Conan O’Brien jokes about Ted Sarandos, Timothée Chalamet and ‘frightening times’ in Oscars monologue

Host bobs and weaves through a number of third-rail topics in Academy Awards speech that’s at turns silly and sincere Oscars 2026 – follow the action live! The winners: the full list – updating live Conan O’Brien’s opening monologue at the 98th Academy Awards cheekily paid tribute to many nominated films – and then some – while acknowledging the tense US political situation and cracks at Timothée Chalamet, Amazon and US healthcare. After a snappily edited, old-school montage in which O’Brien, dressed as best supporting actress winner Amy Madigan ’s character in Weapons (“I look like Bette Davis with lupus,” he joked), stormed through each of the nominated films trailed by children à la Weapons, the second-time host bobbed and weaved through a number of pressing topics, from political divides to AI to Jeffrey Epstein. “I am Conan O’Brien, and I am honored to be the last human host of the Academy Awards,” he quipped. “Next year it’s going to be a Waymo in a tux.” Continue read...

Vaychiletik review – beautifully-shot Mexican folk music study in the high arthouse style

A tender film about the music of Mayan descendants is hampered by the alofty adherence to a documentary aesthetic where nothing is explained

This film about a flute player and farmer named José Pérez López from Zinacantán in Chiapas, Mexico, teems with beautifully shot images of folks playing music, embroidering, participating in days-long community rituals, and tending their crops of flowers in polytunnels – pretty normal everyday stuff. It feels a little more elevated because it affords a glimpse into the life of descendants of the Mayans who practice ancestor worship and polytheistic beliefs but also have shrines with Catholic saints. The film’s website has a handy chunk of text about Bats’i son ta Sots’leb, the traditional music of Zinacantán, described in fascinating musicological detail.

It’s a shame that kind of explanatory background can’t be found anywhere in the movie. In fact, the subtitles and dialogue never even give the names of the people we are observing for most of the running time. You can only work out that the old guy is named José, and the woman who laughingly scolds him for drinking so much is Elvia Pérez Suárez, presumably his wife, and that they also live with a hard-working younger man named Esteban Pérez Pérez (presumably José and Elvia’s son) and some even younger kids: Esteban’s children? Random kids from next door? Who knows, because this scrupulously verité-style film is determined to adhere to the high-arthouse documentary aesthetic wherein nothing is explained, nothing is contextualised, and there’s no sense of what point or purpose this all serves other than a little digital tourism to a far-flung corner of the globe.

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