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      Keith Robinson on Having 2 Strokes and Making a Netflix Special

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      After two strokes, the stand-up has recovered enough to make a new special. If anything, his health crises have sharpened his humor.When the stand-up comic Keith Robinson was 10 years old growing up in Philadelphia, his father was stabbed to death in a bar. Sitting in the restaurant above the Comedy Cellar in New York on a recent weekday afternoon, Robinson explained what happened dispassionately, adding that the killer died soon after.“He got shot accidentally on purpose,” he told me, flashing a mischievous grin and saying nothing more.This is the kind of story that Robinson, 60, likes to tell, one with prickly uncomfortable humor and some tough-guy swagger. But Robinson is currently at the center of a different kind of dramatic narrative, less HBO, more Lifetime channel: He had two strokes in four years, robbing him temporarily of speech and mobility; then, against the odds, he recovered enough to return to the stage.Robinson has been a fixture at the Cellar for three decades, as much a part of the fabled club as the microphone and the hummus. A comedy Zelig, he did standup on “Star Search” in the 1980s; was a regular on the Comedy Central show “Tough Crowd,” inspired by the table at the Cellar where Robinson, Colin Quinn and others hung out and bickered; and even wrote on the aborted third season of “Chappelle’s Show.” He has been a mentor to many comics, especially stand-ups from Philadelphia, most famously Kevin Hart who produced Robinson’s last special a decade ago.When Amy Schumer heard Robinson’s difficulty speaking after his second stroke, in 2020, “I thought he was completely done,” she told me by phone. Now she is the executive producer of his new special, “Different Strokes” (Netflix), a jarringly unsentimental take on his health crisis that tells what could be a feel-good story with cranky irreverence.Onstage, Robinson says that facing death taught him this lesson: “If there’s someone you wanted to punch, punch them now.”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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      ‘House of the Dragon’ Season 2, Episode 2 Recap: Sleep With One Eye Open

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      Aemond knows those assassins got the wrong prince. He says he feels flattered. He had also better watch his back.Season 2, Episode 2Not even Rhaenyra Targaryen can believe what she’s seeing.This woman has flown through the sky on the back of a dragon. She has seen lords kneel at her feet, only to rise against her years later. She has lost a child in her fight for the Iron Throne and recoiled to learn that another was killed in her child’s name. But watching Erryk and Arryk Cargyll (Elliott and Luke Tittensor), two identical twin knights, locked in a battle to the death in her own bedroom, with the outcome to decide whether she lives or dies? You can see it on the face of the actor Emma D’Arcy: Not even in Rhaenyra’s wildest dreams did she see this one coming.This ability to shock — not in the gross-out sense, although this is often the case as well, but rather in the sense of a sudden, severe surprise — is the greatest strength “House of the Dragon” possesses. Civil wars are often said to be battles of brother against brother; fantasy can make the metaphorical literal. What better way to illustrate the senseless brutality of warfare than by having two men who look and sound exactly alike, who love each other, who say they are one soul in two bodies, perish in a brutal murder-suicide that achieves exactly nothing?The entire affair is a sordid one, something Ser Arryk never should have been asked by Ser Criston, his lord commander, to carry out. Indeed, Criston did so only as a maladaptive way of venting his sexual frustrations during a moment when his on-again-off-again relationship with Queen Alicent was dialed to off-again. By episode’s end they’re back together and having rough sex — an altogether healthier way of channeling these frustrations, if still an ill-advised coupling overall.Despite the clandestine nature of their relationship, Alicent and Criston are still faring better romantically than Rhaenyra and Daemon. When the Black Queen learns that the young Prince Jaehaerys was murdered and beheaded in his bed, she is outraged that anyone could think she had anything to do with it. She is even angrier when she finds out that she did have something to do with it, despite herself: It was Daemon who, in a reckless attempt to make good on her request for vengeance against Prince Aemond, claimed another child’s life instead.You can’t trust someone like that, Rhaenyra determines — accurately. She dismisses him as “pathetic”; he dismisses himself from her company.Back in King’s Landing, Daemon’s deeds continue to pay gruesome dividends. Both of the men involved in the murder of Jaehaerys are captured and killed, along with a score of innocent men whose only crime was to serve as palace rat catchers alongside one of the assassins. When his grandfather Otto upbraids him for this public-relations blunder, King Aegon — who for all his faults is genuinely devastated by the death of his young son — fires him as the king’s hand and replaces him with Ser Criston — a man of action compared with the scheming but restrained Otto but also the most tightly wound man in Westeros. There are literal dragons who would make better hands.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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      Ron Simons, Who Brought Black Stories to Broadway, Dies at 63

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      He left a career in tech and found success as a producer, winning four Tonys. His mission: staging productions about underrepresented communities.Ron Simons, who left his job as an executive at Microsoft to pursue his dream of acting but later found his métier as a theatrical producer — one of the relatively few Black ones on Broadway — and won four Tony Awards, died on June 12. He was 63.His death was announced by Simonsays Entertainment, his production company. A spokesman declined to say where he died or provide the cause of death.Mr. Simons had been acting for about a decade, but was unhappy with the roles he was being offered, when he started producing in 2009. He believed that his experience as an actor and businessman would serve him well as a producer.“I’ve found that many businesspeople can handle the question of financial viability but can’t judge a good story, so as an artist I also have that area of expertise,” he told DC Theater Arts in 2020. “Plus, even if it’s a good story, it has to be crafted to take it to the stage, so the leadership must understand how to get it there.”Success came quickly. He was a producer of “The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess,” starring Audra McDonald and Norm Lewis, which won the Tony for best revival of a musical in 2012. Mr. Simons won a second Tony a year later for best play for “Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike,” a comedy by Christopher Durang about three middle-aged siblings.Audra McDonald, center, in the musical “The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess,” which Mr. Simons produced.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesFrom left David Hyde Pierce, Kristine Nielsen and Sigourney Weaver in the Tony-winning “Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesWe 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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      ‘Doctor Who’ Season Finale Recap: Answers Through the Tears

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      Ncuti’s Gatwa’s first season as the Doctor closes with a typically ambitious episode.Season 1, Episode 8: ‘Empire of Death’If Ncuti Gatwa’s first full run of episodes manning the TARDIS has been characterized by anything, it’s big swings.Over the course of this season, the “Doctor Who” showrunner Russell T Davies has explored racism, queer love, the threat posed by technology and even fandom itself, with episodes ranging from the abstruse (“73 Yards”) to the strangely saccharine (“Space Babies,” which I have largely advised friends skip).The season has, at times, felt overstuffed, but it’s been the overhaul “Doctor Who” needed after losing some momentum under its previous showrunner, Chris Chibnall. Davies’s ambition is undeniable, and the penultimate episode — in which the evil god Sutekh returned after nearly 50 years — was one of the boldest, scariest “Doctor Who” episodes in years.While the finale doesn’t quite maintain the tension, “Empire of Death” is still an effective and satisfying end to the season. The episode opens with several loose ends to tie up: Sutekh needs to be stopped, and we still need to discover the identities of Ruby’s mother and her neighbor Mrs. Flood (Anita Dobson).The action picks back up in medias res, with Sutekh’s hollow-faced, red-eyed servants Susan (Susan Twist) and Harriet (Genesis Lynea) uncurling their palms and blowing out a brown dust that turns everyone it touches to ash. Kate (Jemma Redgrave) and her team at UNIT, Britain’s supersecret extraterrestrial task force, are quickly destroyed.Kate, played by Jemma Redgrave, and her team at UNIT run Britain’s supersecret extraterrestrial task force.Bad Wolf/BBC StudiosWe 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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      Conan O’Brien Doesn’t Matter

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      After hosting talk shows for nearly three decades, Conan O’Brien has come to believe that longevity is overrated. The first time he made this point to me was in April at a restaurant in New York, when he proposed that all statues and monuments should be made with durable soap that dissolves in seven years. One month later, in his office in Los Angeles, down the hall from his podcast studio, he went further, declaring himself anti-graveyard.Asked if this means he wants to be cremated, O’Brien responded: “I want to be left in a ditch and found by a jogger.” Taking up space in a cemetery seems selfish to him. “I say this in a positive way,” he added, leaning forward and shifting to a less jokey tone. “We don’t matter.”Since leaving late-night television in 2021, Conan O’Brien, 61, has become more reflective about life (and death), given to philosophical flights of fancy that he compulsively alternates with comic tangents. O’Brien famously champions the intersection between smart and stupid, but in conversation, what stands out is how quickly he moves between light and heavy. In one of several interviews, I asked him if he was happier now than when he was on television and his response was to question happiness itself. “At best it’s a fleeting moment after a rainstorm when the sun’s coming out,” he said. “Being contented comes in little moments, here and there.”The only thing trickier than being a late-night talk show host is being a former one. Some relapse (Jon Stewart). A few vanish (Johnny Carson, Craig Kilborn). Most enter a more modest era (David Letterman, Jay Leno). Since he started writing for “Saturday Night Live” in the 1980s, Conan O’Brien has built one of the most consequential careers in comedy. And while his late-night tenure is beloved by comedy nerds, helping define a sensibility for a generation of comedians like Bill Hader, Eric André and Nikki Glaser, his postshow work may turn out to be more impressive.It helps that his brand of joyfully goofy absurdity ages well. Stewart may have repeatedly beaten him out for Emmys during the George W. Bush years, but jokes about the Iraq War have a shorter shelf life than the masturbating bear, a recurring character on O’Brien’s late-night show that is exactly what it sounds like. His reputation has grown as new generations have discovered his work online.The other reason O’Brien has done well since leaving “Conan,” his final late-night show (after “Late Night” and “The Tonight Show”), is that he’s always been excited by and open to experimentation. “I enjoyed playing with that form,” he said of the talk show. “The stuff I’m really interested in, there’s so many opportunities to do it now. ‘Hot Ones’ is proof.”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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      Murray Hill’s Showbiz Dream

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      The almost famous drag king comedian Murray Hill struts through Melvyn’s Restaurant & Lounge, an old school steakhouse in Palm Springs, Calif.Melvyn’s is Mr. Hill’s kind of place. It has steak Diane on the menu, black-and-white head shots of celebrities on the walls and the aroma of crêpes suzette flambéing in the air. And Palm Springs is Mr. Hill’s kind of town — faded midcentury Hollywood glamour, with a modern dash of queer culture.Moving past diners wearing pastel polo shirts and golf shorts, Mr. Hill cuts a distinctive figure in his three-piece baby blue seersucker suit and white loafers. His pencil-thin mustache, tinted glasses and shiny rings complete a look that brings to mind a 1970s Las Vegas lounge singer crossed with a 1950s Borscht Belt comedian.He is a somebody, clearly. But who?He sits down, studies the menu. His glance falls on the section for steak toppings, which are listed under the heading “Enhancements.”“‘Enhancements’?” he cries, loudly enough for almost everyone in the place to hear. “I already got them. They’re back at the house. They’re on the drying rack!”Mr. Hill, 52, speaks with the hint of a Brooklyn wiseguy accent and punctuates anything remotely to do with the entertainment industry — the rungs of which he has been tirelessly climbing for some 30 years — with a cry of “Showbiz!”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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      ‘House of the Dragon’ Season 2 Premiere: Killing in the Name Of

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      The second season of HBO’s “Game of Thrones” prequel opens with an illicit affair and a misguided act of revenge.Season 2, Episode 1: ‘A Son for a Son’King Viserys is dead. Princess Rhaenyra (Emma D’Arcy) is deposed. Aegon Targaryen (Tom Glynn-Carney), the Second of His Name, sits the Iron Throne. Well, not so much sits as slouches — drunkenly, at that.With his frat-bro buddies lounging around him, equally in their cups, the newly crowned King of Westeros brags about his baby brother’s loyalty and complains about the flowery nickname bestowed upon him by the heralds, Aegon the Magnanimous. “No one knows what ‘magnanimous’ means,” he complains. A buddy suggests “Aegon the Generous” as an alternative, to general acclaim.But all around the wastrel king and his inebriated mates, the still-sharp swords of the sprawling Iron Throne bristle with danger. And the men are too busy making merry to notice the pair of child killers skulking across the throne room at that very moment, hiding in plain sight.This blend of comedy and cruelty, human foibles and inhuman violence, sums up the “House of the Dragon” project pretty neatly.This season, the very popular prequel to HBO’s world-bestriding fantasy colossus “Game of Thrones” — both shows are based on books set within the imagined world of Westeros by the author and co-creator George R.R. Martin — is shepherded by the sole showrunner, Ryan Condal, who also writes the premiere. (Condal’s former co-showrunner, the director Miguel Sapochnik, departed the show after its first season; Alan Taylor, who like Sapochnik is a “Thrones” alumnus, is behind the camera for this episode.)The improvements begin right away, with new opening titles that whisk us through the history of the ruling House Targaryen via the sewing of a grand tapestry. This replaces last season’s frankly impenetrable attempt to evoke “Thrones”’s clockwork credits with a stone-and-metal sluice of blood that not even I, a person with a quote from Martin’s novels tattooed on his right forearm, could follow.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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      The Business of Being Lorne Michaels

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      For 50 years, Michaels has managed both the weekly circus of producing “Saturday Night Live” and the broader task of keeping it relevant. How does he do it?It’s 1:01 a.m. on a Sunday morning in May, and Lorne Michaels, the creator and producer of “Saturday Night Live,” has just finished the final episode of the 49th season. He spent those 90 minutes pacing backstage, hands in pockets, surveying the actors, allowing himself only an occasional chuckle of satisfaction.As members of the cast flood onstage to celebrate another year in the books, they enthusiastically hug one another and the evening’s host, the actor Jake Gyllenhaal, and musical guest, the pop phenom Sabrina Carpenter.But on the floor, Michaels, 79, has just concluded his 20th show of the year with resignation: “I only see the mistakes,” he says. Some jokes could have landed better, and he is second-guessing his choice to shorten certain skits. He is likely to spend the weekend perseverating about every detail, he says. By Monday, he’ll find some degree of contentment — until he has to do it all over again.Michaels, through “S.N.L.,” has built an entertainment empire that has survived for half a century despite the dismantling of traditional television.He is loath to call himself a chief executive, but underneath his Canadian humility he has become something of a management guru: He spends his days recruiting supertalents, managing egos, meeting almost impossible weekly deadlines, wading into controversy — in most cases deftly — and navigating a media landscape that has put many of his peers out of business.All the while, unlike most chief executives who have become the face of their brand, he has studiously avoided the spotlight.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