A nearly 4-foot wooden horn known as a holztrompete, specially constructed to the composer's somewhat ambiguous specifications, signals the arrival of the ship carrying Isolde and King Marke to Brittany, inspiring a mortally wounded Tristan to hang on to life for a few more moments.

“Joyous,” said Billy R. Hunter Jr., the Metropolitan Opera's principal trumpet, who plays the wooden horn from stage left.

Yuval Sharon's compelling new production starring Lise Davidsen that opened Monday to mostly rave reviews features a specially constructed horn nearly Hunter's height — it measures a minimum 46.5 inches and lengthens slightly if the tuning slide is turned.

“You listen to the sound of the holztrompete and the imitation, it’s a clear difference,” said bass-baritone Ryan Speedo Green, who sings Marke alongside Davidsen’s Isolde and Michael Spyres’ Tristan. “It blows my mind to think that Wagner created it himself. How many humans have created an instrument? It really sounds like victory.”

Wagner's innovations went beyond the score

While the Wagner Tuba was invented in the 1850s by the composer for his Ring Cycle to bridge the sounds of horn and trombones, the holztrompete's details are more nebulous.

Wagner wrote the notes for an English horn but included a footnote to his score saying it should have “the effect of a very powerful natural instrument, such as the alphorn.” As pointed out in research by Daniël Vernooij, Wagner added in a June 15, 1861, letter to violinist and conductor Heinrich Esser that he wanted it to be “at least three feet long, made of wood, almost trumpet-like, slightly curved downwards so that the bell is open to the side.”

While a wood trumpet was used at the opera’s premiere, Wagner’s Bayreuth Festival in Germany switched in 1891 to a newly created woodwind called the Heckel-clarina, which resembled a soprano saxophone. Conductor Hans Richter replaced that at Bayreuth in 1902 with a tárogató, a woodwind common to Hungarian folk music. The tárogató was used by the Met when James Levine conducted “Tristan” from 1981 through 2008.

Mitch Weiss, a Met clarinet for 38 years, took over the tárogató in the 1980s from Roger Hiller.

“One day he said, `I’m sick and tired of playing this. You play it.′ And he handed me the tárogató,” recalled Weiss, now 93.

And then, Weiss had to audition for Levine alongside principal trumpet Mel Broiles.

“We each had to play the solo,” Weiss said. “I played it on a tárogató and the first trumpet played it on a low horn. And Jimmy said: `Tárogató plays it.'”

“The Hungarians used it as a battle cry instrument because it was very loud,” said Dean LeBlanc, a Met orchestra clarinet and bass clarinet who played the tárogató in the 2016 production conducted by Simon Rattle.

Barenboim made the wooden trumpet's modern Met introduction

When Daniel Barenboim led the opera at the Met later in 2008, he brought his own holztrompete.

“He pulled out this thing. I’m like: What in the world?” Hunter recalled. He said Barenboim told him, “'This is what we use at Bayreuth.'”

Barenboim took the horn with him after the run. Thomas Lausmann, hired in 2019 as the Met’s director of music administration, ordered a new one to be manufactured by Thein Brass in Bremen, Germany, which built its initial version for the Hamburg State Opera.

“They recreated an instrument that they believed would come very, very close to the instrument Wagner would have had in his time,” Lausmann said.

Hunter said the bells of the Barenboim and current Met version are slightly different. Martin Wagemann, principal trumpet of the Deutsch Oper Berlin, has played the Holztrompete at Bayreuth since 2018. He uses different versions at each hall.

“The Deutsche Oper trumpet sounds slightly darker and woodier, but it is softer and therefore harder to articulate,” Wagemann wrote in an email. “The Bayreuth instrument has slightly better intonation and a brighter sound, which allows for clearer articulation — something you need in the Bayreuth acoustic.”

Hunter compared the holztrompete to a bugle. Its one valve lowers the notes down a step — a trumpet has three valves.

“On a regular trumpet, there’s slides you can adjust with pitch but with this, there is no adjustment,” Hunter said.

There's no place like home for practice

Preparing for the mostly sold-out run through April 4, Hunter practiced for a month in the living room of his Upper West Side apartment, with an audience of his wife — who is a pianist — and their children.

“If the kids like it, then I know it’s OK,” Hunter said. “It’s like the food. If they eat the food, it means you did a good job.”

Hunter finishes the first act six stories above the stage in The Domes at the tip of the auditorium, where the banda of trumpets and trombones loudly greets Tristan's ship in Cornwall. The boat's arrival at Monday's production premiere also signaled Hunter's departure: He had about three hours until the wooden horn was needed.

“I left to put my daughters to sleep, relieve grandpa and wait for my wife to return from work,” Hunter said.

The casts, which scholars call “imprints of pain,” dramatically capture the position each resident was in when they died in 79 AD. The reproductions were created by pouring liquid plaster into the voids left by the decomposed bodies in the hardened ash.

Curators wanted to “give dignity to these people who are like us -- women, children, men -- who died during the eruption, but at the same time make it understandable,” said Gabriel Zuchtriegel, director of the Archaeological Park of Pompeii, adding that they want people ”to understand what really happened in Pompeii."

Invented by Giuseppe Fiorelli in 1863, the technique to create the plaster casts faithfully preserves the position, expression of pain and clothing details of the victims, making them unique testimonies. It is still used by the team of scholars conducting research at the archaeological park of Pompeii.

Pompeii is the only known site that allows the recovery of this type of evidence, enabling visitors to see the reproduction of objects that were destroyed and the people who lived and died at that moment.

The eruption of Mount Vesuvius killed an estimated 2,000 residents within the city, with total regional casualties reaching up to 16,000. The city of Pompeii was covered by ash, then later solidified by pyroclastic flows.

During the excavations in Pompeii, the remains of over a thousand victims of the eruption were found trapped in their homes or shelters, buried by a rain of pumice stones and volcanic rock, or killed by the collapse of roofs and walls under the weight of the volcanic debris, which reached a height of about three meters (about 10 feet.)

The 22 casts were chosen among the best preserved remains. The victims were found across the city, from the inner areas to the gates and roads leading out of the town, where the inhabitants fled in search of safety.

“They have a strong emotional impact on visitors and can be very moving," said Silvia Martina Bertesago, archaeologist at the Pompeii Archaeological Park.

“Through the analyses we can carry out today with increasingly advanced techniques, we can also understand their age and sex, but also whether they had particular diseases or particular types of diet,” she said.

The exhibition is housed in the porticoes of the Palestra Grande, located opposite the Amphitheatre. As well as an area dedicated to human remains, it also includes displays of findings such as plants and food that remained buried for centuries under meters of ash and lava.

Now, he's paving the way for a chance at Paralympic medals. As a visually impaired athlete, the 16-year-old Gustafson relies on her sibling, Spenser, to guide her through the course at the Milan Cortina Games.

It’s a bond forged by years of skiing together in Minnesota and Colorado, and strengthened by honesty — they’re not afraid to share their true thoughts — and, above all, trust. Because they inspect the course together, go over a game plan together and then Meg follows the orange blur — Spenser wears that color of snow pants and jacket to stand out — down the hill.

“We try to keep the brother-sister rivalry out of the relationship before and during the race. But after the race, sometimes it comes out," the 18-year-old Spenser said with a laugh. “We’re very close on and off the slopes, and this has only made us closer.”

On Thursday, the duo turned in their best performance yet — taking fifth in the giant slalom in the visually impaired classification. They close out their Paralympics with a slalom on Saturday, which is Meg’s best event and one where she could bring home a medal. She was also sixth in the downhill, seventh in the Alpine combined and eighth in the super-G.

For them, it’s all about communication. She listens to his instructions on the course via their Bluetooth headsets.

In fact, his words are all she hears.

“Just blocking everything out except for your guide and the snow underneath your feet is definitely a big part,” Meg explained. “I think that being brother and sister helps our relationship because I’m not afraid to criticize our dynamics. But I’m also open to him and all of his suggestions.”

Genetic disorder affects the ligaments in her eyes

Meg was born with a genetic disorder that affected the ligaments in her eyes and gives her tunnel vision. She had a fully detached retina at 12, which required four surgeries, and another two operations on the other eye. She said she has seven degrees of vision, which is why their guide-athlete tandem is a little different.

“I prefer him straight in the line of where I’m going to ski because I can only either focus on him or the gate. I cannot see both at the same time,” Meg explained.

What that means is Spenser skis about a gate ahead of her. He hollers instructions, too, simple cues like, “left-footed hairpin,” to signify a challenging set of upcoming slalom gates.

“I’ll remind her to stand tall and get her hips up, stuff like that,” Spenser said.

His mission is simple: Don't mess up. Because if he gets too far ahead, they can be disqualified. And if he falls, her run is over as well.

“I can’t crash. I can’t lose a ski,” Spenser said. “I have my bindings probably turned up way too high, because I’m too scared of losing a ski.”

Laughed Meg: “Yeah, I think that’s when the sibling rivalry would really come out.”

How it began

They grew up skiing at Hyland Hills Ski Area in Minnesota. For vacations, they frequently went West to the slopes of Colorado. She’d always try to keep up with Spenser.

The family eventually moved to Colorado, with both taking part in ski racing and both members of Ski and Snowboard Club Vail. Meg competed against able-bodied racers.

They were introduced to the Para skiing community through Erik Petersen, the competition center director at the National Sports Center for the Disabled in Winter Park.

From there, the tandem quickly ascended. Meg won seven FIS races in the lead-up to the Paralympics. Her brother has been helping guide the way.

“It’s definitely a collaboration,” Meg said. “Ultimately, if he skis a different line than I take, I’m typically going to follow him. I rely heavily on his line. So if he says this is the fastest line, I am going to trust him on that and follow his line.”

Although they listen to each other, they're not afraid to voice their opinions.

You know, like siblings do.

“Definitely can be antagonistic,” Spenser cracked about their relationship. “But I think the sibling combo is one of the more effective combos of (visually impaired) guide-to-athletes. You’re not afraid to tell the other person what you think, which is important. And they also know the athlete. They know what’s going to push them too far and what’s not going to be the best for their performance.”

Spenser has ski-racing ambitions one day, too. He’d like to compete in college. But this has been a “super-cool experience to be here,” he said.

Same for Meg.

“It’s incredible that I get to compete with my big brother," Meg said. “It's a great experience.”

It's no secret that buying concert tickets can be a frustrating and costly process. And Live Nation, the parent company of Ticketmaster since 2010, has been the target for much of the backlash from concertgoers, artists and regulators.

On Monday, days into a trial, the Justice Department said it reached a tentative agreement to settle charges that Live Nation runs a monopoly squelching competition and driving up prices for live music. The DOJ hailed new options for promoters and venues that it said would end this illegal control. While continuing to maintain the allegations were without merit, Live Nation said the deal would give artists more flexibility for ticketing while also keeping costs affordable for fans.

What the settlement didn't do was separate Ticketmaster from Live Nation, an original goal of the DOJ's 2024 complaint.

Critics described the deal, which still needs court approval, as a win for the company over consumers. More than two dozen states vowed to keep fighting the case.

Meanwhile, industry experts say a lot more needs to be done beyond this legal battle to actually relieve concertgoers’ biggest headaches. Here's what we know.

The deal's details

Ticketmaster is widely considered to be the world’s largest ticket seller for live events. According to an annual report, it distributed 646 million tickets through its systems in 2025. And Live Nation owned, operated, had exclusive booking rights or an equity interest in 460 venues around the world, 78 of which were amphitheaters.

But this case targets major concert venues that sell tickets through Ticketmaster, generally locations with 8,000 seats or more. A “term sheet” spelling out the details said Live Nation agreed to let these venues essentially sign new agreements to sell a certain portion of tickets through entities other than Ticketmaster. Still, fully exclusive options with Ticketmaster would also be on the table for up to four years.

Specifically for amphitheaters that Live Nation already owns or operates out of, the company also pledged to cap service fees at 15%. Also for the amphitheaters, promoters may choose how to distribute up to 50% of the tickets at their own discretion.

In theory, expanding selling options could mean consumers see more choices. But the deal only requires it to be an option, not an immediate threshold, for venues to turn to competitors like SeatGeek or AXS.

On the tech side, while Ticketmaster also agreed to develop back-end technology for listing and delivering tickets for “any third-party primary marketplaces," but only for applicable venues that chose to do so.

Questioning the benefits for consumers

Live Nation would “continue to benefit from the synergy of selling both the shows and the tickets,” said Bill Werde, director of Syracuse University’s Bandier music business program. And even if others tap into Ticketmaster’s tech, he added, “I have to imagine they will always have a competitive advantage as the company that owns it.”

Werde is skeptical about consumers benefits. He says the agreement addresses just “one small part” of concertgoers' top frustrations: fees. Even there, the proposed 15% cap is limited to amphitheaters, not all venues that Live Nation owns or operates out of.

Others say it is still unclear how that compares to current charges overall. Service fees are shared between both venues and ticketing sites.

Shubha Ghosh, director of intellectual property law at Syracuse, said at best he expects to see a small dent in ticket prices. He doubts high-profile acts will suddenly start charging less or that aggressive resellers will slow down anytime soon — which he and Wede noted account for the bulk of the sky-high prices U.S. consumers face today, but is beyond the scope of this case.

Meanwhile, Live Nation maintained it made significant concessions to the government. Dan Wall, executive vice president of Live Nation's corporate and regulatory affairs, called the agreement a “very good outcome for artists and venues” and said the terms were stronger than what the government has been able to obtain in past competition cases.

“People who are trying to dismiss this as inadequate are not being realistic,” Wall said.

States' damage claims

Monday's tentative deal would create a $280 million settlement fund for the states' damage claims.

Critics called the amount a drop in the bucket when compared to Live Nation's total revenue of $25.2 billion last year.

But the $280 million, all or a portion, would only be paid out if states sign on to the deal. Attorneys general of more than two dozen states — including New York and California — pledged to keep fighting. That could potentially lead to more money, or what they argue are better benefits for consumers and artists than the Justice Department deal provides.

“There is an opportunity for the states, if they want to keep litigating, to continue to try to break (Live Nation) up,” said Kenneth Dintzer, a partner at law firm Crowell & Moring and former senior trial counsel in the DOJ’s Antitrust Division. “So this creates a floor, not a ceiling necessarily."

Next legal steps

Again, the tentative settlement still needs court approval. Dintzer, who worked at the DOJ for over 30 years, said the terms outlined now seem like the "bare bones" — noting key details need to be filled in before a final order.

And all eyes are on future litigation. The states that rejected the DOJ deal have vowed to press on, although they have asked the judge to scrap the current trial and start with a new jury in a month or two.

“We will keep fighting this case without the federal government so that we can secure justice for all those harmed by Live Nation’s monopoly,” New York Attorney General Letitia James said following Monday's announcement.

A DOJ spokesperson said the states were free to pursue their claims — but that the federal government “sought meaningful relief for consumers now” rather than draw-out litigation. The official added that the settlement would “open up” the ticketing marketplace and “enable competition which will lower prices.” Monday’s pact arrives amid wider shifts at the DOJ under the Trump administration, which ousted the agency’s antitrust division head last month.

More needs to be done, experts say

Meanwhile, industry experts stress more needs to be done to help concertgoers that isn't covered in this case. Werde pointed to the largely unregulated reselling market in the U.S. — where a “typical fan can’t even buy a ticket" amid overwhelming demand during mass ticket drops and attacks from bots, which quickly scoop up tickets to resell them at steeper prices.

Werde called for stronger laws to combat aggressive scalping, including a ban on the resale of tickets for more than they were originally listed for, along with more sweeping caps on fees. Beyond the federal level, several states have moved to try to address these concerns.

“We’ve seen this work in other countries. It’s not that complicated,” Werde said. “The ideal scenario would be one where every fan and everyone in business knows that artists set the prices — and that once artists set those prices, that’s basically what fans are going to pay.”

With Season 2 about to arrive, Rich joined us to reflect on what he’s learned, what’s new, and why this chapter takes the show to a whole new level.

EDGE: What lessons did you learn from season 1 that you are bringing into season 2?

RB: Season One was really an experiment, and it wasn’t until I got into the editing that I understood what the show wanted to be. I realized the heart of it was the friendship among the three main characters—keeping them together, talking, reacting, and navigating life as a unit. I also leaned into the humiliation comedy, which ramps up as the season goes on. These guys suddenly realize they’re running out of time, they can’t retire, and they end up taking odd jobs that lead to increasingly embarrassing situations. Watching them try—and fail—to reinvent themselves is part of the fun. Between seasons, I learned to trust the show and rely on the crew. Being on set, seeing something I wrote alone in a room become a full world, is incredible. And so many people worked on this project purely out of passion—actors deferred salaries, the cameraman took a fraction of his usual rate. It reminded me that if you trust the material, people show up for it.

EDGE: The show tackles midlife challenges in the LGBTQ community with honesty and humor. Why do you think that perspective has been underrepresented in the media?

RB: Honestly, the biggest issue is simply that it’s not considered “sexy.” And that’s not just in gay culture—straight culture has the same problem. You don’t see a lot of representation of straight characters over 50 either. There are exceptions, of course—Larry David on Curb Your Enthusiasm, which I adore and definitely draw inspiration from—but across most media, age is viewed as a tougher sell. At least, that’s the assumption. But then you look at The Golden Girls, and it proves the opposite. There’s always something that breaks the rule. Within the LGBTQ community, it feels especially important not to buy into that idea. We already struggle with representation across the board, regardless of demographic. So we have a responsibility to embrace the full spectrum of who we are, including age. I mean, there are parts of the community I don’t personally relate to—Pose, for example, wasn’t my lived experience in any way—but I watched every episode. I loved it. I thought it was brilliant. You don’t have to see yourself reflected 1:1 to appreciate a story or show empathy for a different walk of life. And that ties into something that happened recently: someone saw our trailer and commented, “Stop normalizing older–younger relationships. The imbalance is blah blah blah…”—just going off. And my reaction was: you actually need to watch the show. Yes, we portray an older–younger dynamic, but we flip it. The power sits squarely with the younger guy. The assumption this person made couldn’t have been more off. It’s that instinctive, quick-to-judge intolerance—people reacting before they’re informed—that frustrates me. I hate the word “triggered,” but honestly, that kind of kneejerk outrage does trigger me.

EDGE: How do your own lived experiences as a queer creator shape your writing for Season 2?

RB: I have to be a little careful about how I phrase this, but I’ve had jobs working in animation where I experienced something very similar to what Ray goes through. I found myself in rooms where I was significantly older than everyone else. It actually happened twice: one situation was great—I connected really well with the team, men and women alike—and the other… not so great. Those two contrasting experiences really informed Ray’s storyline in Season Two, especially his time working at Unicorn Princesses in Outer Space.

The National Museum of African American History and Culture says a timber piece of the slave ship, the São José-Paquete de Africa, on display in its “Slavery and Freedom” exhibit, will soon be prepared for a trip back to its home museum in South Africa.

The 33-pound (15-kilogram) timber piece has been prominently displayed — seemingly suspended over a dark void, a ballast at its side — as part of a loan agreement to the museum since it opened in 2016. The agreement, examined by The Associated Press, was initially five years and then was extended another five in 2021, ending July 1.

The ship remnant will be among several items sent back to the Iziko Museums of South Africa later this year. Because of its delicate nature, a special crate has to be built for its transport.

Other items from the ship, including the ballasts that served as counterweights for the human cargo, are remaining on display and will be returned to South Africa in two years. A manifest of the cargo on the ship will replace the timber piece.

The last day for museum visitors to see the timber piece on display is March 22.

A relic of the trans-Atlantic slave trade was recovered in 2015

The São José, a Portuguese vessel bound for Brazil with more than 400 captives from Mozambique, struck a rock and sank in December 1794 off the coast of Cape Town, South Africa. Half of the people aboard perished. Survivors were resold into slavery in the Western Cape, according to the Smithsonian.

Recovered in 2015, the ship was identified and studied through the Slave Wrecks Project, an international network of institutions that confirmed it was associated with the trans-Atlantic slave trade. The ship is among the first known wreckage of such a ship that was recovered, in which enslaved Africans died.

The São José piece is in the lowest public level of the museum and is part of the larger “Slavery and Freedom” exhibit, which focuses on the slave trade, including the ships and conditions of transport, as well as artifacts, such as shackles.

The exhibit addresses the Middle Passage, an especially fraught part of the Atlantic Ocean crossing where many of the captives died. While there is no exact count, the number of people who perished during the journey is in the millions, according to Paul Gardullo, the assistant director of history at the National Museum of African American History and Culture.

Slavery exhibit changes unrelated to Trump museum review

The alteration of the slavery exhibit comes at a time when any changes related to history and the American story at federal parks, museums or other public spaces are being scrutinized. President Donald Trump's administration has focused on putting the U.S. in a good light as the country prepares to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

The displays, exhibits and programming of several Smithsonian museums are under review as part of an executive order signed in March 2025 by the Republican president, titled “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History.” The National Museum of African American History and Culture is one of the institutions named in the order.

Michelle Commander, the museum's deputy director, told the AP the exhibit change is entirely related to the loan agreement but understood the timing might raise questions.

“That’s why we’re being transparent in this moment, because we are aware that there are those kinds of questions,” Commander said. “But, as we’ve said, this is really about the conservation needs of that item.”

As part of the loan, Gardullo said, the South African government has a robust cultural patrimony law that dictates how its artifacts and historical materials are treated and how long they can be loaned out.

“The wooden materials are more fragile, and they need a little more close care,” he said.

‘Extraordinarily powerful’

Recent visitors to the National Museum of African American History and Culture spoke of the power of the display with the slave ship timber, unaware that it would be altered shortly.

Lines wait to enter the darkened gallery, entitled the Middle Passage, where there is a solemnity as people study the dark space where the timber sits next to a ship's ballast. The tangible nature of the exhibit takes it out of textbooks and into reality, said Krystina Hernandez, who was there chaperoning her 7-year-old son’s schoolmates.

Anehtra Reynolds, from northern Virginia, was emotional as she exited the area. She said the presentation, including the artifacts and the darkness of the gallery, gave her a “piece of what they felt in terms of their misery.”

“I think there was a sign in there that mentioned there were some slaves who starved themselves to death in hopes that they would, when they died, they would be returned to their land,” Reynolds said.

Jim Carnes, who was in Washington visiting family from Birmingham, Alabama, said he was familiar with much of the information because he has worked in civil rights education in Birmingham and Montgomery, two places central to the nation's civil rights history.

“The artifacts are extraordinarily powerful,” he said, adding that he's left feeling sadness and anger, not just at the conditions of the enslaved people but at the current push by the federal government to “deny this ever happened.”

Jorge Carvajal, who is originally from Colombia but lives with his wife in south Florida, said seeing the exhibit silenced the stereotypes, especially that Black people are unreasonably angry.

“Empathy is what I’m trying to say. This will help people empathize a lot more. I mean, at least you would hope,” he said.

Commander said the staff at the museum will work to make sure that the exhibit continues to have the same impact with the remaining artifacts and displays.

“The story does not leave the museum because this timber is going to be returned to its owners,” she said.

While Ian Tuason, the mind behind the buzzy new auditory horror “Undertone,” reveres and references Hitchcock as much as the next horror filmmaker, he has to disagree with him on this one. For Tuason, the real screams are the point.

“My favorite thing about this whole process is just watching it with audiences. I think that’s probably why I wanted to make a horror film … just to kind of witness the reactions,” Tuason said in a recent interview with The Associated Press. “The same way as when you tell a ghost story at a campfire, it doesn’t feel that great unless you see your friend scared.”

His debut film “Undertone,” which opens in theaters on Friday (yes, the 13th), is already doing just that. After playing at the Sundance Film Festival, it had some calling it the “scariest movie you’ll ever hear.”

“Undertone” is a minimalist horror, set in one location, with essentially one character. Evy (Nina Kiri) is a paranormal podcaster who is taking care of her dying, comatose mother upstairs. She’s the skeptic of the podcast, which she does with a remote co-host (Adam DiMarco) in the middle of the night. Nothing can scare her, but this new investigation, in which they try to decode a series of unnerving audio files sent anonymously, has rattled her.

Why sound is so scary

Tuason always dreamed of being a filmmaker, but he began his career in virtual reality and made a name for himself as an early proponent of immersive 3D sound for his cinematic horror shorts, which have been viewed millions of times. Soundscapes became his calling card. So, when he sat down to write “Undertone,” he included every audio cue, resulting in a 250-page script.

“Sound in movies, it makes space for the audience to imagine what they’re not seeing,” Tuason said. “Whatever you imagine that’s scary is going to be way scarier than what I can show you. There’s going to be millions of different versions of this movie in millions of minds and that’s all because of the power of suggestion driven by sound and a lot of negative space.”

In the process of shooting, he even found himself taking out a lot of the visuals he thought he’d need, stripping it down to its barest form: A woman listening to audio clips through her noise canceling headphones and freaking herself, and the audience, out. They figured it out with the help of a local Toronto postproduction studio, REDLAB. When A24 came on board to distribute the film, they were able to do the mix again in Dolby.

“It’s definitely meant to be seen in the theater in Dolby, because that is the exact vision that Ian had,” said producer Cody Calahan. “But at home, on headphones, alone, it is a different experience … You can kind of watch it twice.”

The personal story behind the film

Behind the film is a deeply personal story of demons, loss and grief. In 2020, during the pandemic, both his parents received terminal cancer diagnoses, and he moved back home to their Toronto suburbs to care for them. His mom died a few months later, followed by his father two and a half years later. During that time, Tuason was drinking a lot too, but also writing, melding together an audio play he’d created with the story of a lone caregiver.

He wrote it figuring that he’d just have to make it himself with whatever resources he had. It could be set in his childhood home (nothing to rent) and feature one actor (“I could afford that,” he said). And he didn't hold back: Even he was surprised by his own capacity for honesty about some of his darkest moments.

“I didn’t really have to write in a way where I’m trying to pitch it,” Tuason said. “I think that’s what gave it its honesty. Because I was going to make it either way.”

His main character, Evy, is him, he said. But he wrote Evy as a woman and not a man because, Tuason said, he needed the character to face a choice that would change their life; He couldn’t think of anything bigger than the question of whether to have a child.

Throughout it all Tuason worked on himself as a person too, leaving the skeptic behind and turning into a believer, he said. He knows the Evys of the world will doubt it, but he sees meaningful connections everywhere now; Even in the film’s release date that he had nothing to do with.

“It’s a miracle that I made this thing and then A24 bought it, and then Sundance and then the release on Friday the 13th,” Tuason said. “My dad passed on Friday, the 13th. And March was the last month I had with my mom.”

What’s next: Paranormal Activity and Kung-Fu

Though moviegoers might just be discovering Tuason, Hollywood has already taken notice. In December, he was tapped to direct a new “Paranormal Activity” film. He knows that horror is what people want from him, and as a self-proclaimed people pleaser he wants to do that too. But he does have dreams of delving into other genres as well, like science fiction and, eventually, Kung-Fu.

“It’s going to be modern day Kung-Fu,” he said.

But now, he’s focused on getting “Undertone” out to the world. And he’s grateful that he’s starting to see it as a film and a character, separate from himself.

“It’s starting to feel less and less like me,” he said. “There wasn’t any separation for the longest time, but now I watch it in the theater and I’m a little bit more distanced … now I can look at it and kind of just focus on the technique, the art and have it live as a thing separate from me.”

First, she’s a penniless former prison inmate who has returned to her small town of Laramie, Wisconsin, where she's hooking up with her former boyfriend’s best friend. Second, that boyfriend is dead and she's been blamed, hence the prison sentence. Plus, she’s hoping to connect with her estranged daughter, born of tragedy.

There's a lot going on with Kenna Rowan, who can't afford a phone or a car and so walks everywhere around the town, lives in a run-down motel and can't initially get a job because she's a felon. She hates listening to the radio because all the songs are sad. Pot calling the kettle, right?

“Reminders of Him” is very faithful to Colleen Hoover’s 2022 novel of the same name, right down to slices of the same dialogue and even the Mountain Dew T-shirt, jean shorts and boots our heroine is first introduced in. She finally gets a job as a grocery bagger and starts building a life, biding her time until she figures out how to reconnect with her daughter.

Maika Monroe — a one-time scream queen — stretches out her dramatic muscles to play Kenna and nails the assignment, a woman with a hard shell who is looking for a little grace, a tricky role that's both flirty and maternal.

After seven years in prison, Kenna walks into a fraught situation. Her 5-year-old daughter — yeah, the math is a bit hazy here — is being raised by her dead boyfriend's parents, with an assist from his best friend, Ledger, played with real soul by Tyriq Withers. Kenna's mere presence threatens to blow up this cozy arrangement.

What's remarkable about “Reminders of Him” is that there are no villains. The grandparents — played by Lauren Graham and Bradley Whitford, both perfect — are naturally aghast at the notion that the woman who was driving the car when their son died might swoop in and take their grandchild. But any parent can sympathize with Kenna, who gave birth in handcuffs and never got to even hold her baby.

Ledger is caught in the middle, attracted to this sad Kenna but also a fierce defender and surrogate father of her daughter, Diem. Falling in love with the lady accused of killing your best friend may not be the wisest thing to do, but there you go.

The movie veers dangerously close to overwrought melodrama — like a line about Kenna “heading back to the place it all went wrong hoping to make something right” — and it flirts with twee: Not many grocery store baggers spend their off-time dancing at dusk with sparklers.

But that's what happens when you add romance to a redemption story and the actors pull it off, with perhaps the best performance by little Zoe Kosovic, who plays Diem with freshness, adorableness and directness. Also kudos to actor Monika Myers, who plays a motel neighbor with the timing and dry wit of Bob Newhart.

There are men here, of course, but this is a very female-driven work, from the executive producers and producers to the screenplay writers — Hoover and Lauren Levine — to the director, Vanessa Caswill, who shows a very assured hand.

Everywhere on screen, women stand up for women. A female assistant manager at the grocery store reaches out to offer Kenna employment when her male boss won't, a female motel owner offers a discount and it is the grandmother who provides a breakthrough to this familial standoff.

It is a thoughtful production where details matter. At one point we learn the dead boyfriend’s favorite color is yellow and later we hear not one but two versions of Coldplay’s “Yellow.” There may be a few too many shots of an orange Ford F-150 and heavy use of a strummy acoustic guitar whenever a tender moment is coming, but “Reminders of Him” is a well-crafted, well-acted sad-happy Hoover adaptation.

“Reminders of Him,” a Universal Pictures release that opens in theaters Friday, is rated PG-13 by the Motion Picture Association for sexual content, strong language, drug content, some violent content and brief partial nudity. Running time: 114 minutes. Three stars out of four.

In a video interview posted online on March 11, 2026, Symoné directly addressed the "discourse" surrounding Maday, stating, "It's disrespectful to my wife, but then I also know the Internet." She elaborated that the negativity stems from multiple factors, including the fact that Maday is a white woman married to a Black celebrity and that their union is a same-sex marriage. Symoné emphasized, "It's disrespectful, it's unnecessary, and it's harmful," underscoring the personal toll of such online harassment.

The backlash appears to have intensified recently, with social media users commenting on Maday's looks, age difference, and the interracial, same-sex nature of their relationship. Symoné, who came out as a lesbian in 2014, has been open about her identity and marriage, often using her platform to advocate for LGBTQ+ visibility. Her response comes amid broader discussions in LGBTQ+ communities about the intersection of race, sexuality, and online toxicity, where same-sex couples, particularly interracial ones, face disproportionate scrutiny.

This incident echoes experiences shared by other LGBTQ+ celebrities, such as when Symoné previously defended her privacy against public speculation about her personal life. Community responses on platforms like Lipstick Alley, a forum popular in Black online spaces, have mixed reactions, with some users supporting Symoné's stance while others debate the dynamics of her marriage. Advocates for transgender people and other LGBTQ+ identities note that such discourse often amplifies harm to same-sex marriages, contributing to mental health challenges for those targeted.

Symoné's comments were made during a candid conversation where she acknowledged the internet's role in amplifying negativity, saying she is aware of its nature but still finds the attacks unwarranted. The event, reported on March 11, 2026, has sparked conversations about respect for LGBTQ+ relationships, with Symoné's words serving as a call for boundaries in public commentary. As a prominent figure in entertainment, her voice carries weight in affirming the validity of diverse same-sex partnerships.

While major outlets like GLAAD or Human Rights Campaign have not yet issued formal statements on this specific incident as of March 12, 2026, the response aligns with their ongoing work against online harassment targeting LGBTQ+ individuals. Symoné and Maday continue to share positive updates about their life together on Instagram , focusing on joy amid the noise. This episode underscores the persistent need for affirming language and support for LGBTQ+ couples facing public judgment.