What’s New

NBArank is back for its 12th season counting down the best players in the league.

Where are MVP candidates such as Giannis Antetokounmpo, Luka Doncic, Joel Embiid and Nikola Jokic? What about rookies and young stars ready to take the leap into the upper tier of NBA players?

To get the final NBArank prediction, we asked our expert panel to vote on pairs of players: LeBron James vs. Kevin Durant, Stephen Curry vs. Ja Morant, Luka vs. Jayson Tatum … and the list goes on.

We asked, “Which player will be better in 2022-23?” Voters had to predict what they expected from each player during the season.

We’ve already revealed players Nos. 100-26, Nos. 25-11 and a surprising Nos. 10-6. Today, our rankings conclude with the league’s top five superstars.

Note: ESPN’s NBArank panel, composed of over 200 reporters, editors, producers and analysts, were asked to rank players based on their predicted contributions — quality and quantity — for the 2022-23 season only.

Thearon W. Henderson/Getty Images

Golden State Warriors Nos. 5-1

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The saying goes that all press is good press, but how true can that be if alleged drama surrounding a film overshadows the merits of the film itself? Olivia Wilde’s Don’t Worry Darling is the second movie to fall into this trap this summer, though it does manage to still bring on the thrills, mostly thanks to another potent performance from Florence Pugh. Her range is on full display as Alice, a 1950s housewife who begins to suspect that her husband’s company is up to something sinister within their utopian community. Alice, her husband, Jack (a dull but good enough Harry Styles), and all the company employees along with their wives live isolated from the rest of the world, hardly able to remember their lives from before they arrived. The only rule is that they stay within the company town, where they’re safe. Chris Pine delivers a disturbing performance that’s part televangelist and part cult leader, totally nailing that brand of big, inspiring speeches that seem poignant in delivery but are empty when you actually listen to the words being said. 

Piecing together what’s actually going on in this seemingly idyllic community proves tougher than expected, which primes for a tense twist in the final act, and the film’s introductory scenes are truly creepy as Alice begins to question her sanity, the world, and the people around her. The issue is in the middle: once Alice is convinced that something is wrong, the movie ought to pick up the pace to maintain momentum. Instead, it drudges on with a shot-by-shot repetitiveness that’s likely intentional but ends up being ineffective. There’s even a pump-fake twist and by this point, you’re begging for the real reveal to be, well, revealed. When the truth finally does come out, the explanation is interesting but flimsy, and after waiting so long to find out, it’s unsatisfying. Ultimately, Don’t Worry Darling boasts a (mostly) talented cast with a strong start but can’t follow through on its promises. R, 122 min.

Wide release in theaters

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Based on Karen Cushman’s well-loved 1994 children’s novel, Lena Dunham presents a girl’s coming-of-age story set in 13th-century England. The sets and costumes look period-correct, but this is no attempt at historic verisimilitude à la Robert Eggers’s The Witch. Birdy is the kind of impossible, irreverent girl Dunham specializes in. Spoiled, defiant, but also capable of empathy beyond her years, she’s an almost prototypical heroine for a children’s book.

The plot turns on the family’s money problems, the solution being to marry Birdy off for as much of a dowry as she can command. Of course the girl fights this plan tooth and nail, sending a succession of suitors running away screaming. Using contemporary pop music and employing 2022 dialogue—albeit peppered with occasional medieval lingo—Dunham has fashioned a teen rom-com in period garb. It reminded me a bit of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette,though pitched to tweens. Those familiar with Dunham’s previous work will be surprised by the gentleness of approach and the conventionality of the story’s resolution. In the end, Birdy comes to terms with the need to do what’s best for her family and to grow up and become like everyone else. I was very aware while watching that as a 51-year-old man I was not who this was made for. But is it a good message to send young girls that they can be bad and do what they want for a little while but when the rubber hits the road they must toe the line? PG-13, 108 min.

Wide release in theaters andstreaming on Prime Video

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In many ways, the new Star Wars series Andor follows the well-worn blueprint of the franchise: a scrappy main character with a childhood trauma, a planet-hopping quest, and a cute sidekick (in this case the stuttering droid B2EMO, or “Bee,” voiced by Dave Chapman). But the Lucasfilm spy thriller, filmed over two 12-episode seasons, veers off into more interesting territory. A prequel to Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, the Disney+ series follows Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) as he becomes involved in the political machinations behind the birth of the rebel alliance in the five years leading up to Rogue One, which (if you recall) is itself a prequel to Star Wars IV: A New Hope. The first four episodes have the sci-fi feel of Blade Runner—dark, dirty, and gritty, taking time to build out Andor’s world and various supporting characters, but often feeling more like a corporate workplace drama than an espionage show. Flashbacks to Andor’s childhood seem unnecessarily added, as if someone thought an origin of an origin of an origin of Star Wars was a good idea. How far back with origins do we need to go?! What about Andor’s great-grandparents’ second droid? Once Stellan Skarsgård’s Luthen Rael shows up to whisk him off world, and Senator Mon Mothma (Genevieve O’Reilly) returns in the fourth episode, the show feels like it’s about to find its legs, hinting at the political intrigue and backroom dealings that are to come. TV-14, 40-minute episodes

New episodes streaming weekly on Disney+

Read More

The saying goes that all press is good press, but how true can that be if alleged drama surrounding a film overshadows the merits of the film itself? Olivia Wilde’s Don’t Worry Darling is the second movie to fall into this trap this summer, though it does manage to still bring on the thrills, mostly thanks to another potent performance from Florence Pugh. Her range is on full display as Alice, a 1950s housewife who begins to suspect that her husband’s company is up to something sinister within their utopian community. Alice, her husband, Jack (a dull but good enough Harry Styles), and all the company employees along with their wives live isolated from the rest of the world, hardly able to remember their lives from before they arrived. The only rule is that they stay within the company town, where they’re safe. Chris Pine delivers a disturbing performance that’s part televangelist and part cult leader, totally nailing that brand of big, inspiring speeches that seem poignant in delivery but are empty when you actually listen to the words being said. 

Piecing together what’s actually going on in this seemingly idyllic community proves tougher than expected, which primes for a tense twist in the final act, and the film’s introductory scenes are truly creepy as Alice begins to question her sanity, the world, and the people around her. The issue is in the middle: once Alice is convinced that something is wrong, the movie ought to pick up the pace to maintain momentum. Instead, it drudges on with a shot-by-shot repetitiveness that’s likely intentional but ends up being ineffective. There’s even a pump-fake twist and by this point, you’re begging for the real reveal to be, well, revealed. When the truth finally does come out, the explanation is interesting but flimsy, and after waiting so long to find out, it’s unsatisfying. Ultimately, Don’t Worry Darling boasts a (mostly) talented cast with a strong start but can’t follow through on its promises. R, 122 min.

Wide release in theaters

Read More

Based on Karen Cushman’s well-loved 1994 children’s novel, Lena Dunham presents a girl’s coming-of-age story set in 13th-century England. The sets and costumes look period-correct, but this is no attempt at historic verisimilitude à la Robert Eggers’s The Witch. Birdy is the kind of impossible, irreverent girl Dunham specializes in. Spoiled, defiant, but also capable of empathy beyond her years, she’s an almost prototypical heroine for a children’s book.

The plot turns on the family’s money problems, the solution being to marry Birdy off for as much of a dowry as she can command. Of course the girl fights this plan tooth and nail, sending a succession of suitors running away screaming. Using contemporary pop music and employing 2022 dialogue—albeit peppered with occasional medieval lingo—Dunham has fashioned a teen rom-com in period garb. It reminded me a bit of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette,though pitched to tweens. Those familiar with Dunham’s previous work will be surprised by the gentleness of approach and the conventionality of the story’s resolution. In the end, Birdy comes to terms with the need to do what’s best for her family and to grow up and become like everyone else. I was very aware while watching that as a 51-year-old man I was not who this was made for. But is it a good message to send young girls that they can be bad and do what they want for a little while but when the rubber hits the road they must toe the line? PG-13, 108 min.

Wide release in theaters andstreaming on Prime Video

Read More

In many ways, the new Star Wars series Andor follows the well-worn blueprint of the franchise: a scrappy main character with a childhood trauma, a planet-hopping quest, and a cute sidekick (in this case the stuttering droid B2EMO, or “Bee,” voiced by Dave Chapman). But the Lucasfilm spy thriller, filmed over two 12-episode seasons, veers off into more interesting territory. A prequel to Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, the Disney+ series follows Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) as he becomes involved in the political machinations behind the birth of the rebel alliance in the five years leading up to Rogue One, which (if you recall) is itself a prequel to Star Wars IV: A New Hope. The first four episodes have the sci-fi feel of Blade Runner—dark, dirty, and gritty, taking time to build out Andor’s world and various supporting characters, but often feeling more like a corporate workplace drama than an espionage show. Flashbacks to Andor’s childhood seem unnecessarily added, as if someone thought an origin of an origin of an origin of Star Wars was a good idea. How far back with origins do we need to go?! What about Andor’s great-grandparents’ second droid? Once Stellan Skarsgård’s Luthen Rael shows up to whisk him off world, and Senator Mon Mothma (Genevieve O’Reilly) returns in the fourth episode, the show feels like it’s about to find its legs, hinting at the political intrigue and backroom dealings that are to come. TV-14, 40-minute episodes

New episodes streaming weekly on Disney+

Read More

Week 2 was just another Chicago Bears game against the Green Bay Packers. It ended similarly to the majority of these matchups over the past decade — in defeat.

To say anyone expected the Bears to actually beat Green Bay would mean those people were lying to themselves. The Bears were never going to win this game, but there were definitely some concerns which arose.

Quarterback Justin Fields had a tough game, and a lot of it was on his shoulders and not the play-calling. He did hold the ball too long. He did miss on some reads. But, what’s a young quarterback to do?

Fields is essentially still a rookie, not having played a full 17 games yet in his career. With that comes rookie mistakes, both on and off the field.

Speaking of which, Fields spoke to the media immediately after the loss to Green Bay and was visibly frustrated. He was quoted with saying the following:

“Yeah. It hurts more in the locker room than the Bears fans. At the end of the day, they aren’t putting in any work. I see the guys in the locker room every day. I see how much work they put in. Coming out of a disappointing loss like this, it hurts.”

Justin Fields’ words irritated many Chicago Bears fans, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t owe them anything.

After Fields said what he said regarding Bears fans, many people took the quote and ran in a direction which led to Fields’ name being smeared through the mud.

The quote was absolutely taken out of context. Of course, Fields did not mean to disrespect Bears fans. He’s not stupid. He understands the fans are the ones who support the team the most, especially from their own wallets.

But, a few different outlets took that quote and spun it in a way that could have damaged his reputation.

Then, on Wednesday, Fields met with the media again and had this to say in response to the uproar:

“What I meant by that is I’m talking about work regarding the game on Sunday, winning the game. I don’t know any fans. I don’t know what they’re doing in their personal lives. I respect every fan that we have. I’m glad that we have fans. I would never disrespect anybody on what they do or what they love to do. It came off like that. Some social media outlets, they quoted my quote and they got a big buzz out of it. So, of course they did a great job doing that. Of course social media is going to do that. But I just wanted to clear that up.”

First of all, good on Fields for ensuring he brought this story full circle. His presser was genuine. Watching it in full, you certainly got that vibe. He was respectful, humble and came across as being very genuine.

But, let’s clear something up here.

Justin Fields does not owe Chicago Bears fans a thing — period.

To say that the Bears would be nothing without the fans is both true and untrue. But, let’s just cut to the chase, here.

The fans that got angry about this quote clearly assumed the worst. Instead of giving the guy the benefit of the doubt, these fans went straight for the jugular.

In reality, Fields didn’t say anything wrong. He was absolutely right with what he said.

Fans do not wake up early and train at Halas Hall.

Fans do not study the playbook tirelessly.

Fans do not attend film sessions.

Fans do not put in work in the weight room.

Fans do not participate in practice.

Fans do not have their hand in coaching, or any part of the staff for that matter.

Fans are just fans — and that’s coming from a die-hard Bears fan, here. I am smart enough to realize that I do not put in the work.

Fans choose to purchase tickets, memorabilia and apparel. That is a choice. Fields, meanwhile, is under a contract and goes to work every day. This is a career. This is his occupation.

Fans have a choice to participate in being a fan and putting money into buying jerseys, hats, tickets, food, drinks, etc. That is a choice. They do not owe it to Fields to buy his jersey or attend his games. Those are both choices.

Fields’ job is to be the quarterback of the Chicago Bears and to put in all the required work in order to do his job to the best of his ability. So, with that said, here’s a message to the fans still upset about Fields’ post-game quote:

Quit whining.

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Let’s get this out of the way immediately: any similarities between Lynn Nottage’s Clyde’s, now in its local premiere at the Goodman, and the Hulu series The Bear are purely coincidental. (Honestly? Though I’ve read several essays about it, I haven’t watched the latter yet. I know!) Yes, they are both set in the kitchen of a sandwich restaurant, where tempers flare as pressure mounts. But Nottage’s play, which had its world premiere in New York in 2021 and earned five Tony Award nominations, is a sequel of sorts to her Pulitzer Prize-winning Rust Belt drama Sweat (seen at the Goodman in 2019). 

Yet the world of Clyde’s, the truck-stop cafe run by the eponymous tough-as-nails proprietress, is in a different tonal universe than Nottage’s earlier play. Which is just a fancy way of saying, “It’s a comedy!”

Clyde’s Through 10/9: Wed 7:30 PM, Thu 2 and 7:30 PM, Fri 8 PM, Sat 2 and 8 PM, Sun 2 PM; also Sun 9/25 and Tue 10/4 7:30 PM; ASL interpretation Fri 10/7 8 PM, Spanish subtitles Sat 10/8 8 PM, open captions Sun 10/9 2 PM; Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn, 312-443-3800, goodmantheatre.org, $25-$80

As Nottage told me in an interview last spring when Sweat was in a revival at Aurora’s Paramount Theatre, “It’s very much in conversation with Sweat, but it’s an entirely different work, and you don’t need to have familiarity with Sweat to be able to enjoy Clyde’s. It’s set in a sandwich shop on a not-so-traveled stretch of road just outside of Reading. And I describe it as a liminal space. It’s a space that you only find if you’re taking a detour.”

The detours for Clyde’s employees involved stretches of incarceration, and the most direct link to Sweat is that Jason (Garrett Young), the newest member of the kitchen crew, has just been released from prison for a near-fatal assault that formed the dramatic climax for the earlier play. He’s covered with white-power tats that he claims he got only as a survival measure while in lockup. (His walking-health-department-violation habit of wiping his nose as he prepares food is thus only the second-most-disturbing thing about him.)

But Jason, like everyone else sweating it out under Clyde’s watchful eye, wants to do better. And Montrellous (Kevin Kenerly), the “sandwich sensei” whose creations are far above standard truck-stop fare, wants that for everyone. He serves up garnishes of hard-won wisdom alongside the produce from the garden he’s growing out back. “And you know what they say, cuz you left prison don’t mean you outta prison. But, remember everything we do here is to escape that mentality. This kitchen, these ingredients, these are our tools. We have what we need. So, let’s cook.”

And he’d love to help Clyde blossom, too—but as she tells him from the first scene, “I’m not indifferent to suffering. But I don’t do pity. I just don’t. And you know why? Because dudes like you thrive on it, it’s your energy source, but like fossil fuels it creates pollution.”

Clyde herself is a former convict, but she’s not hiring paroled folks out of altruism. Instead, she knows that workers who don’t have many options aren’t likely to cause problems for management. As played by the magnificent understudy Danielle Davis at Monday’s opening (stepping in for De’Adre Aziza), she’s monstrously and hilariously blunt, routinely pouring out generous portions of sharp sour don’t-give-a-damn sauce to counter the nurturing savory warmth offered up by Kenerly’s Montrellous. 

As directed by longtime Nottage collaborator Kate Whoriskey, this show is a palate-cleansing look at the working class that doesn’t treat them purely as victims or helpless cogs in the wheel. In doing so, it trades high-stakes plot development in favor of slice-of-life character study. A glowing review in a local paper seems to offer some Mystic Pizza possibilities for Clyde’s to go upscale, but that notion is shot down by the lady who owns the place (and apparently owes money to some rather dangerous types that we never meet). 

So instead we spend time getting to know more about the people who labor under Clyde’s histrionic demands. In addition to Montrellous and Jason, there’s Letitia (Nedra Snipes), whose problems with finding reliable childcare for her disabled daughter offer a poignant snapshot of how juggling work and family means something entirely different when you’re a paycheck away from disaster, rather than stressing over finding the perfect live-in nanny. There’s also Rafael (Reza Salazar), who carries a torch for Letitia and a desire to match Montrellous’s culinary skills. “I’m the sous chef, bitch!” he yells at Jason early on, and it’s clear it’s not really Jason he’s trying to convince of his worth, but himself. 

The road that runs through Clyde’s has obviously been a harsh one. But the kitchen quartet finds sustenance in each other, even through their arguments and reminders of their troubled pasts. No matter how much their boss tries to shit on their dreams, there’s quiet beauty in the way they learn to work together and listen to each other. Clyde’s version of perseverance is rooted in going it alone and stomping out anyone she suspects will drag her down. (In this way, she’s not unlike Mama Nadi, the harsh Congolese madam and bar owner in Nottage’s other Pulitzer Prize-winning play, Ruined.) The beauty of Nottage’s world, which she’s shown us in so many plays both comic and tragic over the years, is that it refuses cheap cynicism and nihilism. We’re all we’ve got on the road to nowhere. Let’s make the best of it. And as Warren Zevon once said, “Enjoy every sandwich.”

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Let’s get this out of the way immediately: any similarities between Lynn Nottage’s Clyde’s, now in its local premiere at the Goodman, and the Hulu series The Bear are purely coincidental. (Honestly? Though I’ve read several essays about it, I haven’t watched the latter yet. I know!) Yes, they are both set in the kitchen of a sandwich restaurant, where tempers flare as pressure mounts. But Nottage’s play, which had its world premiere in New York in 2021 and earned five Tony Award nominations, is a sequel of sorts to her Pulitzer Prize-winning Rust Belt drama Sweat (seen at the Goodman in 2019). 

Yet the world of Clyde’s, the truck-stop cafe run by the eponymous tough-as-nails proprietress, is in a different tonal universe than Nottage’s earlier play. Which is just a fancy way of saying, “It’s a comedy!”

Clyde’s Through 10/9: Wed 7:30 PM, Thu 2 and 7:30 PM, Fri 8 PM, Sat 2 and 8 PM, Sun 2 PM; also Sun 9/25 and Tue 10/4 7:30 PM; ASL interpretation Fri 10/7 8 PM, Spanish subtitles Sat 10/8 8 PM, open captions Sun 10/9 2 PM; Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn, 312-443-3800, goodmantheatre.org, $25-$80

As Nottage told me in an interview last spring when Sweat was in a revival at Aurora’s Paramount Theatre, “It’s very much in conversation with Sweat, but it’s an entirely different work, and you don’t need to have familiarity with Sweat to be able to enjoy Clyde’s. It’s set in a sandwich shop on a not-so-traveled stretch of road just outside of Reading. And I describe it as a liminal space. It’s a space that you only find if you’re taking a detour.”

The detours for Clyde’s employees involved stretches of incarceration, and the most direct link to Sweat is that Jason (Garrett Young), the newest member of the kitchen crew, has just been released from prison for a near-fatal assault that formed the dramatic climax for the earlier play. He’s covered with white-power tats that he claims he got only as a survival measure while in lockup. (His walking-health-department-violation habit of wiping his nose as he prepares food is thus only the second-most-disturbing thing about him.)

But Jason, like everyone else sweating it out under Clyde’s watchful eye, wants to do better. And Montrellous (Kevin Kenerly), the “sandwich sensei” whose creations are far above standard truck-stop fare, wants that for everyone. He serves up garnishes of hard-won wisdom alongside the produce from the garden he’s growing out back. “And you know what they say, cuz you left prison don’t mean you outta prison. But, remember everything we do here is to escape that mentality. This kitchen, these ingredients, these are our tools. We have what we need. So, let’s cook.”

And he’d love to help Clyde blossom, too—but as she tells him from the first scene, “I’m not indifferent to suffering. But I don’t do pity. I just don’t. And you know why? Because dudes like you thrive on it, it’s your energy source, but like fossil fuels it creates pollution.”

Clyde herself is a former convict, but she’s not hiring paroled folks out of altruism. Instead, she knows that workers who don’t have many options aren’t likely to cause problems for management. As played by the magnificent understudy Danielle Davis at Monday’s opening (stepping in for De’Adre Aziza), she’s monstrously and hilariously blunt, routinely pouring out generous portions of sharp sour don’t-give-a-damn sauce to counter the nurturing savory warmth offered up by Kenerly’s Montrellous. 

As directed by longtime Nottage collaborator Kate Whoriskey, this show is a palate-cleansing look at the working class that doesn’t treat them purely as victims or helpless cogs in the wheel. In doing so, it trades high-stakes plot development in favor of slice-of-life character study. A glowing review in a local paper seems to offer some Mystic Pizza possibilities for Clyde’s to go upscale, but that notion is shot down by the lady who owns the place (and apparently owes money to some rather dangerous types that we never meet). 

So instead we spend time getting to know more about the people who labor under Clyde’s histrionic demands. In addition to Montrellous and Jason, there’s Letitia (Nedra Snipes), whose problems with finding reliable childcare for her disabled daughter offer a poignant snapshot of how juggling work and family means something entirely different when you’re a paycheck away from disaster, rather than stressing over finding the perfect live-in nanny. There’s also Rafael (Reza Salazar), who carries a torch for Letitia and a desire to match Montrellous’s culinary skills. “I’m the sous chef, bitch!” he yells at Jason early on, and it’s clear it’s not really Jason he’s trying to convince of his worth, but himself. 

The road that runs through Clyde’s has obviously been a harsh one. But the kitchen quartet finds sustenance in each other, even through their arguments and reminders of their troubled pasts. No matter how much their boss tries to shit on their dreams, there’s quiet beauty in the way they learn to work together and listen to each other. Clyde’s version of perseverance is rooted in going it alone and stomping out anyone she suspects will drag her down. (In this way, she’s not unlike Mama Nadi, the harsh Congolese madam and bar owner in Nottage’s other Pulitzer Prize-winning play, Ruined.) The beauty of Nottage’s world, which she’s shown us in so many plays both comic and tragic over the years, is that it refuses cheap cynicism and nihilism. We’re all we’ve got on the road to nowhere. Let’s make the best of it. And as Warren Zevon once said, “Enjoy every sandwich.”

Read More