Regina Folk Festival 2025 cancelled, organization to dissolve
'The time has come to say goodbye to the Regina Folk Festival,' it said in a statement posted to its website Tuesday, adding that the board of directors will work to dissolve the organization.
Last year, the organization launched an unofficial 'save the festival' campaign while also running a 'fallow year' of programming instead of the full festival and promising a fresh start in 2025. The live-music event had been hampered for two years by the COVID-19 pandemic, returning in 2022.
Back in November, organizers were 'optimistic' to announce that the 53rd iteration of the festival would be return. But in the RFF's statement, it said that by the end of January, 'it became clear that financial challenges and capacity limitations could not be overcome.'
Artistic director Amber Goodwyn will also step away from the board after two years in the role, according to the statement. The organization thanked her for 'exceptional leadership through pivotal moments of transition.'
Goodwyn became artistic director following the departure of executive director Josh Haugerud in 2023.
The end of the festival was attributed to 'financial pressures from the pandemic, including stagnant or reduced funding, rising costs, and declining ticket sales,' said the statement.
'This news is difficult, however we are filled with gratitude for everyone involved with the festival. We are grateful for the dedication, love, and expertise of our volunteers.'
Regina Folk Festival ready to roll for 2023 but future remains uncertain
Regina Folk Festival sends out 'urgent' plea for assistance
The Regina Leader-Post has created an Afternoon Headlines newsletter that can be delivered daily to your inbox so you are up to date with the most vital news of the day. Click here to subscribe. With some online platforms blocking access to the journalism upon which you depend, our website is your destination for up-to-the-minute news, so make sure to bookmark leaderpost.com and sign up for our newsletters so we can keep you informed. Click here to subscribe.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Los Angeles Times
7 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
Doomscrolling is a disease in ‘Eddington,' a fever dream about COVID conspiracies
Ari Aster's 'Eddington' is such a superb social satire about contemporary America that I want to bury it in the desert for 20 years. More distance will make it easier to laugh. It's a modern western set in New Mexico — Aster's home state — where trash blows like tumbleweeds as Sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix) stalks across the street to confront Eddington's mayor, Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal), whom he is campaigning to unseat. It's May of 2020, that hot and twitchy early stretch of the COVID pandemic when reality seemed to disintegrate, and Joe is ticked off about the new mask mandate. He has asthma, and he can't understand anyone who has their mouth covered. Joe and Ted have old bad blood between them that's flowed down from Joe's fragile wife Louise, a.k.a. Rabbit (Emma Stone), a stunted woman-child who stubbornly paints creepy dolls, and his mother-in-law Dawn (Deirdre O'Connell), a raving conspiracist who believes the Titanic sinking was no accident. Dawn is jazzed to decode the cause of this global shutdown; there's comfort in believing everything happens for a reason. Her mania proves contagious. Bad things are happening in Eddington and have been for decades, not just broken shop windows. Joe wears a white hat and clearly considers himself the story's hero, although he's not up to the job. If you squint real hard, you can see his perspective that he's a champion for the underdog. Joe gets his guts in a twist when a maskless elder is kicked out of the local grocery store as the other shoppers applaud. 'Public shaming,' Joe spits. 'There's no COVID in Eddington,' Joe claims in his candidacy announcement video, urging his fellow citizens that 'we need to free our hearts.' His earnestness is comic and sweet and dangerous. You can hear every fact he's leaving out. His rival's commercials promote a fantastical utopia where Ted is playing piano on the sidewalk and elbow-bumping more Black people in 15 seconds than we see in the rest of the movie. Ted also swears that permitting a tech behemoth named SolidGoldMagikarp to build a controversial giant data center on the outskirts of the county won't suck precious resources — it'll transform this nowheresville into a hub for jobs. Elections are a measure of public opinion: Which fibber would you trust? Danger is coming and like in 'High Noon,' this uneasy town will tear itself apart before it arrives. Aster is so good at scrupulously capturing the tiny, fearful COVID behaviors we've done our best to forget that it's a shame (and a relief) that the script isn't really about the epidemic. Another disease has infected Eddington: Social media has made everyone brain sick. The film is teeming with viral headlines — serious, frivolous or false — jumbled together on computer screens screaming for attention in the same all-caps font. (Remember the collective decision that no one had the bandwidth to care about murder hornets?) Influencers and phonies and maybe even the occasional real journalist prattle on in the backgrounds of scenes telling people what to think and do, often making things worse. Joe loves his wife dearly. We see him privately watching a YouTuber explain how he can convince droopy Louise to have children. Alas, he spends his nights in their marital bed chastely doomscrolling. Every character in 'Eddington' is lonely and looking for connection. One person's humiliating nadir comes during a painful tracking shot at an outdoor party where they're shunned like they have the plague. Phones dominate their interactions: The camera is always there in somebody's hand, live streaming or recording, flattening life into a reality show and every conversation into a performance. The script expands to include Joe's deputies, aggro Guy (Luke Grimes) and Bitcoin-obsessed Michael (Micheal Ward), plus a cop from the neighboring tribal reservation, Officer Butterfly Jimenez (William Belleau) and a handful of bored, identity-seeking teens. They'll all wind up at odds even though they're united by the shared need to be correct, to have purpose, to belong. When George Floyd is killed six states away, these young do-gooders rush into the streets, excited to have a reason to get together and yell. The protesters aren't insincere about the cause. But it's head-scrambling to watch blonde Sarah (Amélie Hoeferle) lecture her ex-boyfriend Michael, who is Black and a cop, about how he should feel. Meanwhile Brian (Cameron Mann), who is white and one of the most fascinating characters to track, is so desperate for Sarah's attention that he delivers a hilarious slogan-addled meltdown: 'My job is to sit down and listen! As soon as I finish this speech! Which I have no right to make!' The words come fast and furious and flummoxing. Aster has crowded more pointed zingers and visual gags into each scene than our eyes can take in. His dialogue is laden with vile innuendos — 'deep state,' 'sexual predator,' 'antifa' — and can feel like getting pummeled. When a smooth-talking guru named Vernon (Austin Butler) slithers into the plot, he regales Joe's family with an incredulous tale of persecution that, as he admits, 'sounds insane just to hear coming out of my mouth.' Well, yeah. Aster wants us to feel exhausted sorting fact from fiction. The verbal barrage builds to a scene in which Joe and Dawn sputter nonsense at each other in a cross-talking non-conversation where both sound like they're high on cocaine. They are, quite literally, internet junkies. This is the bleakest of black humor. There's even an actual dumpster fire. Aster's breakout debut, 'Hereditary,' gave him an overnight pedigree as the princeling of highbrow horror films about trauma. But really, he's a cringe comedian who exaggerates his anxieties like a tragic clown. Even in 'Midsommar,' Aster's most coherent film, his star Florence Pugh doesn't merely cry — she howls like she could swallow the earth. It wouldn't be surprising to hear that when Aster catches himself getting maudlin, he forces himself to actively wallow in self-pity until it feels like a joke. Making the tragic ridiculous is a useful tool. (I once got through a breakup by watching 'The Notebook' on repeat.) With 'Beau Is Afraid,' Aster's previous film with Phoenix, focusing that approach on one man felt too punishing. 'Eddington' is hysterical group therapy. I suspect that Aster knows that if we read a news article about a guy like Joe, we wouldn't have any sympathy for him at all. Instead, Aster essentially handcuffs us to Joe's point of view and sends us off on this tangled and bitterly funny adventure, in which rattling snakes spice up a humming, whining score by the Haxan Cloak and Daniel Pemberton. Not every plot twist works. Joe's sharpest pivot is so inward and incomprehensible that the film feels compelled to signpost it by having a passing driver yell, 'You're going the wrong way!' By the toxic finale, we're certain only that Phoenix plays pathetic better than anyone these days. From 'Her' to 'Joker' to 'Napoleon' to 'Inherent Vice,' he's constantly finding new wrinkles in his sad sacks. 'Eddington's' design teams have taken care to fill Joe's home with dreary clutter and outfit him in sagging jeans. By contrast, Pascal's wealthier Ted is the strutting embodiment of cowboy chic. He's even selfishly hoarded toilet paper in his fancy adobe estate. It's humanistic when 'Eddington' notes that everyone in town is a bit of a sinner. The problem is that they're all eager to throw stones and point out what the others are doing wrong to get a quick fix of moral superiority. So many yellow cards get stacked up against everyone that you come to accept that we're all flawed, but most of us are doing our best. Joe isn't going to make Eddington great again. He never has a handle on any of the conspiracies, and when he grabs a machine gun, he's got no aim. Aster's feistiest move is that he refuses to reveal the truth. When you step back at the end to take in the full landscape, you can put most of the story together. (Watch 'Eddington' once, talk it out over margaritas and then watch it again.) Aster makes the viewer say their theories out loud afterwards, and when you do, you sound just as unhinged as everyone else in the movie. I dig that kind of culpability: a film that doesn't point sanctimonious fingers but insists we're all to blame. But there are winners and losers and winners who feel like losers and schemers who get away with their misdeeds scot-free. Five years after the events of this movie, we're still standing in the ashes of the aggrieved. But at least if we're cackling at ourselves together in the theater, we're less alone.
Los Angeles Times
7 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
What was the greatest Disneyland era? We look back on 70 years at the happiest place on Earth
Happy birthday, Disneyland. The Disneyland Resort turns 70 today. What was once envisioned by Walt Disney and his team of animators, architects, engineers, horticulturalists and more, has become part of the fabric of Southern California, a landmark as recognizable to our region as beaches and palm trees. An estimated 17 million people come to Disneyland annually to dream, to play and to admire American pop art at its most optimistic. A fake world inspired by a real one that never actually existed, Disneyland is such a constant to our nation that a full unplanned, nonweather-related closure of the park is such an abnormality that it's happened just three times. The walls of the fairy-tale castle — buoyantly pink and cheerfully blue — have stood through multiple wars, civil rights movements, economic downturns and nearly every societal trend, change or tragedy. As for many who reside in the region, Disneyland has become my home away from home, not so much my 'happy place,' as it's often referred, as simply a reminder that there are consistencies through the ups and downs of life. I consider Disneyland a reassurance that possibilities, be it for a better world or just a kiss goodnight, never cease to exist. We look back at seven decades of Disneyland — its monumental launches, fascinating pivots, noteworthy blunders and where it's heading from here. A fantasy world captivates a postwar America. A vision of one man, the Chicago-born cartoonist turned animation pioneer turned entrepreneur Walt Disney, Disneyland arrived amid a post-World War II, Cold War-embroiled America. It opened on July 17, 1955, as a a $17,500,000 temple dedicated to play, a reminder of the power of imagination. To step onto its Main Street, U.S.A., was to wander into a place that conjured a vision of America that never was, an idealized fantastical world with a castle at its end. The first decade created a template, one that has seen many additions — and subtractions — but would remain so formidable that it would spawn an industry and epitomize a unique form of American storytelling, one rooted in hope and the belief that every individual deserves a happily ever after, if only for one day in Anaheim. Many key opening-year attractions still stand — Peter Pan's Flight, the Mad Tea Party, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, Dumbo the Flying Elephant, the Jungle Cruise, Autopia, the Mark Twain Riverboat, and what we know today as Snow White's Enchanted Wish and the Storybook Land Canal Boats. One could say they're timeless. 'Fantasy,' Disney once stated, 'if it's really convincing, can't become dated, for the simple reason that it represents a flight into a dimension that lies beyond the reach of time.' Its initial decade was one of constant reinvention. The Matterhorn Bobsleds in 1959 would reenvision the thrill ride as one that could house a narrative. The monorail in 1959 would hint at the possibility of new transit. Audio-animatronic figurines would also debut, with the opening of the Enchanted Tiki Room in 1963. As dazzling as singing birds were, in 1965, Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln would alter how theme parks bring characters to life. Not all early attractions were a hit. The Kaiser Hall of Aluminum Fame, though home to an aluminum pig, wouldn't last the decade. And before Main Street was the Disney-branded mall it is today, it once featured the intimate apparel shop, the Wizard of Bras. Rapid technological advancement helps Disney push the limits on what a theme park could be. Disneyland was born, in a way, to bring cinematic worlds to life, with Disney's team of animators helping to create a place that felt warm, inviting and just a bit mystical — a back lot where we were the star. As it evolved, however, designers began to experiment with the theme park as its own unique art form. Disneyland turned outward in 1966 with the arrival, from the New York World's Fair, of It's a Small World, a globalist approach at unity after long periods of political upheaval. Its art style referenced the whimsy, unexpected color use and the friendly-but-abstracted tone of Mary Blair, handing Disneyland its own unique take on the peace and love decade. New Orleans Square would give the park a fresh land, one that was instrumental in creating the all-surrounding, immersive approach that is so prevalent today. Pirates of the Caribbean in 1967 and the Haunted Mansion in 1969 became the templates for the so-called theme park 'dark ride,' eschewing direct plot in favor of a tableau of scenes that hinted at larger human themes, from the perils of a life of sin and gluttony to a reminder that our time here is limited and to leave moments for revelry. A remake of Tomorrowland in 1967 emphasized sleekness and opportunities via the arrival of the People Mover, which, along with the monorail, continued to advocate for a world less dependent on cars, while the Adventure Thru Inner Space and Carousel of Progress theorized the ways in which tech could touch our lives. In the early '70s, the Main Street Electrical Parade would not only extend one's day at the park, but do so while introducing the masses to electronic music. Disneyland was forced to close early on Aug. 6, 1970, due to a political protest. About 300 'Yippies,' members of the Youth International Party, a collection of radicals, pranksters and anti-Vietnam War protesters, descended upon the park and ultimately hoisted a Viet Cong flag over a fort on Tom Sawyer Island. The Walt Disney Co. may not cherish this moment, but it signified the way Disneyland had penetrated the American psyche as a representation for our values. Southern Californians are growing up. Say hello to thrills. While Disney is said to have been adamant that he didn't want his park to be a coaster haven, he could acquiesce for the right, story-driven project, as evidenced by the 1950s creation the Matterhorn. A pair of thrill rides in the late '70s would expand on that ride's legacy. The addition of two major mountains — and two adrenaline-releasing attractions — was an acknowledgment that Southern Californians were on the prowl for some more grown-up-leaning experiences. Disneyland was also feeling the effects of new and burgeoning Walt Disney World in Florida, having already lost Carousel of Progress to the East Coast (it was replaced with the patriotic America Sings). While Disney, who died in 1966, wasn't, of course, around when Space Mountain opened in 1977, the attraction dates to his time, as early concepts had the ride considered for the Tomorrowland makeover of 1967. Audiences may have seen it as a nod to the growth of sci-fi and fantasy films, but Space Mountain also tapped into the appeal of exploration, hurtling us into a darkness illuminated only by stars. Two years later in 1979, Frontierland would receive a large makeover, with Big Thunder Mountain replacing the relaxing Mine Train through Nature's Wonderland, which had existed, in various forms, since the park's beginnings. Taking heavy inspiration from Bryce Canyon National Park, Big Thunder remains a majesty of coaster design, leading us in and out of caverns to reflect nature at its most unpredictable and awe-inspiring. Then in 1983, a Fantasyland makeover updated the increasingly outdated and heavily congested Renaissance fair look with with a homey, European-style village. The Disneyland drawbridge at Sleeping Beauty Castle is today locked into place, but when New Fantastyland opened, the drawbridge was lowered for only the second time in Disneyland history. In 1980 at a Disneyland Date Night event, two young men were removed from the park for dancing together. They sued, but it would be some years yet before Disneyland allowed same-sex dancing. Let's go to the movies! The park aligns with Hollywood cinema. Disneyland starts to more intently look beyond its own borders. The park opened a ride that, arguably, would forever change the trajectory of the resort in Star Tours. Previously, a major Disneyland attraction had been the property of the Walt Disney Co., but with Star Tours, Disney recognized its audience was changing — perhaps disappearing — and it needed to partner with owners of other creative properties. Star Tours opened in 1987. Motion simulators were, at the time, a fresh and unique ride vehicle, and the opportunity to explore 'Star Wars' worlds proved so popular that Disneyland was open for 60 consecutive hours when it launched the attraction. Disney would in 1995 team up with George Lucas again for the Indiana Jones Adventure, furthering a relationship that would eventually culminate in 2012 when the Walt Disney Co. bought Lucasfilm. Like Star Tours, Indiana Jones Adventure used new technology, this one a ride vehicle that seemed to have a personality of its own to give the illusion of responding to the environment. Disney Imagineers spoke of the importance of appealing to a generation that was beginning to be weaned on interactive entertainment. You're no longer 'just drifting through as an observer,' said Tony Baxter, one of the key architects of the ride, at the time. In 1989, Disneyland opened Splash Mountain, a ride that featured about 100 audio-animatronic critters, and themed it to the animated scenes of 1946's controversial 'Song of the South,' a choice that was questioned at the time. Toontown and Roger Rabbit's Car Toon Spin also arrived in this period, and the long-running 'Fantasmic!' began lighting up the Rivers of America. Disneyland in 1987 hosted an AIDS Project Los Angeles fundraiser as a mea culpa for once banning same-sex dancing. The company wanted to 'make a positive statement about AIDS care and also dismiss finally all the nonsense that's happened in the past,' said a Disneyland spokesperson at the time. And in 1995, women were allowed to be skippers on the Jungle Cruise for the first time. It's all about a California (and high-growth) state of mind. In a period of grand expansion, Disneyland would start to become a proper resort — a metamorphosis that, while it didn't work immediately, would be course-corrected and set up Disneyland for a new generation of growth. This era added Disney California Adventure, turning the destination into one that the Walt Disney Co. hoped would command multiday stays. A former parking lot across from Disneyland was remade into Disney California Adventure, which would open in February 2001. The long in-development project was designed to honor California culture, but was pitched initially as a West Coast answer to Walt Disney World's Epcot. The Times was kind in its opening coverage, praising the park's change of pace from Disneyland and admiring how its architecture blurred fiction and reality. The hang-gliding simulation Soarin' Over California was an instant hit, and 'Eureka! A California Parade' was Disney theatricality at its weirdest, with floats that depicted Old Town San Diego, Watts and more. But California Adventure's prevalence of amusement park-like rides failed to command the crowds of its next door neighbor. Disney's own documentary 'The Imagineering Story' took a tough-love approach to the park's early days, comparing some of its initial designs to those of a local mall. In time, however — with multiple makeovers and additions — California Adventure would become a beloved, world-class theme park, though it would stray from its initial California-centric conceit. During this era, Disneyland also added the Grand Californian Hotel and its Downtown Disney District. A luxurious take on California's Arts and Crafts movement, the Grand Californian remains the resort's signature hotel and home to its finest dining establishment, Napa Rose, under renovations at the time of writing. Disney would also add a second haunted attraction with the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror in 2004. Over at Disneyland, Tomorrowland in 1998 would receive a transformation, one it has yet to fully recover from. The beloved People Mover would be no more, a Jules Verne-inspired art style would come and gradually go, and Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters would arrive in 2005. The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh would in 2003 evict the Country Bears from their music hall. This era is home to two of Disneyland's shortest-lived major attractions. Superstar Limo at California Adventure was conceived as a ride in which paparazzi would chase celebs, a concept deemed in poor taste in the wake of the death of Princess Diana. It was refashioned as a sort of tour of Hollywood with heavily caricatured figurines of the likes of Whoopi Goldberg, Regis Philbin, Drew Carey, Cher and more, but would close within a year. At Disneyland, People Mover's replacement Rocket Rods could never consistently operate, and the ride would last just about two years. The tracks remain. Start your engines — Disney reimagines California Adventure. Disneyland flourished for its so-called 'diamond celebration' in 2015, thanks to a refurbished California Adventure, a host of ride upgrades and a nighttime parade that served as a modern updating of the Main Street Electrical Parade. Crowds responded, as since 2015 Disneyland has often been open late into the night, regularly to midnight. Having hosted now multiple generations of guests, Disneyland had become a Southern California rite of passage. In 2012, Disney California Adventure received a makeover. The centerpiece: Cars Land. Flanked by sun-scarred, reddish rocks that look lifted from Arizona, Cars Land is a marvel of a theme park land, and arguably still Disney's most fully realized immersive creation. Nodding to Route 66, the land is a neon-lit, '50s rock leaning hub of activity with two dancing car rides — don't sleep on the joyful Luigi's Rollickin' Roadsters — and the showstopping set piece Radiator Springs Racers. The park's entrance also received an overhaul as well via the creation of Buena Vista Street, a nod to Los Feliz in the 1920s, where Disney first landed after moving west from Missouri. Not as big as Main Street, U.S.A., but still full of charm. The Walt Disney Co. recognized its early missteps with California Adventure, and reimagined the park as one worthy of sitting across from Disneyland. While this era was primarily dedicated to California Adventure, there was also notable prep for Disneyland's 60th anniversary in 2015. A number of rides, especially those in Fantasyland, received upgrades — key additions were made to the Matterhorn and Alice in Wonderland, for instance. Additionally, the exuberant nighttime parade Paint the Night would make its debut. And Finding Nemo's Submarine Voyage opened in 2007 — for nearly a decade before that, the lagoon served only as decoration (a ride inspired by 'Atlantis: The Lost Empire' was long-rumored but never realized). The Haunted Mansion's plot thickened in 2015. This was the year the mysterious Hatbox Ghost made his return. He was there when the ride opened, then mysteriously disappeared just days later, only to return for the park's 60th anniversary. In the decades in between, he became a cult figure, one that would show up on Disney merchandise despite not having a home to call his own. Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge arrives — and the rest is unwritten. Disneyland in 2025 shares two major themes with that of Disneyland in 1955. It remains in a state of flux, as in the coming year numerous construction projects are set to begin that will reshape the resort. Yet its core template is firmly in place. Disneyland is at once completely different than it was decades ago yet also uniquely the same. Sleeping Beauty Castle, the It's a Small World facade and even the mountains of Cars Land are now recognizable Southern California landmarks. In 2019, Disneyland received a largest-ever single-land expansion with the opening of Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge, a grandly ambitious land that rewrote much of the theme park rule book. Forget charming, mini facades, as Galaxy's Edge is larger than life, its spires towering over and around guests. Spaceships are imposing, and both of its rides are experiments — Millennium Falcon: Smugglers Run is a full-size arcade and Star Wars: Rise of the Resistance is a nearly 20-minute mash-up of attraction styles. In California Adventure, Avengers Campus in 2021 gave Disney its first superhero-focused land anchored by Guardians of the Galaxy — Mission: Breakout! in the former Tower of Terror shell. The land remains a work in progress, with two attractions currently in development. Perhaps just as important, Disney began looking at its cultural representation, making changes to a number of attractions, including ridding the park of Splash Mountain's troublesome 'Song of the South' theme by remodeling it as Tiana's Bayou Adventure. The Walt Disney Co. in 2024 announced large expansion plans, which will add 'Coco' and 'Avatar' to Disney California Adventure. The opening of Galaxy's Edge was monumental — not just replacing a petting zoo and barbecue restaurant, but reshaping Disneyland's Rivers of America and taking over a whopping 14 acres. Disneyland space is at a premium, and the company bet big on 'Star Wars' continuing to shape American culture. Disneyland was tweaked tonally as well. In 2017, Disneyland at last gave women agency in its Pirates of the Caribbean attraction by removing a bridal auction scene and reimagining a female 'wench' as a pirate. In 2021, Disneyland struck, in its words, 'negative depictions of native people' from the Jungle Cruise. Disney in 2021 announced that its staff — cast members, in park parlance — would have more freedom in how they appear for work, including the ability to choose gender-inclusive costumes and hairstyles. They also no longer have to hide their body art. Such moves received some pushback from the cultural right, arguing that Disney was getting 'woke.' Yet Disney's theme parks were simply awakening to their cultural reach. The company's willingness to address outdated cultural representations are indicative of the theme park as a piece a living art.
Los Angeles Times
7 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
For Eric Bana, ‘Untamed' and its wilderness was hard to leave behind
When Eric Bana is not filming, he's more than likely riding a motorcycle in a remote part of Australia. He's been doing it since he was a kid, having grown up in a semi-industrial part of the suburbs of Melbourne on the verge of farmland. Now, it's his solace on days off. 'It's a vulnerable feeling, it's an exciting feeling,' he says on a video call. 'You have to be self-sufficient. You have to think worst-case scenario. What happens if I get a flat tire when it's 120 degrees and there's no water around? It keeps you awake.' So when, back in 2019, Bana was given the pilot script for the Netflix limited series 'Untamed,' he was immediately attracted. He would play the role of Kyle Turner, an agent in the Investigative Services Branch of the National Park Service in Yosemite — essentially a park detective. It's a murder mystery yet set against the kind of wilderness that Bana loves. 'I just felt a kinship for Kyle immediately,' he remembers. 'I don't know if it was just like the shared love for the outdoors and how that affects our psyche and our well-being, our sense of self, our emotional journey in life — I just immediately felt very strongly for Kyle.' Bana stuck with the project through the COVID pandemic and the Hollywood strikes, allowing the series created by Mark L. Smith of 'American Primeval' and daughter Elle Smith to finally hit the streaming service on Thursday. The show finds Bana's character investigating the death of a young woman who plummets off El Capitan and into two rock climbers. The case unexpectedly connects two other traumatic incidents that have happened in the mountainous wilds — at least one of which directly involves the taciturn Kyle, grieving the death of his young son. 'He exudes that kind of sensitivity and strength at the same time,' Elle Smith says. 'It allowed him to just really embody Turner. Because he's been living in this show for so long, so many years and kept it alive and has remained passionate about it, once we got into production, he was Turner.' 'Untamed' also marks the latest in Bana's unconventional career that has seen him touch nearly every corner of the Hollywood machine, even though he has always chosen to live in Australia when he's not working. It never made sense for him to move to Los Angeles when many of his shoots were overseas anyway. When we chat, he's briefly in town for 'Untamed' press. Though he started his career as a comedian in his home country, he was part of the superhero craze before it was a craze, playing the title role in Ang Lee's 'Hulk,' a movie that's now undergone a critical reassessment. He's been a 'Star Trek' villain and a Steven Spielberg protagonist in the historical drama 'Munich.' (Over the past 12 months, more and more people have been bringing up the role of the Mossad agent tasked to respond to the murder of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Summer Olympics: 'With the passing of time, you realize how incredible some of the observations were,' he says.) More recently, he ventured into the world of television, playing the sociopathic John Meehan in the first season of the anthology series 'Dirty John.' Bana says he tends not to think about specifically playing characters that contradict his previous work, but he understands that coming off that role probably was one of the reasons he gravitated toward Kyle in 'Untamed.' 'There was no doubt that the character of John had a level of toxicity to him that was just so high,' he says, adding, 'I realized that Kyle was a warmer character for the audience to follow than John.' Before he actually got to play Kyle, he started a mini-franchise in Australia with producing partner and director Rob Connolly thanks to 'The Dry' and its sequel, in which he plays another investigator reeling from a traumatic past. For creator Mark Smith, Bana was the ideal person to embody Kyle because of his ability to convey a lot with very little dialogue. 'We felt like he was just so expressive in his eyes and his face,' Mark says. 'He can do so much without saying anything, and that was crucial to this guy who really doesn't want to speak — he doesn't want to talk to people. He just wants to be kind of off on his own, doing his thing in the wilderness.' Because Bana got on board early, the Smiths could start writing the rest of the scripts with him in mind. One of Bana's requests: The more he could be on a horse, the better. In the show, Kyle eschews motor vehicles for a trusty steed, which gives him more access to the less traversed areas of the park. Bana ended up loving his horse. 'I desperately wanted to smuggle him on the plane and take him home,' he says. Mark and Elle Smith conceived of the series after being sent articles about the National Park Service's Investigative Services Branch. They were not familiar with that world but were nonetheless fascinated by this strange profession that is part FBI agent and part park ranger. Bana had visited Yosemite years ago as a solo tourist but didn't have the chance to go again before the shoot, which took place in British Columbia. Still, he spoke to rangers and ISB employees to get a sense of 'just how crazy' some of their work can be. 'When you mix drugs, when you mix people coming from all kinds of different backgrounds and having different entitlements to the places that they're in, it's really interesting,' he says. Bana understands from personal experience that the attraction to the outdoors is partially based on the fact that danger is almost always lurking around the corner. In Australia, he adds, 'there's always something trying to get you, whether it be two-legged, four-legged, eight-legged or whatever.' On the set of 'Untamed,' he was incredibly eager to see a bear — and was disappointed when it never happened. 'We had a bear guy on set who was responsible for our and the bears' safety,' he says. 'We had very strict rules around food and all that sort of stuff. I was desperate, desperate to have an encounter with a bear of the positive kind, and I never saw one.' Elle Smith confirms that most everyone else got to see a bear. 'He had really bad bear luck,' she adds. But even with his lack of bear sightings, Bana's love of being outside was crucial for the entire production. Mark explains he's not the kind of star who returns to his trailer, instead pulling up a chair to hang out. 'This was a tough landscape that we were shooting in,' Elle Smith adds. 'I think it really helps in terms of tone setting if your movie star is willing to get out on the rock and do the climb. It really helps the crew also feel like they're able to do the climb.' Bana was intoxicated by his environment — so much so that he wouldn't want to go back to the sterility of a soundstage. 'Going to work in a studio after doing something like this — the thought of it is just debilitating creatively,' he says. 'There's something about a camera coming out of a box when the sun rises and going back when the sun goes down. There's an energy, there's a cadence to that.' For his follow-up, he went back into the elements for 'Apex,' an upcoming film opposite Charlize Theron, where they play a pair of rock climbers. He says he did intense training in the skill or else he would have looked like a 'fool.' And just like how Bana is willing to let the weather dictate his shooting days, he is also patient with his career. It's one of the reasons he was willing to wait for 'Untamed.' 'I've been in this business for a period of time now where I realize you really do have to go with the ebbs and flows and you really do have to pace yourself, but at the same time when you find something that you love you just have to try and protect it,' he says. It's something you could also say about the natural world, and Bana hopes that 'Untamed,' even with all its dark deeds and buried secrets, encourages audiences to go see for themselves. 'I hope people enjoy the feeling of being in that space, and in a perfect world, feel motivated to go and seek them out,' he says. He certainly will be.
