Oscar-nominated star of such grueling exercises in cinematic heroics as “The Impossible” and “King Kong,” spends the bulk of the movie running through the forest, struggling with spotty cellphone reception while trying to make her way to her teenage son’s school, which is under lockdown with an active shooter.
It’s Watts and Watts alone on-screen for much of the film’s 84-minute run time. Not since Tom Hardy had a psychological meltdown via speakerphone in “Locke” has an actor been so isolated and exposed.
“It scared the shit out of me, and that’s always an interesting thing,” Watts tells Variety the morning after “Lakewood” premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival.
“I feed off other actors. You rely on your cast. As an actor, you don’t want to be out there on your own. You want to be interacting and reacting. Even if you have a well planned out idea, you need someone to jolt you into another rhythm or another place.”
The model embraced by most public libraries for retrieving borrowed materials has historically been a simple one: forget to return the item, you pay the price.
The San Diego Public Library became part of a group of trailblazers when it abandoned this system in 2018, joining the less than 10 percent of American libraries around that time that’d done away with daily overdue fees, according to the Library Journal.
But the new policy, advertised on signs across the downtown branch that read, “Wave goodbye to overdue fees,” is not as straightforward as it sounds.
Local public school teacher Julie Ruble, who’s untimely book return resulted in a $1,426 debt to the city of San Diego, can attest. “This was just so much money and I didn’t think there were fines,” she said, “but it turns out the no-fines policy is misnamed.”
2021 marks the 20th anniversary of the Sept. 11 attacks.
The nation has continued to process the terrorist event over the past two decades in many ways, including through television specials, documentaries and dramatized retellings.
On and before the anniversary, networks will air content unpacking the politics of the event, commemorating the victims, speaking with the survivors and more. Read a full list of 9/11 programming below. (More programming will be added to the list as networks announce titles.)
Editor’s Note: Highly recommended, “9/11: One Day in America” (National Geographic and Hulu, currently streaming)
It’s something that many of us reckon with: the sense that we’re not quite as sharp as we once were.
I recently turned 42. Having lost my grandfather to Alzheimer’s, and with my mom suffering from a similar neurodegenerative disease, I’m very aware of what pathologies might lurk beneath my cranium.
In the absence of a cure for Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia, the most important interventions for upholding brain function are preventive — those that help maintain our most marvelous, mysterious organ.
Based on the science, I take fish oil and broil salmon. I exercise. I try to challenge my cortex to the unfamiliar. As I wrote my recent book, A History of the Human Brain, which recounts the evolutionary tale of how our brain got here, I began to realize that so many of the same influences that shaped our brain evolution in the first place reflect the very measures we use to preserve our cognitive function today.
LEXINGTON, S.C. — A California couple has been walking across America to raise awareness and money for a nonprofit.
Grace Nesseth and Matt Grooms started their journey out of Huntington Beach, California, on October 2nd.
They plan to finish their cross-country walk on May 1st in Myrtle Beach. Grooms got the idea to walk across the country after reading a book and thought it would be cool to have it as their next adventure.
Checking your phone for an extra two hours every night won’t stop the apocalypse—but it could stop you from being psychologically prepared for it.
It’s 11:37 pm and the pattern shows no signs of shifting. At 1:12 am, it’s more of the same. Thumb down, thumb up. Twitter, Instagram, and—if you’re feeling particularly wrought/masochistic—Facebook. Ever since the Covid-19 pandemic left a great many people locked down in their homes in early March, the evening ritual has been codifying: Each night ends the way the day began, with an endless scroll through social media in a desperate search for clarity.
To those who have become purveyors of the perverse exercise, like The New York Times’ Kevin Roose, this habit has become known as doomsurfing, or “falling into deep, morbid rabbit holes filled with coronavirus content, agitating myself to the point of physical discomfort, erasing any hope of a good night’s sleep.” For those who prefer their despair be portable, the term is doomscrolling, and as protests over racial injustice and police brutality following the death of George Floyd have joined the Covid-19 crisis in the news cycle, it’s only gotten more intense. The constant stream of news and social media never ends.