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Taboo Season 2 : Release Date, Cast And Other Details!



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Taboo Season 2: Updates, The season of crime drama shows and movies never goes out. People of all generations love to watch a crime-related show with intriguing and exciting twists. While we talk about crime shows, one can never forget “Taboo”.

Taboo was a famous series in the genre of crime. The publication rights of the series were with BBC One. Here comes exciting news about this action-packed show. Taboo has prepared itself for another season. Find out all the details!

Release Date of Taboo Season 2:

It is confirmed that Tom Hardy’s crime show, “Taboo” will be hitting the screens of BBC One with Season 2. Season 1 of the series was released a long time back, roughly around three decades back.

Since then the project has been delayed due to various reasons. Initially, the show was delayed because of the busy schedule of the lead actor Tom Hardy. And now, the delay could be seen due to the current situation of the global pandemic.

Unfortunately, even at the moment, we could not say when Season 2 of Taboo will be released. We have to wait until the producers or any cast member of Taboo makes a statement.

The Cast Of Taboo Season 2:

Taboo Season 2 Release Date, Cast And Other Details!

The viewers had to wait for a long time but the good news is that Tom Hardy is on board for the upcoming season. The cast of Taboo Season 2 will be Tom Hardy as James Keziah Delaney, Leo Bill as Benjamin Wilton, Oona Chaplin as Zilpha Geary, Stephen Graham as Atticus, and Jefferson Hall as Thorne Geary.

We all eagerly wait for this action-packed crime drama to make its way on BBC One. But we do need to wait for quite some time and we will update you.

For further updates, Stay Connected!

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Parents Are Suing TikTok for Allegedly Sending Their Kids’ Stolen Data to China



More than 20 plaintiffs, many of whom are underaged and therefore represented by their legal guardians, are listed in a new class-action lawsuit against TikTok, which is owned by a Beijing-based tech company called ByteDance. NPR, who was first to report on the class-action, pointed out that this is the merging of multiple “separate but similar” federal lawsuits that were filed over the past year.

These American families believe that the executives behind TikTok equipped the app with China-based surveillance software that is unknown to its users — and transfers “vast quantities” of private data and content to Chinese servers. Furthermore, they believe that gives the accessors of said data the ability to “identify, profile, and track the physical and digital location and activities” of U.S. users.

The plaintiffs specifically call attention to private draft videos — or early versions of posts that were never published or saved — claiming that the app has also “surreptitiously taken” these clips without notice or consent. They further argue that by secretly obtaining this data and information, TikTok unfairly profits from them by attracting more consumers through targeted advertising and/or increasing consumer demand with improvements to the app technology.

Last year — as accusations had begun to generate noise  — TikTok consultants shared that they found “no indication that the Chinese government accessed TikTok users’ data” in their review of TikTok’s computer code between July and October of 2019. The app then issued a public statement, saying: “We store all TikTok U.S. user data in the United States, with backup redundancy in Singapore. Our data centers are located entirely outside of China, and none of our data is subject to Chinese law.”

However, the plaintiffs in the 2020 class-action suit argue that TikTok’s public statement was “carefully couched in the present tense and studiously avoids mentions of past practices.” They point out that TikTok never said that data was not transferred to China — only that it was not stored in China.

The plaintiffs also cite TikTok’s 2019 Privacy Policy, which is publicly accessible — but the plaintiffs opine that it is “not viewed by users in the ordinary sense” and that its phrasings are misleading and subject to change. According to the complaint, that policy did say “we may share your information with a parent, subsidiary, or other affiliate of our corporate group,” which could include ByteDance.

ByteDance is a company that uses artificial intelligence “powered by algorithms that ‘learn’ each user’s interests and preferences through repeat interaction,” the complaint points out before mentioning that ByteDance has looked to grow in overseas markets — including the U.S. — in recent years. ByteDance arguably mimicked American app, which laid the groundwork for today’s TikTok, when it launched its own app called Douyin in 2016. ByteDance eventually bought in 2017 — but only after introducing an English language version of the Douyin app under the name TikTok.

A representative from TikTok did not immediately reply when Rolling Stone reached out for comment on Tuesday afternoon.

According to the complaint documents, the plaintiffs are requesting, among a lengthy list of possible resolutions, that TikTok be urged to refrain from transmitting user data and content to China, as well as any other locations or facilities that China could access. They say draft videos, for one, should not be accessed by anyone but the user without advance notice and written consent. They also believe that TikTok shouldn’t be able to take “physical/digital location tracking data, device ID data, [and] personally identifiable data.” The latter seems particularly unlikely, considering what’s required to run a social media-centric app.

Because of what’s written in TikTok’s Privacy Policy — the fine print, which informs users that TikTok reserves the right to share their information — the plaintiffs might not have a case at all. However, the allegations raised in this lawsuit are similar to the national security claims Trump made when he said he wanted to ban the app.

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Norwegian Reporter on Her Fight With the Hollywood Foreign Press Association



Kjersti Flaa is used to asking questions. She writes celebrity profiles for Norwegian magazines and does entertainment interviews for TV2’s “God Kveld Norge” (“Good Evening Norway”) as well as her own YouTube channel.

But on Monday, she became the story. Flaa had just filed a blockbuster lawsuit alleging that the Hollywood Foreign Press Association had schemed to deny her membership. Flaa unloaded a lot of dirty laundry, claiming that two Scandinavian reporters had campaigned against her membership because they worried she would compete with them for access to celebrities.

The suit accuses the group of acting like an illegal cartel, using its clout as the body that awards the Golden Globes to block non-members from getting work. Flaa alleges that the members never even read her clips when voting on her membership, and passed her over in favor of a less qualified Norwegian reporter. The HFPA denies her claims, and alleges that she tried to intimidate the group into accepting her.

In an interview with Variety, Flaa says she had no choice but to stand up for herself. In the process, she hopes to create a more inclusive and professional organization.

This must be not where you expected to end up, suing the Hollywood Foreign Press. So can you help me understand how you got here?

Yes. I’ve been working as a journalist for almost 20 years, and I moved to L.A. about five years ago from New York. And I’ve been covering the entertainment industry for a long time. Of course when you’re here in L.A. as an entertainment reporter, it would be a natural thing to think, “OK, I want to be part of this journalist organization covering entertainment.” I decided to apply in 2018, I had all the right requirements, and then from there I think you can read what happens in the claim.

Can you talk about your career and why it would be helpful to be in the HFPA?

I’ve been doing a lot of the typical press junkets for the last 12 years. I write for all the major newspapers and magazines in Norway. I also work for the biggest entertainment TV show in Norway, and I also have a YouTube channel that‘s been growing pretty fast, where I have almost 70 million views on my interviews. Of course it would be an amazing added bonus for me and for a lot of other journalists. I also see this for a lot of other foreign reporters in L.A. I’m not doing this only for myself. I’m doing this because I know so many other journalists that have gone through something similar.

The key question I was going to ask is how have you been harmed. The lawsuit talks about if you agree to join you can’t work for the publications the members work for. Have you felt that — being iced out of interviews or junkets because you’re not an HFPA member?

The HFPA gets access to about 300 press conferences a year. When you’re from a small territory like Norway, of course you’re not on the top of the list when it comes to publicity in movies, because you’re just covering what they would say is a smaller territory. It would be tremendous for me to have access to a lot more material.

You said there are other people who have felt shut out. Can you speak about their experience?

The experience can be pretty traumatic for most people, because you don’t get a fair process when you apply. You’re not judged on your professional work. Not to be judged on professional work when you’re a professional journalist, I don’t know the word to use…

It feels diminishing or insulting?

Of course. Of course it does.

What about the argument that the HFPA — there’s only 87 of them. Some people don’t take the Golden Globes too seriously — what about the idea that you don’t need to be part of it?

I see your point, but I think it would be amazing if the Hollywood Foreign Press is filled with a lot of professional journalists. That’s kind of my whole game here that I want to try and achieve. I think it’s an amazing organization in so many ways, because it represents foreign journalists. But I think they need to add more professional journalists, and I think that will change the organization.

You see a future where the Hollywood Foreign Press is respected and runs in an orderly, professional way.

I hope so. I think sometimes things won’t change from the inside. Maybe they just need a little push from the outside to change. But I do hope I can contribute to that in a positive way. I’m not out after getting anyone. I’m just out after making things better. And I think for journalists in general today it is an occupation that, it’s tougher and tougher to make a living from this as you probably know.

You were rejected in 2018 and again in 2019, and in 2020, according to the suit, they’ve changed the bylaws now so your TV work wouldn’t make you eligible. Did you feel like, “Here I am, I’m slaving away, I’m getting all these interviews, and it’s not recognized”?

Yeah. When I was rejected, I entered these journalist competitions. My profile on Jane Fonda took second place at the SoCal Journalism Awards Contest in 2018, and my TV interview with Henry Winkler was recognized as second runner up by the 12th National Arts and Entertainment Journalism Awards in 2019. I wanted to prove that I’m a good journalist. But y’know, that is not a plus when you apply to the HFPA. The more you show and the better you are, that doesn’t necessarily help you.

Well, the more of a threat you are?

I don’t want to say that, but yeah I guess some people could say that.

When did you realize “I’m going to sue these people”?

I don’t know if I can say this. They did something that kind of triggered it, when I realized there was a scheme going on behind my back that was a little too much. I felt like I needed to be able to defend myself. They went out of their way to make sure that I wouldn’t be accepted.

Many people would probably say, “Why don’t you just give it up, or wait some years, and do what they usually ask people to do?” But I felt that, y’know what, I’m going to stand up for myself and all the other entertainment journalists in L.A.

Of course it’s a huge thing to do. It’s not something easy to decide to do, but I just think it’s the right thing to do.

This interview has been lightly edited and condensed.

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“An American Pickle,” Reviewed: A Sentimental Fantasy of Generational Conflict and an Immigrant’s Struggles



The inspired premise of “An American Pickle” (coming to HBO Max this Thursday) immediately invites a vast range of imaginative possibilities. Directed by Brandon Trost and written by Simon Rich—based on his own series of Web pieces in The New Yorker—the movie is a New York Jewish twist on the Rip Van Winkle theme. It stars Seth Rogen in a double role—first, as Herschel Greenbaum, a poor young Jewish man from the Eastern European shtetl of Schlupsk, where he’s in danger of drowning in clichés. He and a young woman named Sarah (Sarah Snook) marry and emigrate to the United States, seemingly in the nineteen-tens. They live in Brooklyn, where Herschel has a miserable and poorly paid job killing rats in a pickle factory; in 1920, the thirtyish laborer accidentally falls into a vat of pickles, moments before it’s sealed and the factory is shuttered. In 2020, the vat is still in the now abandoned factory—and Herschel emerges from it, perfectly preserved and intact, exactly as he went in.

In Rich’s short story, Herschel is thrust unceremoniously (and also without any detail) into the tumult of modern-day Brooklyn. The movie, however, offers a fine and promising twist: inevitably, the revenant from the brine becomes a celebrity of sorts, an instant big news story; the authorities, discovering Herschel’s legal identity, also find that he has one living descendant, a thirtyish great-grandson named Ben Greenbaum (also Rogen), who is, in effect, his identical great-grandson. (Their only difference is Herschel’s short but untamed beard.) Privatizing the problem of Herschel, officials deliver him to Ben, a jovial yet solitary app developer—working on one app, Boop Bop, that will rate companies on ethics and give consumers access to the numerical rating, and for which he’s counting on a generous venture-capital sale.

Conveniently, Ben is an orphan—an only child whose parents were killed in a car accident in 2014—and apparently has no extended family. For his part, Herschel learns that Sarah died long ago, as did their son, Mort (who was born after Herschel’s brining). The scant yet nonetheless droll details of Herschel’s reëmergence—his contact with officialdom, with media, with modern medicine—hold out a promise that the movie doesn’t deliver. In 1920, Herschel would have known skyscrapers and movies, records and automobiles and airplanes; he’d have known of the Great War and the flu pandemic. The New York of Jewish immigrants was turbulent, complex, emotionally strenuous (see Henry Roth’s 1934 novel “Call It Sleep,” in which the writer, born in 1906, evokes his childhood through the eyes of a fictional child); Herschel’s bland simplicity suggests the opposite, a dull and featureless past. Moreover, what he wouldn’t have known was his son and his grandson—but he hardly asks Ben anything about the family, and Ben volunteers nothing more.

There’s something else that Herschel wouldn’t have known, and it’s all the stranger given that (spoiler alert) the movie takes a brief detour to Schlupsk: he wouldn’t have known of the Holocaust, of the fact that more or less everyone he’d grown up with would have been exterminated by the Nazis. Yet not a word, not a hint, of the Holocaust appears in “American Pickle”; the anti-Semitic violence that does get referenced—the Cossacks whose marauding in Schlupsk prompts Herschel and Sarah to emigrate—is played for laughs.

Rogen’s comedic career has become dominated by an ethical focus, even an ethical obsession, that, in the desire to convey good values with good humor, has lost its spice, its risk, its sense of human trouble. As a result, his comedy has become filtered, replacing a wide purview and the possibility of wild emotion and loose-ended impulse with schticky tropes. “An American Pickle” is framed as a picaresque adventure, and it touches on details of contemporary life only in order to lampoon their peculiarities. The satirical light that Herschel’s perspective brings to bear on current events is narrowly focussed and dim with sentiment and piety, nodding at “Fiddler on the Roof.” Instead, the movie breezes by the manifold specifics of current affairs that it references in order to reach the small set of points it is most interested in underscoring.

Those points become apparent early on, when Herschel obliviously manages to make a mess of Ben’s sales pitch for Boop Bop. The two men argue, and Herschel goes off on his own, living homeless (another grievous social ill played as an inconsequential joke). Using his one acquired bit of professional knowledge from before his brining, he then manages to become an overnight success as an artisanal pickle vender on the streets of Williamsburg. Yet, in the process, he has to negotiate the price of fame—and it’s here that the movie’s satire kicks in.

Though Herschel, in Schlupsk, appears to be a gentle and tender soul whose big dreams remain sweetly modest, he’s revealed, in his 2020 incarnation, to be what’s called in Yiddish a bulvan: a boastful loudmouth, an aggressive know-it-all. His obstreperous manner matches impulsive violence, reckless vanity, overweening pride, ethnocentricity, and other attitudes that are not, so to speak, P.C., and are no longer acceptable, at least in Ben’s circles. But Herschel also possesses ferocious willpower—a rage to survive, to thrive, to prosper, to triumph—that comes off, in the movie’s view, as the embarrassingly bare-toothed mark of off-the-boat immigrant ancestors who, handed nothing, fought their way brutishly for a toehold on the American Dream—and whose descendants, educated and polished and bourgeois-ified, find them an embarrassment.

This myth of the immigrant who’s willing to take on grossly unpleasant work in order to survive—and who, with pluck and determination, leaps from there to shining success—is presented unchallenged. In Rich’s short story, the arrival of Herschel (there called Herschel Rich) turns out to be a touchstone for the depressingly bourgeois-hipster world of his great-great-grandson, named Simon Rich, a Brooklyn-based Hollywood script doctor who’s besotted with ego and celebrity. Though the New Yorker piece “Sell Out,” which Herschel narrates, is filled with exaggerated comedic impossibilities, it retains an acerbity of detail (suggested even in its title) that threatens, like the pickles, to curl the teeth. (“That is why you do not care about money,” Herschel declares. “Because you already have so much of it. For you, all of life is happy game.”) The movie “An American Pickle” performs a remarkable, sentimental reversal: its subject is Ben’s reconciliation not only with Herschel, personally, but with his set of ideas. In effect, what Ben must reconcile with is more than his personal past; it’s the collective cultural past of racism, misogyny, homophobia, and other unchallenged modes of prejudice. It’s this reconciliation, the overcoming of the notion of apologizing for or being embarrassed by the recent cultural past, that “An American Pickle” strains to achieve.

Herschel’s celebrity appears borrowed from the Peter Sellers character in “Being There”—his plain and gruff utterances are interpreted by the sensation-hungry media as profundities. Yet along the way, he confronts the power and the disgrace of celebrity, and faces a far wider range of modern torments. In addition to reaching for little satirical nods to today’s sordid Presidency, “An American Pickle” pivots on a critique of cancel culture, left and right (suggesting that that the former is peevish, the latter is violent—and abetted by the force of law). It’s revealing to see which of Herschel’s struggles the movie plays for comedy or tosses off as mere plot devices: not only homelessness but arrest, incarceration, weaponized deportation and its aftermath. The focus of “An American Pickle” remains the world of media; to Rogen, the practical challenges and real dangers that a current-day immigrant might face remain abstractions. The entire movie is Boop Bopped: its ethical characteristics are revealed as disembodied and impersonal.

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