Nancy Shaver Is the Real Deal
The choreographer Marla Phelan is interested in the birth of stars—not Barbra Streisand or Lady Gaga but the cosmic kind. Working with the astrophysicist Blakesley Burkhart, she has made “Birth + Carnage,” a dance production in which performers mimic the patterns of star formation and other celestial motion. The dancers’ bodies are influenced by gravity but also by human forms of attraction and repulsion. Constellating, colliding, and collapsing, they mirror a digital installation of astrophysical computer simulations, drawing emotional coloring from a score by James Newberry.—Brian Seibert (La MaMa; Dec. 19-21.)
Movies
Jamie Lee Curtis and Emma Mackey in “Ella McCay.”Photograph by Claire Folger / Courtesy © 2025 20th Century Studios
With “Ella McCay,” James L. Brooks, a longtime rom-com champion, directs his first feature film in fifteen years. In some ways, it’s a blatant throwback, but, in others, an acrid tweak of the genre. The action is set mainly in 2008, when Ella (played by Emma Mackey), a thirty-four-year-old policy wonk who is her unnamed state’s lieutenant governor, ascends to the governorship. Then her private life goes haywire: her estranged father (Woody Harrelson) shows up, and her husband (Jack Lowden) feels neglected. Flashbacks to Ella’s adolescence set up her dilemmas; despite the heartwarming story that’s revealed, this is an anti-romantic comedy of failed males and the trouble they cause. Brooks gazes hopefully at a new generation of self-unsure men whose acceptance of weakness is their strength; as for Ella, she’s merely the movie’s figurehead. Jamie Lee Curtis plays Ella’s worldly-wise aunt.—Richard Brody (In wide release.)
Off Broadway
Remember when you were eight years old, climbing trees, carrying your bike up with you, and then pedalling off the school roof? Me neither. But such is the world of Rajiv Joseph’s “Gruesome Playground Injuries,” in which the dauntless Doug (“Succession” ’s Nicholas Braun) does exactly that, then meets Kayleen (two-time Tony winner Kara Young) in the school infirmary, where she’s recovering from a stomach ache. Subsequent scenes hop forward and backward in time, each centered on forms of harm: an eye blown out by a firecracker, thighs slit with a razor blade. The actors’ transformations to embody their shifting ages, abetted by Sarah Laux’s evocative costumes, are a tour de force, but neither they nor the queasy attempts at humor prevent the feeling of watching trauma porn.—D.S. (Lucille Lortel; through Dec. 28.)
What to Listen to
Hua Hsu on alternatives to the usual holiday tunes.
By now, you’re probably tired of all that holiday music. It sounded great as you were clearing the dishes on Thanksgiving, but the mirth has begun to feel oppressive. Here are some alternative expressions of good will, cheer, and peace on Earth.
Jackson 5, “In Japan!”
A Christmas soul playlist that was on non-stop rotation eventually sent me down a Motown rabbit hole, reminding me of this live gem recorded in Osaka in 1973. It captures the Jacksons in a moment of transition—no longer the cherubs of “ABC”—and experimenting with a looser, funkier sound.
Mavis Staples.Photograph by Elizabeth De La Piedra
Mavis Staples, “Sad and Beautiful World”
This is one of the year’s most surprising albums, in which the eighty-six-year-old gospel legend covers everyone from Curtis Mayfield and Leonard Cohen to Frank Ocean and Sparklehorse. Lush and serene, with a spryness that makes you feel hope for what lies ahead.
Kim Chang-Wan, “An Essay with a Guitar”
There’s a scene in the Korean filmmaker Park Chan-wook’s deliriously grim “No Other Choice” set to Kim’s “Let’s Walk On,” a delicate, haunting piece of loner folk. Kim’s 1983 album is a sparse guy-and-guitar masterpiece, a slightly bummed soundtrack for looking out the window as the sun sets at 4:30 P.M.
Real Lies, “Summer Rain EP”
The London duo Real Lies make dance tunes that manage to feel epic and twee at the same time. They’ve been one of my favorite acts for more than a decade, and I admire how they never do things the easy way. Their latest single came out in November, yet it’s an amped-up celebration of bygone bliss called “Summer Rain.” It’s simply too soon to look forward to 2026. But I know that, when the time comes, I’ll still be nodding along to “Let the Lips Fall Where They May,” a breezy blast of New Order-esque pop.
P.S. Good stuff on the internet:
