Author: News US

Scarlett Johansson is no stranger to complex characters and emotionally charged narratives, but her latest film might just be her most surprising yet.

Known for her range—from action-packed blockbusters to award-winning dramas—Johansson now turns her attention to a smaller, offbeat indie project that is equal parts comedic, heart-wrenching, and delightfully absurd.

Titled Brined, the film explores the evolution of a friendship founded on deception and the unexpectedly deep metaphorical power of pickles.

At a recent press conference for the Toronto International Film Festival, Johansson shared insight into the project, which she also co-produced. Dressed casually and seated comfortably among fellow cast members, she laughed when asked about the film’s peculiar premise.

“It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud,” she admitted. “But that’s kind of the point. It’s a ridiculous situation that reveals something very real about human connection.”

In Brined, Johansson plays Lydia, a socially anxious food chemist who accidentally introduces herself under a false name during a pickle-tasting event. She’s just gone through a breakup, she’s emotionally vulnerable, and for a moment, she becomes someone else—literally.

Her new friend, Nora, played by British actress Phoebe Dynevor, is immediately captivated by Lydia’s quirky charisma and invites her into a world of homemade fermentation, local markets, and budding friendship. What begins as a harmless white lie spirals into a full-blown identity crisis as the friendship deepens and the truth becomes harder to tell.

Johansson described Lydia as a character who “uses dishonesty as a shield” but is ultimately craving authentic connection. “I think we’ve all had moments where we wanted to be someone else, even briefly,” she said.

“Lydia just happened to find someone who loved that version of her. The real challenge was figuring out if she could be loved for who she actually is.” The film captures this internal struggle with subtlety, weaving comedy and melancholy into a story that feels both grounded and strangely whimsical.

Director Elise Tran, known for her minimalist visual style and intimate storytelling, approached the narrative with a light hand, letting the characters breathe and the humor come naturally.

The decision to center the story around pickling was her idea. “Pickles are complicated,” Tran said during the same press event. “They’re transformed by pressure and time.

They’re sour, sometimes sweet, and always a little weird. That’s what Lydia and Nora’s friendship is. And honestly, who doesn’t have a jar of unresolved emotions on the back shelf of their fridge?”

Pickles may sound like a quirky narrative hook, but in Brined, they take on a surprisingly symbolic role. The two characters bond over their shared love for fermentation, leading to late-night kitchen experiments, failed cucumber batches, and one unforgettable scene involving a fire alarm and a bathtub full of brine.

Yet beneath the laughter is a tender meditation on identity—how we preserve certain versions of ourselves to be more palatable to others, and how, over time, the real self begins to seep through.

Johansson, who has been candid in past interviews about navigating fame and the public perception of her own identity, found the metaphor resonant.

“There’s definitely a part of me that understood Lydia’s desire to be someone more exciting, more ‘digestible,’” she said. “But I also think the film is about the moment you realize that the real you—warts, weirdness, and all—is worth showing up for.”

The chemistry between Johansson and Dynevor is palpable on screen, with critics praising their dynamic as “oddly addictive” and “emotionally nuanced.” Their friendship unfolds with a kind of quiet magic, punctuated by confessions, laughter, and the occasional kitchen disaster.

As the lie grows harder to maintain, so too does the illusion of emotional safety. The inevitable moment of truth arrives not with melodrama, but with raw vulnerability—and a shared jar of pickled beets.

While the film avoids traditional genre labels, its strength lies in its refusal to be easily categorized. It’s not quite a comedy, not entirely a drama, and certainly not a romance—though the emotional intimacy between the two women often mirrors the rhythms of a love story. It is, at its core, about the human need for connection and the quiet tragedy of hiding in plain sight.

Johansson said one of the most challenging aspects of the role was playing a character who is constantly performing. “It’s exhausting to lie, even in fiction,” she explained. “There’s this tension that builds under every interaction, this fear that one word, one slip, will unravel everything. And as an actor, that’s both fascinating and incredibly draining to live in.”

The film’s emotional climax is understated but deeply affecting. After the truth comes out, the question isn’t whether the friendship can survive—it’s whether it was ever real to begin with. The answer, according to Johansson, is more complicated than it seems.

“Just because something started with a lie doesn’t mean everything about it was false,” she said. “Sometimes, people connect in ways that transcend the circumstances. And the journey from pretending to authenticity can be one of the most powerful things we go through.”

Following the film’s premiere, Brined has already begun generating buzz among indie circles, with early reviews highlighting its originality, emotional resonance, and unexpected warmth.

Audiences have taken to social media praising the film’s honesty and humor, especially in how it tackles the messiness of modern friendship. Some have even reported feeling an unexpected craving for pickles after watching it.

Beyond the critical praise, Johansson hopes the film sparks conversations about the masks we wear and the fear of being truly seen. “We all have our brined selves—the parts we’ve tucked away, preserved, altered to survive. This film asks what happens when we open the jar and let someone else take a taste.”

When asked whether she’s become a fan of pickling in real life, Johansson laughed and admitted, “Let’s just say I know a lot more about fermentation than I did a year ago. And yes, my fridge now has more than just pickles—it has stories.”

As Johansson continues to evolve as both an actress and producer, Brined stands out as a passion project that blends her talent for deep emotional expression with a touch of playful absurdity. It’s a film about contradictions—how something sour can be sweet, how lies can lead to truth, and how sometimes, the best way to find yourself is to get lost in someone else.

For a film that began with a simple lie and a shared love for pickles, Brined offers something unexpectedly profound: a reminder that friendship, in all its messy, briny glory, is worth fighting for—even when it starts in the most unlikely of places.

Scarlett Johansson is no stranger to complex characters and emotionally charged narratives, but her latest film might just be her most surprising yet.

Known for her range—from action-packed blockbusters to award-winning dramas—Johansson now turns her attention to a smaller, offbeat indie project that is equal parts comedic, heart-wrenching, and delightfully absurd.

Titled Brined, the film explores the evolution of a friendship founded on deception and the unexpectedly deep metaphorical power of pickles.

At a recent press conference for the Toronto International Film Festival, Johansson shared insight into the project, which she also co-produced. Dressed casually and seated comfortably among fellow cast members, she laughed when asked about the film’s peculiar premise.

“It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud,” she admitted. “But that’s kind of the point. It’s a ridiculous situation that reveals something very real about human connection.”

In Brined, Johansson plays Lydia, a socially anxious food chemist who accidentally introduces herself under a false name during a pickle-tasting event. She’s just gone through a breakup, she’s emotionally vulnerable, and for a moment, she becomes someone else—literally.

Her new friend, Nora, played by British actress Phoebe Dynevor, is immediately captivated by Lydia’s quirky charisma and invites her into a world of homemade fermentation, local markets, and budding friendship. What begins as a harmless white lie spirals into a full-blown identity crisis as the friendship deepens and the truth becomes harder to tell.

Johansson described Lydia as a character who “uses dishonesty as a shield” but is ultimately craving authentic connection. “I think we’ve all had moments where we wanted to be someone else, even briefly,” she said.

“Lydia just happened to find someone who loved that version of her. The real challenge was figuring out if she could be loved for who she actually is.” The film captures this internal struggle with subtlety, weaving comedy and melancholy into a story that feels both grounded and strangely whimsical.

Director Elise Tran, known for her minimalist visual style and intimate storytelling, approached the narrative with a light hand, letting the characters breathe and the humor come naturally.

The decision to center the story around pickling was her idea. “Pickles are complicated,” Tran said during the same press event. “They’re transformed by pressure and time.

They’re sour, sometimes sweet, and always a little weird. That’s what Lydia and Nora’s friendship is. And honestly, who doesn’t have a jar of unresolved emotions on the back shelf of their fridge?”

Pickles may sound like a quirky narrative hook, but in Brined, they take on a surprisingly symbolic role. The two characters bond over their shared love for fermentation, leading to late-night kitchen experiments, failed cucumber batches, and one unforgettable scene involving a fire alarm and a bathtub full of brine.

Yet beneath the laughter is a tender meditation on identity—how we preserve certain versions of ourselves to be more palatable to others, and how, over time, the real self begins to seep through.

Johansson, who has been candid in past interviews about navigating fame and the public perception of her own identity, found the metaphor resonant.

“There’s definitely a part of me that understood Lydia’s desire to be someone more exciting, more ‘digestible,’” she said. “But I also think the film is about the moment you realize that the real you—warts, weirdness, and all—is worth showing up for.”

The chemistry between Johansson and Dynevor is palpable on screen, with critics praising their dynamic as “oddly addictive” and “emotionally nuanced.” Their friendship unfolds with a kind of quiet magic, punctuated by confessions, laughter, and the occasional kitchen disaster.

As the lie grows harder to maintain, so too does the illusion of emotional safety. The inevitable moment of truth arrives not with melodrama, but with raw vulnerability—and a shared jar of pickled beets.

While the film avoids traditional genre labels, its strength lies in its refusal to be easily categorized. It’s not quite a comedy, not entirely a drama, and certainly not a romance—though the emotional intimacy between the two women often mirrors the rhythms of a love story. It is, at its core, about the human need for connection and the quiet tragedy of hiding in plain sight.

Johansson said one of the most challenging aspects of the role was playing a character who is constantly performing. “It’s exhausting to lie, even in fiction,” she explained. “There’s this tension that builds under every interaction, this fear that one word, one slip, will unravel everything. And as an actor, that’s both fascinating and incredibly draining to live in.”

The film’s emotional climax is understated but deeply affecting. After the truth comes out, the question isn’t whether the friendship can survive—it’s whether it was ever real to begin with. The answer, according to Johansson, is more complicated than it seems.

“Just because something started with a lie doesn’t mean everything about it was false,” she said. “Sometimes, people connect in ways that transcend the circumstances. And the journey from pretending to authenticity can be one of the most powerful things we go through.”

Following the film’s premiere, Brined has already begun generating buzz among indie circles, with early reviews highlighting its originality, emotional resonance, and unexpected warmth.

Audiences have taken to social media praising the film’s honesty and humor, especially in how it tackles the messiness of modern friendship. Some have even reported feeling an unexpected craving for pickles after watching it.

Beyond the critical praise, Johansson hopes the film sparks conversations about the masks we wear and the fear of being truly seen. “We all have our brined selves—the parts we’ve tucked away, preserved, altered to survive. This film asks what happens when we open the jar and let someone else take a taste.”

When asked whether she’s become a fan of pickling in real life, Johansson laughed and admitted, “Let’s just say I know a lot more about fermentation than I did a year ago. And yes, my fridge now has more than just pickles—it has stories.”

As Johansson continues to evolve as both an actress and producer, Brined stands out as a passion project that blends her talent for deep emotional expression with a touch of playful absurdity. It’s a film about contradictions—how something sour can be sweet, how lies can lead to truth, and how sometimes, the best way to find yourself is to get lost in someone else.

For a film that began with a simple lie and a shared love for pickles, Brined offers something unexpectedly profound: a reminder that friendship, in all its messy, briny glory, is worth fighting for—even when it starts in the most unlikely of places.

The mom of two first revealed her daughter’s type 1 diabetes diagnosis to PEOPLE in a May cover story

Since leaving Today, Hoda Kotb has been able to have “smaller conversations” with her kids. But the impact they have is immeasurable.

Kotb, 61, reunited with her former Today co-anchor and longtime friend, Jenna Bush Hager, for the Sept. 23 episode of her podcast, Open Book with Jenna. At one point, the mom of two — she shares daughters with her ex-fiancé Joel Schiffman — opened up about a special chat she had with her youngest about what it’s like to live with type 1 diabetes.

Since leaving the show, Kotb told host Bush Hager, 43, she’s “noticed” that she’s “been able to have smaller conversations,” with daughters Haley, 8, and Hope, 6. “So here’s one.”

“Yesterday, Hope was on the potty, and I’m reading Cinderella, which is totally normal, on her cat bed — which I don’t even know why we have that. There’s a cat bed. There’s no cat. We just have a cat bed. She likes it,” the Today alum began.

“So I’m reading to her about Cinderella,” she recalled, “and I close the book and I look at her and she’s just looking at me with those big brown eyes and I go, ‘Can I ask you something, honey?’ And she goes, ‘Yeah.’ And I go, ‘What’s it like to have diabetes?’ ”

Kotb continued, “And she looked at me and she goes, ‘Well, it hurts, with the needles, and it, and it hurts my feelings when I can’t have things other kids have sometimes. And then I sometimes think, “Oh well, that’s my life, and then I think maybe it’ll go away.’ And then she looks at me and she said, ‘What’s it like for you?’”

“I go, ‘For me?’ She goes, ‘To have me.’ And I said, ‘Oh my God.’”

Her reply to the 6-year-old, Kotb said, was: “Having you is a big statement from God saying basically, I gave you the strongest one, so I feel really, really lucky to have you.”

“And she goes, ‘Okay, will you wipe me?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes,’ but all I was thinking was I sprint through life, and I miss it,” the Today alum recalled, “because I don’t pause long enough to even sit for a minute and have a conversation without thinking about, ‘Gotta go, gotta text, gotta’… and I think that’s what I was realizing like, all these littler conversations are coming out.”

Bush Hager then chimed in, “The littler that are actually huge — like, that was what you probably wrote down in your journal this morning.”

“Yes, that was it,” Kotb added. “And so I keep reminding myself like, you know, ‘Take it small, get all the conversations, know your kids, ask them.’ ”

The mom of two first revealed her daughter’s diabetes diagnosis to PEOPLE in a May cover story — over two years after a sudden onset of mysterious symptoms landed Hope in the hospital for two weeks and forced Kotb to take a leave of absence from the Today show.

“She is a happy, healthy, rambunctious, amazing kid, and we have to watch her,” Kotb said at the time. “Diabetes is a part of her but not all of her. I hope it shapes her but never defines her.”

The former TV personality stepped away from Today in January in order to spend more time with her daughters and to focus on her new wellness business venture, Joy 101. Back in May, Kotb opened up to PEOPLE about the decision to exit the show after 17 years.

“It’s really cool to just realize that there’s so much more to life,” she told PEOPLE at the time. “I wasn’t able to bear witness to my kids’ daily lives because of what I was doing. I got to see Haley sing ‘What a Wonderful World’ at 9:15 a.m. — I would have missed that.”

“I used to think life was the big things,” she added, “but it really is all the stuff that happens in between.”

The mom of two first revealed her daughter’s type 1 diabetes diagnosis to PEOPLE in a May cover story

Since leaving Today, Hoda Kotb has been able to have “smaller conversations” with her kids. But the impact they have is immeasurable.

Kotb, 61, reunited with her former Today co-anchor and longtime friend, Jenna Bush Hager, for the Sept. 23 episode of her podcast, Open Book with Jenna. At one point, the mom of two — she shares daughters with her ex-fiancé Joel Schiffman — opened up about a special chat she had with her youngest about what it’s like to live with type 1 diabetes.

Since leaving the show, Kotb told host Bush Hager, 43, she’s “noticed” that she’s “been able to have smaller conversations,” with daughters Haley, 8, and Hope, 6. “So here’s one.”

“Yesterday, Hope was on the potty, and I’m reading Cinderella, which is totally normal, on her cat bed — which I don’t even know why we have that. There’s a cat bed. There’s no cat. We just have a cat bed. She likes it,” the Today alum began.

“So I’m reading to her about Cinderella,” she recalled, “and I close the book and I look at her and she’s just looking at me with those big brown eyes and I go, ‘Can I ask you something, honey?’ And she goes, ‘Yeah.’ And I go, ‘What’s it like to have diabetes?’ ”

Kotb continued, “And she looked at me and she goes, ‘Well, it hurts, with the needles, and it, and it hurts my feelings when I can’t have things other kids have sometimes. And then I sometimes think, “Oh well, that’s my life, and then I think maybe it’ll go away.’ And then she looks at me and she said, ‘What’s it like for you?’”

“I go, ‘For me?’ She goes, ‘To have me.’ And I said, ‘Oh my God.’”

Her reply to the 6-year-old, Kotb said, was: “Having you is a big statement from God saying basically, I gave you the strongest one, so I feel really, really lucky to have you.”

“And she goes, ‘Okay, will you wipe me?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes,’ but all I was thinking was I sprint through life, and I miss it,” the Today alum recalled, “because I don’t pause long enough to even sit for a minute and have a conversation without thinking about, ‘Gotta go, gotta text, gotta’… and I think that’s what I was realizing like, all these littler conversations are coming out.”

Bush Hager then chimed in, “The littler that are actually huge — like, that was what you probably wrote down in your journal this morning.”

“Yes, that was it,” Kotb added. “And so I keep reminding myself like, you know, ‘Take it small, get all the conversations, know your kids, ask them.’ ”

The mom of two first revealed her daughter’s diabetes diagnosis to PEOPLE in a May cover story — over two years after a sudden onset of mysterious symptoms landed Hope in the hospital for two weeks and forced Kotb to take a leave of absence from the Today show.

“She is a happy, healthy, rambunctious, amazing kid, and we have to watch her,” Kotb said at the time. “Diabetes is a part of her but not all of her. I hope it shapes her but never defines her.”

The former TV personality stepped away from Today in January in order to spend more time with her daughters and to focus on her new wellness business venture, Joy 101. Back in May, Kotb opened up to PEOPLE about the decision to exit the show after 17 years.

“It’s really cool to just realize that there’s so much more to life,” she told PEOPLE at the time. “I wasn’t able to bear witness to my kids’ daily lives because of what I was doing. I got to see Haley sing ‘What a Wonderful World’ at 9:15 a.m. — I would have missed that.”

“I used to think life was the big things,” she added, “but it really is all the stuff that happens in between.”

ormer “Today” star Hoda Kotb has made a highly anticipated return to the morning show that turned her into a household name—however, instead of picking back up her hosting duties, the mother of two took on a very different role, appearing as a guest.

Kotb, 61, rejoined her former co-star, Savannah Guthrie, in the NBC studio, where she candidly opened up about the ways in which her life has changed in the last year since she announced that she was leaving the show.

Her personal evolution takes center stage in her new book, “Jump and Find Joy: Embracing Change in Every Season of Life,” a series of motivational quotes and stories that have helped Kotb face tough challenges head-on throughout every stage of her life.

Kotb also lays out some of those personal hurdles that she has had to leap over, including her split from her former fiancé, Joel Schiffman, with whom she adopted two children before announcing their breakup in 2022, having spent nearly 10 years together.

Speaking about the decision to end the relationship, Kotb—who relocated from New York City to Bronxville with her two daughters shortly before stepping down from “Today”—explained that it was prompted by a moment of clarity in her life that came after she spent a week at a retreat at the Hoffman Institute.

Having completed the program, which is meant to help participants “identify negative behaviors, moods, and ways of thinking that developed unconsciously and were conditioned in childhood,” according to its website, Kotb says she felt as though “everything had shifted” in her life, including her relationship with Schiffman.

“I think we’ve always been connected and will always be connected for many reasons,” the mother of two explained to Today.com. “We will co-parent in a beautiful way, but I also think our ‘us’ is more of a, like, we’re dear friends now. And that’s beautiful, and it’s enjoyable and it feels right.

“We were laughing the other day just in hysterics, and I feel like this is the right relationship for us to have.”

Despite ending their romantic relationship, Kotb says that Schiffman’s role in their daughters’ lives remains much the same as it was before their split—noting that he regularly spends time at their new home, which the former on-air star purchased for $2.9 million in April 2024.

“We’ll do a barbecue. He’ll give the girls a kiss. He says, ‘See you in the morning.’ He’ll come back in the morning,” she explained.

Kotb added that both she and Schiffman have dedicated themselves to ensuring that the transition has been as smooth as possible for the sake of their daughters—Haley, 8, and Hope, 6—revealing that she and her former partner do not allocate time slots for each person to spend time with the kids, but instead share their time however feels most natural.

“Kids catch pretending. They know that Joel and I care so much for each other, and they also know that we love them dearly,” she said. “And I think it’s about carving out time. It’s not his time, my time. It’s our time. That’s how we do it.”

As for a future relationship, Kotb noted that she is not actively pursuing anything romantic—either via setups from friends or on dating apps—however, she believes that she will find herself a partner at some point in the future, when the time is right.

“I think I’m just waiting to see what happens. … I always tell my kids, ‘Thoughts become things. So think about what you can be,’” she explained.

“I’m not running around saying, ‘Set me up. Who’s the guy? What’s the app?’ But I do know that in this season, that’s coming—where and how, I’m not clear yet. But I think the closer you get to who you are, the more likely you are to meet someone who you’re ready for.

“There’s someone meant for me out there, which I’m convinced of. I have no doubt in my mind that that exists and that person is out there.”

Speaking about her decision to leave NBC after nearly two decades on the air, Kotb described it has being “equal parts exhilarating and scary,” noting that she felt a bit like “the new kid in school.”

“Being a beginner is exciting for me, and I feel like that’s what’s happening to me right now. I’m a beginner again,” she said.

Kotb first announced in September 2024 that she would be stepping down from the “Today” show after 17 years to spend more time with her two daughters, later revealing that her final day on-air would be Jan. 10.

Her shock announcement—which left her co-hosts in tears—came not long after Kotb quit her longtime home in Manhattan and moved to a stunning new home in Bronxville, where she said she planned to enjoy some downtime in the wake of her departure from NBC.

Speaking to Today.com ahead of her last day, Kotb opened up about her desire to embrace a new routine with her kids at the four-bedroom, five-bathroom, center-hall Colonial, explaining that she is excited to have a more “normal” day-to-day regimen after years of early mornings.

“I’m just going to let us be a family with a normal rhythm of life. See what we become,” she said. “I’m going to let [my daughters] take more trips and stay up a little later because part of the reason I put them to bed at that hour is because I’ve got to go to bed. I’m like, ‘Goodnight! Everyone’s going to bed.’ They’re like, ‘It’s 6:30!’ I’m like, ‘Yeah, lights out!’”

Charlie Lankston is the executive editor at Realtor.com. She previously worked at DailyMail.com as the associate editor covering news, celebrities, travel, lifestyle, and the British royals.

In 2019, she was part of the DailyMailTV team that won a Daytime Emmy Award for Outstanding Entertainment News Program. Charlie earned a B.A. in English literature and theatre studies from the University of Warwick and an M.A. in newspaper journalism from City University in London. Originally from London, she has been based in New York City for 10 years.

ormer “Today” star Hoda Kotb has made a highly anticipated return to the morning show that turned her into a household name—however, instead of picking back up her hosting duties, the mother of two took on a very different role, appearing as a guest.

Kotb, 61, rejoined her former co-star, Savannah Guthrie, in the NBC studio, where she candidly opened up about the ways in which her life has changed in the last year since she announced that she was leaving the show.

Her personal evolution takes center stage in her new book, “Jump and Find Joy: Embracing Change in Every Season of Life,” a series of motivational quotes and stories that have helped Kotb face tough challenges head-on throughout every stage of her life.

Kotb also lays out some of those personal hurdles that she has had to leap over, including her split from her former fiancé, Joel Schiffman, with whom she adopted two children before announcing their breakup in 2022, having spent nearly 10 years together.

Speaking about the decision to end the relationship, Kotb—who relocated from New York City to Bronxville with her two daughters shortly before stepping down from “Today”—explained that it was prompted by a moment of clarity in her life that came after she spent a week at a retreat at the Hoffman Institute.

Having completed the program, which is meant to help participants “identify negative behaviors, moods, and ways of thinking that developed unconsciously and were conditioned in childhood,” according to its website, Kotb says she felt as though “everything had shifted” in her life, including her relationship with Schiffman.

“I think we’ve always been connected and will always be connected for many reasons,” the mother of two explained to Today.com. “We will co-parent in a beautiful way, but I also think our ‘us’ is more of a, like, we’re dear friends now. And that’s beautiful, and it’s enjoyable and it feels right.

“We were laughing the other day just in hysterics, and I feel like this is the right relationship for us to have.”

Despite ending their romantic relationship, Kotb says that Schiffman’s role in their daughters’ lives remains much the same as it was before their split—noting that he regularly spends time at their new home, which the former on-air star purchased for $2.9 million in April 2024.

“We’ll do a barbecue. He’ll give the girls a kiss. He says, ‘See you in the morning.’ He’ll come back in the morning,” she explained.

Kotb added that both she and Schiffman have dedicated themselves to ensuring that the transition has been as smooth as possible for the sake of their daughters—Haley, 8, and Hope, 6—revealing that she and her former partner do not allocate time slots for each person to spend time with the kids, but instead share their time however feels most natural.

“Kids catch pretending. They know that Joel and I care so much for each other, and they also know that we love them dearly,” she said. “And I think it’s about carving out time. It’s not his time, my time. It’s our time. That’s how we do it.”

As for a future relationship, Kotb noted that she is not actively pursuing anything romantic—either via setups from friends or on dating apps—however, she believes that she will find herself a partner at some point in the future, when the time is right.

“I think I’m just waiting to see what happens. … I always tell my kids, ‘Thoughts become things. So think about what you can be,’” she explained.

“I’m not running around saying, ‘Set me up. Who’s the guy? What’s the app?’ But I do know that in this season, that’s coming—where and how, I’m not clear yet. But I think the closer you get to who you are, the more likely you are to meet someone who you’re ready for.

“There’s someone meant for me out there, which I’m convinced of. I have no doubt in my mind that that exists and that person is out there.”

Speaking about her decision to leave NBC after nearly two decades on the air, Kotb described it has being “equal parts exhilarating and scary,” noting that she felt a bit like “the new kid in school.”

“Being a beginner is exciting for me, and I feel like that’s what’s happening to me right now. I’m a beginner again,” she said.

Kotb first announced in September 2024 that she would be stepping down from the “Today” show after 17 years to spend more time with her two daughters, later revealing that her final day on-air would be Jan. 10.

Her shock announcement—which left her co-hosts in tears—came not long after Kotb quit her longtime home in Manhattan and moved to a stunning new home in Bronxville, where she said she planned to enjoy some downtime in the wake of her departure from NBC.

Speaking to Today.com ahead of her last day, Kotb opened up about her desire to embrace a new routine with her kids at the four-bedroom, five-bathroom, center-hall Colonial, explaining that she is excited to have a more “normal” day-to-day regimen after years of early mornings.

“I’m just going to let us be a family with a normal rhythm of life. See what we become,” she said. “I’m going to let [my daughters] take more trips and stay up a little later because part of the reason I put them to bed at that hour is because I’ve got to go to bed. I’m like, ‘Goodnight! Everyone’s going to bed.’ They’re like, ‘It’s 6:30!’ I’m like, ‘Yeah, lights out!’”

Charlie Lankston is the executive editor at Realtor.com. She previously worked at DailyMail.com as the associate editor covering news, celebrities, travel, lifestyle, and the British royals.

In 2019, she was part of the DailyMailTV team that won a Daytime Emmy Award for Outstanding Entertainment News Program. Charlie earned a B.A. in English literature and theatre studies from the University of Warwick and an M.A. in newspaper journalism from City University in London. Originally from London, she has been based in New York City for 10 years.

Sean Penn, the two-time Academy Award-winning actor, director, and outspoken activist, has never shied away from controversy or speaking his mind.

In a recent extended interview, Penn took the opportunity to address a range of issues — from internet misinformation to media accountability, and even a direct message to the Federal Communications Commission (FCC).

The conversation revealed the intensity and introspection of a man who has weathered decades of both acclaim and criticism, and who continues to find himself at the heart of cultural and political firestorms.

During the nearly hour-long discussion, Penn didn’t hold back. He opened with a pointed critique of what he sees as the FCC’s failure to effectively regulate digital platforms that allow misinformation, harassment, and unchecked character assassination to thrive.

“We have a regulatory body that’s asleep at the wheel when it comes to the internet,” he said. “The FCC was created to protect the public interest. I’m not sure they even remember what that phrase means anymore.”

He argued that while the commission has maintained tight control over traditional broadcasting, it has done little to address the growing impact of online platforms that reach billions.

Penn’s message to the FCC was not one of censorship, he clarified, but of responsibility. He emphasized the need for oversight in a world where misinformation can spread with unprecedented speed and consequences.

Citing recent events where viral rumors distorted reality and impacted people’s lives — including his own — Penn called for a reassessment of how regulatory bodies adapt to the digital age. “We’ve handed the keys to a reckless machine that profits off confusion and outrage,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Where’s the protection for the truth?”

The conversation then shifted toward Penn’s personal experience with online rumor mills — something he has endured for years. From alleged feuds to conspiracy theories, Penn has found himself repeatedly battling false narratives perpetuated by faceless online accounts and click-driven tabloids.

“There’s no correction mechanism,” he noted. “Once something is out there, it lives forever — no matter how false, how ridiculous. The internet doesn’t apologize.” Penn acknowledged that being a public figure means scrutiny, but he drew the line at what he described as “manufactured drama” and “digital character assassination.”

One particularly egregious example, Penn recalled, involved a fabricated story about his alleged involvement in an international scandal — something he said was entirely fictional but gained traction on social media for weeks.

“I woke up one morning and found myself trending for something I had no part in. No journalist called to verify. No editor stepped in. It just exploded,” he said.

The experience, he added, was a wake-up call not just about the internet’s capacity for chaos, but about society’s complicity in consuming and amplifying it. “We’ve become addicted to stories, not facts,” he said. “And it’s destroying people’s lives.”

Penn admitted that, at times, he’s considered withdrawing entirely from public life. The unrelenting scrutiny, the distortion of his intentions, and the pressure of living under a digital microscope have taken a toll.

Yet, he keeps returning — not for fame, he insists, but because of a deep-seated belief in using his voice and art for change. “I don’t always get it right,” he said candidly.

“But I’m trying. I’ve never wanted to be liked. I’ve wanted to be honest.” That honesty, though often polarizing, has defined much of Penn’s career and activism — from his trips to war zones and disaster areas to his candid, sometimes controversial political commentary.

The phrase “one battle after another” surfaced multiple times in the conversation, describing both Penn’s internal struggles and his external fights — for humanitarian causes, artistic integrity, and personal truth.

He spoke of the psychological cost of activism in a cynical world and the loneliness that sometimes accompanies taking a stand. “When you speak out, you lose people. Friends. Jobs. Sometimes even family,” he said. “But if you’re silent, you lose yourself.”

Despite the emotional wear and tear, Penn remains engaged in both the arts and humanitarian work. His nonprofit organization, CORE (Community Organized Relief Effort), continues to operate in global crisis zones, providing rapid response in situations ranging from pandemics to natural disasters.

That work, he said, has kept him grounded amid the chaos of celebrity culture. “When you’re standing in a tent in Haiti or on the streets of Ukraine, internet rumors don’t mean much,” he said. “You’re reminded what really matters — life, dignity, survival.”

The conversation also touched on the difficulty of reconciling Penn’s artistic passions with his activist impulses. He described filmmaking as a “sacred space” but acknowledged that the current media environment makes it hard to separate the art from the artist.

“People don’t just watch movies anymore. They dissect your political views, your private life, your past mistakes,” he said. “Art has become collateral damage in the culture war.” Still, Penn said he remains committed to making films that reflect human complexity and emotional truth — even if they risk backlash.

Reflecting on the state of the industry, Penn expressed concern over what he sees as a growing aversion to risk and nuance in Hollywood. Stories are being filtered through layers of corporate approval, algorithms, and fear of outrage.

“We’re packaging entertainment for fear, not for truth,” he said. “There’s a difference between being careful and being cowardly.” He called on studios and creators to resist the urge to sanitize or simplify their work to avoid controversy, arguing that true art must be brave enough to offend.

Despite the battles — public and private — Penn remains, as ever, a complex figure. His critics label him as arrogant, self-righteous, or difficult. His supporters see him as principled, passionate, and deeply committed to justice. He acknowledged both views with a shrug. “Maybe I’m both,” he said. “But I’d rather be fighting than fading.”

As the interview drew to a close, Penn returned to his core message — one he believes applies not just to the FCC or internet culture, but to society at large. “We have to start valuing the truth again,” he said.

“Not just what’s convenient, not just what’s entertaining. The truth. Otherwise, we’re lost.” His words were less of a sermon and more of a plea, voiced by someone who has lived through the fire and emerged, if not unscathed, then undeterred.

Sean Penn is not perfect, nor does he pretend to be. But in an age of carefully curated personas and media-trained platitudes, his raw, unfiltered approach stands out.

Whether delivering aid in disaster zones, creating emotionally charged cinema, or challenging institutional silence, Penn remains fiercely committed to being present — and vocal — in a world that too often rewards apathy. One battle after another, as he says. And he’s still in the fight.

Sean Penn, the two-time Academy Award-winning actor, director, and outspoken activist, has never shied away from controversy or speaking his mind.

In a recent extended interview, Penn took the opportunity to address a range of issues — from internet misinformation to media accountability, and even a direct message to the Federal Communications Commission (FCC).

The conversation revealed the intensity and introspection of a man who has weathered decades of both acclaim and criticism, and who continues to find himself at the heart of cultural and political firestorms.

During the nearly hour-long discussion, Penn didn’t hold back. He opened with a pointed critique of what he sees as the FCC’s failure to effectively regulate digital platforms that allow misinformation, harassment, and unchecked character assassination to thrive.

“We have a regulatory body that’s asleep at the wheel when it comes to the internet,” he said. “The FCC was created to protect the public interest. I’m not sure they even remember what that phrase means anymore.”

He argued that while the commission has maintained tight control over traditional broadcasting, it has done little to address the growing impact of online platforms that reach billions.

Penn’s message to the FCC was not one of censorship, he clarified, but of responsibility. He emphasized the need for oversight in a world where misinformation can spread with unprecedented speed and consequences.

Citing recent events where viral rumors distorted reality and impacted people’s lives — including his own — Penn called for a reassessment of how regulatory bodies adapt to the digital age. “We’ve handed the keys to a reckless machine that profits off confusion and outrage,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Where’s the protection for the truth?”

The conversation then shifted toward Penn’s personal experience with online rumor mills — something he has endured for years. From alleged feuds to conspiracy theories, Penn has found himself repeatedly battling false narratives perpetuated by faceless online accounts and click-driven tabloids.

“There’s no correction mechanism,” he noted. “Once something is out there, it lives forever — no matter how false, how ridiculous. The internet doesn’t apologize.” Penn acknowledged that being a public figure means scrutiny, but he drew the line at what he described as “manufactured drama” and “digital character assassination.”

One particularly egregious example, Penn recalled, involved a fabricated story about his alleged involvement in an international scandal — something he said was entirely fictional but gained traction on social media for weeks.

“I woke up one morning and found myself trending for something I had no part in. No journalist called to verify. No editor stepped in. It just exploded,” he said.

The experience, he added, was a wake-up call not just about the internet’s capacity for chaos, but about society’s complicity in consuming and amplifying it. “We’ve become addicted to stories, not facts,” he said. “And it’s destroying people’s lives.”

Penn admitted that, at times, he’s considered withdrawing entirely from public life. The unrelenting scrutiny, the distortion of his intentions, and the pressure of living under a digital microscope have taken a toll.

Yet, he keeps returning — not for fame, he insists, but because of a deep-seated belief in using his voice and art for change. “I don’t always get it right,” he said candidly.

“But I’m trying. I’ve never wanted to be liked. I’ve wanted to be honest.” That honesty, though often polarizing, has defined much of Penn’s career and activism — from his trips to war zones and disaster areas to his candid, sometimes controversial political commentary.

The phrase “one battle after another” surfaced multiple times in the conversation, describing both Penn’s internal struggles and his external fights — for humanitarian causes, artistic integrity, and personal truth.

He spoke of the psychological cost of activism in a cynical world and the loneliness that sometimes accompanies taking a stand. “When you speak out, you lose people. Friends. Jobs. Sometimes even family,” he said. “But if you’re silent, you lose yourself.”

Despite the emotional wear and tear, Penn remains engaged in both the arts and humanitarian work. His nonprofit organization, CORE (Community Organized Relief Effort), continues to operate in global crisis zones, providing rapid response in situations ranging from pandemics to natural disasters.

That work, he said, has kept him grounded amid the chaos of celebrity culture. “When you’re standing in a tent in Haiti or on the streets of Ukraine, internet rumors don’t mean much,” he said. “You’re reminded what really matters — life, dignity, survival.”

The conversation also touched on the difficulty of reconciling Penn’s artistic passions with his activist impulses. He described filmmaking as a “sacred space” but acknowledged that the current media environment makes it hard to separate the art from the artist.

“People don’t just watch movies anymore. They dissect your political views, your private life, your past mistakes,” he said. “Art has become collateral damage in the culture war.” Still, Penn said he remains committed to making films that reflect human complexity and emotional truth — even if they risk backlash.

Reflecting on the state of the industry, Penn expressed concern over what he sees as a growing aversion to risk and nuance in Hollywood. Stories are being filtered through layers of corporate approval, algorithms, and fear of outrage.

“We’re packaging entertainment for fear, not for truth,” he said. “There’s a difference between being careful and being cowardly.” He called on studios and creators to resist the urge to sanitize or simplify their work to avoid controversy, arguing that true art must be brave enough to offend.

Despite the battles — public and private — Penn remains, as ever, a complex figure. His critics label him as arrogant, self-righteous, or difficult. His supporters see him as principled, passionate, and deeply committed to justice. He acknowledged both views with a shrug. “Maybe I’m both,” he said. “But I’d rather be fighting than fading.”

As the interview drew to a close, Penn returned to his core message — one he believes applies not just to the FCC or internet culture, but to society at large. “We have to start valuing the truth again,” he said.

“Not just what’s convenient, not just what’s entertaining. The truth. Otherwise, we’re lost.” His words were less of a sermon and more of a plea, voiced by someone who has lived through the fire and emerged, if not unscathed, then undeterred.

Sean Penn is not perfect, nor does he pretend to be. But in an age of carefully curated personas and media-trained platitudes, his raw, unfiltered approach stands out.

Whether delivering aid in disaster zones, creating emotionally charged cinema, or challenging institutional silence, Penn remains fiercely committed to being present — and vocal — in a world that too often rewards apathy. One battle after another, as he says. And he’s still in the fight.

The literary world was abuzz with surprise when news emerged that Fredrik Backman, the internationally bestselling Swedish author, had declined an opportunity to meet legendary comedian Jerry Seinfeld.

This unexpected revelation has sparked conversations about celebrity culture, artistic boundaries, and the sometimes awkward intersection between different creative spheres.

Fredrik Backman has become one of the most beloved contemporary authors, known for his deeply emotional and character-driven narratives that explore themes of community, loss, and human connection.

His breakthrough novel garnered worldwide acclaim and established him as a master of finding profound meaning in everyday life. His subsequent works have continued to resonate with millions of readers globally, earning him a devoted following that spans continents and cultures.

The decision to turn down a meeting with Jerry Seinfeld, one of comedy’s most iconic figures, might seem puzzling to many. After all, Seinfeld’s influence on popular culture is undeniable, and his eponymous sitcom remains one of the most successful television shows in history.

For most people, an opportunity to meet such a cultural icon would be impossible to resist. Yet Backman’s choice reflects something deeper about his personality and approach to fame.

Those familiar with Backman’s work and public persona might find this decision entirely consistent with his character. The author has always maintained a certain distance from the celebrity aspects of literary success, preferring to let his work speak for itself rather than cultivating a public personality.

His interviews tend to focus on his writing process and the themes in his books rather than his personal life or interactions with other famous individuals.

The context surrounding the potential meeting remains somewhat mysterious, adding to the intrigue of the story. Whether it was a casual opportunity at a social event, a planned professional encounter, or something arranged by mutual acquaintances, the specifics matter less than what the declination represents.

It speaks to a broader conversation about the obligations and expectations placed on successful artists in different fields.

This incident highlights the interesting dynamics that occur when celebrities from different artistic domains potentially intersect. While both Backman and Seinfeld are storytellers in their own right, their approaches, mediums, and audiences differ significantly.

Seinfeld’s observational comedy and Backman’s emotional narratives operate in distinct creative spaces, potentially making a meeting between them more obligatory than organic.

The author’s decision also raises questions about the nature of celebrity meetings in general. Are such encounters meaningful, or do they often devolve into awkward exchanges of pleasantries?

For someone like Backman, who draws inspiration from ordinary people and everyday situations, a staged meeting with another celebrity might feel artificial or removed from the authentic human connections that fuel his writing.

Some might interpret Backman’s choice as a form of artistic integrity, a refusal to participate in the sometimes superficial aspects of fame. Others might see it as a missed opportunity for an interesting exchange between two successful creators.

The truth likely lies somewhere in between, reflecting personal preferences and comfort levels rather than any judgment on Seinfeld himself.

The publishing industry has increasingly pushed authors to become public figures, engaging in extensive promotional tours, social media presence, and celebrity interactions.

Backman’s decision to decline this particular meeting might represent a small act of resistance against these pressures, asserting his right to define the boundaries of his public life on his own terms.

It’s worth considering the cultural differences at play as well. Backman’s Swedish background might influence his approach to fame and celebrity encounters differently than an American author might.

Nordic cultural values often emphasize modesty and privacy, which could contribute to his comfort in declining such meetings without feeling obligated by social expectations.

The story also reflects the changing nature of celebrity in the digital age. Where once such a declined meeting might have gone unnoticed, today it becomes a topic of public discussion and speculation. This scrutiny of even the most minor celebrity interactions or non-interactions demonstrates how fame has evolved in the social media era.

For fans of both Backman and Seinfeld, this non-meeting might represent a fascinating “what if” scenario. What conversations might have emerged between a comedian who finds humor in life’s minutiae and an author who finds profound meaning in similar observations? Yet perhaps the fact that this meeting didn’t occur is itself more interesting than any actual encounter might have been.

The incident serves as a reminder that success in one creative field doesn’t automatically create meaningful connections with success in another. While both men have achieved remarkable accomplishments in their respective fields, this doesn’t necessarily mean they would have anything substantial to discuss beyond professional pleasantries.

Ultimately, Backman’s decision to decline meeting Seinfeld reflects the personal nature of fame and how different individuals choose to navigate it.

Some embrace every opportunity for high-profile connections, while others, like Backman, appear more selective about their interactions. Neither approach is inherently right or wrong; they simply reflect different philosophies about public life and personal boundaries.

This story will likely become a small footnote in both men’s careers, but it offers an interesting glimpse into how successful artists manage the expectations and opportunities that come with fame.

For Backman, staying true to his own comfort level and preferences appears to take precedence over obligatory celebrity encounters, a choice that many might find refreshing in an era of constant networking and public appearances. His decision reminds us that even in our interconnected world, saying no remains a valid and sometimes necessary option.

The literary world was abuzz with surprise when news emerged that Fredrik Backman, the internationally bestselling Swedish author, had declined an opportunity to meet legendary comedian Jerry Seinfeld.

This unexpected revelation has sparked conversations about celebrity culture, artistic boundaries, and the sometimes awkward intersection between different creative spheres.

Fredrik Backman has become one of the most beloved contemporary authors, known for his deeply emotional and character-driven narratives that explore themes of community, loss, and human connection.

His breakthrough novel garnered worldwide acclaim and established him as a master of finding profound meaning in everyday life. His subsequent works have continued to resonate with millions of readers globally, earning him a devoted following that spans continents and cultures.

The decision to turn down a meeting with Jerry Seinfeld, one of comedy’s most iconic figures, might seem puzzling to many. After all, Seinfeld’s influence on popular culture is undeniable, and his eponymous sitcom remains one of the most successful television shows in history.

For most people, an opportunity to meet such a cultural icon would be impossible to resist. Yet Backman’s choice reflects something deeper about his personality and approach to fame.

Those familiar with Backman’s work and public persona might find this decision entirely consistent with his character. The author has always maintained a certain distance from the celebrity aspects of literary success, preferring to let his work speak for itself rather than cultivating a public personality.

His interviews tend to focus on his writing process and the themes in his books rather than his personal life or interactions with other famous individuals.

The context surrounding the potential meeting remains somewhat mysterious, adding to the intrigue of the story. Whether it was a casual opportunity at a social event, a planned professional encounter, or something arranged by mutual acquaintances, the specifics matter less than what the declination represents.

It speaks to a broader conversation about the obligations and expectations placed on successful artists in different fields.

This incident highlights the interesting dynamics that occur when celebrities from different artistic domains potentially intersect. While both Backman and Seinfeld are storytellers in their own right, their approaches, mediums, and audiences differ significantly.

Seinfeld’s observational comedy and Backman’s emotional narratives operate in distinct creative spaces, potentially making a meeting between them more obligatory than organic.

The author’s decision also raises questions about the nature of celebrity meetings in general. Are such encounters meaningful, or do they often devolve into awkward exchanges of pleasantries?

For someone like Backman, who draws inspiration from ordinary people and everyday situations, a staged meeting with another celebrity might feel artificial or removed from the authentic human connections that fuel his writing.

Some might interpret Backman’s choice as a form of artistic integrity, a refusal to participate in the sometimes superficial aspects of fame. Others might see it as a missed opportunity for an interesting exchange between two successful creators.

The truth likely lies somewhere in between, reflecting personal preferences and comfort levels rather than any judgment on Seinfeld himself.

The publishing industry has increasingly pushed authors to become public figures, engaging in extensive promotional tours, social media presence, and celebrity interactions.

Backman’s decision to decline this particular meeting might represent a small act of resistance against these pressures, asserting his right to define the boundaries of his public life on his own terms.

It’s worth considering the cultural differences at play as well. Backman’s Swedish background might influence his approach to fame and celebrity encounters differently than an American author might.

Nordic cultural values often emphasize modesty and privacy, which could contribute to his comfort in declining such meetings without feeling obligated by social expectations.

The story also reflects the changing nature of celebrity in the digital age. Where once such a declined meeting might have gone unnoticed, today it becomes a topic of public discussion and speculation. This scrutiny of even the most minor celebrity interactions or non-interactions demonstrates how fame has evolved in the social media era.

For fans of both Backman and Seinfeld, this non-meeting might represent a fascinating “what if” scenario. What conversations might have emerged between a comedian who finds humor in life’s minutiae and an author who finds profound meaning in similar observations? Yet perhaps the fact that this meeting didn’t occur is itself more interesting than any actual encounter might have been.

The incident serves as a reminder that success in one creative field doesn’t automatically create meaningful connections with success in another. While both men have achieved remarkable accomplishments in their respective fields, this doesn’t necessarily mean they would have anything substantial to discuss beyond professional pleasantries.

Ultimately, Backman’s decision to decline meeting Seinfeld reflects the personal nature of fame and how different individuals choose to navigate it.

Some embrace every opportunity for high-profile connections, while others, like Backman, appear more selective about their interactions. Neither approach is inherently right or wrong; they simply reflect different philosophies about public life and personal boundaries.

This story will likely become a small footnote in both men’s careers, but it offers an interesting glimpse into how successful artists manage the expectations and opportunities that come with fame.

For Backman, staying true to his own comfort level and preferences appears to take precedence over obligatory celebrity encounters, a choice that many might find refreshing in an era of constant networking and public appearances. His decision reminds us that even in our interconnected world, saying no remains a valid and sometimes necessary option.