‘Friendship' Rocks As Tim Robinson, Paul Rudd Bromance Expands
The film by Andrew DeYoung debuted on six screens last week with a top limited opening and can now boast a hugely successful expansion. The R-rated comedy stars comedian Tim Robinson as suburban dad Craig whose life is turned upside down by the arrival of a new neighbor (Paul Rudd).
More from Deadline
'Friendship' Moves To Top Ten Markets, Star Tim Robinson's Hometown Detroit; 'Sister Midnight', 'The Old Woman With The Knife' - Specialty Preview
'Friendship' Skyrockets To Top Limited Opening Of 2025 For Tim Robinson, Paul Rudd Comedy - Specialty Box Office
'Friendship' Comedy Bromance With Tim Robinson, Paul Rudd Selling Tickets And Hats - Specialty Preview
Certified Fresh RT (89% with critics, 83% audience score) and backed by excellent exit polls, the bromance is generating tremendous word-of-mouth. Expands to a limited nationwide release over Memorial Day weekend as it settles into a long theatrical run throughout the summer.
Indie grosses can trickle in through early in the week, will update with any new numbers.
Kani Releasing releases Yoko Yamanaka's Desert of Namibia exclusively at Metrograph in New York to sold-out screenings, with an estimated opening weekend box office of $4.5k. Expands to LA next week with an exclusive engagement at Laemmle Theatres, with director Q&As hosted by fellow filmmakers India Donaldson (Good One) and Winnie Cheung (Residency). She will screen her debut film Aniko at American Cinematheque May 22, hosted by Carson Lund (Eephus). Logline: mercurial 21-year-old Kana (Yuumi Kawai), a hair-removal technician at a salon in Tokyo, who bristles against the beauty expectations placed on women her age. Her erratic moods and default to self-destruct impacts all of her relationships as moments of levity erupt into violence and optimism simmers to despair.
And s Saturday transmission of Strauss's Salome from Fathom grossed $622.5k in North America at about 800 cinema screens. Conducted by the Met's Jeanette Lerman-Neubauer Music Director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, and starring soprano Elza van den Heever and baritone Peter Mattei, the title had the seventh highest per-screen average (with only one screening) of all filmed content screenings across North America and was ranked sixth in North America Saturday. Encore screenings in U.S on May 21.
An estimated 31,500 people saw Salome live (with an additional $700k across more than 800 screens internationally).
Fathom's presentation of Kiki's Delivery Service as part of its Studio Ghibli Fest grossed $1+ million on 1,062 screens giving the rerelease a no. 9 spot.
Sideshow/Janus Films' release of Jia Zhangke's Caught By The Tides grossed an estimated $45.3k on 16 screens for a week 2 cume of $89.5k.MORE
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Chicago Tribune
33 minutes ago
- Chicago Tribune
Julian McMahon, star of ‘Charmed,' ‘Nip/Tuck,' and ‘FBI,' dies at 56
Actor Julian McMahon, best known for his roles in the TV series 'Charmed,' 'Nip/Tuck' and 'FBI: Most Wanted,' has died at 56 following a private battle with cancer. McMahon died on Wednesday in Clearwater, Fla., his wife, Kelly McMahon, confirmed to Deadline on Friday. 'With an open heart, I wish to share with the world that my beloved husband, Julian McMahon, died peacefully this week after a valiant effort to overcome cancer,' she told the outlet. 'We ask for support during this time to allow our family to grieve in privacy. And we wish for all of those to whom Julian brought joy, to continue to find joy in life.' Kelly did clarify what type of cancer her husband had. Born on July 27, 1968 in Sydney, Australia, McMahon first began a career as a model before making the move into acting. He quickly became a household name on the Aussie soap opera 'Home and Away,' then headed to Hollywood for another daytime role on NBC's 'Another World.' In the mid-1990s, he transitioned into primetime shows, first with a series regular role on the NBC crime drama 'Profiler,' followed by his big break as half-demon Cole Turner on the hugely popular supernatural series 'Charmed.' In 2003, he snagged his first leading role on American TV as the charming and womanizing Dr. Christian Troy in Ryan Murphy's 'Nip/Tuck.' The plastic surgery drama, which ran for six seasons and 100 episodes on FX, scored him a Golden Globe nomination for Best Actor in a Series. More recently, he appeared on Dick Wolf's 'FBI,' before getting tapped to star in its latest offshoot. As Special Agent Jess LaCroix on 'FBI: Most Wanted,' he led a team tasked with tracking down the country's most notorious criminals before leaving the show in 2022 at the end of season three. While McMahon was undoubtedly known as a TV star, he was beloved by fans of superhero flicks for his role as Dr. Victor von Doom in 2005's 'Fantastic Four' and its 2007 sequel 'Rise of the Silver Surfer.' His film credits also included 'Premonition' starring Sandra Bullock, the star-studded assassin film 'Red,' and 'The Surfer' with Nicolas Cage. In addition to his wife of more than 10 years, McMahon is survived by his 25-year-old daughter Madison, whom he shared with ex-wife Brooke Burns.
Yahoo
2 hours ago
- Yahoo
Alyssa Milano Says She's ‘Heartbroken' Over Julian McMahon's Death: ‘Too Soon. Too Unfair'
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Washington Post
3 hours ago
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4 new graphic novels to read and ponder this summer
'Skin,' written by Versyp and illustrated by Clement, is a story of two women whose paths intertwine in an art class, where Esther is the teacher and Rita, the older of the two, is an inexperienced nude model. Its narrative alternates between vignettes from Esther and Rita's lives, and merges in the class. One day Rita asks Esther why she never simply draws the way Rita looks. 'Because it's boring,' Esther responds, and they become friends. As a child Esther was taught to draw things as she saw them, but that became an exercise of technical skill in which feelings had no place. 'I try to capture their deepest essence in a few lines, pure and simple,' Esther explains, a reflection of Clement's own artistic style. Clement's silhouettes are sketchy and loosely lined, but she draws like someone so familiar with human anatomy that she can bend it, distort it, reducing it to careless lines or mere shadows that still exude sophistication. She can invoke the hollow cavern of lovelorn loneliness with a single hovering line. There's a distinct tactility in 'Skin.' Texture is emulated by both background and technique as Clement alternates between pastels, pencils, pens and watercolors. The palette hews mostly to green-blue-tinged washes, with pops of color. Yellow for Rita's dress and the ginkgo tree. Red for her hair and the wine. A bar scene where Esther meets the man who will break her heart looks like something out of an impressionist painting: illuminated by light, built by shadows, and animated by fluid gestures and expressive movement. Usually mired in self-doubt, Esther dissolves into a gin-drenched haze and new-love-induced euphoria. In her pink boots, she saunters, dances across the street, exuberant. When the man leaves, like others before him, Esther retreats from the world. 'Everything that goes leaves a scar,' Versyp writes. Clement draws the ghost of Rita's mother in red ink, set against a background of corrugated cardboard, appearing out of a crack in the ceiling to comfort her. 'Lay down your armor,' she tells Rita. Flawlessly in sync, Versyp and Clement consider the masks we wear for other people and the skins we must shed to survive, despite the risks that come with giving other people a piece of ourselves. Aloof and wayward teenage daughters become forlorn, abandoned mothers. Someone falls out of love too fast. The tragedies in 'Skin' may be quotidian, but they are exquisitely explored. 'Skin,' written by Versyp and illustrated by Clement, is a story of two women whose paths intertwine in an art class, where Esther is the teacher and Rita, the older of the two, is an inexperienced nude model. Its narrative alternates between vignettes from Esther and Rita's lives, and merges in the class. One day Rita asks Esther why she never simply draws the way Rita looks. 'Because it's boring,' Esther responds, and they become friends. As a child Esther was taught to draw things as she saw them, but that became an exercise of technical skill in which feelings had no place. 'I try to capture their deepest essence in a few lines, pure and simple,' Esther explains, a reflection of Clement's own artistic style. Clement's silhouettes are sketchy and loosely lined, but she draws like someone so familiar with human anatomy that she can bend it, distort it, reducing it to careless lines or mere shadows that still exude sophistication. She can invoke the hollow cavern of lovelorn loneliness with a single hovering line. There's a distinct tactility in 'Skin.' Texture is emulated by both background and technique as Clement alternates between pastels, pencils, pens and watercolors. The palette hews mostly to green-blue-tinged washes, with pops of color. Yellow for Rita's dress and the ginkgo tree. Red for her hair and the wine. A bar scene where Esther meets the man who will break her heart looks like something out of an impressionist painting: illuminated by light, built by shadows, and animated by fluid gestures and expressive movement. Usually mired in self-doubt, Esther dissolves into a gin-drenched haze and new-love-induced euphoria. In her pink boots, she saunters, dances across the street, exuberant. When the man leaves, like others before him, Esther retreats from the world. 'Everything that goes leaves a scar,' Versyp writes. Clement draws the ghost of Rita's mother in red ink, set against a background of corrugated cardboard, appearing out of a crack in the ceiling to comfort her. 'Lay down your armor,' she tells Rita. Flawlessly in sync, Versyp and Clement consider the masks we wear for other people and the skins we must shed to survive, despite the risks that come with giving other people a piece of ourselves. Aloof and wayward teenage daughters become forlorn, abandoned mothers. Someone falls out of love too fast. The tragedies in 'Skin' may be quotidian, but they are exquisitely explored. Sarah Huxley moves from London to Paris for a demanding but well-paying corporate job, expecting beauty and romance. She is quickly disillusioned when the language barrier estranges her from conversations and connections. Instead, she stumbles into Ping Loh, a young woman from Hong Kong, who works as an au pair for a rich Chinese family in the city and who, like Sarah, has a barely functional grasp of French. They talk in broken tongues, spanning Cantonese, French and English, half understanding each other, embarrassing themselves often but becoming friends anyway. Punctuated by corporate drudgery and insufferable (sometimes sleazy) employers, their story unfolds with the help of text messages, dictionaries and outdoor activities. When they are together, no one seems to understand their 'strange patchwork of languages,' but, before we know it, this linguistic push and pull metamorphoses from painfully awkward friendship to earnest love story. Sarah's understanding of Cantonese remains shaky, but she understands Ping. 'When I speak another language, I can almost catch a glimpse, an entrevoit, of myself as another person,' Sarah muses. Apart from Albon's clever use of lettering that effortlessly intermingles multilingual exchanges, 'Love Languages' is visually conventional, verging on ordinary in its composition and paneling. But Albon's rich watercolors — saturated and sumptuous — of people, food and cities make for a gorgeous and emotionally tender read about two foreigners falling in love, obliviously at first and then with sudden speed. Sarah Huxley moves from London to Paris for a demanding but well-paying corporate job, expecting beauty and romance. She is quickly disillusioned when the language barrier estranges her from conversations and connections. Instead, she stumbles into Ping Loh, a young woman from Hong Kong, who works as an au pair for a rich Chinese family in the city and who, like Sarah, has a barely functional grasp of French. They talk in broken tongues, spanning Cantonese, French and English, half understanding each other, embarrassing themselves often but becoming friends anyway. Punctuated by corporate drudgery and insufferable (sometimes sleazy) employers, their story unfolds with the help of text messages, dictionaries and outdoor activities. When they are together, no one seems to understand their 'strange patchwork of languages,' but, before we know it, this linguistic push and pull metamorphoses from painfully awkward friendship to earnest love story. Sarah's understanding of Cantonese remains shaky, but she understands Ping. 'When I speak another language, I can almost catch a glimpse, an entrevoit, of myself as another person,' Sarah muses. Apart from Albon's clever use of lettering that effortlessly intermingles multilingual exchanges, 'Love Languages' is visually conventional, verging on ordinary in its composition and paneling. But Albon's rich watercolors — saturated and sumptuous — of people, food and cities make for a gorgeous and emotionally tender read about two foreigners falling in love, obliviously at first and then with sudden speed. Curious in both form and content, 'From Above' is crime fiction told in color-coded dots from an aerial perspective. An oft-bullied kid, Simon Hope, bets on an unlikely racehorse based on the advice of a clairvoyant neighbor. He wins 16 million pounds. When his mother is brutally beaten into a coma and his father goes missing, he is unable to claim the prize money. There are twists, turns and constantly unfolding chaos as the plot devolves into a surreal whodunit. There is a sense of interactive unraveling, because the story demands that the reader carefully decipher visual information delivered in the form of floor plans, flowcharts, maps and diagrams. In a particularly clever use of minimalist design, Simon's entire family history is summarized in one infographic. Each living thing in the story — people, ducks, dogs and pigeons — is represented by a dot of a certain color. One would think such a detached style — where we never see the characters — would undercut emotional expressiveness, but it is surprisingly easy to empathize with the solitary dot that stands in for Simon. The aerial perspective is punctuated by the occasional illustration in one-point perspective for emphasis, such as when the page itself becomes a door that leads to the hospital ward where Simon's mother is comatose. When he is handed a full report of her injuries, the blue book is upside down. This simple design choice puts us in his shoes, showing us the book as he sees it. Panchaud's diagrammatic style, informed by his dyslexia, is conceptually fresh; it's somewhat reminiscent of the style of Chris Ware but pared down further: flat colors, schematic drawings, dots, lines. There is a distinct '90s computer graphic aesthetic that clashes absurdly with the film noir qualities of the plot. What results is a fine example of successful, if strange, formal experimentation. Curious in both form and content, 'From Above' is crime fiction told in color-coded dots from an aerial perspective. An oft-bullied kid, Simon Hope, bets on an unlikely racehorse based on the advice of a clairvoyant neighbor. He wins 16 million pounds. When his mother is brutally beaten into a coma and his father goes missing, he is unable to claim the prize money. There are twists, turns and constantly unfolding chaos as the plot devolves into a surreal whodunit. There is a sense of interactive unraveling, because the story demands that the reader carefully decipher visual information delivered in the form of floor plans, flowcharts, maps and diagrams. In a particularly clever use of minimalist design, Simon's entire family history is summarized in one infographic. Each living thing in the story — people, ducks, dogs and pigeons — is represented by a dot of a certain color. One would think such a detached style — where we never see the characters — would undercut emotional expressiveness, but it is surprisingly easy to empathize with the solitary dot that stands in for Simon. The aerial perspective is punctuated by the occasional illustration in one-point perspective for emphasis, such as when the page itself becomes a door that leads to the hospital ward where Simon's mother is comatose. When he is handed a full report of her injuries, the blue book is upside down. This simple design choice puts us in his shoes, showing us the book as he sees it. Panchaud's diagrammatic style, informed by his dyslexia, is conceptually fresh; it's somewhat reminiscent of the style of Chris Ware but pared down further: flat colors, schematic drawings, dots, lines. There is a distinct '90s computer graphic aesthetic that clashes absurdly with the film noir qualities of the plot. What results is a fine example of successful, if strange, formal experimentation. A history lesson, a travelogue and a memoir all wrapped together with elements of graphic journalism, Thompson's 'Ginseng Roots' spans the history of farming American ginseng, the trade relationship between the United States and China, and Thompson's lingering guilt over the gap between his ostensibly easy career as a cartoonist (he is the author of the classic graphic novel 'Blankets,' among other books) and his working-class childhood in rural Wisconsin. At 20, Thompson moved out of Marathon, a town of 1,200 that was once the world's leading producer of American ginseng, where he spent many summers working in the fields as a child laborer along with Phil, his younger brother. Before the two were teens, they joined their parents plucking weeds and picking roots, rocks and berries — all for just a dollar (which eventually became three) an hour. With their earnings, they would buy comic books. 'When our dad came home with acid burns from factory welding and stories of wading neck deep in septic tanks … we dreamed of the cushy lifestyle of the cartoonist, indoors all day, playing make-believe, and doodling,' Thompson recalls. On a trip to China, years later, Thompson injures his wrist. Worried it will affect his ability to draw, he seeks treatment and finds ginseng grown in America at a local pharmacy. Once he is back in America, he discovers that the injury is an aggressive form of fibromatosis, which will deteriorate whether he draws or not. When Thompson returns to Marathon for the International Wisconsin Ginseng Festival, he interviews people including his old bosses (who complain about environmental regulations and declining American work ethic), his childhood friend, Chua (whose family was among the first Hmong people to settle in Wisconsin) and Will Hsu, a ginseng farmer whose hard-won success is threatened by the anti-Chinese sentiment that has become commonplace since 2020. Thompson traces the history of ginseng in the East and the West, moving easily from the Wausau Chamber of Commerce in the present to 1634, when the French explorer Jean Nicolet arrived in Wisconsin 'convinced he'd made it to China,' to the real China in the 1700s, where Jesuit cartographer and mathematician Pierre Jartoux received a gift of ginseng roots and became the first Westerner to experience the herb and record it with illustrations. But he also tells us stories that are closer to his own life: how Chua's family made it across the Mekong River to Thailand before eventually arriving in the ginseng farms of rural Wisconsin at the end of the Vietnam War, for example, or his own research trips to China and Korea. Thompson's intricately drawn maps and illustrations are dense, but they give way to a lucid network of panels and pages that braid these distinct threads. 'I want ginseng to be what heals me, especially if it's the industry that may have poisoned me,' he writes in a page where the younger version of Craig and an anthropomorphic ginseng root stand hand in hand, encouraging the adult Craig to start making comics again. A history lesson, a travelogue and a memoir all wrapped together with elements of graphic journalism, Thompson's 'Ginseng Roots' spans the history of farming American ginseng, the trade relationship between the United States and China, and Thompson's lingering guilt over the gap between his ostensibly easy career as a cartoonist (he is the author of the classic graphic novel 'Blankets,' among other books) and his working-class childhood in rural Wisconsin. At 20, Thompson moved out of Marathon, a town of 1,200 that was once the world's leading producer of American ginseng, where he spent many summers working in the fields as a child laborer along with Phil, his younger brother. Before the two were teens, they joined their parents plucking weeds and picking roots, rocks and berries — all for just a dollar (which eventually became three) an hour. With their earnings, they would buy comic books. 'When our dad came home with acid burns from factory welding and stories of wading neck deep in septic tanks … we dreamed of the cushy lifestyle of the cartoonist, indoors all day, playing make-believe, and doodling,' Thompson recalls. On a trip to China, years later, Thompson injures his wrist. Worried it will affect his ability to draw, he seeks treatment and finds ginseng grown in America at a local pharmacy. Once he is back in America, he discovers that the injury is an aggressive form of fibromatosis, which will deteriorate whether he draws or not. When Thompson returns to Marathon for the International Wisconsin Ginseng Festival, he interviews people including his old bosses (who complain about environmental regulations and declining American work ethic), his childhood friend, Chua (whose family was among the first Hmong people to settle in Wisconsin) and Will Hsu, a ginseng farmer whose hard-won success is threatened by the anti-Chinese sentiment that has become commonplace since 2020. Thompson traces the history of ginseng in the East and the West, moving easily from the Wausau Chamber of Commerce in the present to 1634, when the French explorer Jean Nicolet arrived in Wisconsin 'convinced he'd made it to China,' to the real China in the 1700s, where Jesuit cartographer and mathematician Pierre Jartoux received a gift of ginseng roots and became the first Westerner to experience the herb and record it with illustrations. But he also tells us stories that are closer to his own life: how Chua's family made it across the Mekong River to Thailand before eventually arriving in the ginseng farms of rural Wisconsin at the end of the Vietnam War, for example, or his own research trips to China and Korea. Thompson's intricately drawn maps and illustrations are dense, but they give way to a lucid network of panels and pages that braid these distinct threads. 'I want ginseng to be what heals me, especially if it's the industry that may have poisoned me,' he writes in a page where the younger version of Craig and an anthropomorphic ginseng root stand hand in hand, encouraging the adult Craig to start making comics again.
