From Melania to Kid Rock’s halftime show: why is Maga art so dreadful?

As the right stokes culture wars, their alternatives to ‘woke’ Hollywood prove to be shoddily made and uninspired It’s not fair, what they did to rightwing folks on Super Bowl Sunday. Regular viewers could either take in an elaborate and joyful halftime performance from Puerto Rican recording artist Bad Bunny , one of the most popular music stars in the world, or, if they weren’t interested in football or in Bad Bunny ’s music, they could quietly find something else to watch or listen to. There are a lot of options out there. Those who wanted to prove their Maga bona fides or loyalties, however, may have felt obligated to watch a parade of similar-sounding country singers lead into a performance from a shorts-wearing Kid Rock , jumping around and seemingly lip-syncing to a novelty hit from 1999. For rightwingers who couldn’t stomach the Spanish lyrics to Bad Bunny songs, they could take comfort in the clear English of the man also known as Robert Ritchie: “Bawitdaba, da-bang, da-ban...

Drømmeland review – hermit and his smartphone in the Norwegian wilderness

This voyeuristic account of an eccentric who broadcasts himself hunting naked never meaningfully addresses his paradoxical existence

Having resolved to extricate himself from the chains of civilisation, Nils Leidal has taken solitary refuge among the mountains of Norway. While his basically furnished shed and daily rituals of scavenging and ice baths hark back to a simpler way of life, the sixtysomething is also glued to his internet-connected smartphone. The paradox is beguiling: how does one maintain a philosophy of self-sufficiency while simultaneously broadcasting his existence online?

Unfocused in its structure, Joost van der Wiel’s muddled documentary grapples with these fascinating contradictions on a superficial level. Apart from Nils’ vague distrust of the government, as evidenced in a video in which he burns his passport, the film offers little information about his background or the reasons behind his self-imposed exile. Punctuated by nondescript drone shots of the beautiful landscape, Drømmeland is mostly preoccupied with Nils’ more eccentric behaviour, like his rueful moaning to a lover on the phone, or his habit of hunting in the nude. Haphazardly edited with little consideration for his state of mind, these sequences come off as voyeuristic or plain strange.

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