Blog

In a night filled with jaw-dropping performances on The Voice, one audition stood out for both its musical finesse and dramatic flair.

Twenty‑three‑year‑old Max Cooper III delivered a rendition of Mike Posner’s “Cooler Than Me” that earned him the rare honor of a four‑chair turn, propelling him into the spotlight and forcing the coaches into a fierce pitch war.

From the moment Max took the stage, there was something distinctive in his delivery. He began at the piano, playing an arpeggiated intro that felt jazz‑inflected and intimate rather than bombastic.

That contrast proved to be a strategic choice, allowing his voice to emerge not as an echo of the original but as its own interpretation. Immediately, Reba McEntire spun her chair, impressed by the musicality and tone. Snoop Dogg followed, and then Niall Horan and Michael Bublé turned, completing the four‑chair sweep.

Once all four coaches had turned, the room’s energy shifted. Snoop complimented the subtlety of Max’s first lines, admitting he was hooked before the chorus. Reba praised how his voice “grows and grows and grows” throughout the performance.

Niall echoed appreciation for his tonal control and phrasing. But the curveball came when Max shared that the very first song he ever performed was Michael Bublé’s “I Just Haven’t Met You Yet”—a moment of personal connection that silenced the competition.

That revelation led Bublé to step out of his chair and join Max onstage in an impromptu duet of the song. The audience joined in, turning the moment into a celebratory singalong. The chemistry crackled: Max on piano, Bublé leading the vocals, and the coaches watching in delight.

After the performance and coach pitches, Max made his choice: he selected Michael Bublé as his coach. His decision felt almost inevitable given their shared musical moment and personal connection.

What makes this audition remarkable is not only the technical mastery but also the narrative arc. Max’s artistic choices subtly reshaped “Cooler Than Me” from its contemporary pop roots into something more nuanced—inflected with jazz phrasing, dynamic control, and a confidence that allowed each note to land meaningfully.

The performance built gradually, layering emotional depth as it progressed. The coaches responded not just to vocal power, but to musical intelligence and vulnerability.

Moreover, Max’s backstory added emotional weight. Learning piano by ear from a young age—self-taught by mimicking his sister’s playing—he revealed a path of passion and persistence. By tying his origin to Bublé’s music, Max bridged past and present in a way that resonated with coaches and viewers alike.

Beyond the emotional resonance, the four‑chair turn itself is a powerful indicator of consensus—rare in The Voice blind auditions. It signals that all coaches agreed on his potential and that he had captivated them on multiple levels: tone, delivery, originality, and stage presence. It’s a statement of artistic promise that sets a high bar for the ensuing rounds.

As Max embarks on his journey under Bublé’s mentorship, expectations will now be elevated. He’s no longer just an audition clip; he’s a contender. But his blind audition performance suggests he’s ready. He showed he can reinterpret a well-known song, command attention through intimacy, and make personal connections that transcend the stage.

For the coaches, that moment is just the beginning of a creative dialogue. Bublé will likely push Max further into finding his voice—not simply as an imitator but a genuine artist. The collaborative duet was an auspicious start; now the mentorship begins in earnest.

This audition also offers a reminder of what The Voice at its best can deliver: moments when talent, storytelling, and human connection intersect. It’s not just about hitting notes or wowing audiences with high drama. It’s about individuals bringing their histories, choices, passions—and having a way to express those through music.

In the weeks ahead, viewers will watch Max’s progression through Battles, Knockouts, and beyond. Will he lean more jazz, or swing back toward pop? Will he lean into vulnerability, or build more confidence in showmanship? The foundation is strong: a four‑chair turn, a coach who’s already invested, and a beginning that balances technical skill with emotional truth.

Already, clips of his performance are circulating online. Fans are praising the reinterpretation, the nuance, and the courage of a young singer willing to step into the spotlight with intention. He’s become part of this season’s conversation, and for good reason.

Tonight’s audition was a standout not only within The Voice’s season, but as an example of how a chosen song, an intimate arrangement, and a personal touch can transform a familiar tune into something fresh. Max Cooper III’s “Cooler Than Me” isn’t just a cover. It’s his introduction—and if this is any indication, it’s just the start of something compelling.

Ellen DeGeneres has long been a queen of daytime laughter, with a career built on making people smile, dance, and—more often than not—laugh until they cry. Even after stepping away from her iconic talk show in 2022, Ellen’s wit and sense of humor remain intact.

In her most recent online special, she returned to what she does best: reacting to the internet’s most bizarre, unexpected, and downright hilarious viral videos. The result? Classic Ellen—dry humor, spot-on timing, and that unmistakable sparkle in her eye.

The special, streamed via her YouTube channel and Instagram Live, was a nod to the segments that made The Ellen DeGeneres Show a staple in daytime television. Fans around the world tuned in not only for the humor but for the nostalgia of watching Ellen do what she does best—observe the world with a slightly raised eyebrow and a heart ready to laugh.

Dressed in a cozy sweatshirt and seated casually on a couch in what appeared to be her California home, Ellen immediately set the tone with her trademark self-deprecation.

“I figured it’s time I weigh in on the stuff people are watching instead of me now,” she quipped. “Let’s see what you all think is funny without a studio audience clapping on cue.”

She began with a clip of a toddler attempting to catch a frog in the backyard—only to fall backward into a kiddie pool in dramatic slow motion. Ellen burst into laughter. “I don’t know who’s more surprised: the kid, the frog, or the internet,” she said between chuckles.

“This is why toddlers should come with airbags.” The video, which had racked up over 12 million views on TikTok, was a prime example of what Ellen calls “the comedy of chaos”—moments so accidental and pure, they couldn’t be scripted if you tried.

Next came the ever-popular genre of pets behaving badly. A clip featuring a Labrador who had somehow locked itself in the bathroom and was attempting to unlock the door with a plunger drew a long pause from Ellen, who watched with exaggerated concern.

“This is either the beginning of a Pixar movie or the end of civilization,” she said. “Either way, I want this dog as my new assistant.” She followed up with a cat that appeared to be playing the piano—badly. “That cat is clearly classically trained,” Ellen deadpanned. “In chaos.”

Ellen’s commentary wasn’t just about delivering punchlines; it was also an affectionate celebration of internet culture and how ordinary people—and their animals—become global stars overnight. She reflected on how much the online world had changed since her show first began.

“When I started The Ellen Show, YouTube was still new. Now, it’s basically the new cable. People don’t just send funny home videos to a show—they upload them, tag them, and hope the algorithm is kind,” she said. “It’s democratized comedy. Anyone can go viral, whether you’re doing backflips or accidentally running into a sliding glass door.”

One standout video featured an older man attempting to use virtual reality goggles for the first time, wildly flailing around in what appeared to be a quiet retirement community living room.

“This is what happens when grandparents meet the metaverse,” Ellen said, unable to contain her laughter. “This poor guy thinks he’s fighting a dragon but probably just destroyed a ficus plant.”

The man’s granddaughter, off-camera, could be heard laughing uncontrollably—something Ellen pointed out as the true joy of the video. “That laugh is what makes it. The connection, the love, the generational confusion—it’s all beautiful.”

The segment also highlighted a few of Ellen’s longtime fans who submitted their own videos specifically for the event. One memorable submission came from a woman attempting a TikTok dance challenge in her living room, only to be knocked over by her overly enthusiastic golden retriever.

Ellen replayed the moment in slow motion, narrating it like a nature documentary. “Here we see the suburban human in her natural habitat, attempting a ritual dance of the youth, interrupted by the sacred canine guardian of the household.”

Midway through the special, Ellen paused to reflect on why people are drawn to this kind of content in the first place. “Laughter is connective,” she said. “It’s not just about a funny video—it’s about seeing something unexpected and sharing it.

It’s about realizing that everyone, everywhere, is a little bit ridiculous.” She noted that during her talk show days, some of her favorite moments weren’t the celebrity interviews or the elaborate games—they were the home videos sent in by fans that showed slices of everyday life. “There’s something so honest about a grandma falling off a hoverboard,” she said. “It’s the purest form of comedy.”

She closed the special with a series of themed “supercuts,” including “Dogs Who Don’t Understand Glass Doors,” “People Who Thought They Could Jump Higher,” and “Kids Saying the Darndest, Weirdest, Possibly Haunted Things.”

Each one was met with Ellen’s signature expressions: a mix of amusement, mock horror, and genuine delight. “I’m telling you, kids these days sound like they’ve been reincarnated five times already,” she joked. “One of them said ‘the shadows speak to me’—no thank you, goodbye, next video.”

As the stream came to an end, Ellen thanked her audience for continuing to support her even after her daytime reign concluded. “You don’t need a big stage to make people laugh,” she said warmly.

“Sometimes all it takes is a phone, a moment, and a very confused raccoon in a kitchen.” She promised to do more of these “reaction sessions” in the future, hinting that fans might soon be able to vote on categories or even submit their own commentary.

Reaction from fans was immediate and enthusiastic. Social media lit up with clips from the special, favorite quotes, and requests for more. “This is the Ellen I missed,” one viewer tweeted. “Witty, sharp, and making me laugh until I snort.” Another wrote, “She needs a whole show just reacting to TikTok. I’d watch every single episode.”

Though her days on the big studio set may be behind her, Ellen’s ability to find joy in everyday silliness remains as sharp as ever. By reacting to the same videos the world is watching, she’s tapped back into the core of her appeal—relatable laughter, unfiltered fun, and the comforting sense that even in the chaos of the internet, there’s always something to smile about.

And, of course, if a dog dancing in a tutu while someone falls off a hoverboard can bring us all together for a laugh? That’s a win in Ellen’s book.

Ellen DeGeneres has long been a queen of daytime laughter, with a career built on making people smile, dance, and—more often than not—laugh until they cry. Even after stepping away from her iconic talk show in 2022, Ellen’s wit and sense of humor remain intact.

In her most recent online special, she returned to what she does best: reacting to the internet’s most bizarre, unexpected, and downright hilarious viral videos. The result? Classic Ellen—dry humor, spot-on timing, and that unmistakable sparkle in her eye.

The special, streamed via her YouTube channel and Instagram Live, was a nod to the segments that made The Ellen DeGeneres Show a staple in daytime television. Fans around the world tuned in not only for the humor but for the nostalgia of watching Ellen do what she does best—observe the world with a slightly raised eyebrow and a heart ready to laugh.

Dressed in a cozy sweatshirt and seated casually on a couch in what appeared to be her California home, Ellen immediately set the tone with her trademark self-deprecation.

“I figured it’s time I weigh in on the stuff people are watching instead of me now,” she quipped. “Let’s see what you all think is funny without a studio audience clapping on cue.”

She began with a clip of a toddler attempting to catch a frog in the backyard—only to fall backward into a kiddie pool in dramatic slow motion. Ellen burst into laughter. “I don’t know who’s more surprised: the kid, the frog, or the internet,” she said between chuckles.

“This is why toddlers should come with airbags.” The video, which had racked up over 12 million views on TikTok, was a prime example of what Ellen calls “the comedy of chaos”—moments so accidental and pure, they couldn’t be scripted if you tried.

Next came the ever-popular genre of pets behaving badly. A clip featuring a Labrador who had somehow locked itself in the bathroom and was attempting to unlock the door with a plunger drew a long pause from Ellen, who watched with exaggerated concern.

“This is either the beginning of a Pixar movie or the end of civilization,” she said. “Either way, I want this dog as my new assistant.” She followed up with a cat that appeared to be playing the piano—badly. “That cat is clearly classically trained,” Ellen deadpanned. “In chaos.”

Ellen’s commentary wasn’t just about delivering punchlines; it was also an affectionate celebration of internet culture and how ordinary people—and their animals—become global stars overnight. She reflected on how much the online world had changed since her show first began.

“When I started The Ellen Show, YouTube was still new. Now, it’s basically the new cable. People don’t just send funny home videos to a show—they upload them, tag them, and hope the algorithm is kind,” she said. “It’s democratized comedy. Anyone can go viral, whether you’re doing backflips or accidentally running into a sliding glass door.”

One standout video featured an older man attempting to use virtual reality goggles for the first time, wildly flailing around in what appeared to be a quiet retirement community living room.

“This is what happens when grandparents meet the metaverse,” Ellen said, unable to contain her laughter. “This poor guy thinks he’s fighting a dragon but probably just destroyed a ficus plant.”

The man’s granddaughter, off-camera, could be heard laughing uncontrollably—something Ellen pointed out as the true joy of the video. “That laugh is what makes it. The connection, the love, the generational confusion—it’s all beautiful.”

The segment also highlighted a few of Ellen’s longtime fans who submitted their own videos specifically for the event. One memorable submission came from a woman attempting a TikTok dance challenge in her living room, only to be knocked over by her overly enthusiastic golden retriever.

Ellen replayed the moment in slow motion, narrating it like a nature documentary. “Here we see the suburban human in her natural habitat, attempting a ritual dance of the youth, interrupted by the sacred canine guardian of the household.”

Midway through the special, Ellen paused to reflect on why people are drawn to this kind of content in the first place. “Laughter is connective,” she said. “It’s not just about a funny video—it’s about seeing something unexpected and sharing it.

It’s about realizing that everyone, everywhere, is a little bit ridiculous.” She noted that during her talk show days, some of her favorite moments weren’t the celebrity interviews or the elaborate games—they were the home videos sent in by fans that showed slices of everyday life. “There’s something so honest about a grandma falling off a hoverboard,” she said. “It’s the purest form of comedy.”

She closed the special with a series of themed “supercuts,” including “Dogs Who Don’t Understand Glass Doors,” “People Who Thought They Could Jump Higher,” and “Kids Saying the Darndest, Weirdest, Possibly Haunted Things.”

Each one was met with Ellen’s signature expressions: a mix of amusement, mock horror, and genuine delight. “I’m telling you, kids these days sound like they’ve been reincarnated five times already,” she joked. “One of them said ‘the shadows speak to me’—no thank you, goodbye, next video.”

As the stream came to an end, Ellen thanked her audience for continuing to support her even after her daytime reign concluded. “You don’t need a big stage to make people laugh,” she said warmly.

“Sometimes all it takes is a phone, a moment, and a very confused raccoon in a kitchen.” She promised to do more of these “reaction sessions” in the future, hinting that fans might soon be able to vote on categories or even submit their own commentary.

Reaction from fans was immediate and enthusiastic. Social media lit up with clips from the special, favorite quotes, and requests for more. “This is the Ellen I missed,” one viewer tweeted. “Witty, sharp, and making me laugh until I snort.” Another wrote, “She needs a whole show just reacting to TikTok. I’d watch every single episode.”

Though her days on the big studio set may be behind her, Ellen’s ability to find joy in everyday silliness remains as sharp as ever. By reacting to the same videos the world is watching, she’s tapped back into the core of her appeal—relatable laughter, unfiltered fun, and the comforting sense that even in the chaos of the internet, there’s always something to smile about.

And, of course, if a dog dancing in a tutu while someone falls off a hoverboard can bring us all together for a laugh? That’s a win in Ellen’s book.

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.