Latest news with #NoraEphron
Yahoo
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Lisa Kudrow Reveals Her Most 'Disappointing' Film Role
Lisa Kudrow recently sat for a discussion with Parker Posey as part of Variety's Actors on Actors series, in which the former Friends star reflected on her most 'disappointing' film role, opposite John Travolta. Kudrow and Posey, who starred together in the 1997 dramedy Clockwatchers, are up for awards consideration this year for their roles in Netflix's No Good Deed and HBO's The White Lotus, respectively. Both also worked with the late writer and director Nora Ephron, though Kudrow's experience with the auteur wasn't as memorable as Posey's.'We were both Nora Ephron ladies back in the '90s,' Posey began. 'What did you do with Nora?' 'I did Hanging Up, which she wrote with [her sister] Delia. Diane Keaton directed it. We had great food every day because Nora was around,' Kudrow reflected, before adding: 'And then I did another movie that Nora directed, and John Travolta was in it—'Was in it?' How's that? It was a John Travolta movie, and I was in it.' 'And he was an angel or something, right?' Posey returned. 'No, that was Michael,' Kudrow corrected her, 'and that was a great movie. This one was disappointing,' she added Kudrow didn't name the movie in the interview, she's referring to Ephron's critically maligned 2000 dark comedy, Lucky Numbers. The film starred Travolta as a local meteorologist and snowmobile salesman who concocts a heist with Kudrow's lottery-number reader to steal the pot. Best known for her romantic comedies like Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail, Lucky Numbers saw Ephron attempt an Elmore Leonard-style, post-Tarantino caper to decidedly mixed results. Though Kudrow's work with Ephron was perhaps not that memorable, both she and Posey warmly recalled receiving unsolicited career advice from their mentor long after they worked with her. 'I remember Nora called me once, I was working on Friends,' Kudrow said, 'and she went, 'When are you finished with this show? Why do you keep doing it?' I was like, 'Well, some good reasons.''Lisa Kudrow Reveals Her Most 'Disappointing' Film Role first appeared on Men's Journal on Jun 9, 2025
Yahoo
21-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
My cultural awakening: I watched Sleepless in Seattle and realised I had to cancel my wedding
When my boyfriend proposed, I said yes – not because I was madly in love with him, but because it seemed like the correct thing to do. We'd been together for eight years and all of our friends were getting engaged; my life felt like a constant cycle of hen nights. I knew something was wrong but I suppressed it. Sometimes I'd get these flashes of anxiety. I'd worry about the fact that I no longer felt excited when my boyfriend walked into a room, or that we didn't have sex any more – but I was 28, which at that point felt ancient to me, and I was frightened of being alone. I told myself I was experiencing nothing more than a classic case of pre-wedding jitters. I threw myself into buying the big white dress and designing the invitations. I planned to stash a bottle of gin in the church, so I could have a shot to calm my nerves before I walked down the aisle. About three months before the wedding, I was home alone one evening and decided to watch Sleepless in Seattle. It was my father's favourite film – he loved the classic jazz soundtrack and Nora Ephron's dialogue. It had been on in the background a lot during my childhood and teenage years, so I was expecting it to be a comfort watch; something to almost lull me to sleep. I'd remembered the film as being about a man (Tom Hanks) and his cute son grieving the death of his wife. But that night I interpreted the film completely differently. I was sucked into the perspective of Meg Ryan's character, Annie, who is engaged to a perfectly decent but slightly boring man – and deciding whether or not to call it off. I'd always seen Sleepless in Seattle as being about bereavement, but that night on my sofa, it felt like a film about one woman's decision whether to get married, and play it safe, or give it all up and take a leap. My wedding venue was booked, the deposit paid. But as the film went on I began to feel this overwhelming sadness There's a scene towards the beginning where Annie is trying on a wedding dress at her family home. Her mother is talking about the 'magic' she felt when she first laid eyes on her own husband, and Annie's face just goes completely blank. You can tell she doesn't feel anything close to 'magic' with Walter, her fiance. Watching that scene, I felt the familiar squirm of panic, but I squashed it down. I did love my boyfriend, in a way. We trusted each other and were good friends and he cared for me. I told myself: I'm not going to be the person who has the magic, and I'm OK with that. I'm going to be the person who has a sensible, kind husband, and children, and a life that is beautifully mapped out. But as the film went on I began to feel this overwhelming sadness. My wedding venue was booked, the deposit was paid – but watching Annie agonise over whether or not to leave Walter, I began to realise that the way I was feeling about my own wedding couldn't be ignored. Right at the end, Annie tells Walter about her doubts, and he has a line that illuminated everything for me: 'I don't want to be someone that anyone settles for. Marriage is hard enough without bringing such low expectations into it, isn't it?' I realised, listening to that, how selfish I was being. My boyfriend was good and generous. He didn't deserve to be 'settled' for. He didn't deserve to have a wife who had to get drunk to force herself down the aisle. That night when he came home, I said I wanted to postpone the wedding. I wasn't brave enough to outright ask to call it off, but he told me that if I didn't want to marry him now, he didn't want to be with me. I like to think perhaps he was having doubts too, but wasn't able to voice them – I hope that's true. I emailed all of our guests and told them that the wedding was cancelled, and people were generally supportive. I remember being so grateful that I didn't have to 'face' anyone. I could call the whole thing off while hiding behind a screen. I told my father that Sleepless in Seattle had inspired me to make the decision, but I kept that part a secret from everyone else in my life. He understood, but I suspected other people would think I'd gone mad. I spent about 11 years being single after the breakup, so I definitely had to face my fear of being alone. Often it was hard, feeling like a spare part at my friends' parties, but as I got older, being 'coupled up' and safe lost some of its allure. I saw the cracks in the marriages around me, and I realised coupledom doesn't actually insulate you from loneliness. I am married now, but I don't completely buy into the idea that there has to be 'magic' in a romantic partnership. I don't believe in the Disneyland, mind-altering, life-completing version of romance – that part of Sleepless in Seattle just doesn't ring true to me. But I still believe you should never settle for anyone.
The Guardian
21-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
My cultural awakening: I watched Sleepless in Seattle and realised I had to cancel my wedding
When my boyfriend proposed, I said yes – not because I was madly in love with him, but because it seemed like the correct thing to do. We'd been together for eight years and all of our friends were getting engaged; my life felt like a constant cycle of hen nights. I knew something was wrong but I suppressed it. Sometimes I'd get these flashes of anxiety. I'd worry about the fact that I no longer felt excited when my boyfriend walked into a room, or that we didn't have sex any more – but I was 28, which at that point felt ancient to me, and I was frightened of being alone. I told myself I was experiencing nothing more than a classic case of pre-wedding jitters. I threw myself into buying the big white dress and designing the invitations. I planned to stash a bottle of gin in the church, so I could have a shot to calm my nerves before I walked down the aisle. About three months before the wedding, I was home alone one evening and decided to watch Sleepless in Seattle. It was my father's favourite film – he loved the classic jazz soundtrack and Nora Ephron's dialogue. It had been on in the background a lot during my childhood and teenage years, so I was expecting it to be a comfort watch; something to almost lull me to sleep. I'd remembered the film as being about a man (Tom Hanks) and his cute son grieving the death of his wife. But that night I interpreted the film completely differently. I was sucked into the perspective of Meg Ryan's character, Annie, who is engaged to a perfectly decent but slightly boring man – and deciding whether or not to call it off. I'd always seen Sleepless in Seattle as being about bereavement, but that night on my sofa, it felt like a film about one woman's decision whether to get married, and play it safe, or give it all up and take a leap. There's a scene towards the beginning where Annie is trying on a wedding dress at her family home. Her mother is talking about the 'magic' she felt when she first laid eyes on her own husband, and Annie's face just goes completely blank. You can tell she doesn't feel anything close to 'magic' with Walter, her fiance. Watching that scene, I felt the familiar squirm of panic, but I squashed it down. I did love my boyfriend, in a way. We trusted each other and were good friends and he cared for me. I told myself: I'm not going to be the person who has the magic, and I'm OK with that. I'm going to be the person who has a sensible, kind husband, and children, and a life that is beautifully mapped out. But as the film went on I began to feel this overwhelming sadness. My wedding venue was booked, the deposit was paid – but watching Annie agonise over whether or not to leave Walter, I began to realise that the way I was feeling about my own wedding couldn't be ignored. Right at the end, Annie tells Walter about her doubts, and he has a line that illuminated everything for me: 'I don't want to be someone that anyone settles for. Marriage is hard enough without bringing such low expectations into it, isn't it?' I realised, listening to that, how selfish I was being. My boyfriend was good and generous. He didn't deserve to be 'settled' for. He didn't deserve to have a wife who had to get drunk to force herself down the aisle. That night when he came home, I said I wanted to postpone the wedding. I wasn't brave enough to outright ask to call it off, but he told me that if I didn't want to marry him now, he didn't want to be with me. I like to think perhaps he was having doubts too, but wasn't able to voice them – I hope that's true. I emailed all of our guests and told them that the wedding was cancelled, and people were generally supportive. I remember being so grateful that I didn't have to 'face' anyone. I could call the whole thing off while hiding behind a screen. I told my father that Sleepless in Seattle had inspired me to make the decision, but I kept that part a secret from everyone else in my life. He understood, but I suspected other people would think I'd gone mad. I spent about 11 years being single after the breakup, so I definitely had to face my fear of being alone. Often it was hard, feeling like a spare part at my friends' parties, but as I got older, being 'coupled up' and safe lost some of its allure. I saw the cracks in the marriages around me, and I realised coupledom doesn't actually insulate you from loneliness. I am married now, but I don't completely buy into the idea that there has to be 'magic' in a romantic partnership. I don't believe in the Disneyland, mind-altering, life-completing version of romance – that part of Sleepless in Seattle just doesn't ring true to me. But I still believe you should never settle for anyone. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion You can tell us how a cultural moment has prompted you to make a major life change by filling in the form below or emailing us on Please include as much detail as possible Please note, the maximum file size is 5.7 MB. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. If you include other people's names please ask them first.
Irish Times
14-05-2025
- Health
- Irish Times
My post-cancer treatment hair reminds me of boxing promoter Don King. It makes me laugh
I Feel Bad About My Neck is a collection of essays by Nora Ephron that I read or listen to every now and again. It's a great title, extremely relatable for many women of a certain age when hairs start to sprout in unexpected places and brown spots appear on our hands. It's all down to this phenomenon called ageing. A beautiful thing. But it's also a transition and like any transition, it can take time to adjust. I don't feel bad about my neck. I've always had a couple of extra chins, more visible from certain angles than others. They would surprise me sometimes in the photos other people took of me - who is that person with generous neck undercarriage? I take a lot of selfies, because I know the angles that work best for my chin area. I don't feel bad about my neck (chintastic) or my belly (generous) or my hands (they look older than I feel) but lately I feel funny about my hair. It's been on quite a trip. I was lucky enough to avail of life-saving chemotherapy treatment in the Mater hospital last year after I was diagnosed with cancer . Before starting the treatment, I knew my long, thick, highlighted hair, the kind of hair people rave about when you've had it professionally blow dried, was not long for this world. [ Róisín Ingle: I did a good bit of 'maevesdropping' in the shop. It's what Binchy would have wanted Opens in new window ] In preparation, I got my enviable mane cut into a bob in a hairdressers in Terenure . I found the place after I went to a Maria Doyle Kennedy concert in my local Protestant church in North Strand. I was on crutches at the time, having broken my ankle in a fall because cancer wasn't enough to be dealing with. From my pew, I spied a woman a few rows behind with such a beautiful short haircut that I made my soon to be husband , an introverted person who doesn't routinely have the chats with strangers, get up and ask her where she'd got her hair done. She was delighted and told my soon to be husband about Jacqui in L'OmBré in Terenure. The short-haired woman told him Jacqui was so good that she followed her around from salon to salon for years. The next day I made an appointment. READ MORE I brought my mother along, for moral support. It was a strange, emotionally turbulent time now I look back. Anyway, Jacqui turned out to be the perfect person to give me a new 'do'. She had helped a lot of women with pre- and post- cancer hair conundrums and had a close friend with a similar diagnosis to mine, breast cancer that had spread to the bones, who she told me was doing well years after she first got her own shocking news. My mother got her hair done too, promising our new friend a copy of her memoir ( Openhearted , she'd obviously kill me if I didn't plug it) and a jar of her homemade marmalade. So, thanks to Jacqui I went into my chemotherapy adventure with a bob and then a few weeks later on Valentine's Day, when my bob started to fall out from the expected side-effects, I got my brother-in-law Killian to come into hospital (I was in there again for an operation on my other leg, cancer still not being enough drama for me) and he shaved it all off with his clippers. I felt only relief. Sometimes, I went around the place with my shaved head, even though it meant I'd get strange, sympathetic looks from people who took one look at me and thought: cancer. Sinéad O'Connor modelled this hairstyle so well, but all these years later people still don't believe a woman would shave her hair off unless there's a tragic reason - see Britney Spears . Sometimes, the sympathy was useful. One night, rushing for a train that was leaving the platform in Galway , I'm convinced the Irish Rail worker stopped the train and let me on because he felt sorry for the woman with the cancer head. Other times, I'd wear a wig. With the wig on I'd feel inconspicuous and normal and a bit like my old self even though my old self was dead. [ Róisín Ingle: We will have two 16-year-olds in this house soon which is blowing my mind a bit Opens in new window ] I wore a wig when I got married last July. Stephanie came to my hotel room to style it. We both cried when she was finished. After the wedding, I hardly ever wore the wig again and when I got my byline photo done, to illustrate an article in which I came out about my cancer, I felt cool about my hair in an Olivia Colman or Judi Dench kind of way. We transition. We adjust. And now I feel funny about my hair. It's been growing. Vertically. It's a grey skyscraper rising from my scalp, defying gravity. It had been bugging me, who my hair was reminding me of, and then the other day I put an image of boxing promoter Don King alongside a picture of me in the family WhatsApp with the caption 'separated at birth'. My children could not get over the hair likeness. I don't feel bad about my neck, I feel funny about my hair, by which I mean that when I look in the mirror these days my hair makes me laugh. And, oh, it feels good. Down with that 'skort' of thing / Celebrating Tina Turner Listen | 45:28
Telegraph
24-04-2025
- Health
- Telegraph
How to de-age your ‘tech-neck' if you're over 50
I admit it, I've been fretting about my neck. Not in the Nora Ephron wrinkles and sag sense (ok, maybe a bit/lot of that). But a few months ago, it began aching, intrusively. Occasionally it has been Voltarol-worthy. I should have done something about it years ago. Every masseur/facialist I've ever encountered has juddered to a halt when they reached my neck. 'My Gaaad, it's like rock/stone/wood/concrete . I assumed everyone who sits at a computer or has a smart phone has a traumatised neck. I let things slide. Vanity brought me to my senses. To be precise, a photograph of myself in semi profile. I looked like a chicken, my neck's so far forward. We all know bad posture is a chief culprit when it comes to making us look and feel older. But those tense neck muscles may also be contributing to the pesky marionette lines that make one look so miserable. I don't fancy surgery. Besides, a friend in her early 70s who has an un-touched neck that's cross hatched with lines is still one of the most beautiful, elegant women I know. Good posture, among other things. I'm hydrating with oils rich in Vitamins E and A, and SPF-ing like there's no tomorrow. I've even tried a neck cream, which smells divine, but won't do what I need, which is to strengthen my upper back and remind me to pull my head back. I'm paying extra attention in my Pilates classes to protect my neck and wearing reading glasses whenever I'm at my computer, so I don't strain forward to see the screen properly. I spend five to ten minutes in front of the tv gently massaging the large muscles (trapezius and SCM since you ask) at the side of my neck with my people like to use fascia balls . You don't need a fancy oil for this – good old almond or jojoba will do. I'm also enjoying trialling Keren Bartov's The Wand, a light weight hand held tool that combines Radio Frequency (RF) technology, infrared and red light therapy in the optimal ranges to deliver targeted heat deep into the skin's layers, purportedly stimulating collagen production and boosting blood circulation. It's easy to use, good for applying gentle pressure where you need it, and has attracted a lot of celebrity support, but it's a steep £1,650. More affordably, Currentbody's light mask specifically designed for necks is £359.99. Other steps I've taken: sleeping on a memory foam U-shaped pillow which supports my neck and ensures crease-free cheeks if I turn on my side, and seeing an osteopath specifically about my neck tension. He's also giving me acupressure and showing me correct ways to exercise without straining my neck. The dull ache has gone. Meanwhile, I think the marionettes are softening. Is it the pillow, better posture, hydration, massage, osteopathy? All of it, probably. But drawing my neck back, tucking in my chin slightly and that old fashioned method of feeling a string coming out the top of your head and lifting you to the ceiling is a game changer.
