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    Why Women Find Watching True Crime Comforting

    Since the election, I have been spending a lot of time horizontal in my soft pants watching true crime — nonfiction television about a variety of illegal activity, mostly murder. My husband thinks it is pretty demented that I find comfort by turning away from breaking news and watching a show called “Accident, Suicide, or Murder,” but I often watch or listen to true crime as a way to calm down.That I am a woman who enjoys this lurid pastime does not make me remotely unique. Women are twice as likely as men to listen to true crime podcasts, and younger women with less formal education are particularly likely to listen. Some have estimated that the audience for true crime shows is 80 percent female. In fact, women loving true crime is such a cliché that “Saturday Night Live” made a song about it in 2021. I half sing it to myself every time I turn on “Dateline”: “I’m gonna watch a murder show, murder show/ I’m gonna watch a murder show…late night true crime, this is my relaxing time.”I have seen many theories — in academic papers and Reddit forums and talking to other crime junkies — about why women are more drawn to the genre. The explanation I see most frequently is that women watch true crime to protect themselves: We are usually less physically powerful than men are, and we think that by understanding the psychology of criminals we can better avoid them.That interpretation may be true for some women, but it never quite resonated with me. It wasn’t until I was processing my anger about America electing a man who was found liable for sexual abuse and nominating people who were accused of sex trafficking to run the Justice Department that I could finally explain to myself why I find the genre so irresistible.Most of the true crime I watch reflects a black and white moral universe where victims ultimately get justice, even if it is delayed. In this closed world, modern law enforcement is competent and empathetic, and evidence from medical examiners and forensic scientists is taken seriously. I don’t like “Unsolved Mysteries” because there’s no real resolution for the victim’s family, I find it devastating. But my favorite true crime does not just show good people doing their jobs. It also celebrates the emotional and intuitive; victims, including their families, often have hunches about perpetrators that elude law enforcement and defy norms.An excellent recent example of the moral universe I enjoy returning to, one that felt particularly poignant, is the two-part Netflix documentary “Into the Fire: The Lost Daughter.” It centers on Cathy Terkanian, who in 1974, at 16, had a daughter she named Alexis. Her mother pressured her to give Alexis up for adoption so that the little girl could have a better life.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Jake Paul-Mike Tyson: What to Know About the Fighters

    This Guy VS. That Guy Meet the 27-year-old social media influencer and 58-year-old former heavyweight champion who are gearing up for a bizarre boxing match. The Curious Fight Between Jake Paul and Mike Tyson The most-watched program on Netflix this weekend may not be a documentary or a romantic comedy. Instead, millions of people are […] More

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    The Sunday Read: ‘How Everyone Got Lost in Netflix’s Endless Library’

    Emma Kehlbeck and Catherine Anderson and Listen and follow ‘The Daily’Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Amazon Music | YouTube | iHeartRadioIf you take a journey deep within Netflix’s furthest recesses — burrow past Binge-worthy TV Dramas and 1980s Action Thrillers, take a left at Because You Watched the Lego Batman Movie, keep going past Fright Night — you will eventually find your way to the platform’s core, the forgotten layers of content fossilized by the pressure from the accreted layers above.Netflix’s vast library changed the business of television — in part by making a better product and showing the rest of the industry that it had to follow suit — but it also changed the very nature of television.There are a lot of ways to listen to “The Daily.” Here’s how.We want to hear from you. Tune in, and tell us what you think. Email us at thedaily@nytimes.com. Follow Michael Barbaro on X: @mikiebarb. And if you’re interested in advertising with “The Daily,” write to us at thedaily-ads@nytimes.com.Additional production for The Sunday Read was contributed by Isabella Anderson, Anna Diamond, Sarah Diamond, Elena Hecht, Emma Kehlbeck, Tanya Pérez, Frannie Carr Toth and Krish Seenivasan. More

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    ‘Nobody Wants This’ Pits Jewish Women Against ‘Shiksas.’ Nobody Wins.

    The derisive word for a male gentile is shegetz. I didn’t know the term until I married one. Even though my family is 100 percent Jewish and my brother took a DNA test to prove it, up to that point, I had only ever heard the female equivalent of the word: shiksa.When I heard my community of mostly secular Jews use the word shiksa growing up, it wasn’t really used as a slur; it was used as a referent for the conventional American ideal of beauty. It was understood that as Jewish women, we purportedly existed outside this ideal. We were assumed to be emasculating scolds, obligations men were saddled with rather than women to be desired.Our looks were all wrong and in need of expensive plastic surgery or hair treatments to even attempt to measure up. The feeling was summed up by a line from a throwaway character, apparently post-makeover, in a Season 2 episode of “Sex and the City” that first aired in 1999: “Well, you know, my boyfriend and I were really compatible, except for one thing. He liked thin, blond WASP-y types, so … now I am.”That’s because the shiksa stereotype looms large in American pop culture as an object of Jewish male desire. It was largely constructed in the mid-20th century by Philip Roth, Woody Allen and Neil Simon. Writing in 2013 for The Los Angeles Review of Books, Menachem Kaiser described the stereotype succinctly:By the 1980s, what I’ll call the Allenesque Jew/shiksa split was entrenched: Jewish = nonathletic, brainy, neurotic, pasty, dark-haired, profoundly unhealthy parental relationship, usually from the New York area; shiksa = healthy, WASP-y, carefree, blond, supportive (if judgmental) parents, from the Midwest or from a home that might as well be in the Midwest.But it’s not 1980, 1999 or even 2013 anymore. It’s no longer shocking or novel when a Jew dates or marries outside his or her religion — 61 percent of Jews who have married since 2010 are intermarried, according to a 2021 Pew Research report. Among non-Orthodox Jews, that number is 72 percent.That’s why I found the experience of watching the new Netflix series “Nobody Wants This” — which was originally titled “Shiksa” — to be both off-putting and bizarre. The show seems to have been beamed in from the past century in both its depiction of Jew-gentile relations and also its gender politics.Set in Los Angeles, “Nobody Wants This” is about a blond sex-and-relationships podcaster, Joanne (Kristen Bell), who falls for a rabbi, Noah (Adam Brody). The dramatic tension comes entirely from Joanne’s shiksa status (light spoilers ahead). The majority of Noah’s circle is hostile to Joanne from the jump, particularly his mother (Tovah Feldshuh), his sister-in-law, Esther (Jackie Tohn), and his ex-girlfriend Rebecca (Emily Arlook).We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Emmy Party Photos: Letting Loose in the Hollywood Hills

    Celebrities including Quinta Brunson, Selma Blair and Heidi Klum toasted the awards at a Los Angeles mansion. Who said it was too soon to party again?Anticipation and truffle oil hung in the air on Friday night as stars of the small screen arrived in the Hollywood Hills in black Teslas and Escalades to celebrate this year’s Emmy Awards.The “Shogun” actor and producer Hiroyuki Sanada; Quinta Brunson, the creator of “Abbott Elementary”; and the “Baby Reindeer” star and creator Richard Gadd were among the nominees who walked the black carpet at the party, which was put on by The Hollywood Reporter and SAG-AFTRA at Stanley II, a sprawling, hillside mansion that has been listed for $38 million.Nava Mau of “Baby Reindeer.”Gabriella Angotti-Jones for The New York TimesCarl Clemons-Hopkins of “Hacks” with Chubi Anyaoku.Gabriella Angotti-Jones for The New York TimesOverlooking the twinkling lights of Los Angeles, guests ate truffle burgers and fries from Shake Shack and drank Emmy-themed Glenfiddich cocktails named “City of Stars,” “Red Carpet Cocktail” and “The FYC” (shorthand for the “for your consideration” award campaigns).The party was held at Stanley II, a mansion in the Hollywood Hills that has been listed for $38 million.Gabriella Angotti-Jones for The New York TimesWhile some partygoers grazed a banquet-size charcuterie board and relaxed on couches near the house’s massive television screens — which played a slide show of photos featuring this year’s nominees — others migrated to the dance floor in the nightclub downstairs.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Norway’s Princess Martha Louise Weds Self-Proclaimed Shaman Durek Verrett

    The nuptials of Princess Martha Louise and Durek Verrett attracted huge public interest and a streaming deal for a couple trying to reclaim their narrative after years of bad press.There was no castle, nor were there throngs of exuberant crowds to celebrate this royal wedding. Nonetheless, the nuptials on Saturday of a Norwegian princess and an American self-described shaman attracted public fascination at home and a Netflix deal abroad.The royal involved — Princess Martha Louise, daughter of King Harald V and Queen Sonja of Norway — wed the American, Durek Verrett, after years of often mocking public scrutiny, largely because of Mr. Verrett’s alternative views on health and wellness. The ceremony, a private affair in the remote, picturesque Norwegian village of Geiranger, attracted a gaggle of reporters and a modest crowd of curious residents.The couple sailed into Geiranger, nestled in the majestic Geirangerfjord, a world heritage site, on the royal yacht on Friday, along with members of the royal family, including King Harald and Queen Sonja, according to an official statement.The celebrations on Saturday began with brunch, with the option of a spa treatment available for all guests, according to a copy of the program seen by The New York Times. The day’s schedule also included an afternoon tea, early evening cocktails and a gala dinner. At 10:50 p.m., “the party begins,” the program said, promising late night snacks at 1 a.m.The ceremony itself was held in a marquee on a farm whose meadows overlook the fjords. The couple, stung by the years of critical news coverage, had tried — and failed — to keep the location a secret. The three-day event was privately financed, the royal family said, but that did not stop reporters from speculating about the cost of security arrangements for those attending.The ceremony itself was held on Saturday in a marquee on a farm whose meadows overlook the fjords.Heiko Junge/NTB, via ReutersWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Saying Goodbye to the Messy, Murderous World of ‘Elite’

    A diverse cast of characters and a murder to solve each school year have helped make this teen drama one of Netflix’s longest-running original shows.Shooting the eighth and final season of Netflix’s teen crime drama “Elite” last November, crew members yelled “silencio” so often it could have been mistaken for a chant.Dozens of young actors, dressed in black tie, talked and laughed as they milled around a set on the outskirts of Madrid that depicted a nightclub. The Brazilian actor André Lamoglia seemed used to the chaos as he waited, perching on the bar in a black suit with white trim, to lead another of the show’s rowdy party scenes.After the cameras finally started rolling, and with the extras making much less noise, Lamoglia’s character, Iván, took a seemingly casual selfie with his half sister Chloe (Mirela Balic) that was actually part of a scheme to discover who murdered his friend.Unruly teenagers, expensive clothes and mysterious dead bodies are all typical for the Spanish-language show which, since its premiere in 2018, has become one of Netflix’s most popular original titles, and one of the longest-running. (The final season is being released Friday.)In its first season, “Elite” used a setup familiar from other successful teen shows, including “Gossip Girl” and “Beverly Hills, 90210”: inserting beautiful outsiders into an exclusive social setting. In this case, three scholarship students join Las Encinas, an expensive private high school. But at Las Encinas, every year (and season) there is also a murder for students and the police to investigate.This blending of soapy teen drama and tense murder mystery has helped the show run for eight seasons, and by its fourth, “Elite” was ranking in Netflix’s weekly Top 10 chart in more than 70 countries, according to data from the streamer.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Can Japan’s First Same-Sex Dating Reality Show Change Hearts and Minds?

    Producers of “The Boyfriend” on Netflix hope it will encourage broader acceptance of the L.G.B.T.Q. community in Japan, which still has not legalized same-sex unions.Japan is the only country among the world’s wealthiest democracies that has not legalized same-sex unions. Few celebrities are openly gay. Conservative groups oppose legislative efforts to protect the L.G.B.T.Q. community.But now, Netflix is introducing the country’s first same-sex dating reality series.Over 10 episodes of “The Boyfriend,” which will be available in 190 countries beginning on July 9, a group of nine men gather in a luxury beach house outside Tokyo. The format evokes Japan’s most popular romantic reality show, “Terrace House,” with its assembly of clean cut and exceedingly polite cast members, overseen by a panel of jovial commentators.The vibe is wholesome and mostly chaste. The men, who range in age from 22 to 36, operate a coffee truck during the day and cook dinner at night, with occasional forays outside for dates. One of the biggest (among very few) conflicts of the series revolves around the cost of buying raw chicken to make protein shakes for a club dancer who is trying to maintain his physique. Sex rarely comes up, and friendship and self-improvement feature as prominently as romance.In Japan, the handful of openly gay and transgender performers who regularly appear on television are typically flamboyant, effeminate comic foils who are shoehorned into exaggerated stereotypes. With “The Boyfriend,” Dai Ota, the executive producer, said he wanted to “portray same-sex relationships as they really are.”Mr. Ota, who was also a producer of “Terrace House,” which was made by Fuji TV and licensed and distributed globally by Netflix, said he had avoided “the approach of ‘let’s include people who cause problems.’”“The Boyfriend,” he said, represents diversity in another way — with cast members of South Korean, Taiwanese and multiethnic heritages.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More