The culture, careers, and decisions behind film, television, and the people who shape them.
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Tickets for Olivia Dean's North American tour went on sale — and within hours, resellers were listing them at more than 14 times face value, with some surpassing $1,000. Dean did not stay quiet. In an open letter, she called the unchecked resale market "disgusting," "vile," and fundamentally "exploitative," urging Ticketmaster, Live Nation, and AEG to "BE BETTER". Days later, the ticketing giant backed down. Ticketmaster activated its Face Value Exchange for Dean's tour, capping all future resale prices at face value and refunding fans who had already paid above the original cost. Here is the full story of how one artist's Instagram post turned into a public reckoning for the live music industry's resale problem. Read the full story below.

In 2017, Nicole Kidman made a promise that was easy to forget about. Work with a female director once every 18 months. She did not forget about it. Eight years later, Kidman has partnered with female directors — as an actor, a producer, or both — 19 times, according to Variety. By her own account, she made the pledge because the only way to change Hollywood's numbers was to actually be in the room making the films herself. In an industry where women still direct less than 15% of major theatrical releases, one actress quietly decided to do something about it. Here's how she did it, and why it matters. Read the full story below.

Before Shrek was a green movie icon with Mike Myers' voice and a donkey sidekick, he was something else entirely. In 1990, author and illustrator William Steig published Shrek! — a picture book that inspired the entire franchise but bears almost no resemblance to the films most people grew up with. The tone is stranger, the artwork is rougher, and the story takes turns the movie never touches. A viral post comparing the two has people asking the same question: how did this become that? Here's what the original Shrek story actually looks like — and how it became one of the biggest animated franchises in the world. Read the full story below.

While male characters are granted the human agency to be violent out of simple greed or malice, cinema frequently hits a psychological wall when it comes to women. The film Obsession proves a bizarre double standard: to make a female antagonist exhibit the same baseline level of violence as an average man, the narrative must invoke the ultimate extremes of demonic possession and magic spells.

In 1985, cartoonist Alison Bechdel published a two-page comic strip in which a character stated she would only watch a film if it had at least two women who talked to each other about something other than a man. The last film that had met those requirements, the character noted, was Alien — released six years earlier. Forty years later, that joke is a metric used by Swedish cinemas, European film funds, and Hollywood studios.

In 1997, Disney slipped something rare into a summer blockbuster about a demigod. Not strength. Not glory. Just a young man who closed his eyes, pulled a sleeve back up, and gently stepped away. Twenty-seven years later, that detail still matters.

A photographer spotted her on a beach. A cartel killed her brother. Hollywood said her accent was the problem. Sofía Vergara turned every single one of those things into fuel.

Disney's artists fought to give Luisa her muscles. Disney's executives bet little girls would want the pretty one. The little girls had other plans. And what happened next says everything about what children actually need to see.