And five more...
Equity's code should be applauded, but it is respect for the arts that will provoke change
WhatsOnStage.com: The theatre union Equity has just released a sensible report, called Agenda for Change, which seeks to use the Harvey Weinstein moment and the #MeToo campaign to establish, once and for all, safe spaces for its 43,000 members to work in, free of sexual and other harassment, bullying and abuse.
The Problem With Broadway Revivals: They Revive Gender Stereotypes, Too
The New York Times: Billy Bigelow hits Julie Jordan. Henry Higgins molds Eliza Doolittle. Fred tames Lilli. And Edward rescues Vivian.
Amid a national reckoning with sexual harassment and misconduct, Broadway is mounting a cluster of musicals this season and next that, some theatergoers already contend, romanticize problematic relationships between women and men.
Love-struck hero or creepy harasser? Suddenly we’re seeing our favorite rom-coms in a new light.
The Washington Post: Two years ago, film critic Sara Stewart sat down to re-watch “Sixteen Candles,” one of her favorite 1980s John Hughes comedies. She was mortified. One scene, played for laughs — the ostensible hero gifting his drunk girlfriend to another boy — seemed like a manual for rape. Stewart wrote a column about the offensive aspects of the movie, and was met with vitriol. Readers accused her of being humorless, of ruining something beloved.
“But if I wrote that column now,” she speculates, “I feel like people might be in agreement with me.”
Female TV Writers in the U.K. Demand a Better Shot at the Top Series
Variety: A group of 76 female TV writers has sent an open letter to drama commissioners in Britain, asking that women be given greater opportunities to write, and write for, the biggest shows.
Director Lynne Ramsay: ‘I've got a reputation for being difficult – it's bullshit’
Film | The Guardian: I’m not sure what I think film directors look like (Do they wear visors? Carry a loudhailer?), but I am very sure Lynne Ramsay doesn’t look like one. In her big beanie hat and jumper, her jeans and boots, Ramsay is a dead ringer for an art student bunking off lectures. Before she sees me, I spot her smoking a roll-up at a table outside the west London cafe where we’re meeting. She’s making notes in an exercise book; she looks perfectly happy.
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