The Pagan Wheel of Life is a concept that is prominent in many Pagan and Wiccan traditions. It represents the cyclical nature of life and the changing seasons. The Wheel of Life is divided into eight holidays, known as Sabbats, which are spaced throughout the year. These Sabbats mark the changing of the seasons and celebrate different aspects of nature and the Earth. Each Sabbat has its own significance, rituals, and symbols. The eight Sabbats on the Wheel of Life are: 1.

The Curse review: Emma Stone and Nathan Fielder star in the weirdest, most unforgettable show of 2023

Nathan Fielder fans know he is not interested in giving the audience a comfortable viewing experience. The comedian and writer established himself as an auteur of verité humiliation with Comedy Central's Nathan for You and more recently, HBO's The Rehearsal, both of which showcase Fielder's ability to push socially awkward situations to their most revealing extreme.

His latest endeavor for Showtime — The Curse, co-created by Benny Safdie (Uncut Gems) — is scripted, but it lives in the same triangle of humor, disquiet, and truth. Fielder stars with Emma Stone as Asher and Whitney Siegel, fledgling HGTV hosts determined to gentrify a New Mexico town that doesn't want them, even as their own marriage falls into disrepair. Blending cringe comedy with contemplative character study and undertones of horror, The Curse is unrelentingly odd and tough to forget.

Nathan Fielder, Emma Stone, and Tessa Mentus in 'The Curse'. Richard Foreman Jr./A24/Paramount+ with SHOWTIME

Married one year, Asher and Whitney live in Española, a diverse, working-class city in northern New Mexico. That's where they hope to launch an eco-friendly, passive house "revolution" with their HGTV pilot Flipanthropy, which centers on the duo's efforts to build and sell chic and sustainable homes designed by Whitney. As the show's (terrible) title suggests, Whitney and Asher are convinced that luring out-of-town buyers and high-end businesses to Española will ultimately help the community — even though most current residents struggle to make ends meet. As Asher explains to local TV reporter Monica Perez (Tessa Mentus), "We really believe that gentrification doesn't have to be a game of winners and losers."

But what the couple stubbornly refuses to acknowledge is that believing something doesn't make it fact. Whitney, for one, chooses to believe that people won't draw connections between her Española real estate endeavors and those of her parents, Paul (Corbin Bernsen) and Elizabeth (Constance Shulman), who were dubbed "slumlords" by the Santa Fe Reporter in 2020. But connect they do. That same TV interview turns tightrope tense when Monica presses Whitney about her parents' "ruthless approach to evictions," and Asher snaps — an outburst that causes lingering problems for the couple.

Meanwhile, Flipanthropy's producer Dougie (Safdie), a sketchy reality TV veteran, keeps pushing for more conflict from his stars, separately wheedling Asher and Whitney to grouse about each other on camera. Dougie regularly tries to stage moments for the show, and in the premiere he convinces Asher to give money to Nala (Hikmah Warsame), a little Somali girl selling sodas in a plaza parking lot. Once the cameras stop rolling, Asher takes back the cash — a $100 bill — and promises to return with 20 bucks, but Nala isn't having it. Angry at Asher's deception, she glares at him with the ferocity only children can muster and declares, "I curse you." He tries to brush it off, but as production continues and many of his and Whitney's self-serving philanthropic acts backfire, Asher starts to fear that Nala's hex is having real consequences.

Fielder, who directs 7 of the 10 episodes, regularly shoots Asher and Whitney from a distance, often through a doorway or from behind a window, as though the camera is eavesdropping on their conversation. It's a conceit that serves to emphasize the contrast between the image his protagonists' present to Flipanthropy's cameras — bright and earnest, playful and loving — and who they are in those fretful, surreptitious moments when they think no one is looking.

Whitney and Asher are surrounded by people who quietly despise them but feign tolerance because it serves their needs. Local Native artist Cara (Nizhonniya Luxi Austin) is almost matter of fact in her acceptance of the Siegels' white-guilt largesse, and Austin brings an understated force to her character's more pointed interactions with Whitney. Explaining the meaning of her recent performance-art installment — one that involves a teepee and a deli meat slicer — Cara schools Whitney with condescension disguised as polite composure. The piece represents "me giving pieces of myself to people, whether I want to or not," says Cara. "And as a Native person, that's basically what you're doing every day." The camera, lurking over Cara's right shoulder, pulls in on Whitney's face, frozen in a strained smile as she simultaneously accepts and rejects that hard truth.

And after the incident with Nala in the parking lot, the girl's father, Abshir (Captain Phillips' Barkhad Abdi), becomes the target of Asher and Whitney's performative generosity, which he receives with impassive detachment. Abdi brings a touching wariness to Abshir, who endures the Seigels' intrusion into his family's lives but refuses to give them the abject gratitude they so clearly desire. It's only when Asher continues to prod Nala for information about her "curse" that Abshir finally scolds his unwanted benefactor. "If you put an idea in your head," he warns Asher, "it can become very real." It's a lesson that comes too late for the Siegels — and The Curse explores how the convictions we cling to about ourselves, good and bad, can be equally destructive.

Barkhad Abdi, Hikmah Warsame, and Dahabo Ahmed in 'The Curse'. Richard Foreman Jr./A24/Paramount+ with SHOWTIME

Stone is mesmerizing as Whitney, a character so selfish and yet desperate for approval she is almost completely insufferable. Fielder and Safdie, who co-wrote every episode, weave fraught pauses into most scenes, and Stone conveys an avalanche of emotion and mental machinations in each of Whitney's silences. Subverting her trademark doe-eyed sweetness, the actress makes Whitney both pathetic and unflinchingly unlikable, a woman who insists on turning every spark of human connection into another moment of public image curation.

Dougie — whose incredibly tasteless dating show pilot provides one of the biggest laughs of the series — is truly The Curse's most honest character, in that he's openly awful. But Safdie eschews the sleazy reality TV producer stereotype, creating a man who is both pitiful and venal. Decimated by his wife's accidental death, Dougie alternates between sublimating and wallowing in his gnawing, all-consuming guilt. Though Fielder sometimes struggles to match his co-stars during the characters' more intense and emotional confrontations, he's particularly good at channeling the icy cruelty and brazen superiority Asher unleashes in his moments of rage.

The Curse is cursed with unnecessarily long episode runtimes, as so many premium series are. Part of the bloat stems from Fielder's penchant for luxuriating in moments of awkwardness, steeping the viewer in their own discomfort long after most shows — even most cringe comedies — would have mercifully cut away. Other scenes just drift along to nowhere, and there's a sense that Fielder and Safdie had so much admiration for their eclectic ensemble, it was hard for them to kill their proverbial darlings. Asher's late-season epiphany about the curse is undermined, perhaps intentionally, by the truly bizarre finale, about which Showtime has asked critics to keep completely mum.

That's fine, because I think the only thing I have to say about the finale at this moment is, "Um… what?" It's certainly not something we've seen before, nor am I convinced that it makes any kind of sense within the story itself. That said, I haven't been able to stop myself from noodling over theories, which are almost certainly wrong. Expect plenty of "The Curse ending explained!" posts to flood your feeds come January 12 once the finale airs — but I'll probably just sit with the mystery. As The Curse's cheerless couple discovers, the truth is often more trouble than it's worth. Grade: B+

The Curse premieres Nov. 10 on Paramount + with Showtime, and then on linear TV Nov. 12 at 10 p.m. on Showtime.

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The Curse Is Excruciating

The eight Sabbats on the Wheel of Life are: 1. **Samhain**: This Sabbat is celebrated on October 31st or November 1st and marks the beginning of the Pagan year. It is a time to honor ancestors and remember the dead.

The Showtime series, starring Emma Stone and Nathan Fielder, is intent on making people squirm.

Over the past few years, TV providers have been steadily moving away from the binge drop, returning to releasing episodes at a weekly pace. The slow drip of the classical model allows interest to build over time and allows viewers to talk their way through the story at a shared pace, alleviating the discursive foreplay of determining just how far the person you’re talking to has watched. But while The Curse, the new Showtime series starring Emma Stone and Nathan Fielder, is likely to generate plenty of discussion in the 10 weeks between its premiere and its finale, the staggered release is important for another reason: An hour at a time is about all you can stand. Provoking discomfort isn’t new territory for The Curse’s creators, Fielder and Benny Safdie, who co-wrote and directed most of its episodes. But I’m not sure they’ve ever been quite this intent on making people squirm. Unease isn’t just a byproduct of the series, in which Fielder and Stone play newlyweds trying to launch a reality show about building eco-friendly housing in the American Southwest; it’s practically its raison d’être. There’s hardly a moment that doesn’t make your skin crawl, and in later episodes, I found myself lunging for the pause button in a way I usually reserve for horror movies watched alone after dark.

At first, Asher (Fielder) and Whitney (Stone) come across as brittle caricatures, inflatable dummies designed to be knocked down over and over again. Their pitch to the residents of Española, New Mexico, a small, downmarket city outside Los Alamos, is as unconvincing as the name of their would-be HGTV series, Fliplanthropy. The idea is to revitalize the area by building a series of “passive houses,” energy-efficient dwellings that regulate their own temperature with minimal need for heating or cooling. The trouble is that Whitney’s designs aren’t made to be lived in. The houses’ internal ecosystems are so delicate that you can’t so much as crack a window, and merely opening the front door takes an hour to recover from. Whitney cheerfully compares them to thermoses, to which one prospective buyer responds: “Who wants to live in a thermos?”

The urban hipsters who would be Whitney and Asher’s ideal buyers don’t exactly flock to grungy Española, but the simple act of building the houses has already affected the local economy, displacing current residents without drawing new ones. “We really believe that gentrification doesn’t have to be a game of winners and losers,” Asher tells a skeptical local TV reporter. “While affordability may be decreasing, opportunities are rising.” Those opportunities, though, are only for show—more specifically, for their show. The strip-mall coffee shop that provides a full-time job for a Latino ex-con displaced by one of their developments—part of a product-placement deal with an international conglomerate—only stays open while the cameras are rolling, and their pledge to employ only local residents clashes with the coffee chain’s desire to fill the vacancies with camera-friendly ringers.

While Whitney and Asher try to play nice for the camera, the person on the other side of the lens wants just the opposite. A journeyman reality TV producer who the couple have tapped to shoot their pilot, Dougie (Benny Safdie) is a self-styled dirtbag who wears his crassness as a badge of honor. In The Curse’s first scene, he dabs water in the eyes of an elderly woman with cancer because she doesn’t look sufficiently bereft, and he rolls his eyes at footage of an expert explaining how a passive house works: “This guy just spent four minutes talking about air.” Whitney and Asher strive to present themselves as an aspirational couple, ambassadors for their personal brand, but Dougie is constantly trying to sow discord between them, or at least get shots he can use to construct the appearance of it later. Exasperated by the unwatchably bland show they want him to make, Dougie shows them a tape of his proudest creation: a series in which women compete to marry a masked man, holding back until after the wedding ceremony the big reveal that his face has been horribly burned. It’s only when the horrified Whitney and Asher push back that Dougie is forced to admit his prized pilot was rejected by the network.

Unlike their hermetically sealed houses, the couple’s façade shows cracks from the start. Her outward benevolence is stretched over a yawning need to be liked, especially by the people she thinks she’s helping. It’s most keenly felt in her ongoing courtship of Cara (Nizhonniya Austin), a Pueblo artist whose work has been carefully placed in the passive houses as proof of their connection to “the community.” Cara sees Whitney for what she is—a white liberal hoping to cloak herself in Indigenous bona fides—but she’s also mindful of what appearing on a nationally televised show could do for a struggling artist. So she keeps her patron and wannabe friend at a carefully calculated distance, experimenting with just how much leeway Whitney’s guilt buys her. (As it turns out, a lot.)

Asher is as affectless as Whitney is nervy, like a robot that hasn’t settled on which human emotions it wants to mimic. On his shows Nathan for You and The Rehearsal, Fielder’s characters were thwarted in their desire to help others by their inability to grasp how others wanted to be helped, but his cockamamie business proposals and baroque simulations seemed to stem, at least at the in-universe level, from a genuine good-heartedness. (The real Fielder’s motives, as always, remain tantalizingly murky.) Asher certainly wants to be seen as good. But does he actually want to be good? Upset by the TV reporter’s pointed questions about Whitney’s relationship to her slumlord parents, Asher, at Dougie’s suggestion, approaches a young girl selling loose sodas in a parking lot and gives her a $100 bill. For a moment, he basks in her excited gratitude, walking away with a stiff-lipped smile on his face. But as soon as Dougie’s got his shot, Asher backtracks and reneges on his charity. He’d love to give the girl a $20, he explains, if she’d only give him back the $100 long enough for him to run into a store and get change. But she unsurprisingly balks at the exchange, and when he finally coerces her into returning the money, she has one thing to say to him: “I curse you.”

Emma Stone, Nathan Fielder and Benny Safdie’s ‘The Curse’ Is the Most Uncomfortable Show of the Year: TV Review

To witness Emma Stone’s latest leading role in a TV series, a gripping portrait of self-delusion on par with any of her Oscar-honored star turns, viewers will have to pay a hefty toll: They’ll have to sit through a predictably agonizing odyssey from two auteurs who’ve already mastered the art of making audiences squirm. Here, the creators combine their talents to reach new depths of discomfort.

Showtime series “The Curse” is a collaboration between Nathan Fielder and Benny Safdie that draws from incidents in both men’s biographies. Safdie had developed an obsession with home renovation shows, while Fielder was inspired by an encounter with a stranger who claimed to have put a curse on him when he couldn’t give her any cash. (After a visit to a nearby ATM, the hex was withdrawn.) These fixations became the setting and inciting incident of “The Curse,” which stars Fielder and Stone as Asher and Whitney Siegel, a New Mexico couple attempting to turn their real estate business into a reality show. Safdie plays their scheming producer Dougie.

“The Curse” is also a coming together of two shared sensibilities. Alongside his brother Josh, Safdie has directed a series of films (“Good Time,” “Uncut Gems”) centered on unsavory protagonists who drive their own undoing, often featuring first-time actors. For his part, Fielder has made a career of blurring the lines between reality and fiction through shows like “The Rehearsal” and “Nathan for You,” unraveling onion-like layers of alienation through his own, intentionally off-putting persona. “The Curse” opens new frontiers for each artist, bringing Fielder into scripted storytelling and Safdie into television, as well as away from New York, his hometown and preferred filming location. Its creators’ themes and M.O. are nonetheless familiar — a promise to fans, and a warning to the cringe-averse.

Originally announced as a half-hour comedy, “The Curse” instead unfolds like an hourlong drama over its 10-episode season. (Fielder directs seven of these installments, with brothers David and Nathan Zellner co-helming the remaining three.) Fielder’s previous work is compact and episodic, countering the excruciating spectacle of his stunts with consistent structure, small doses and a guiding voiceover. “The Curse” forces us to sit in the awkward silence as Asher and Whitney try to sell both the working-class community of Española (an actual small city outside Santa Fe) and the viewing public on their ultra-modern, eco-friendly homes.

An architect who builds mirrored, self-sufficient houses with a suspicious resemblance to the work of artist Doug Aitken, Whitney has constructed her entire identity in opposition to her parents (Constance Shulman and Corbin Bernsen), shameless capitalists who shrug off the label of “slumlord.” Whitney is convinced she can make money, win design awards, benefit the environment and help the local community, an untenable vision she’s recruited Asher to make work on the business side. But cracks quickly start to show in this telegenic facade. While filming the pilot, Asher and Dougie attempt to stage a heartwarming moment for the cameras by having Asher offer money to a child (Hikmah Warsame). When Asher retracts his gift once Dougie has the shot, his angry ex-beneficiary declares: “I curse you.”

For a professional comedian, Fielder is disturbingly good at creating congenitally unfunny characters. (At one point, Asher enrolls in a corporate comedy class as an unsuccessful bid to improve his on-camera appeal.) In “The Curse,” there’s no distancing mechanism that assures us Fielder, the performer, is simply doing a bit for our entertainment. We’re completely immersed in this fictional reality, one where Asher’s crippling social ineptitude is only magnified by his wife’s charisma. Movie stars have a mixed track record in their influx to TV, but Stone’s inherent charm makes for a pointed contrast with Fielder’s deliberate lack thereof. Whitney is a narcissistic monster in her own right, though she’s better at creating the illusion of empathy for the camera.

Completing this unholy trinity, Safdie sports a Tommy Wiseau-like wig as Dougie works to destabilize what’s already an unhealthy dynamic. (A sex scene in the premiere, preceded by a full-frontal shot of Fielder sporting a micropenis, illuminates the insecurity and lack of open communication dragging down a marriage that’s just a year old.) A former bully of Asher’s from Jewish summer camp, Dougie acts as a kind of Faustian figure, playing Asher and Whitney against each other in a bid to create the most compelling product possible. Whitney and Asher have bet their whole, over-leveraged house of cards — shockingly, the economics of chic designer homes in an under-resourced area don’t quite pencil out — on their show’s success, but Dougie, too, needs a win. Before the events of “The Curse,” a drunken car accident destroyed the producer’s personal and professional lives, a reckoning for which he still refuses to take responsibility.

Such intimate mind games among awful people play out against a backdrop of much broader social issues, from gentrification to Indigenous rights, brought up by Asher and Whitney’s work. In a sense, “The Curse” bridges the capitalist commentary of “Nathan for You,” which was to “Bar Rescue” what “The Curse” is to HGTV’s “Flip or Flop,” and the eavesdropping-on-therapy feel of “The Rehearsal.” Over time, and understandably, “The Curse” gravitates toward the personal; Fielder and Safdie have the opportunity to design their own showcase and draw on Stone’s talents in bringing their core trio to life. The question is whether you can stand to wait and see how the arrangement plays out. “The Curse” is undeniably effective at creating a mood, which means every compliment to the show also sounds like a criticism. The show is a study of exploitation at all levels that’s often painful to watch. Whether that’s a cue to tune in or stay far away is up to you.

The first episode of “The Curse” will premiere on Paramount+ on Nov. 10 and Showtime on Nov. 12, with subsequent episodes streaming weekly on Fridays and airing on Sundays.

2. **Yule**: Celebrated on the winter solstice, usually around December 21st, Yule is a time to celebrate the rebirth of the sun and the return of light. 3. **Imbolc**: Occurring on February 1st or 2nd, Imbolc is a festival of purification and the awakening of the Earth. It celebrates the first signs of spring. 4. **Ostara**: Celebrated on the spring equinox, usually around March 21st, Ostara is a time to honor fertility, growth, and the balance of light and dark. 5. **Beltane**: Occurring on May 1st, Beltane is a celebration of fertility and the arrival of summer. It is a time for love, passion, and abundance. 6. **Litha**: Celebrated on the summer solstice, usually around June 21st, Litha is a time to honor the sun and the peak of the year's energy. 7. **Lammas**: Occurring on August 1st or 2nd, Lammas is a festival of harvest and gratitude for the bounty of the Earth. It marks the beginning of the descent into autumn. 8. **Mabon**: Celebrated on the autumn equinox, usually around September 21st, Mabon is a time to celebrate the second harvest and the balance between light and dark. The Pagan Wheel of Life serves as a reminder of the ever-changing cycles of nature and our connection to the Earth. It encourages individuals to live in harmony with the seasons and to honor the rhythms of life. The Sabbats provide a framework for celebration, reflection, and spiritual practice throughout the year, allowing Pagan practitioners to deepen their connection to the natural world and to their own spirituality..

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