#BBC mongrels

[miss-bvnny]

WE WILL

WE WILL

[REDACTED] YOU

[turneradora]

NEW ABOUT RIVALS 💯💯💯💯

New article in the Harper's Bazaar UK, October Issue, to promote "Rivals"!

Amazing photoshoot !

Here is the article of the Harper's Bazaar Uk magazine !!

Thanks to Emma Jones for the written transcription ! 🙏👍🌺

Harpers Bazaar - October 2024

BEST OF ENEMIES

Bazaar recreates the fictional county of Rutshire to meet the cast of Rivals, a new TV adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s racy 1980s blockbuster

As Jilly Cooper’s Rivals leaps rambunctiously to our screens, we meet the cast of the saucy new show

It’s 1986 and, high over the Atlantic, a London-bound Concorde is about to break the sound barrier. Most passengers continue smoking, flicking through magazines and ordering martinis, while the rattling WC door indicates that two are currently joining the mile-high club. Moments later, an unruffled, glamorous couple emerge triumphantly from the loo and the tannoy announces that supersonic speed has been reached: everyone whoops; glasses are clinked; and the thumping chorus of ‘You might as well face it/you’re addicted to love’ is amped up. This is the opening scene of Rivals, the much-anticipated new television adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s bestselling novel, and it’s so unsubtle that, even alone in a dark screening bunker below the streets of Soho, it makes me splutter with laughter. It is also irresistible.

The 1988 book is a classic of the Cooper canon and part of the Rutshire Chronicles, a series based in a fictional Cotswolds county that follows the lives and loves of the affluent elite – an area the team behind its new, and first, on-screen adaptation are well-versed in bringing to life. Produced by A Very English Scandal ’s Dominic Treadwell-Collins and written by Laura Wade, who was behind The Riot Club, Disney+’s eight-part drama is also executivelyproduced by both Cooper and her literary agent Felicity Blunt. It is largely faithful to the novel but, as that has 700 pages and 79 characters listed by name and personality trait in an A-Z at the front, the show necessarily homes in on the central plot lines.

The two main protagonists are Rupert Campbell-Black (played by Alex Hassell), a former Olympic-gold show jumper turned Conservative MP (and, incidentally, the ‘best-looking man in England’); and Declan O’Hara (Aidan Turner), an Irish broadcasting star who leaves the BBC to move to Rutshire with his actress wife Maud and children Taggie, Caitlin and Patrick. Declan’s new employer, Corinium Television, is run by David Tennant’s vile Lord Tony Baddingham and his sidekick Cameron Cook, an American producer he has lured over from New York, depicted by the US native Nafessa Williams. They are joined by a large supporting cast that includes Danny Dyer and Emily Atack.

The titular rivalries are many and varied, primarily centred on the struggle to win the local TV franchise; simultaneously, characters lock horns over love, money, class, pets, politics and property, while presenting chat shows, throwing parties and playing nude tennis. The resulting viewing experience is both a period drama that seems set on another planet and a series exploring themes that still resonate today.

Cooper – who, at 87, is still in full ownership of her signature cloud of coiffed hair, inimitable charisma and a hundred-mile-an hour conversation – loved working on the project. ‘It’s terribly exciting,’ she tells me, with an amazed shake of the head. ‘Other books of mine have been televised and it was awful – but with this, we took casting very seriously and I can’t fault any of them.’

During a break on Bazaar ’s shoot, Turner tells me how Cooper gave a cocktail party for the cast in her garden, and what a ball they all had filming in the West Country last summer. (The latter is clear: he’s delighted to see his co-stars, including the mongrel Pontie, who plays Gertrude, the O’Hara family dog, and some of her canine colleagues brought along for a day in front of the camera.)

The series appealed to the Poldark star immediately. ‘I thought the scripts were really, really funny – line-wise, I have some crackers,’ he says. Turner’s Declan is a big-hearted if self involved journalist, wrestling to reconcile his bosses’ desire to monetise his charm, his own dream of writing a Yeats documentary and the need to bread-win for his profligate family. Although this push and pull between being commercial and creative, between the professional and the personal, plays out in a larger-than-life fashion, it still somehow feels familiar to a modern viewer. ‘That’s the sign of really good television, isn’t it, when it holds the mirror up to our present,’ says the actor. ‘What have we thrown in the trash? What still needs to change?’

The ways in which prejudices have evolved in the past 40 years are thrown into quite harsh relief in the show. Casting a Black actress to play Cameron Cook, the damaged but resilient hot-shot American producer, gives the series an opportunity to delicately include a glimpse of the regularity of what we’d now recognise as racist micro aggressions. Equally, Cameron’s strength is joyful to witness. ‘Such a spicy, smart character – especially a Black woman, who can carry her own and get her way in the male-dominated world of that time – I wanted to sink my teeth into that,’ Williams says. ‘I also love the glamour: the red lip, the red nails.’ (The cast have embraced the scarlet-stiletto emoji – a replica of the original image on the classic book cover – as their unofficial series motif when posting on social media.)

The changing dynamics between men and women are portrayed with a light touch. Victoria Smurfit read Cooper as a teenager, and has now adored playing Declan’s wife Maud O’Hara – an insecure, attentionseeking former actress, the kind of mother who arrives at her son’s New Year’s Eve 21st-birthday party in the Cotswolds on a camel. ‘There are aspects of Rivals that make you think, “Oh my Lord, can you believe they got away with this back then?”’ the Irish actress says. ‘But in the show, it’s delivered in such a clear, fun, gentle, appalled way that a 2024 audience can digest it very easily.’ When I suggest the series has made more of the women and ensured they have three dimensions, perhaps to modernise the story a little, she makes a good point: that Cooper’s male characters – be it the rakish Rupert Campbell-Black or the angelic Lysander Hawkley of The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous – may seem the most famous because it was mostly women reading the books, and the author had designed her heroes – or antiheroes – to be ‘their perfect man’. ‘But look closely, and the women are not less than the men,’ she says. ‘Essentially, every character wants something they don’t have – usually love and safety – whether from their partners, animals or colleagues. Women in this world are entering the era of “having it all” and are learning to be open about what they want – and, by the same token, we are starting to see a softer side to the men.’

This is embodied perfectly in Bella Maclean’s Taggie O’Hara, the delightful, very dyslexic cook and daughter of Declan and Maud: on screen, she has slightly more twinkle in her eye than in the book – a good decision, as otherwise Taggie could be seen as almost too virtuous to be true to a modern audience. ‘But it’s so nice playing someone with a really strong backbone – it slightly rubs off on you,’ says the actress, who appeared in the latest Sex Education series and has just shone as the lead at the National Theatre’s London Tide. ‘Among all the silliness, the shoulder pads and mad hairdos, there’s always an undercurrent of something thought-provoking,’ she says of the show that could prove to be her career’s turning point. ‘There’s a love story that blossoms out of something really unpleasant. There’s light and shade.’

But the figure with perhaps the most chiaroscuro is Rupert Campbell-Black, Cooper’s number-one character, into whose shoes Alex Hassell is amazed to be stepping. Hassell is a seasoned RSC actor, with turns in The Miniaturist and His Dark Materials, whose theatre company The Factory counts Mark Rylance and Emma Thompson among its patrons. ‘I’m also from Essex, with dark features,’ he points out wryly, in reference to the white-blond locks and blue eyes of his new alter-ego, both of which are oft-alluded to in the books, and about which many young women dreamed in the 1980s and 90s. (Cooper was initially appalled.) ‘Rupert exudes privilege and confidence, so I had to learn a loucheness. It was helpful that everyone was told to treat me as if I was extremely attractive,’ he continues, laughing. ‘When you walk into a room of supporting artists who’ve been briefed to fall over themselves looking at you, smouldering becomes a lot easier. They imbued me with a certain power.’

In the Rivals prequel Riders, there are some pretty unpalatable aspects of Rupert’s personality – particularly the way he treats women and animals – that haven’t aged well. ‘We never explicitly had this conversation, but for my portrayal of Rupert, we’ve kept some parts of that history and taken out others. In our version, there’s a loneliness to him: he is a shit, but he has a kindness.’

However, there are two elements of Cooper’s storytelling to which the show stays steadfastly loyal: the abundance of sex and wordplay. Rupert’s dialogue is riddled with quips – some very clever, some very… Eighties. Hassell’s favourite is delivered just as Rupert is getting down to it, and involves a pun that combines Tories and the clitoris. ‘It was a hard sell,’ he says, laughing.

His character and storyline – which takes Rupert on, dare I say, a journey – are key to the show’s charm, pace, plot and sociopolitical signposting. What would Hassell like viewers to make of the series? ‘I hope people enjoy it, have conversations about the knottier topics it raises, and maybe have sex later,’ he says. ‘I say that jokingly, but – and maybe this is high hopes – perhaps for people who don’t talk to one another that much, as the series goes on, watching it with someone else might allow certain things to come to light.’

Cooper is delighted by this possibility. ‘Well, we’re philanthropists, aren’t we? I keep reading that the birth rate is going down like mad. Putting Rivals on the telly may help,’ she says, with the enthusiasm of a writer who has long had one foot in showbusiness: in her forties, she appeared in her capacity as a celebrity columnist on the BBC game show What’s My Line, and wrote a sitcom about a four-girl flat-share with Joanna Lumley in the lead role.

Revisiting the world she created – and partially lived in herself – 40 years ago has been bittersweet: it made her miss the era (‘it was much more naughty’), but also her late husband (‘there’s a lot of darling Leo and his jokes in the book’). Indeed, what today’s viewers may not clock is the real people Cooper drew on to shape several fictional figures, namely the ‘glamorous aristocratic types who were floating about when I, middle-class Jilly, moved to the country in ’82’. Rupert Campbell-Black, for example, is a patchwork of Andrew Parker Bowles, the late Earl of Suffolk and the fashion designer Rupert Lycett-Green. Her ‘beloved’ Taggie is entirely made up, but the scruffy Lizzie Vereker – a novelist whose husband cheats on her – is, she admits, based on herself: ‘She is nicer than me, though. I love her – that’s terribly narcissistic to say, but I do.’

Like her conversation, Cooper herself still rattles along at a good clip – last year, she released a bonkbuster about football inevitably titled Tackle!; this May, the King presented her with a damehood for services to charity and literature, and she’ll be tapping away at her typewriter on various secret projects right up to the very moment she is dragged out of rural Gloucestershire to the premiere of Rivals.

To all these endeavours, Dame Jilly continues to bring the same philosophies she always has: a disregard for snobbery (like many great minds, she rereads Proust and loves Helen Fielding) and a straightforward goal of contributing to the gaiety of the nation. ‘Maybe one day I’ll write something serious,’ she says. ‘But, at the moment, there’s some terrible sadness and loneliness, isn’t there? So, more than ever, and more than anything, I’d like to cheer people up.’

‘Rivals’ is released on Disney+ in October.

[bellasbookclub]

Reccer Spotlight: Ioco!

Misery

The Wolfen

Mongrels

Snow, Glass, Apples

Carpe Jugulum

Ioco has embraced the true spirit of New Moon Season by reccing werewolf-forward horror (with some vampires thrown in.) Would you like your vampires silly or your werewolves dead serious? We've got you covered. Full text available in their tab of the Bella’s Book Club Summer Reading ‘24 Reclist.

more info on BBC Summer Reading 2024

more Reccer Spotlights

[theplaguedogs]

[foxsketch6543]

Vince Mongrels ©️ BBC Three and ©️ Adam Miller

[puzzlingfrost]

Remember mongrel spy? Welp he’s back and wants to share his opinion on chickens!

[blu-tzun]

The Mongrels on the BBC

[thecoleopterawithana]

[Mendips] was a very catty household; John liked cats. They had pedigree Siamese cats, which again is slightly middle-class, if you think about it, rather than a puppy. There was always this slight feeling. His was Aunt Mimi, ours were all called Aunty: Aunty Edie, Aunty Jin, Aunty Milly, Aunty Flo. John had an Aunt Harriet, and Harriet was not a name we came across, especially when they called her Harrie! We never knew women called Mimi, she would have been called Mary. But Aunt Mary became Mimi, which is very sophisticated, very twenties and thirties, very jazz era. So it was Harriet and Mimi: I can imagine them with long cigarette holders. It was like Richmal Crompton's Just William books to me. You read Just William books because you like that world. I'm not ashamed of it, I'm attracted by that. I think it's a rich world, the world of Varsity, the Racquet Club sort of thing. So John was a particularly attractive character in that kind of world. And John was the all-important year and a half older than me.

Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

See also:

John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us, John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It’s ironic, he was always very ‘fuck you!’ and he wrote the song Working Class Hero – in fact, he wasn’t at all working class.

— Paul McCartney, in The Beatles Anthology (1995).

John’s family was rather sort of middle-class— there was a lot of his appeal to me. I still am attracted to… hum, that type of person. Particularly the British type of person. My auntie Jin used to say: “Son, see, there’s nothing nicer than an educated Scot’s voice.” And I know what she means! [Scottish accent] You know, that rather nice Scottish purr… And John had relatives up in Edinburgh, and one of them was a dentist and somebody worked in the BBC! After all, now, come on! None of us knew people like that! So I was kind of attracted to that. It wasn’t a social climbing thing, it’s just that I do find it attractive. I like intelligent people, I like talented people.

— Paul McCartney [Audio]

-

As per the Just William book series’ Wikipedia page:

“The Just William series is a sequence of thirty-nine books written by English author Richmal Crompton. The books chronicle the adventures of the unruly schoolboy William Brown. [...]

“William Brown is a middle-class schoolboy of 11, who lives in a country village in Southern England. [...] William is the leader of his band of friends, who call themselves the Outlaws, with his best friend Ginger and his other friends Henry and Douglas. His scruffy mongrel is called Jumble. [...]

“Leader of the Outlaws, William is unique in schoolboy literature – confident, strong-willed, independent-minded with original world-views, a born leader who is keen to be chief in any undertaking of the Outlaws. He does not care about his clothes or appearance, wears a scowl as his best "company manners" and hates small talk. [...] William usually has a withering contempt for girls and women (except his mother) but can occasionally be chivalrous. He has a soft spot for the neighbour, Joan, who admires him enormously. A rebel and die-hard optimist, William often shows a strong sense of responsibility when the situation demands, an unwillingness to back out of challenges and a bulldog-like determination to overcome hurdles. His imagination and love of adventure constantly get him into strange and difficult situations. Peculiar complications often arise when he tries to "help" others, but as fortune favours the brave, William usually wins.”

[aion-rsa]

New British comedy TV series from 2020: BBC, Channel 4, Sky, Dave, Amazon, Netflix

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

2020 in British TV comedy brought us Maisie Williams as a kickass survivalist in a pickle, and a new parenting comedy from the hugely talented Simon Blackwell and Chris Addison starring Martin Freeman.

To add to that, there was also a fresh batch of comedians playing exaggerated versions of themselves in self-penned sitcoms, including Katherine Ryan, Mae Martin, Sara Pascoe, Kayleigh Llewellyn, Lucy Beaumont and Jon Richardson. 

Here’s the skinny on all those new shows and more. Here’s what arrived in 2019, and here are the new British TV dramas that arrived in 2020.

Breeders

After their excellent 2014 relationship comedy Trying Again, Chris Addison and Simon Blackwell (Veep, The Thick Of It) teamed up on a new series, this time about the trials of parenthood. Martin Freeman and Daisy Haggard played parents in this ten-part half-hour comedy, a co-production between Sky in the UK and FX in the US. Watch the first trailer here.

Bumps

Available to stream on BBC iPlayer

A Comedy Playhouse commission for BBC One, Bumps comes from Psychobitches and Tracey Ullman’s Show writer-actor Lucy Montgomery (pictured) and The Life Of Rock With Brian Pern‘s Rhys Thomas. The half-hour pilot is a modern family comedy that centres on Amanda Redman’s character Anita, a divorcee in her sixties with two grown-up kids, who decides to have a third baby with the help of an egg and sperm donor. Playing Anita’s daughter Joanne is Lisa McGrillis (behind the brilliantly dim and tactless but very sweet Kelly on Mum), who discovers she’s pregnant at the same time as her mother.

Code 404

After 2019’s pilot, Sky ordered six episodes of this sci-fi comedy starring Daniel Mays (Line Of Duty, Vera Drake) and Stephen Graham (Boardwalk Empire, The Virtues), written by Mongrels and Not Going Out’s Daniel Peak. It’s a buddy cop drama set in the near future, which sees crime-fighting duo DI John Major (Mays) and DI Roy Carver (Graham) first separated, then reunited thanks to the wonders of modern science. Series two is on its way.

Feel Good

Stand-up Mae Martin co-wrote her autobiographically inspired six-episode series with Joe Hampson, which formerly went by the working title Mae and George and is now called Feel Good. It aired on E4 in the UK and Netflix around the world, and follows Martin’s life as a comedian and recovering addict, and the complications of her new relationship with girlfriend George. Friends’ Lisa Kudrow guest stars. A second series is on the way.

Hitmen

Comedy double act Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins get in on the Killing Eve game as contract killers in this new Sky series. Unlike Villanelle though, these two are decidedly unsmooth operators. Their hits are, according to the press release, “inevitably derailed by incompetence, bickering, and inane antics.” Sherlock’s Amanda Abbington co-stars, along with Francis Barber and Johnny Vegas. Series two is on the way.

In My Skin

Kayleigh Llewellyn’s autobiographically inspired 2018 pilot is now a four-part comedy series for the BBC. It’s the raw but ultimately uplifting story of teenager Bethan’s attempts to conceal from her schoolfriends a chaotic homelife with a mother sectioned in a mental health facility and a dad in the Hell’s Angels. Here’s a clip from the Comedy Slice to whet your appetite. 

Intelligence

Available to stream on Sky and NOW TV

Last year saw Rob Lowe in Lincolnshire, now prepare for David Schwimmer in Cheltenham. The Friends actor and director starring in a six-part Sky One comedy as a “maverick NSA agent” working in the UK’s Government Communications Headquarters. He’s joined by series writer Nick Mohammed, in the role of an inept computer analyst tasked with tackling cyber-crime. Series two is on the way.

Kate And Koji

Filmed in Herne Bay, Kent, this six-episode ITV comedy stars Brenda Blethyn as Kate, the owner of a seaside café who strikes up a friendship with asylum seeker Koji, played by Jimmy Akingbola. Those two are joined by The Inbetweeners’ Blake Harrison, playing Kate’s nephew, and Meera Syal as the local GP in a timely modern story with a heart.

King Gary

Available to stream on BBC iPlayer

Murder In Successville and Action Team’s Tom Davis and James De Frond teamed up again to write and direct prime time BBC One sitcom King Gary, which debuted in 2020 and was swiftly recommissioned for a second series. You may have caught the pilot episode, which aired over Christmas 2018, introducing Davis’ character – London builder Gary King, a man-child who loves his family, his suburban community, and really loves a B.B.Q – his parents played by The Fast Show’s Simon Day and Doctor Who’s Camille Coduri, and his unforgettable wife Terri, played by the very funny Laura Checkley.

Meet The Richardsons

Airing on Dave and available to stream weekly on UK TV Play

Married comedians Jon Richardson and Lucy Beaumont starred as heightened versions of themselves in Meet The Richardsons for Dave, written by Beaumont and Car Share’s Tim Reid. Inspired by Beaumont’s appearances on Richardsons’ Ultimate Worrier series for Dave, the series comically documents the couple’s parenting and relationship woes.

Mister Winner

Following a successful Comedy Playhouse pilot, Spencer Jones (Upstart Crow) returned as the hapless Leslie Winner for a six-episode series on BBC One. Joining Jones will be Shaun Williamson and Lucy Pearman, in a loveable comedy about “an eternally optimistic klutz with his heart in the right place”. If you’ve yet to see Jones’ excellent BBC iPlayer short series The Mind Of Herbert Clunkerdunk, get involved without delay.

My Left Nut

Available to stream on BBC iPlayer

Coming to BBC Three is an autobiographically inspired three-part comedy-drama from Irish writers Michael Patrick and Oisin Kearney, adapted from their acclaimed stage play. Starring Sinead Keenan (Little Boy Blue, Being Human) with newcomer Nathan Quinn-O’Rawe, it’s the story of a Belfast teenager who discovers a lump on his testicle but finds himself unable to tell those around him. A relatable, entertaining teen comedy with an important healthcare message. 

Out of Her Mind

An established name on screen and the live circuit, comedian Sara Pascoe is the latest comic to write and star in her own sitcom (joining the ranks of Roisin Conaty, Aisling Bea, Josh Widdicombe and more). Her as-yet untitled series is being produced for BBC Two by Simon Pegg and Nick Frost’s production company, Stolen Picture. It’s about “family, relationships and biology,” according to the press release, and will combine eccentric characters with surreal interludes and factual segments. Read about the best Netflix stand-up specials here.

Sandylands

Following on from 2019’s Isle of Wight-set family comedy The Cockfields, Gold has commissioned a second three-part original sitcom. This one’s also set on the UK coast, and tells the story of a successful Londoner who returns to her home town and reconnects with old friends and old crushes when her local businessman father disappears at sea. Sanjeev Bhaskar, David Walliams, Sophie Thompson, Hugh Bonneville and Natalie Dew star.

Semi-Detached

The pilot episode for comedy Semi-Detached, about a hapless fortysomething aired in January 2019, followed by a full series. It was written by actors David Crow and Oliver Maltman and boasted a strong comedy cast including Lee Mack, Ellie White, Samantha Spiro, Clive Russell and Patrick Baladi. The twist with this one is that all the action unfurls in real time.

The Duchess

In addition to her Netflix stand-up specials, comedian Katherine Ryan made a six-part autobiographical comedy for the streaming service. Though a familiar face on screen, this marks the first scripted series Ryan has written and executive-produced. In it, she plays “a fashionable disruptive single mother living in London”, inspired by Ryan’s own experience raising her daughter in the capital after moving here from her native Canada.

The First Team

Iain Morris and Damon Beesley, aka The Inbetweeners creators, have written a six-part half-hour sitcom for BBC Two. Formerly under the working title of Afternoons, it’s now called The First Team and details the off-pitch adventures of three Premier League footballers playing for a fictional side, “three young men who just happen to have a very stressful job in the public eye,” according to the writers. The cast includes Arrested Development‘s Will Arnett as the team’s eccentric American chairman, alongside Theo Barklam Biggs, Shaquille Ali-Yebuah, Jack McMullen, Jake Short and Chris Geere.

The Kemps: All True

Remember how much everybody loved that Bros doc? Well now BBC Four comedy is planning to capture that same lightning in a bottle with mockumentary The Kemps: All True, following the travails of another pair of pop star brothers in Spandau Ballet’s Gary and Martin Kemp. The one-off comedy from Brian Pern‘s Rhys Thomas will track the brothers as they record a new studio album. Read more about it here at the BBC.

The Trouble With Maggie Cole

Stream episodes weekly on ITV Hub

Commissioned in March 2019 by ITV under the working title Glass Houses is a six-part hour-long comedy series starring Dawn French, Mark Heap, Julie Hesmondhalgh, Vicki Pepperdine and more. It’s about the aftermath of a loose-lipped radio interview with French’s Maggie, the village gossip who spills her neighbours’ secrets on air. It comes written by Shameless and Benidorm’s Mark Brotherhood and aired on ITV1 in March.

Truth Seekers

Simon Pegg and Nick Frost’s latest collaboration is a comedy horror series for Amazon Prime Video. Filming began in September 2019 on Truth Seekers, which follows a group of paranormal investigator hobbyists who film their ghost sighting escapades for the online community, and stumble into some very strange business that could end life as we know it. There’s a great comedy cast including Pegg and Frost, including Susan Wokoma, Julian Barratt, Samson Kayo, Morgana Robinson, Kate Nash, Kevin Eldon and Malcolm McDowell.  

Two Weeks To Live

Written by Cheat’s Gaby Hull, this six-episode Sky comedy is the story of misfit Kim, a young girl raised to survive in the wilderness, who re-enters society on a secret mission to honour her dead father’s memory. Game of Thrones’ Maisie Williams plays Kim, who becomes entangled in a prank-gone-wrong plot involving gangsters, a bag of cash and the police. With Kim’s survival skills, don’t expect her to come quietly…

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Here are all the forthcoming British TV dramas on their way in 2020.

The post New British comedy TV series from 2020: BBC, Channel 4, Sky, Dave, Amazon, Netflix appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/35wmAsP

[wilsont21]

by Godforoth

here's a lil funny story to cheer up a bit:

Friends of mine did showed me that video

and by Curiosity, I went to see where that song is coming from...

and I actually found it...

It's from a show on the BBC called "Mongrels"...

It's a show about animals living their life of beasties on the streets of London while being often crude and vulgar and yet funny....

so that show is pretty much "The Happytime Murders" but ... you know.... GOOD! and actually Funny!

but again, I may be baised 'cause I sure do love British Humour and in general, Cutesy Animals commiting British Profanity!

XD XD

Read more

[sociopathicsocialist-blog]

I’ve had this song stuck in my head since it first aired five years ago, which I guess on a subconscious level probably explains why I’ve since started smoking heavily. Thanks Beeb. (Still an amazing series though).

[kmp78]

DISCLAIMER AND RULES

These are the UPDATED directions/guidelines for all who want to participate/contribute to this blog. Our topics of conversation revolve mostly around 30 Seconds to Mars/the Leto Bros, but we have been known to also discuss various other current events around the world.

By reading, and especially by contributing, on what goes on around this blog, you are willingly agreeing with all guidelines and directions I have mentioned below - no exceptions.

I am willing to give a space to those who wish to discuss Mars (or other topics), and I am washing my hands from any and all fuckery that may ensue from other people´s opinions.

Also worth mentioning: I am fully aware that some people who publicly and very vocally denounce any interest in either this blog or Mars gossip lurk around this blog and then spread shit elsewhere on the internet. 

By doing that, you are essentially outing yourself as a quiet kmp78 admirer, so to speak. 

Or a fangirl, if that suits better. 🤗

Alright then... READ.

1.  This blog is laced with sarcasm, jokes, stupid and often very dark humor and PERSONAL OPINIONS - both mine and the people who participate in our conversations. This is not CNN, BBC or even Fox News - this is a personal blog run by a (sort of) fan. Not someone with inside information, and not someone whose opinions and views should be taken too seriously, and definitely not as gospel. I have no direct access to anyone in the Mars organization, and I do not work for them.

2. Nor do I work for YOU. This may be a blog which is mainly used for discussions about all things Mars and all opinions and topics are welcome, but the only one in charge is ME. I decide if a message gets published, if a message gets edited, if a message gets deleted - and if the sender gets blocked.

And not that it really needs to be said, but here goes anyway: I do not work for any Leto troll either.

3. And speaking of blocking: 

those who send threats or offensive messages will be blocked, as will anyone who I deem block-worthy. Rest assured, I never block anyone without a reason, so if you should discover that you have been blocked, that means I had a reason. I may or may not inform publicly when a person has been blocked, depends on my mood.

4. Everyone who sends messages is responsible for their own words - I do not accept any blame for other people´s opinions. Misunderstandings by accident or on purpose are not my headache. If I suspect a message will potentially cause unnecessary problems or annoyance for me, I will not post it (or will edit it), and  I don´t owe anyone any explanations as to why I´m not posting it. I may explain, or not - that´s up for me to decide. 

In any case, as I said: I will not take responsibility for anyone else´s words other than mine, and screaming at me over here or elsewhere online regarding comments someone else made and I posted...

Well, that´s just infantile. 🙄

5. All opinions are welcome, positive AND negative. A positive opinion does not automatically make you a sheep, and a negative opinion does not automatically make you a hater. 

Readers to this blog should be adult enough to handle both sides.

6. Calling women sluts or whores is not ok here. 

You also need to be able to tell the difference between calling a woman a whore and calling a Leto a whore. If you can´t understand the difference, then get out immediately.

SPECIAL CLAUSE:

the term “YACHT GIRL” when used in connection with an actually legit model who YOU ARE JEALOUS OF BECAUSE SHE GETS TO BONE A MAN YOUR FLABBY LOINS BURN FOR, actually is the equivalent of you calling her a whore, so kindly DO NOT.

Use whatever brain cells your parents genes bestowed upon you and make them at least somewhat proud. That should hopefully partially make up for the disappointment they most probably are already feeling knowing you actually read and participate in this shit.

7. What is also not ok is accusing people of crimes, calling them psychopaths, or threatening others with physical violence etc. - not even sarcastically or as jokes.

Think of it this way: 

when typing your message, if at any point you think that what you are writing might come across differently or more seriously to the person reading it than to you while writing it - then do not write it. Any innuendo about people´s potential “social diseases” is not welcome either, and neither are accusations of “obsessions” and people “stalking” the men this blog is focused on. Be VERY careful when using these terms. 

YOU are responsible for your own words. I cannot stress that enough.📣

8. We use a lot of initials and nicknames in our conversations - for a reason. 

Do not use people´s real names in messages. 

If you do not know who a particular person is, please come ask via chat (directions on how to use the chat feature can be found here). I may or may not blur out a name in a message if I think it´s necessary.

9. I post a lot of pics, gifs - and most of them are found from Google using various search terms, and sadly have no tags or indications as to who is the owner/maker. I don´t own any of the pics or gifs, or videos for that matter either (except the ones I have made and labeled as my own). If you find something of yours posted and prefer not to have it up or to have your name added as credits, please let me know and I will remove it.

As for links to either newspaper articles, IG accounts, other blogs or the like: you can find credits to the sources by either clicking on the links, or if I have decided to post screen caps, in the pics themselves. Again, I do not write articles or make videos and very, very rarely post anything other than other people´s comments - after all, this is prominently a discussion blog now. Opinions/messages from other people represent THEIR views and thoughts, my views/thoughts can be seen in my answers (in case of submits or multi-part messages, you will find my contributions to the message after this sign: ***).

To make this very clear: we don´t make news here, we discuss them.

10. When sending submits, if you are unsure of others potentially seeing your “ID”, please mention in your message that you want to remain anon and I will post it anon. Also please remember tho that there is no such thing as complete anonymity - so be careful when writing down your thoughts. Censor yourself if necessary - don´t make problems for me or others, or yourself.

11. I use Statcounter on this blog, which means I can see IP addresses from people visiting this site. However I choose to use that information is up to me, so if you are scared shitless of being outed due to your own actions/words, then DO NOT COME HERE.

If I out your IP, then there is a reason for it.

Don´t give me reasons if you want to remain in the shadows.

(And same goes for chat messages btw: don´t pretend to be my friend in private, but then turn your back and stab me in it in public. More often than not I WILL find out, and if I choose to then out your bullshit by posting private messages, THAT´S ALL YOUR OWN DOING, KIDDOS.

Play nice with me and you have nothing to worry about.

Start kicking dirt in my face and...🤷‍♀️

12. If you are addressing your message directly to someone (= other than me), please say so CLEARLY in your message, for example by starting your message with “For anon who said...”, or something along those line. I have had it with misunderstandings and unnecessary messes due to unclear messages! BE SPECIFIC!

13. ONLY write either in English or Finnish. I won´t waste my time on Google Translate, I have enough on my plate as it is and your weirdo mongrel lingos are boring as hell anyway.

14.  DO NOT SEND MESSAGES WITH THE SOLE PURPOSE OF STIRRING UP SHIT - OR TO INSULT OTHER COUNTRIES OR NATIONALITIES. That would rank quite high the PATHETIC categories...

15. I won´t post content from so-called private/non-celeb accounts such as Leto trolls (= VK for example IS a celeb so whatever she posts is most deffo getting posted, but anything posted by Lesser´s harem probs won´t be).

16. READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES! READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES! READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES! READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES! READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES! 

I´m beyoooooooond bored answering the same questions over and over again, sometimes in the space of just a few hours! The archives and search option are available on my blog for a reason! USE THEM. 😠

17. When sending messages containing info or “receipts” or whatever it may be that you think we should be made aware of, either clearly state WHERE that info can be found and WHO you are talking about. Do not simply send a message a´la “VK can be seen on Monica´s/Richard´s/Beatrice´s IG”. We don´t know who these people are! You may, but we don´t! I do not follow a single model or fashion industry creeper on social media so FIRST NAMES mean fuck all to me. GIVE FULL DETAILS OR SHUT THE FUCK UP. 

18. IF I SAY A TOPIC IS OFF-LIMITS, THEN YOU WILL RESPECT THAT.

19. I usually try to post messages in the same order they have been sent - with a few exceptions: 

If a situation arises which calls for “immediate attention” (new troll pics or other sudden Mars-related activity, for example), I may leave older messages for later and focus on newer ones first. Also when I am operating on my mobile, I am often unable to post certain messages (videos etc.), so those will be left for later when I am back to an actual computer. 

20. More often than not, tumblr fails to deliver messages to my inbox. If you suspect that yours has not been delivered, please send it again. I don´t mind getting duplicates.

21. If I feel that a message offers no relevant or needed content, I won´t post it. For example, a message such as “JL & XX in Japan bang bang” is unnecessary and pointless and not worth posting. I only have 250 allowed posts per day, and on busy days I have to make judgments on what is worthy of posting and what is not. I apologize if I therefore have to skip some messages. 

When I run out of allowed posts here, I will let everyone know that I am switching over to use the secondary blog which can be found at @kmp78secondaryblog

(PLEASE NOTE: That blog is ONLY used when we run out of room here, and I never go there unless I have to so please don´t send any messages to that blog unless I inform we have to move there!)

AND FINALLY PLEASE REMEMBER:

THIS IS A FANDOM FOR A BAND. NOT A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH. ACT ACCORDINGLY.

Creating hater accounts dedicated to POSTING PICTURES OF MY BLOODY EYEBALL (that btw actually happened because of course it did! This is the echeLOOOOOON after all! 👍) won´t make me quit this blog, so...

Yeah.

Anyway, for further information, please contact me via private message here, on my IGs, or at kmp78@yahoo.com.

Thank you. 🙏

PS: In case you run into accounts/comments made under my tumblr “identity”, or otherwise unauthorized “kmp78″ activity outside of tumblr which you recognize as being linked to this blog in any way (such as my posts being tagged with JL´s tags etc.), please report them immediately, both to the admins of the sites you found these accounts on, and to me directly so I can take appropriate action, thanks.

Any of my personal pics taken from this blog have been taken without permission and I have never and will never give permission to post them anywhere. And when I say I “appropriate action”, I mean just that. If need be, I will be contacting the authorities, like I did when I received public death threats. 

Be very aware that my tolerance for that is less than zero - and also be aware that these guidelines and my rules may change whenever I feel the need to change them.

#DEAL ✌️

[yobaba30]

trump’s reality TV gig

Expedition: Robinson,” a Swedish reality-television program, premièred in the summer of 1997, with a tantalizing premise: sixteen strangers are deposited on a small island off the coast of Malaysia and forced to fend for themselves. To survive, they must coöperate, but they are also competing: each week, a member of the ensemble is voted off the island, and the final contestant wins a grand prize. The show’s title alluded to both “Robinson Crusoe” and “The Swiss Family Robinson,” but a more apt literary reference might have been “Lord of the Flies.” The first contestant who was kicked off was a young man named Sinisa Savija. Upon returning to Sweden, he was morose, complaining to his wife that the show’s editors would “cut away the good things I did and make me look like a fool.” Nine weeks before the show aired, he stepped in front of a speeding train.

The producers dealt with this tragedy by suggesting that Savija’s turmoil was unrelated to the series—and by editing him virtually out of the show. Even so, there was a backlash, with one critic asserting that a program based on such merciless competition was “fascist television.” But everyone watched the show anyway, and Savija was soon forgotten. “We had never seen anything like it,” Svante Stockselius, the chief of the network that produced the program, told the Los Angeles Times, in 2000. “Expedition: Robinson” offered a potent cocktail of repulsion and attraction. You felt embarrassed watching it, Stockselius said, but “you couldn’t stop.”

In 1998, a thirty-eight-year-old former British paratrooper named Mark Burnett was living in Los Angeles, producing television. “Lord of the Flies” was one of his favorite books, and after he heard about “Expedition: Robinson” he secured the rights to make an American version. Burnett had previously worked in sales and had a knack for branding. He renamed the show “Survivor.”

The first season was set in Borneo, and from the moment it aired, on CBS, in 2000, “Survivor” was a ratings juggernaut: according to the network, a hundred and twenty-five million Americans—more than a third of the population—tuned in for some portion of the season finale. The catchphrase delivered by the host, Jeff Probst, at the end of each elimination ceremony, “The tribe has spoken,” entered the lexicon. Burnett had been a marginal figure in Hollywood, but after this triumph he, too, was rebranded, as an oracle of spectacle. Les Moonves, then the chairman of CBS, arranged for the delivery of a token of thanks—a champagne-colored Mercedes. To Burnett, the meaning of this gesture was unmistakable: “I had arrived.” The only question was what he might do next.

A few years later, Burnett was in Brazil, filming “Survivor: The Amazon.” His second marriage was falling apart, and he was staying in a corporate apartment with a girlfriend. One day, they were watching TV and happened across a BBC documentary series called “Trouble at the Top,” about the corporate rat race. The girlfriend found the show boring and suggested changing the station, but Burnett was transfixed. He called his business partner in L.A. and said, “I’ve got a new idea.” Burnett would not discuss the concept over the phone—one of his rules for success was to always pitch in person—but he was certain that the premise had the contours of a hit: “Survivor” in the city. Contestants competing for a corporate job. The urban jungle!

He needed someone to play the role of heavyweight tycoon. Burnett, who tends to narrate stories from his own life in the bravura language of a Hollywood pitch, once said of the show, “It’s got to have a hook to it, right? They’ve got to be working for someone big and special and important. Cut to: I’ve rented this skating rink.”

In 2002, Burnett rented Wollman Rink, in Central Park, for a live broadcast of the Season 4 finale of “Survivor.” The property was controlled by Donald Trump, who had obtained the lease to operate the rink in 1986, and had plastered his name on it. Before the segment started, Burnett addressed fifteen hundred spectators who had been corralled for the occasion, and noticed Trump sitting with Melania Knauss, then his girlfriend, in the front row. Burnett prides himself on his ability to “read the room”: to size up the personalities in his audience, suss out what they want, and then give it to them.

“I need to show respect to Mr. Trump,” Burnett recounted, in a 2013 speech in Vancouver. “I said, ‘Welcome, everybody, to Trump Wollman skating rink. The Trump Wollman skating rink is a fine facility, built by Mr. Donald Trump. Thank you, Mr. Trump. Because the Trump Wollman skating rink is the place we are tonight and we love being at the Trump Wollman skating rink, Mr. Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump.” As Burnett told the story, he had scarcely got offstage before Trump was shaking his hand, proclaiming, “You’re a genius!”

Cut to: June, 2015. After starring in fourteen seasons of “The Apprentice,” all executive-produced by Burnett, Trump appeared in the gilded atrium of Trump Tower, on Fifth Avenue, to announce that he was running for President. Only someone “really rich,” Trump declared, could “take the brand of the United States and make it great again.” He also made racist remarks about Mexicans, prompting NBC, which had broadcast “The Apprentice,” to fire him. Burnett, however, did not sever his relationship with his star. He and Trump had been equal partners in “The Apprentice,” and the show had made each of them hundreds of millions of dollars. They were also close friends: Burnett liked to tell people that when Trump married Knauss, in 2005, Burnett’s son Cameron was the ring bearer. 

Trump had been a celebrity since the eighties, his persona shaped by the best-selling book “The Art of the Deal.” But his business had foundered, and by 2003 he had become a garish figure of local interest—a punch line on Page Six. “The Apprentice” mythologized him anew, and on a much bigger scale, turning him into an icon of American success. Jay Bienstock, a longtime collaborator of Burnett’s, and the showrunner on “The Apprentice,” told me, “Mark always likes to compare his shows to great films or novels. All of Mark’s shows feel bigger than life, and this is by design.” Burnett has made many programs since “The Apprentice,” among them “Shark Tank,” a startup competition based on a Japanese show, and “The Voice,” a singing contest adapted from a Dutch program. In June, he became the chairman of M-G-M Television. But his chief legacy is to have cast a serially bankrupt carnival barker in the role of a man who might plausibly become the leader of the free world. “I don’t think any of us could have known what this would become,” Katherine Walker, a producer on the first five seasons of “The Apprentice,” told me. “But Donald would not be President had it not been for that show.”

Tony Schwartz, who wrote “The Art of the Deal,” which falsely presented Trump as its primary author, told me that he feels some responsibility for facilitating Trump’s imposture. But, he said, “Mark Burnett’s influence was vastly greater,” adding, “ ‘The Apprentice’ was the single biggest factor in putting Trump in the national spotlight.” Schwartz has publicly condemned Trump, describing him as “the monster I helped to create.” Burnett, by contrast, has refused to speak publicly about his relationship with the President or about his curious, but decisive, role in American history.

Burnett is lean and lanky, with the ageless, perpetually smiling face of Peter Pan and eyes that, in the words of one ex-wife, have “a Photoshop twinkle.” He has a high forehead and the fixed, gravity-defying hair of a nineteen-fifties film star. People often mistake Burnett for an Australian, because he has a deep tan and an outdoorsy disposition, and because his accent has been mongrelized by years of international travel. But he grew up in Dagenham, on the eastern outskirts of London, a milieu that he has recalled as “gray and grimy.” His father, Archie, was a tattooed Glaswegian who worked the night shift at a Ford automobile plant. His mother, Jean, worked there as well, pouring acid into batteries, but in Mark’s recollection she always dressed immaculately, “never letting her station in life interfere with how she presented herself.” Mark, an only child, grew up watching American television shows such as “Starsky & Hutch” and “The Rockford Files.”

At seventeen, he volunteered for the British Army’s Parachute Regiment; according to a friend who enlisted with him, he joined for “the glitz.” The Paras were an élite unit, and a soldier from his platoon, Paul Read, told me that Burnett was a particularly formidable special operator, both physically commanding and a natural leader: “He was always super keen. He always wanted to be the best, even among the best.” (Another soldier recalled that Burnett was nicknamed the Male Model, because he was reluctant to “get any dirt under his fingernails.”) Burnett served in Northern Ireland, and then in the Falklands, where he took part in the 1982 advance on Port Stanley. The experience, he later said, was “horrific, but on the other hand—in a sick way—exciting.”

When Burnett left the Army, after five years, his plan was to find work in Central America as a “weapons and tactics adviser”—not as a mercenary, he later insisted, though it is difficult to parse the distinction. Before he left, his mother told him that she’d had a premonition and implored him not to take another job that involved carrying a gun. Like Trump, Burnett trusts his impulses. “Your gut instinct is rarely wrong,” he likes to say. During a layover in Los Angeles, he decided to heed his mother’s admonition, and walked out of the airport. He later described himself as the quintessential immigrant: “I had no money, no green card, no nothing.” But the California sun was shining, and he was eager to try his luck.

Burnett is an avid raconteur, and his anecdotes about his life tend to have a three-act structure. In Act I, he is a fish out of water, guileless and naïve, with nothing but the shirt on his back and an outsized dream. Act II is the rude awakening: the world bets against him. It’s impossible! You’ll lose everything! No such thing has ever been tried! In Act III, Burnett always prevails. Not long after arriving in California, he landed his first job—as a nanny. Eyebrows were raised: a commando turned nanny? Yet Burnett thrived, working for a family in Beverly Hills, then one in Malibu. As he later observed, the experience taught him “how nice the life styles of wealthy people are.” Young, handsome, and solicitous, he discovered that successful people are often happy to talk about their path to success.

Burnett married a California woman, Kym Gold, who came from an affluent family. “Mark has always been very, very hungry,” Gold told me recently. “He’s always had a lot of drive.” For a time, he worked for Gold’s stepfather, who owned a casting agency, and for Gold, who owned an apparel business. She would buy slightly imperfect T-shirts wholesale, at two dollars apiece, and Burnett would resell them, on the Venice boardwalk, for eighteen. That was where he learned “the art of selling,” he has said. The marriage lasted only a year, by which point Burnett had obtained a green card. (Gold, who had also learned a thing or two about selling, went on to co-found the denim company True Religion, which was eventually sold for eight hundred million dollars.)

One day in the early nineties, Burnett read an article about a new kind of athletic event: a long-distance endurance race, known as the Raid Gauloises, in which teams of athletes competed in a multiday trek over harsh terrain. In 1992, Burnett organized a team and participated in a race in Oman. Noticing that he and his teammates were “walking, climbing advertisements” for gear, he signed up sponsors. He also realized that if you filmed such a race it would make for exotic and gripping viewing. Burnett launched his own race, the Eco-Challenge, which was set in such scenic locations as Utah and British Columbia, and was televised on various outlets, including the Discovery Channel. Bienstock, who first met Burnett when he worked on the “Eco-Challenge” show, in 1996, told me that Burnett was less interested in the ravishing backdrops or in the competition than he was in the intense emotional experiences of the racers: “Mark saw the drama in real people being the driving force in an unscripted show.”

By this time, Burnett had met an aspiring actress from Long Island named Dianne Minerva and married her. They became consumed with making the show a success. “When we went to bed at night, we talked about it, when we woke up in the morning, we talked about it,” Dianne Burnett told me recently. In the small world of adventure racing, Mark developed a reputation as a slick and ambitious operator. “He’s like a rattlesnake,” one of his business competitors told the New York Times in 2000. “If you’re close enough long enough, you’re going to get bit.” Mark and Dianne were doing far better than Mark’s parents ever had, but he was restless. One day, they attended a seminar by the motivational speaker Tony Robbins called “Unleash the Power Within.” A good technique for realizing your goals, Robbins counselled, was to write down what you wanted most on index cards, then deposit them around your house, as constant reminders. In a 2012 memoir, “The Road to Reality,” Dianne Burnett recalls that she wrote the word “FAMILY” on her index cards. Mark wrote “MORE MONEY.”

As a young man, Burnett occasionally found himself on a flight for business, looking at the other passengers and daydreaming: If this plane were to crash on a desert island, where would I fit into our new society? Who would lead and who would follow? “Nature strips away the veneer we show one another every day, at which point people become who they really are,” Burnett once wrote. He has long espoused a Hobbesian world view, and when he launched “Survivor” a zero-sum ethos was integral to the show. “It’s quite a mean game, just like life is kind of a mean game,” Burnett told CNN, in 2001. “Everyone’s out for themselves.”

On “Survivor,” the competitors were split into teams, or “tribes.” In this raw arena, Burnett suggested, viewers could glimpse the cruel essence of human nature. It was undeniably compelling to watch contestants of different ages, body types, and dispositions negotiate the primordial challenges of making fire, securing shelter, and foraging for food. At the same time, the scenario was extravagantly contrived: the castaways were shadowed by camera crews, and helicopters thundered around the island, gathering aerial shots.

Moreover, the contestants had been selected for their charisma and their combustibility. “It’s all about casting,” Burnett once observed. “As a producer, my job is to make the choices in who to work with and put on camera.” He was always searching for someone with the sort of personality that could “break through the clutter.” In casting sessions, Burnett sometimes goaded people, to see how they responded to conflict. Katherine Walker, the “Apprentice” producer, told me about an audition in which Burnett taunted a prospective cast member by insinuating that he was secretly gay. (The man, riled, threw the accusation back at Burnett, and was not cast that season.)

Richard Levak, a clinical psychologist who consulted for Burnett on “Survivor” and “The Apprentice” and worked on other reality-TV shows, told me that producers have often liked people he was uncomfortable with for psychological reasons. Emotional volatility makes for compelling television. But recruiting individuals for their instability and then subjecting them to the stress of a televised competition can be perilous. When Burnett was once asked about Sinisa Savija’s suicide, he contended that Savija had “previous psychological problems.” No “Survivor” or “Apprentice” contestants are known to have killed themselves, but in the past two decades several dozen reality-TV participants have. Levak eventually stopped consulting on such programs, in part because he feared that a contestant might harm himself. “I would think, Geez, if this should unravel, they’re going to look at the personality profile and there may have been a red flag,” he recalled.

Burnett excelled at the casting equation to the point where, on Season 2 of “Survivor,” which was shot in the Australian outback, his castaways spent so much time gossiping about the characters from the previous season that Burnett warned them, “The more time you spend talking about the first ‘Survivor,’ the less time you will have on television.” But Burnett’s real genius was in marketing. When he made the rounds in L.A. to pitch “Survivor,” he vowed that it would become a cultural phenomenon, and he presented executives with a mock issue of Newsweek featuring the show on the cover. (Later, “Survivor” did make the cover of the magazine.) Burnett devised a dizzying array of lucrative product-integration deals. In the first season, one of the teams won a care package that was attached to a parachute bearing the red-and-white logo of Target.

“I looked on ‘Survivor’ as much as a marketing vehicle as a television show,” Burnett once explained. He was creating an immersive, cinematic entertainment—and he was known for lush production values, and for paying handsomely to retain top producers and editors—but he was anything but precious about his art. Long before he met Trump, Burnett had developed a Panglossian confidence in the power of branding. “I believe we’re going to see something like the Microsoft Grand Canyon National Park,” he told the New York Times in 2001. “The government won’t take care of all that—companies will.”

Seven weeks before the 2016 election, Burnett, in a smart tux with a shawl collar, arrived with his third wife, the actress and producer Roma Downey, at the Microsoft Theatre, in Los Angeles, for the Emmy Awards. Both “Shark Tank” and “The Voice” won awards that night. But his triumphant evening was marred when the master of ceremonies, Jimmy Kimmel, took an unexpected turn during his opening monologue. “Television brings people together, but television can also tear us apart,” Kimmel mused. “I mean, if it wasn’t for television, would Donald Trump be running for President?” In the crowd, there was laughter. “Many have asked, ‘Who is to blame for Donald Trump?’ ” Kimmel continued. “I’ll tell you who, because he’s sitting right there. That guy.” Kimmel pointed into the audience, and the live feed cut to a closeup of Burnett, whose expression resolved itself into a rigid grin. “Thanks to Mark Burnett, we don’t have to watch reality shows anymore, because we’re living in one,” Kimmel said. Burnett was still smiling, but Kimmel wasn’t. He went on, “I’m going on the record right now. He’s responsible. If Donald Trump gets elected and he builds that wall, the first person we’re throwing over it is Mark Burnett. The tribe has spoken.”

Around this time, Burnett stopped giving interviews about Trump or “The Apprentice.” He continues to speak to the press to promote his shows, but he declined an interview with me. Before Trump’s Presidential run, however, Burnett told and retold the story of how the show originated. When he met Trump at Wollman Rink, Burnett told him an anecdote about how, as a young man selling T-shirts on the boardwalk on Venice Beach, he had been handed a copy of “The Art of the Deal,” by a passing rollerblader. Burnett said that he had read it, and that it had changed his life; he thought, What a legend this guy Trump is!

Anyone else hearing this tale might have found it a bit calculated, if not implausible. Kym Gold, Burnett’s first wife, told me that she has no recollection of him reading Trump’s book in this period. “He liked mystery books,” she said. But when Trump heard the story he was flattered.

Burnett has never liked the phrase “reality television.” For a time, he valiantly campaigned to rebrand his genre “dramality”—“a mixture of drama and reality.” The term never caught on, but it reflected Burnett’s forthright acknowledgment that what he creates is a highly structured, selective, and manipulated rendition of reality. Burnett has often boasted that, for each televised hour of “The Apprentice,” his crews shot as many as three hundred hours of footage. The real alchemy of reality television is the editing—sifting through a compost heap of clips and piecing together an absorbing story. Jonathon Braun, an editor who started working with Burnett on “Survivor” and then worked on the first six seasons of “The Apprentice,” told me, “You don’t make anything up. But you accentuate things that you see as themes.” He readily conceded how distorting this process can be. Much of reality TV consists of reaction shots: one participant says something outrageous, and the camera cuts away to another participant rolling her eyes. Often, Braun said, editors lift an eye roll from an entirely different part of the conversation.

“The Apprentice” was built around a weekly series of business challenges. At the end of each episode, Trump determined which competitor should be “fired.” But, as Braun explained, Trump was frequently unprepared for these sessions, with little grasp of who had performed well. Sometimes a candidate distinguished herself during the contest only to get fired, on a whim, by Trump. When this happened, Braun said, the editors were often obliged to “reverse engineer” the episode, scouring hundreds of hours of footage to emphasize the few moments when the exemplary candidate might have slipped up, in an attempt to assemble an artificial version of history in which Trump’s shoot-from-the-hip decision made sense. During the making of “The Apprentice,” Burnett conceded that the stories were constructed in this way, saying, “We know each week who has been fired, and, therefore, you’re editing in reverse.” Braun noted that President Trump’s staff seems to have been similarly forced to learn the art of retroactive narrative construction, adding, “I find it strangely validating to hear that they’re doing the same thing in the White House.”

Such sleight of hand is the industry standard in reality television. But the entire premise of “The Apprentice” was also something of a con. When Trump and Burnett told the story of their partnership, both suggested that Trump was initially wary of committing to a TV show, because he was so busy running his flourishing real-estate empire. During a 2004 panel at the Museum of Television and Radio, in Los Angeles, Trump claimed that “every network” had tried to get him to do a reality show, but he wasn’t interested: “I don’t want to have cameras all over my office, dealing with contractors, politicians, mobsters, and everyone else I have to deal with in my business. You know, mobsters don’t like, as they’re talking to me, having cameras all over the room. It would play well on television, but it doesn’t play well with them.”

“The Apprentice” portrayed Trump not as a skeezy hustler who huddles with local mobsters but as a plutocrat with impeccable business instincts and unparalleled wealth—a titan who always seemed to be climbing out of helicopters or into limousines. “Most of us knew he was a fake,” Braun told me. “He had just gone through I don’t know how many bankruptcies. But we made him out to be the most important person in the world. It was like making the court jester the king.” Bill Pruitt, another producer, recalled, “We walked through the offices and saw chipped furniture. We saw a crumbling empire at every turn. Our job was to make it seem otherwise.”

Trump maximized his profits from the start. When producers were searching for office space in which to stage the show, he vetoed every suggestion, then mentioned that he had an empty floor available in Trump Tower, which he could lease at a reasonable price. (After becoming President, he offered a similar arrangement to the Secret Service.) When the production staff tried to furnish the space, they found that local venders, stiffed by Trump in the past, refused to do business with them.

More than two hundred thousand people applied for one of the sixteen spots on Season 1, and throughout the show’s early years the candidates were conspicuously credentialled and impressive. Officially, the grand prize was what the show described as “the dream job of a lifetime”—the unfathomable privilege of being mentored by Donald Trump while working as a junior executive at the Trump Organization. All the candidates paid lip service to the notion that Trump was a peerless businessman, but not all of them believed it. A standout contestant in Season 1 was Kwame Jackson, a young African-American man with an M.B.A. from Harvard, who had worked at Goldman Sachs. Jackson told me that he did the show not out of any desire for Trump’s tutelage but because he regarded the prospect of a nationally televised business competition as “a great platform” for career advancement. “At Goldman, I was in private-wealth management, so Trump was not, by any stretch, the most financially successful person I’d ever met or managed,” Jackson told me. He was quietly amused when other contestants swooned over Trump’s deal-making prowess or his elevated tastes—when they exclaimed, on tours of tacky Trump properties, “Oh, my God, this is so rich—this is, like, really rich!” Fran Lebowitz once remarked that Trump is “a poor person’s idea of a rich person,” and Jackson was struck, when the show aired, by the extent to which Americans fell for the ruse. “Main Street America saw all those glittery things, the helicopter and the gold-plated sinks, and saw the most successful person in the universe,” he recalled. “The people I knew in the world of high finance understood that it was all a joke.”

This is an oddly common refrain among people who were involved in “The Apprentice”: that the show was camp, and that the image of Trump as an avatar of prosperity was delivered with a wink. Somehow, this interpretation eluded the audience. Jonathon Braun marvelled, “People started taking it seriously!”

When I watched several dozen episodes of the show recently, I saw no hint of deliberate irony. Admittedly, it is laughable to hear the candidates, at a fancy meal, talk about watching Trump for cues on which utensil they should use for each course, as if he were Emily Post. But the show’s reverence for its pugnacious host, however credulous it might seem now, comes across as sincere.

Did Burnett believe what he was selling? Or was Trump another two-dollar T-shirt that he pawned off for eighteen? It’s difficult to say. One person who has collaborated with Burnett likened him to Harold Hill, the travelling fraudster in “The Music Man,” saying, “There’s always an angle with Mark. He’s all about selling.” Burnett is fluent in the jargon of self-help, and he has published two memoirs, both written with Bill O’Reilly’s ghostwriter, which double as manuals on how to get rich. One of them, titled “Jump In!: Even if You Don’t Know How to Swim,” now reads like an inadvertent metaphor for the Trump Presidency. “Don’t waste time on overpreparation,” the book advises.

At the 2004 panel, Burnett made it clear that, with “The Apprentice,” he was selling an archetype. “Donald is the real current-day version of a tycoon,” he said. “Donald will say whatever Donald wants to say. He takes no prisoners. If you’re Donald’s friend, he’ll defend you all day long. If you’re not, he’s going to kill you. And that’s very American. It’s like the guys who built the West.” Like Trump, Burnett seemed to have both a jaundiced impression of the gullible essence of the American people and a brazen enthusiasm for how to exploit it. “The Apprentice” was about “what makes America great,” Burnett said. “Everybody wants one of a few things in this country. They’re willing to pay to lose weight. They’re willing to pay to grow hair. They’re willing to pay to have sex. And they’re willing to pay to learn how to get rich.”

At the start of “The Apprentice,” Burnett’s intention may have been to tell a more honest story, one that acknowledged Trump’s many stumbles. Burnett surely recognized that Trump was at a low point, but, according to Walker, “Mark sensed Trump’s potential for a comeback.” Indeed, in a voice-over introduction in the show’s pilot, Trump conceded a degree of weakness that feels shockingly self-aware when you listen to it today: “I was seriously in trouble. I was billions of dollars in debt. But I fought back, and I won, big league.”

The show was an instant hit, and Trump’s public image, and the man himself, began to change. Not long after the première, Trump suggested in an Esquire article that people now liked him, “whereas before, they viewed me as a bit of an ogre.” Jim Dowd, Trump’s former publicist, told Michael Kranish and Marc Fisher, the authors of the 2016 book “Trump Revealed,” that after “The Apprentice” began airing “people on the street embraced him.” Dowd noted, “All of a sudden, there was none of the old mocking,” adding, “He was a hero.” Dowd, who died in 2016, pinpointed the public’s embrace of “The Apprentice” as “the bridge” to Trump’s Presidential run.

The show’s camera operators often shot Trump from low angles, as you would a basketball pro, or Mt. Rushmore. Trump loomed over the viewer, his face in a jowly glower, his hair darker than it is now, the metallic auburn of a new penny. (“Apprentice” employees were instructed not to fiddle with Trump’s hair, which he dyed and styled himself.) Trump’s entrances were choreographed for maximum impact, and often set to a moody accompaniment of synthesized drums and cymbals. The “boardroom”—a stage set where Trump determined which candidate should be fired—had the menacing gloom of a “Godfather” movie. In one scene, Trump ushered contestants through his rococo Trump Tower aerie, and said, “I show this apartment to very few people. Presidents. Kings.” In the tabloid ecosystem in which he had long languished, Trump was always Donald, or the Donald. On “The Apprentice,” he finally became Mr. Trump.

“We have to subscribe to our own myths,” the “Apprentice” producer Bill Pruitt told me. “Mark Burnett is a great mythmaker. He blew up that balloon and he believed in it.” Burnett, preferring to spend time pitching new ideas for shows, delegated most of the daily decisions about “The Apprentice” to his team, many of them veterans of “Survivor” and “Eco-Challenge.” But he furiously promoted the show, often with Trump at his side. According to many of Burnett’s collaborators, one of his greatest skills is his handling of talent—understanding their desires and anxieties, making them feel protected and secure. On interview tours with Trump, Burnett exhibited the studied instincts of a veteran producer: anytime the spotlight strayed in his direction, he subtly redirected it at Trump.

Burnett, who was forty-three when Season 1 aired, described the fifty-seven-year-old Trump as his “soul mate.” He expressed astonishment at Trump’s “laser-like focus and retention.” He delivered flattery in the ostentatiously obsequious register that Trump prefers. Burnett said he hoped that he might someday rise to Trump’s “level” of prestige and success, adding, “I don’t know if I’ll ever make it. But you know something? If you’re not shooting for the stars, you’re not shooting!” On one occasion, Trump invited Burnett to dinner at his Trump Tower apartment; Burnett had anticipated an elegant meal, and, according to an associate, concealed his surprise when Trump handed him a burger from McDonald’s.

Trump liked to suggest that he and Burnett had come up with the show “together”; Burnett never corrected him. When Carolyn Kepcher, a Trump Organization executive who appeared alongside Trump in early seasons of “The Apprentice,” seemed to be courting her own celebrity, Trump fired her and gave on-air roles to three of his children, Ivanka, Donald, Jr., and Eric. Burnett grasped that the best way to keep Trump satisfied was to insure that he never felt upstaged. “It’s Batman and Robin, and I’m clearly Robin,” he said.

Burnett sometimes went so far as to imply that Trump’s involvement in “The Apprentice” was a form of altruism. “This is Donald Trump giving back,” he told the Times in 2003, then offered a vague invocation of post-9/11 civic duty: “What makes the world a safe place right now? I think it’s American dollars, which come from taxes, which come because of Donald Trump.” Trump himself had been candid about his reasons for doing the show. “My jet’s going to be in every episode,” he told Jim Dowd, adding that the production would be “great for my brand.”

It was. Season 1 of “The Apprentice” flogged one Trump property after another. The contestants stayed at Trump Tower, did events at Trump National Golf Club, sold Trump Ice bottled water. “I’ve always felt that the Trump Taj Mahal should do even better,” Trump announced before sending the contestants off on a challenge to lure gamblers to his Atlantic City casino, which soon went bankrupt. The prize for the winning team was an opportunity to stay and gamble at the Taj, trailed by cameras.

“The Apprentice” was so successful that, by the time the second season launched, Trump’s lacklustre tie-in products were being edged out by blue-chip companies willing to pay handsomely to have their wares featured onscreen. In 2004, Kevin Harris, a producer who helped Burnett secure product-integration deals, sent an e-mail describing a teaser reel of Trump endorsements that would be used to attract clients: “Fast cutting of Donald—‘Crest is the biggest’ ‘I have worn Levis since I was 2’ ‘I love M&Ms’ ‘Unilever is the biggest company in the world’ all with the MONEY MONEY MONEY song over the top.”

Burnett and Trump negotiated with NBC to retain the rights to income derived from product integration, and split the fees. On set, Trump often gloated about this easy money. One producer remembered, “You’d say, ‘Hey, Donald, today we have Pepsi, and they’re paying three million to be in the show,’ and he’d say, ‘That’s great, I just made a million five!’ ”

Originally, Burnett had planned to cast a different mogul in the role of host each season. But Trump took to his part more nimbly than anyone might have predicted. He wouldn’t read a script—he stumbled over the words and got the enunciation all wrong. But off the cuff he delivered the kind of zesty banter that is the lifeblood of reality television. He barked at one contestant, “Sam, you’re sort of a disaster. Don’t take offense, but everyone hates you.” Katherine Walker told me that producers often struggled to make Trump seem coherent, editing out garbled syntax and malapropisms. “We cleaned it up so that he was his best self,” she said, adding, “I’m sure Donald thinks that he was never edited.” However, she acknowledged, he was a natural for the medium: whereas reality-TV producers generally must amp up personalities and events, to accentuate conflict and conjure intrigue, “we didn’t have to change him—he gave us stuff to work with.” Trump improvised the tagline for which “The Apprentice” became famous: “You’re fired.”

NBC executives were so enamored of their new star that they instructed Burnett and his producers to give Trump more screen time. This is when Trump’s obsession with television ratings took hold. “I didn’t know what demographics was four weeks ago,” he told Larry King. “All of a sudden, I heard we were No. 3 in demographics. Last night, we were No. 1 in demographics. And that’s the important rating.” The ratings kept rising, and the first season’s finale was the No. 1 show of the week. For Burnett, Trump’s rehabilitation was a satisfying confirmation of a populist aesthetic. “I like it when critics slam a movie and it does massive box office,” he once said. “I love it.” Whereas others had seen in Trump only a tattered celebrity of the eighties, Burnett had glimpsed a feral charisma.

On June 26, 2018, the day the Supreme Court upheld President Trump’s travel ban targeting people from several predominantly Muslim countries, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo sent out invitations to an event called a Ministerial to Advance Religious Freedom. If Pompeo registered any dissonance between such lofty rhetoric and Administration policies targeting certain religions, he didn’t mention it.

The event took place the next month, at the State Department, in Washington, D.C., and one of the featured speakers was Mark Burnett. In 2004, he had been getting his hair cut at a salon in Malibu when he noticed an attractive woman getting a pedicure. It was Roma Downey, the star of “Touched by an Angel,” a long-running inspirational drama on CBS. They fell in love, and married in 2007; together, they helped rear Burnett’s two sons from his second marriage and Downey’s daughter. Downey, who grew up in a Catholic family in Northern Ireland, is deeply religious, and eventually Burnett, too, reoriented his life around Christianity. “Faith is a major part of our marriage,” Downey said, in 2013, adding, “We pray together.”

For people who had long known Burnett, it was an unexpected turn. This was a man who had ended his second marriage during a live interview with Howard Stern. To promote “Survivor” in 2002, Burnett called in to Stern’s radio show, and Stern asked casually if he was married. When Burnett hesitated, Stern pounced. “You didn’t survive marriage?” he asked. “You don’t want your girlfriend to know you’re married?” As Burnett dissembled, Stern kept prying, and the exchange became excruciating. Finally, Stern asked if Burnett was “a single guy,” and Burnett replied, “You know? Yeah.” This was news to Dianne, Burnett’s wife of a decade. As she subsequently wrote in her memoir, “The 18-to-34 radio demographic knew where my marriage was headed before I did.”

In 2008, Burnett’s longtime business partner, a lawyer named Conrad Riggs, filed a lawsuit alleging that Burnett had stiffed him to the tune of tens of millions of dollars. According to the lawsuit, the two men had made an agreement before “Survivor” and “The Apprentice” that Riggs would own ten per cent of Burnett’s company. When Riggs got married, someone who attended the ceremony told me, Burnett was his best man, and gave a speech saying that his success would have been impossible without Riggs. Several years later, when Burnett’s company was worth half a billion dollars, he denied having made any agreement. The suit settled out of court. (Riggs declined to comment.)

Article from January 7, 2019 By Patrick Radden Keefe

Yobaba - New Yorker mag articles are LONG; I posted this mostly for my own reference so I will have a record of it; that said, I strongly urge everyone to read this. it explains a lot.

[foxsketch6543]

Drew all of the main characters from ‘Mongrels’! Mongrels ©️ BBC Three and ©️ Adam Miller

[laughicate]

THE ONLY PPL WHO DO NOT BELONG IN TROY ARE THE ANGLOIDS AND GERMANS

angloids and germans have zero cultural, ethnic heritage to ancient greece

so why the fuck do we need another german helen of troy, is that supposed to be a deep subversion of the “most beautiful woman in the world” mythology or something

you want the explanation? it’s shit like this:

you must look upon Modern Greek as an impure nation of peasants, just as you must look upon the modern Greek as a nation of mongrel element & a rustic beside the classic speech of pure bred races. - Virgina Woolf

hundreds of years of shit like that, persisting through my fucking childhood, and even now, in the idealized depictions of ancient greece where the Good Pure White Euros can insert themselves into. the true greek race faced extinction long ago. we do not exist

We’re taught purposefully mistranslated words for blonde, for blue eyes, red etc. Xanthe was also used to describe the colour of braised meat. Of brown animals. you stupid entitled motherfucking philhellenes were so confused abt how ancient greeks described colour you thought they were all colourblind but this translation is the best way for inserting yourselves and disseminating anglocentric standards and histories through education that persists today

holy shit just reroll the entire cast POC if it means I don’t have to see another angloid in ancient greece @ greeks stop falling for this fetishized ahistoric shit angloids bleat at us constantly. its not for us, its for them

[No, the BBC is not ‘blackwashing’ Troy: Fall of a City]

[xtruss]

How Pelé Sold Out

A new Netflix documentary revisits the soccer star’s illustrious World Cup career during a pivotal period in Brazilian history.

— By Miguel Salazar | March 4, 2021 | TheNation.Com

Pelé’s public image has become something of a sad joke in recent years. He is the embodiment of the commercialization soccer has undergone since the first World Cup television broadcasts in the 1950s, when he became the sport’s first global icon. “A perfect representation of his current persona: nothing more than a walking billboard,” Zito Madu wrote in 2015 for SB Nation. When he was enlisted as a brand ambassador for Subway in 2013, Pelé not only recorded commercials but also posed for pictures behind some of its sandwich counters and dressed up for a Premier League game wearing a necktie with the fast food chain’s colors and two branded enamel pins. A BBC journalist wrote around that time that scoring an interview with him “usually means turning up at a fast food restaurant or bank to be met by an ever-smiling Pelé dressed in the colours and logos of his sponsors.” Just months before the Subway ad blitz, he was reportedly suffering from kidney stones and urinary infections, attached to a dialysis machine in an intensive care unit of a Brazilian hospital.

Pelé, directed by David Tryhorn and Ben Nicholas, doesn’t touch on how soccer’s king sold out, at least not directly. The film focuses neatly on the greatest hits of his career: the period beginning with his first World Cup in 1958 and ending with his last, in 1970. It is an earnest attempt to cement Pelé’s legacy for global audiences—including commentary from friends, family, and notable admirers—that also takes stock of his influence on Brazilian culture during a period marked by modernization and, later, a repressive dictatorship. The documentary can be seen as a sort of response to Asif Kapadia’s 2019 HBO documentary, Diego Maradona, a look into how fame eventually devoured one of the world’s greatest talents. In contrast, Pelé provides—if unwittingly—an uneasy portrait of the moral compromises Brazil’s hero made to stay in the game.

Pelé was born Edson Arantes do Nascimento in 1940, in a small inland city called Três Corações. At the time, Brazil was a young, unassured democracy consistently undermined by corrupt elections, military coups, and repressive governments. Economically, the country hadn’t been faring much better: The Great Depression had obliterated the world coffee market, an export the country’s financial health depended on. In 1950, anxieties about the economy and the state of the country more generally spilled onto the soccer field when Brazil hosted that year’s World Cup. The tournament was a disaster. Despite enjoying home field advantage and emerging as the clear favorites to win the tournament, Brazil lost 2-1 to a struggling Uruguayan national team. The defeat resulted in a cultural bruise so deep that writer Nelson Rodrigues coined a term to describe the mental state it threw the populace into: the “mongrel complex,” a collective sense of inferiority.

Eight years later, at the age of 17, Pelé would play in his first World Cup in Sweden. He was an instant revelation, scoring six goals in four games, including two in the final, to lead Brazil to a 5-2 win over Sweden. Overnight, he transformed the country’s perception of its prospects not just in sports but also as an international power. His dominance on the pitch eased the sense of shame, carrying forward the aspirations of an entire country. Meanwhile, abroad, Pelé was quickly associated with an attractive, seemingly effortless style of play. His club, Santos, quickly cashed in and set up summer tours in Europe and later around the world during the off season. Before long, Pelé’s name was synonymous with soccer.

Meanwhile, under President Juscelino Kubitschek, Brazil enjoyed a brief cultural moment characterized by a vibrant and sensual sensibility, as seen in architecture through Oscar Niemeyer’s free-flowing buildings in the country’s new capital, Brasília, in music through the jazz- and samba-infused sounds of João Gilberto’s bossa nova style, and in the fine arts through the country’s Neo-Concrete movement. Pelé was his country‘s ambassador, serving as an evangelist for this renaissance wherever he played.

Then, in 1964, it all fell apart. In a bloodless coup, Brazil’s military took power, which it held for two decades, curtailing public life through a series of decrees. By 1968, the regime had forbidden political demonstration, suppressed habeas corpus, and essentially gutted freedom of the press. Kubitschek was detained. Niemeyer was exiled to Paris. Outspoken artists and musicians, like singer-songwriter Gilberto Gil—who is interviewed in the documentary—were jailed.

As for Pelé? “There weren’t any noticeable differences,” he remembers. Soccer simply “went on in the same way.” He kept his mouth shut, and the dictatorship allowed him to play as he pleased. In the years since, Pelé’s attitude toward politics has often been referred to as apolitical, but a more apt description is that he has an inclination to appease anyone in power. “My door was always open,” he said. “And that includes when things were really bad.” Eventually, Pelé crossed a line: He agreed to a formal meeting ahead of the 1970 World Cup with Emílio Garrastazu Médici, one of the most ruthless members of the authoritarian regime. In the most sobering moment in the documentary, Pelé and Médici can be seen hugging and laughing at the Palácio da Alvorada in Brasília. The dictatorship would go on to kill nearly 500 people and torture hundreds more.

These brief, uncomfortable moments save Pelé from hagiography. For better or worse, Pelé’s reluctance to engage with politics, especially at such a turbulent time, has limited his legacy to the soccer pitch. The inclusion of his relationship with the dictatorship forces viewers to come to their own conclusions on a topic often overlooked or omitted by official histories of his life.

But there are some notable omissions in the documentary, especially on the subject of race. Early on, Brazilian politician Benedita da Silva tells us Pelé was “the most inspiring image that we’d ever had of a poor Black boy,” but it’s unclear what that really meant to Brazil or to Pelé. At one point, Pelé recalls one experience of racism in 1958 Sweden—two children touched his face thinking it was covered in dye—with amusement. Also thrown in is the inevitable comparison to Muhammad Ali. The closest we get to any revealing conversation on race is when his former teammate Paulo Cézar Lima criticizes Pelé’s acceptance of the dictatorship and accuses him of being complicit: He was “a Black person who [was] submissive, accepts everything, and doesn’t answer back, question, or judge.” What were Brazil’s racial dynamics? How did they inform Pelé’s political decisions? These questions are left unanswered.

The directors give Pelé the benefit of the doubt. The film ends with his triumphant 1970 World Cup win, Brazil’s third title in 12 years and the apex of Pelé’s international career, leading the country’s golden generation of players to one final championship before retiring from the national team. Archival footage shows Médici hugging Pelé and posing for a photo with the national team and the Jules Rimet Trophy, but the people of Brazil, then and now, never gave the military credit for the title: It was Pelé’s victory alone.

By ending with the 1970 World Cup, the film conveniently avoids delving deeper into Pelé’s relationship with the military government, such as his reported offer to publicly defend the regime and his willingness to pronounce himself against communism. In the midst of torture, censorship, and forced disappearances, the Brazilian national team was, according to Gilberto Gil, an “oasis” of beauty and hope, a welcome distraction from the brutal realities of authoritarian rule. Its legacy, the film implies, will live on separately.

As it paints an honest portrait of the complex relationship between sports and politics in Brazil, Pelé suggests that the star transcended both. After all, 50 years after Pelé’s last World Cup, hand-wringing and indulging in arguments over whether Pelé should have spoken out, or what he could have accomplished by doing so, feel like empty exercises in counterfactuals. Instead, we are left with the understanding that his career came at the cost of silence, that Pelé was able to continue uninterrupted on his path to eventual glory in large part because of his political apathy. The eternal king of soccer, the athlete more than happy to be the face of propaganda, the man wearing two branded Subway pins on his suit: He’s always been the same Pelé.

— Miguel Salazar Twitter Miguel Salazar is The Nation’s research director. Follow him on Twitter: @miguelxsalazar.