blairbarely

[blairbarely]

Something something vampires have no reflection so he can't even try to see his brother's face anymore when he looks into the mirror

[blairbarely]

I've only known Betty Suarez for like a week but l'd already do anything for her 🫶

[blairbarely]

The way that this is the first musical theater song I've fallen in love with in years and it isn't even from an actual goddamn musical is driving me crazy.

Hell, it's the first show-tune adjacent song I've even found memorable in a very long time and it's from the Melissa Barrera beauty and the beast movie that 3 people saw!

check out YOUR MONSTER if you haven't already. and idk someone put a musical from The Lazours on broadway.

[blairbarely]

every time I see new DEATH BECOMES HER content I have a combination of pride and envy because I literally bullied Broadway into making it into a musical years ago

[blairbarely]

Gladiator II, to its credit, isn’t the kind of movie you can lob a single, sweeping complaint at. Do you think Paul Mescal is a step down from Russell Crowe as the titular gladiator? The movie seems to preemptively shrug at that critique by sliding Denzel Washington into the antagonist role previously held by Joaquin Phoenix. And sure, Phoenix was brilliant in the first movie, but let’s be honest: casting Denzel in place of almost any actor from the past 40 years is like upgrading from a bicycle to a jet.

So no, you can’t walk out of Gladiator II and say, “The new cast doesn’t hold up to the original.” The movie doesn’t just sidestep that complaint—it dares you to even try making it.

The screenplay isn’t flawless, but it works its alchemy well enough to keep you invested, making sure you care just enough for the big moments to land. The arc that stands out—the one between Hanno (MESCAL), Acacius (PASCAL), and Lucilla (NIELSEN)—is a perfect example. By tying Acacius directly to Lucilla, the returning character we already love, the movie pulls a sly narrative trick: it asks us to sympathize with Acacius while also rooting for Hanno’s quest for revenge against him.

For much of the movie, it feels like Pascal is working overtime to inject depth into a character that, at its core, exists more as a plot device than a fully realized person. But then there’s his final showdown with Mescal in the Colosseum, and suddenly, it all lands. That fight carries an emotional weight Pascal has been building toward the entire time, delivering something surprisingly profound in the end.

And let’s be honest: there’s an extra charge for the audience here, especially for Game of Thrones fans, who can’t help but feel the ghost of Oberyn Martell lurking in every step Pascal takes into that arena. Watching him in period costume, once again fighting for his life, adds a meta-layer of intensity and heartbreak that makes the scene hit even harder.

While we’re being honest, let’s address the elephant in the room. I mentioned it earlier, and now feels like the right time to dive in: I sincerely hope this is a one-and-done experiment for Paul Mescal. Don’t get me wrong—he’s not bad. Far from it. He brings layers of emotional depth to his performance that most actors his age wouldn’t even think to attempt.

But the entire time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d rather be watching him in literally any other kind of movie. It’s not that he doesn’t belong in Gladiator II—he’s good enough to hold his own—but we already have enough action stars. Sure, a sword-and-sandals epic is a far cry from joining the Fast & Furious family, but here’s my truth: I’d rather anyone else made this movie, because Mescal should be making the kinds of films that only he can make.

You want to prove to the world you’re a full-blown movie star? Amazing. Do it. But what I really want is for you to make another Aftersun.

[blairbarely]

After finishing Say Nothing and combing through a few cast interviews, I found myself most captivated by Anthony Boyle’s take on the whole production. Before watching the show, I only had a vague awareness of him—I'd caught a couple of episodes of Masters of the Air and seen the Manhunt trailers approximately a million times, so when he popped up here, my initial reaction was, “Oh, he’s in this too? Good for him. Guess he has a great agent.” But almost immediately, I realized I owed Anthony Boyle an apology. I was unfamiliar with his game. Charismatic even in scenes where he’s lurking in the background, or has tights over his head, utterly sympathetic even when he’s supposed to be frightening, Boyle’s portrayal of Brendan Hughes stands out in a cast that’s uniformly excellent.

What struck me most was how convincingly he disappeared into this role. Having seen him play an American in Masters of the Air and knowing he was doing the same thing in Manhunt, I realized I had no clue where Boyle himself was from. Watching him here, I was stunned by the specificity and authenticity of his performance, only to learn afterward that he’s actually from West Belfast. That discovery felt like a confirmation: Boyle wasn’t just acting—he was inhabiting. His performance wasn’t just good; it was lived-in, layered, and deeply rooted in a way that made every second of it feel undeniably real.

I honestly think Boyle’s work in Say Nothing belongs in the same conversation as Ewan McGregor’s best performances in Scottish films—those moments where an actor is so fully in their element that you’re reminded of just how powerful it can be to see someone telling a story that connects with them on a cellular level. Boyle is part of that lineage of enigmatic, electric performers who can shift between accents and personas with ease, but who are at their absolute best when playing roles that resonate with their own lived experiences.

I’m thrilled he took on this character, and I genuinely hope the performance gets the recognition it deserves—awards buzz, acclaim, all of it. He’s not just a highlight; he’s the heartbeat of the show. When Boyle is on-screen, the whole production feels like it’s operating on a higher frequency—more dynamic, more alive, more everything. Bravo, honestly. I can’t wait to see what he does next.