Opera singer Plácido Domingo, shown here speaking in Spain last July, said earlier this month that he tested positive for the coronavirus.; Credit: Ricardo Rubio/Europa Press via Getty Images

Plácido Domingo has been hospitalized because of COVID-19-related complications, according to multiple reports.

He is in stable condition in an Acapulco, Mexico, hospital and will receive medical attention for "as long as the doctors find it necessary until a hoped-for full recovery," a spokesperson for Domingo told Opera News over the weekend.

Domingo's reported hospitalization comes just days after he posted a March 22 message on Facebook revealing that he had tested positive for the disease caused by the coronavirus.

"I feel it is my moral duty to announce that I tested positive for COVID19, also known as the Corona Virus. My family and I are and will remain individually isolated for as long as it is medically necessary. Today we all enjoyed good health, but I presented symptoms of coughing and fever, so I decided to take the test and the result was positive," Domingo said.

Domingo has been one of opera's most reliable and bankable stars and is known for his ability to sing tenor and baritone and in multiple languages, including Italian, English, Russian and Spanish.

Recently, the 79-year-old has been embroiled in controversy as several women accused the Spanish-born singer of sexual misconduct.

On March 10, NPR reported that LA Opera, which Domingo helped establish, announced that its investigation substantiated 10 "inappropriate conduct" claims levied against him dating back to as early as 1986. Domingo resigned as the LA Opera's general director in October.

Prior to that, he withdrew from a production of the Metropolitan Opera's performance of "Macbeth" amid allegations of sexual misconduct.

He has denied the allegations.

Domingo is among a growing list of celebrities who have announced they have tested positive for the coronavirus, including actor Tom Hanks and his wife Rita Wilson, actor Idris Elba, NBA star Kevin Durant, talk show host Andy Cohen and British Prime Minister Boris Johnson.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

This year's SXSW festival was cancelled due to the coronavirus pandemic. Now the films that were scheduled to be shown there have the option to be screened on Amazon.; Credit: Suzanne Cordeiro/AFP via Getty Images

Amazon Prime Video will be hosting some of the movies that never got screen time at this year's cancelled SXSW Film Festival. Amazon and SXSW announced today that the online film festival will be free to all audiences for 10 days — but you will need an Amazon account.

According to the statement, the slate of films offered will depend on which filmmakers choose to opt into the festival. "Filmmakers who choose to participate will receive a screening fee for streaming their film over the 10-day period... SXSW has shared details on the opportunity with 2020 filmmakers, who can opt in starting today."

SXSW joins a number of cancelled and delayed film festivals going the online route: the Tribeca Film Festival has been posting a short film every day, the Greenwich International Film Festival will be bringing its May festival online, and the Washington D.C. Environmental Film Festival has also posted a number of this year's movies, along with an archive going back to 1990. The film distributor Kino Lorber has also began working with independent and art-house theaters across the country to "screen" current independent releases, starting with the acclaimed Brazilian movie Bacurau.

No date has been announced for the Amazon Prime SXSW Film Festival, though the companies are shooting for an April launch.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

Brian Dennehy, known for his interpretations of characters created by Eugene O'Neill and Arthur Miller, has died at the age of 81.; Credit: Mike Piscitelli /Dennehy Family

Brian Dennehy could go from viciously intimidating on film to weak and weary on stage. The actor died yesterday of cardiac arrest. His family says his death was not related to COVID-19. He was 81 years old.

Dennehy had a vast and varied body of work. On screen he was known for his roles in First Blood, Cocoon, and Tommy Boy. In theater, he earned wide acclaim for his depiction of the beleagured Willy Loman in the 1999 Broadway revival of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman. That performance earned him one of his two Best Actor Tony Awards. He earned the other in 2003 for his portrayal of family patriarch James Tyrone in Eugene O'Neill's Long Days Journey into Night.

Brian Manion Dennehy was born in Bridgeport, Connecticut, on July 9, 1938, and grew up on Long Island, New York. He was tall and broad-chested and played football in high school, but was also in love with theater. As an Irish Catholic, he didn't see much of a future for himself in acting until he saw Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront. "For the first time when I saw that picture, I realized there were people in the business who looked like me, and who sounded like me. And who came from places I came from" he said in an interview with WHYY's Fresh Air in 1999. "Before that time, acting was like ballet — something I could appreciate but never consider myself a part of."

On stage, Dennehy was a revered actor, particularly in the Chicago theater scene. His two Tony-award winning performances began at the famed Goodman Theatre, where he also performed in Samuel Beckett's Krapp's Last Tape. On Broadway, his credits include Translations, Love Letters, and Inherit the Wind.

Earlier in his career, Dennehy wasn't picky about his roles — and he wasn't shy about it either. "I had kids," he said in the Fresh Air interview. "I had kids who were ready to go to college, and I knew I had the responsibility — which I did not resent — to make sure they had good educations." Dennhey said his wide range of roles on television, where he acted in everything from Dynasty to M*A*S*H to Just Shoot Me, helped him become a more efficient actor. Dennehy worked all throughout his life, most recently appearing in the television series The Blacklist, as well the upcoming independent film Driveways.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

The news seems better on Tropical Storm Isaac and its potential threat to next week's events. However, from network news, you'd never know it mattered much if the storm damaged other countries or American cities outside Tampa. Isaac coverage is a wonderful example of how we as journalists care so much about something when we'll personally be affected.

Monday morning at 10 we begin our live coverage from the convention. Patt Morrison will follow at 11 with an hour of regular talk programming. I'll be back at 1 p.m. for another hour from Tampa, followed by Patt at 2.  We'll follow this schedule for the days of the convention, Monday through Thursday.

Patt will make her way to Charlotte, North Carolina for the Democratic Convention the following week. It will be fun to compare the cultures of the two conventions, aside from the platforms and PR spin we'll be exposed to for two straight weeks.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

I know these Presidential debates aren’t debates in the historical sense.  Regardless, I’m looking forward to seeing how both men do on a topic of immense complexity.  Is Mitt Romney going to be more forthcoming about what tax deductions he’d want cut to keep his tax reform plan from ballooning the deficit?  Will President Obama  give more detail about how he would improve the economy, short of a government stimulus that could never get through a GOP Congress?

I’ll be live tweeting during the debate.  Join me @AirTalk #debates.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

After the San Francisco 49ers beat the Atlanta Falcons for the right to go to the Super Bowl, I tweeted my appreciation of a California team going to the game.  If no local team is in the running (or exists), I'm always glad to root for a Bay Area team that makes it.

My tweet got responses from some Southern Californians who have no interest in supporting a San Francisco team, especially given the Giants' World Series championship.  It goes without saying that many Dodger fans are loathe to support the Giants, under any circumstances. 

Given the historic bad blood between the teams, that's no surprise, but I think it runs even deeper.  The divide between Northern and Southern California is about more than sports, or even water rights.  It's rooted in distinct cultural differences between the two.

However, California has evolved to the point where the bigger cultural divide now might be between coastal and inland regions.  Rural Northern Californians typically dislike San Francisco far more than Angelenos do.  Similarly, inland Southern California residents often see Los Angeles as the prohibitively expensive home of two-hour traffic jams.

Until the Inland Empire or the San Joaquin Valley get major league teams, we won't see that rivalry playing out at a stadium near you.   In the meantime, I'm cheering on the Niners, and my state, on February 3rd.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

Virus Melt

True story.  It may not be incredibly exciting, but it's true!

So!  I work at home, on my laptop—  Writing, editing, corresponding—  In between I pay bills, schedule appointments, shop online for household necessities—  In fact, in spring my to do list got so long I just took to bed.  Oprah-style!  I'm pretty sure she does that— I remember seeing something like it in O Magazine.  Oprah's office is less a conventional box with desks than a soft boudoir of inspiration.  With cozy couches, pashmina throws, vases of fresh cut flowers.

So in the name of what we women of a certain age call "self care"—   I would plump pillows behind me, place my laptop on a blanket in front of me, sip herbal Teavana and I would type mindfully away for hours and hours.  And one afternoon?  I see it's time to pick up my kids from school—  So I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, put my weight on them, and— 

I can't walk!  I literally can't move!  My left hip is completely stiff!  Maybe Oprah has people turn her during the day!  As for me, I could star in that commercial: "I've fallen down and I can't get up!"

I drag myself down the stairs, hanging on to the bannister like an 85 year old.  Correction!  When my now-96 year-old dad was 85, he was doing handstands on the beach and swimming in the ocean!

And I realize, I've come to the age of that dreadful saying: "Use it or lose it."

I used to engage in regular exercise, it's true.  My VISA bill—  So heavy to lift!  Suggests I even pay monthly dues to a gym.  But I don't have the vanity I once had.  Since turning fifty, I've acquired this new "menopot" on my belly.  First I was panicked.  But then I discovered "mom jeans" and even better, at Costco?   Next to a $500 above-ground family pool?  A heap of "Ladies Power Stretch Capris."  How do I look in them?  Fortunately I don't see very well in my Costco glasses. 

And anyway, I have two teen daughters at home, for three more years.  I'd started thinking: if I don't go to the gym, that's 90 minutes more in the day.  90 more minutes to not argue with them and just go buy the strawberry pineapple shampoo they're always requesting—  And Prismacolor gray chisel tip markers—  And mochi, has to be the green tea mochi—  Flabby upper arms are a small price to pay for peace in the house!

But now I can barely even get to the car and, oh no!  Can I even push the gas pedal?

Next week: Fear and Loathing at Zumba

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

I had taken to working at home, on my laptop, in bed. But, talk about first world problems!  After working in bed all day my hip went out and I could barely walk.

So I realized—  I had to return to the gym.  Where I hadn't been for a few weeks.  Or maybe a couple of months.  Where was my gym bag?  In the trunk of my car, under some. . . Christmas stuff that I was planning to return.  OK, so it had been half a year.  Closer inspection revealed there were no less than two locks in the bag, both locked forever—  Because so much time goes by between gym visits I forget the combination. 

The first thing I notice, when I return to my fancy, brightly-lit yuppie gym, blinking like nosferatu—  Is that if I'm going to show up for classes like Cardio Barre, I need better outfits.  All the other Cardio Barristas are in stylish Lulumon wear—  These sort of fabulous. . . yoga. . . leotard. . . cat lady. . . jazz pants—  From the future—  And I am basically wearing floppy board shorts.  With paint on them.  I have come dressed to clean out my garage. 

So I purchase some athletic leggings, pair those with a tank—  Now I look in the mirror and realize—?  Stylish workout clothes only accentuate the fact that my body's not like everyone else's.  My hips are bigger than my waist.  I'm pear-shaped.  All the other Cardio Barre ladies have lean tomboy bodies like swimmers.  Who are they?  How much do they train?  Is cardio barre their actual job?

I switch to Zumba, where the crowd seems more mixed—  Which is to say, now there are also men in shiny leotard jazz pants.  And listen.  I'm not invested in being good at Zumba, the international Latin dance fitness sensation.  I'm a fiftysomething Chinese-German Lutheran.  You know how they say, "The Rhythm is Going to Getcha?"  Well, it doesn't.  And when I'm bested at Zumba by an 80 year old woman in a tennis skirt speaking Cantonese?  The ego smarts.

Thank God for Cardio Broadway.  My spirits rose when I saw a line of gold top hats along the mirror.  "One!  Singular sensation!"  We began with Cabaret.  "Wilkommen!  Bienvenue!"  To little knee bends and plies.  But then our too young, too hip instructor starts going, "And this next number's from Hamilton!"  Haven't seen it!  "And this is from Kinky Boots!  Newsies!"

Now, I've got my boss futuristic outfit, but I prefer an old-fashioned jam – say, Fiddler or Sound of Music. I guess I'll have to join the Senior Center.  Where they do "Broadway" with walkers.

That's more my speed.
 

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

Rob Marshall is either the bravest director in Hollywood or the most foolhardy. Three of his five theatrical films — the musicals "Chicago," "Nine" and now "Into the Woods" — don't just invite comparison to the eccentric genius of other artists, they insist on it.

Originally a Bob Fosse stage project, "Chicago" was so imbued with Fosse's vitriolic spirit that even in Marshall's more straightforward hands the movie version felt like the missing piece in a triptych with Fosse's "Cabaret" and "All That Jazz."

"Nine" is the musical created from Fellini's masterpiece "8 1/2."

(Marcello Mastroianni in Fellini's "8 1/2")

Odd enough that someone thought Fellini's intimate but epic fugue on his own creative doubts and sexual fantasies should be adapted by others for Broadway; stranger still to re-import the hybrid back to the screen, in the workmanlike form Marshall gave to it.

And now we have "Into the Woods," a film placing Marshall in the long line of moviemakers defeated by Sondheim's difficult musical brilliance and penchant for challenging material. It's distinguished company, reaching back all the way to "A Hard Day's Night" director Richard Lester's re-invention of "A Funny Thing Happened (On the Way to the Forum)" as a kind of psychedelic Keystone Cops movie, and forward to Tim Burton's more adept but still wrong-headed Murnau-meets-Hammer-Horror approach to "Sweeney Todd."

Even director Hal Prince, the principal theatrical collaborator during Sondheim's most fertile and formative period, made an absolute hash of their shared stage success "A Little Night Music" in a film version later disavowed by both men, and mostly remembered for Elizabeth Taylor's chirpy and discernibly flat rendition of "Send in the Clowns."

Liz singing "Send in the Flat Clowns"

It's just possible that the real problem is that Sondheim's self-reflexive and deconstructive impulse (his musicals are almost always and to varying degrees commentaries on the Musical itself) makes his projects unfit for screen adaptation. In movies, we miss the artifice of the proscenium, the sweat on the actor's brow. But if any of Sondheim's late-period projects held out the hope of a successful movie version it was surely "Into the Woods," a droll recombination of the fairytale form's literary DNA into something like Sondheim's masterpiece "Company," set in a realm of magic beanstalks and slippers made of glass.

The characters are straight out of the Disney pantheon (or "Shrek"): Cinderella meets Rapunzel meets Red Riding Hood meets Jack and his Beanstalk, with a generic Wicked Witch, a couple of not so charming Prince Charmings, plus a peasant couple thrown in. But the issues at stake — marital fidelity, raising children, the fear of aging and death — are complicated, and filled with gray tones which Sondheim and librettist James Lapine masterfully etched across the fairytale's Manichean black and white.

What seemed audacious when Sondheim and Lapine conceived it in 1987 ought to fit comfortably into the era of "Sleepy Hollow" and "Maleficent," but in Marshall's hands, it does not. The good news is that though populated by what old school TV shows used to call a Galaxy of Today's Brightest Stars (Anna Kendrick as an appealingly unglamorous Cinderella; Chris Pine as the nymphomaniac Prince who stalks her; Meryl Streep quite moving in the Wicked Witch role made famous on Broadway by Bernadette Peters) this is mostly a very well-sung movie. There have been controversial excisions and revisions (enabled by Lapine, who is Marshall's screenwriter), but as an introduction to one of Sondheim's more beloved scores, "Into the Woods" makes for a solid musical primer.

WATCH: The "Into the Woods" trailer

But though Marshall has taken a lot of flack for daring to cut out characters (most notably the stage production's Narrator, who served as a kind of Greek Chorus in the original) and for softening plot points (Rapunzel died onstage), the big problem is that Marshall isn't nearly ruthless enough in rethinking "Into the Woods" as an honest-to-God movie. There are many moments (Johnny Depp ending a scene with a stagy howl at the Moon that virtually screams "and... fade out!;" the unseen death of a major character) where Marshall embraces the limitations of stagecraft when something bigger and more cinematic is needed, as if afraid to mar the pedigree of Broadway with Hollywood's debased visual stamp.

"Giants in the Sky," Jack's coming-of-age number, where he describes finding manhood in the sexual and physical dangers available above the clouds in the Giant's Castle, is a showstopper onstage, where we're willing to accept rhetoric in place of physical immediacy. Onscreen, it's simply frustrating for a character to suddenly appear and tell us he's just had the adventure of a lifetime, and that it's too bad we missed it.

The Woods themselves — both character and symbol onstage, a kind of living maze representing moral confusion — are lush here and geographically nondescript, like a particularly plush unit set, done up in a generic Lloyd Webber-meets-Disney house style.

Perhaps most unfortunately of all, Marshall seems constitutionally incapable of conveying the pervasive satiric impulse at the heart of the Sondheim/Lapine original, which could have been called "What Happens After Happily Ever After." Without ironic distancing, the film's second half, where the characters betray each other in decidedly contemporary sexual and self-interested terms, plays as non-sequitur.

It's possible to imagine a more idiosyncratic movie director who both understands and embraces the arsenal of cinematic effects available through editing, camera movement and design transforming "Into the Woods" into a rousing cinematic triumph — the young Terry Gilliam comes to mind. But Hollywood doesn't really embrace its daring cranks and visionaries very often, as Gilliam's difficult career demonstrates. Whenever possible, today's studios like to import genius at a safe remove, and then hand it off to a reliable journeyman who won't make waves or piss off the suits. The limitations of that approach are visible in every scene of "Into the Woods," and perhaps they explain its failure best of all. It's one thing not to be up to the task of adapting a work of odd brilliance. It's something else again to not even take it on.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

Andrew J. West stars in Anna Mastro's "Walter"; Credit: "Walter"

It's always dicey to characterize a major film festival based on the movies you personally see there, because no matter how diligent you try to be, your impression will always be statistically anecdotal.

I'll see perhaps 10 percent of the films at this year's Palm Springs International Film Festival by the time they roll up the red carpets for the final time, added to the 25 or so I'd watched before I got here, owing to the festival's unique programming policies.

Not bad considering there are 190 movies being screened. So I think I've got the feel of things here. I wouldn't want my doctor to diagnose me based on a test with a 35 to 40 percent chance of accuracy, but I'm not a doctor. Instead of "Do no harm," I quote Spencer Tracy to myself. He said the secret to the creative process is to "just look 'em in the eye and tell 'em the truth."

And the truth is, with the exception of a couple of documentaries and a horror movie, virtually every film I've seen at Palm Springs so far shared some obvious characteristics: the Palm Springs International Film Festival loves it some poignancy and affirmation.

I've already commented on "Match," the Patrick Stewart acting showcase, and "Cowboys," a very funny Croatian comedy with cross-currents of seriousness. I may comment later about "Today," Iran's Oscar submission. (It's terrific by the way, a deeply affecting story about a burnt out cab driver who gets yanked into the world of a battered, unwed mother who steps into his cab.)

(Still from "Today” (Emrooz) by Iranian filmmaker Reza Mirkarimi)

I also saw an Anne Hathaway passion project called "Song One" here. I'm not going to write about it because I'm not in the mood to stomp on somebody else's butterfly. Plus the dramedy "1001 Grams" by the splendiferous-ly named Norwegian Bent Hamer, whose deadpan satire is routinely compared to Jacques Tati.

WATCH the official trailer for "1001 Grams," which includes some foreign languages

At their best, these are all movies that want to move the audience to tears before bouncing a ray of hope off the screen at them. At their worst, these movies are about pain in the same way Novocain is. They acknowledge its reality, in order to neutralize it.

Filmmaker Anna Mastro's debut film "Walter" (one of the Palm Springs premieres) fits what seems to be the festival's programming model, too, and is, I think, a really quite appealing little indie film, with the by now familiar mildly magical realist bent.

It's is a story about grief, though one with a screwball premise so that it doesn't quite present that way at first. Walter (portrayed with charisma and nuance by Andrew J. West) is a 20-something slacker, but a very uptight one, with a soldier's commitment to dress and routine.

He still lives with mom (Virginia Madsen, now shifting toward the character actress portion of her career with ease and grace) and has a job one rung above fast food worker on the ladder of success: He's a ticket taker at the local multiplex.

But what the world surely sees as failure, Walter knows to be his cover for a far more important vocation. Walter's father died when he was just 10 years old; ever since the funeral, Walter has realized something we don't: His real job in life is to decide where people go after they die.

His snap judgments secretly send people to heaven or hell ... until a dead guy from Walter's past shows up and demands that Walter determine his fate, and then all hell breaks loose.

It's an odd premise, bordering on the labored, but Mastro and her extremely appealing cast pull it off, in part by wearing their influences on their sleeves. The fingerprints of Wes Anderson are all over this picture, especially in terms of the way shots are framed and music is used, and I was able to identify the pivotal contribution of "Beasts of the Southern Wild" co-composer Dan Romer by ear, long before I noticed his screen credit.

I suppose that's supposed to be a damning criticism of a first-timer, but I don't see it that way. Tarantino aped Scorsese for years and virtually remade a minor Hong Kong gangster picture when he debuted with "Reservoir Dogs."

Spielberg acknowledges his debt to David Lean. Hitchcock's apprenticeship at Germany's UFA film studio resulted in a lifelong visual and thematic debt to the great Expressionist master Fritz Lang.

The question is, what do you do with your influences, how do you make them your own? And Mastro — who has a real gift for casting, pacing a scene and maneuvering her actors easily between farce and seriousness — has her own talents. She understands how Anderson's visual syntax has become a cinematic shorthand for quirk, and she deploys it to that effect, then tells the story at hand.

There are some issues with that story, though. There's a girl in concessions (Leven Rambin) Walter likes, and there's a bully at work. For all its surface oddity, the mechanical underpinnings of "Walter" frequently feel like they belong in an "American Pie" sequel.

And yet this movie won me over. I liked its faith in the movie palace as a place that still vibrates with the marvelous. I found a dream sequence, where Rambin undresses to camera while sprawled on a rich yellow bed of movie house popcorn hilarious and deeply expressive.

But I think my affection for this picture is mostly centered on Mastro and her cast, which includes a standout performance by Justin Kirk as a very grounded ghost and a broad but successful cameo from William H. Macy as Walter's psychiatrist. They're all groping toward something rather grim and real about loss, while doing their best to serve up some laughs and wonder along the way.

It touched me, because it feels kind of wise.

Off-Ramp contributor R.H. Greene, former editor of Boxoffice Magazine, is in Palm Spring this week to cover the 26th Annual Palm Springs International Film Festival. Look for his missives here, and listen Saturday at noon to Off-Ramp, when he'll interview Chaz Ebert about her late husband Roger Ebert's contributions to the film festival circuit.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

There are still a couple dozen tickets left for one of the most interestingly-cast performances of H.G. Wells, Orson Welles and Howard Koch's "War of the Worlds." On Saturday, Jan. 17,  generations of Star Trek actors will take on the world's most famous radio show.

The cast — directed by Jim Fall — features: René Auberjonois (“Star Trek: Deep Space Nine”), Michael Dorn (“Star Trek: TNG”), Dean Haglund (“The X-Files”), Walter Koenig ("Star Trek"), Linda Park ("Star Trek: Enterprise"), Jason Ritter (“The Event”), Tim Russ (“Star Trek: Voyager”), Armin Shimerman (“Star Trek: Deep Space Nine”) and Wil Wheaton, playing... Orson Welles.

The performance is a fundraiser for Sci-Fest LA, the new annual science fiction play festival, so tickets aren't cheap — but they're scarce, and this looks like a memorable night.

KPCC and "Off-Ramp" celebrated the 75th anniversary of the broadcast last year by distributing the original 1938 performance, and a new documentary, internationally... introduced by George Takei, another original Trek actor you might have heard of.

War of the Worlds: Sat., Jan. 17,  8 PM; The Acme Theatre, 135 North La Brea Ave. LA CA 90036

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

New entrance at The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. ; Credit: Tim Street-Porter/The Huntington

For years, I’d feared the worst. Behind that intrusive belt of chain link and green canvas fence, with all the hidden noise of power digging machines, smashing jackhammers and growling tractors going on behind it, and heaps of dirt piled high, I dreaded that something terrible was going on in the dark, hidden heart of our dear old Huntington.

We were promised a new visitor center, a new store, a new cafe and restaurant. I imagined the Disney-fied worst: Henry Huntington’s Roller Coaster Red Car Ride; Pinky’s Pinkberry Parlor. The Blue Boy Fashion Center. Maybe even a giant Rem Koolhaas-LACMA style amoeba of purple reinforced concrete sprawling all over the lawns between the library and the old gallery.

My fears were groundless. The $68 million (not much more than the Getty paid for its new Manet) 52,000 square foot Education and Visitor Center addition is in perfect harmony with the early 20th Century original library and art gallery, perhaps more so than some previous increments, such as the nearby and blankly imposing Munger Research Center. 

The addition is named after outgoing Huntington chief Steven S. Koblik, who engineered much of the funding and planning for the facility. He’s got something to be proud of in his retirement: a new garden-centered segment of new facilities that founder, pioneer transit tycoon Henry Huntington, would probably have enthused over.

(The Huntington Store at The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. Photo: Tim Porter-Street/The Huntington)

With its mighty $400 million endowment and the muscular fundraising power that enticed squillionaire Charlie Munger to donate hugely to this project (not to mention that research center), the venerable Huntington institution could have easily erected something expensively and grandiloquently modern.  

But its directorate and patrons seem to understand an important fact about the place: Most visitors don’t go there to be dazzled. We go there to be enthralled, even comforted by the century-old institution’s enduring and deeply reassuring ambiance that we are privileged to inhabit during our visits to its galleries of great art, its acreage of exquisite gardens and Arcadian vistas.

The Huntington possesses what designer Sheryl Barton, who co-created the new landscaping with the Huntington’s Jim Folsom, spoke of at the opening press conference as “the choreography of experience.”

That experience includes the new California-Mediterranean groves and gardens and the low-lying new structure that includes an expanded store, new classrooms, courts, cafes and an auditorium. With its simple, Tuscan-columned loggias and red-tiled roofs (and, oh, yes, even that showy glass dome on the Rose Hills Foundation Garden Court), it all effortlessly blends into the traditional whole.

Although the Huntington doesn’t seem to be planning on a new influx of visitors, it’s hard to see this new, more user-friendly front office isn’t going to attract more people to its San Marino location than the current 600,000 per year.

Particularly considering how regional museum attendance in general has boomed over recent decades. Will this abate the quiet private experience many of us Huntington fans have shared and treasured over the years?

(The Huntington will be installing this Alexander Calder sculpture, the  Jerusalem Stabile, this spring. Here, it's seen at the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Calder Foundation; gift of the Philip & Muriel Berman Foundation to the Calder Foundation. Copyright © 2015 Calder Foundation /Artists Rights Society (ARS) Used with permission of The Huntington)

Probably. But there will also be important new things to see — like  Alexander Calder’s 12-by-20-foot Jerusalem Stabile, which beckons you into the new addition, and two powerful, newly acquired murals by the great 20th Century California artists Millard Sheets and Doyle Lane. Plus a new and glorious vista from the cafe’s terrace over to the original old Huntington villa — now gallery — where all this began, over a century ago.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

; Credit: John Rabe

Dear Off-Ramp fans,

What is a blog, after all? Words and images.

And what is a radio story on the web? Words, images, and sound.

Can't they live together in harmony? We say YES.

And with that in mind, we're killing the Off-Ramp blog page.  

But don't fear; we're not cutting back on content: everything that would have found a home here - Marc Haefele's art reviews, recommendations for fun events, etc. -- will now be on the regular web page of the Off-Ramp radio show. 

All the old blog entries will continue to stay on this page as an archive, like Catherine Deneuve's fading vampire lovers in The Hunger.

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

Two security guards talk on the campus of the closed McKinley School, part of the Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD) system, in Compton, California.; Credit: ROBYN BECK/AFP via Getty Images

Los Angeles Unified School District officials are making plans for summer — and for now, none of those plans involve reopening school campuses shuttered by the coronavirus pandemic.

In a video address Monday, Superintendent Austin Beutner said LAUSD leaders have "made no decisions" about whether the fall semester — still scheduled to begin on August 18 — will involve students in classrooms, online or both. He said it's not clear what the public health conditions will allow.

Last week, Governor Gavin Newsom surprised many educators when he suggested California schools could resume in-person instruction early — perhaps even as soon as mid-July. Newsom fears the longer students remain at home, the farther they'll fall behind academically. Read more about this on LAist. 

We get the latest on LAUSD’s plans (or lack of them) for the upcoming school year. Plus, if you’re an LAUSD parent or student, weigh in by calling 866-893-5722. 

With files from LAist.

Guest:

Kyle Stokes, education reporter for KPCC; he tweets @kystokes

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

Police and lifeguards patrol as people walk on the beach south of Newport Pier on May 3, 2020 in Newport Beach, California. ; Credit: Michael Heiman/Getty Images

After the cities of San Clemente and Laguna Beach were given the OK by state officials on Monday to reopen beaches with limited conditions, the California Natural Resources Agency gave Dana Point, Seal Beach and Huntington Beach the green light on Tuesday after approving the plans they submitted for safe reopening.

The plans vary as far as when the beach can be used, but the common thread through each is that leisure activities like sunbathing or large gatherings of people would not be allowed, and that beachgoers will be required to remain active while on the sand. 

The news comes as Orange County Supervisors voted 3-2 on Tuesday to submit a plan to submit to Sacramento that would create a set of uniform rules for reopening beaches countywide. Supervisor Lisa Bartlett spearheaded the proposal, which received pushback from Supervisors Don Wagner and Michelle Steel who argue that after being singled out by Governor Gavin Newsom last week when he ordered a “hard close” on all state and local beaches in Orange County, taking issue with the idea of the county bowing to pressure from the state.

Today on AirTalk, we’ll check back in with Supervisor Bartlett, who joined us Monday on AirTalk, to find out more about the specifics of the county’s plan to reopen its beaches.

Guest:

Lisa Bartlett, Orange County Supervisor representing the Fifth County District, which encompasses South County cities like Aliso Viejo, San Clemente, Laguna Beach, Dana Point and more; she tweets @OCSupBartlett

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.

Phlebotomists process specimens of people getting tested for coronavirus antibodies in Spring Valley. ; Credit: Yana Paskova/Getty Images

As of Tuesday afternoon, L.A. County has at least 1,314 deaths and 27,836 confirmed cases of coronavirus.

New confirmed infections per day in the U.S. exceed 20,000, and deaths per day are well over 1,000,000 according to figures from Johns Hopkins University. And public health officials warn that the failure to flatten the curve and drive down the infection rate in places could lead to many more deaths — perhaps tens of thousands — as people are allowed to venture out and businesses reopen. From the marbled halls of Italy to the wheat fields of Kansas, health authorities are increasingly warning that the question isn’t whether a second wave of coronavirus infections and deaths will hit, but when — and how badly. President Donald Trump said his COVID-19 task force would keep working but focus more on rebooting the economy. According to the Orange County Register, more OC beaches received approval to open with limited hours.

Today on AirTalk, we get the latest on COVID-19. Do you have questions for our infectious disease specialist? Join the conversation by calling 866-893-5722. 

With files from LAist and the Associated Press 

Guest: 

Peter Chin-Hong, M.D., infectious disease specialist and professor of medicine at the UCSF Medical Center; he tweets @PCH_SF

This content is from Southern California Public Radio. View the original story at SCPR.org.