The celebrated actor had a turbulent upbringing before becoming world-famous for playing two perfect nannies. Now she’s bonding with a new generation of children through her storytelling podcast

“I’ll tell you what, shall I go outside?” Julie Andrews asks. We are talking by phone, but, alas, the reception inside her home on Long Island is, she says, “always terrible”. Torturous minutes pass in which I can hear only fragments of her conversation, and if anyone knows of a sweeter agony than being barely able to hear Andrews’ still lovely, melodious voice, I don’t want to know what it is. Eventually, I have to tell her this phone conversation isn’t working.

“I can stand out in my garden, although it is a bit nippy …” Andrews suggests.

Her incendiary collages of vintage black pinups made her one of the most influential artists of her time. Now she’s battling the ‘insanity’ of Trump’s America

Lorna Simpson is holed up in Los Angeles with her actor daughter right now. She’s been spending lockdown doing one of her favourite things: reflecting on how people present themselves when out in public. All this people-watching has put her in mind of the 1990s, when she would go wig-hunting in Fulton Mall, a blue-collar shopping centre near her home in New York.

“Shop after shop sold all sorts of wigs,” says the 59-year-old. “Human hair, yak hair, synthetic hair.” Simpson bought as many as she could, in every style she saw: from platinum-blonde “Lana Turner” wigs to fake afros and braids. She transferred photographs of each one on to panels of felt before hanging them alongside such seemingly disconnected phrases as: “First impressions are the most lasting.” The wigs were a “surrogate”, she says, a way to explore “the person we see ourselves to be”.

Just as the Caucasian figure in contemporary art is seen as universal, the black figure of African descent should be too

Any society, or self, constructed to always separate itself from the other is doomed

Lorna Simpson: Give Me Some Moments is at Hauser & Wirth’s website

A teenager bonds awkwardly with her cousin as they take the bus from a rural community to New York so that she can have a termination

The four words in this title are the four possible replies to bureaucratic tick-box questions about the frequency of your various sexual experiences. A young woman here must answer them, before she is allowed to have an abortion. However rigid and blandly routine it seems, the four-part answer grid is cleverly designed to get information about vulnerability: it is so easy instinctively and evasively to deny a difficult question structured as a yes/no, but much harder to check the “never” box, when “rarely”, “sometimes” and “always” are coolly offered as equivalently non-judgmental options.

The lead character in Eliza Hittman’s tough, realist drama is confronted with this central, four-part inquisition about her life in one brilliantly controlled, enigmatic scene. Theoretically, it is just a bit of form-filling that doesn’t appear to promise any real revelation to the audience. Yet it does just that, delivering a penny-drop moment of realisation. Or perhaps it’s more of an ambiguous hint and all the more disquieting for that.

Related: Sleazy bosses, exploited barmaids: US cinema finally discovers the left behinds

Coronavirus prompted an emergency operation to house rough sleepers in Travelodges and Holiday Inns. In many ways it has been a success – but what happens next?

To begin with, Clare Sutcliffe found the shift from sleeping in a doorway in Soho to a king-size bed in a central-London hotel very disorientating. After 15 months sleeping rough, she found it hard to relax and really believe she was in a safe space.

“The first couple of nights, I couldn’t sleep with the light off,” she says. “This might sound mad, but I was a bit scared. It was different; when you’re used to sleeping out in the open outside and then all of a sudden you’re in a bed, in a room, with a door that shuts.” When she arrived at the hotel five weeks ago, she was a skeletal six-and-a-half stone; since then, with three meals delivered to her room every day, her health has begun to improve.

(Atlantic)
The singer whose personal life has become a public spectacle drowns out the noise with these bold yet subtle R&B tracks

By anyone’s standards, Kehlani Parrish has experienced a pretty tumultuous rise to fame. She pulled off the not-inconsiderable feat of emerging from a TV talent show with her musical credibility intact. While still a teenager, her cover band PopLyfe reached the final of America’s Got Talent – on YouTube you can still see her belting out We Will Rock You for the edification of Piers Morgan – but when they failed to win, she quit the band, declined an offer from the show’s host Nick Cannon to join a rap group he was assembling and rescued herself from a life of penury by releasing her own mixtape.

In the UK and Ireland, Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org or jo@samaritans.ie. In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at www.befrienders.org.

Her freaky, filthy tracks frequently break the internet – most recently with a guest spot from Beyoncé – but the Houston rapper won’t let the internet break her

• ‘We do what we want, for ourselves’: why it’s a golden age for women in rap

Given that her lyrical prowess has made her one of the hottest rappers in the US, it’s hardly surprising that Megan Thee Stallion is good at anecdotes. We’re talking over Zoom – Megan looking impeccably high-glam, worthy of a Real Housewives reunion – as she regales me with how she ended up recording a remix with her idol.

“I got a call: Beyoncé wants to do a remix to Savage,” she says, shaking her head with disbelief. “And I was like ... what? Shut up. Shut up. You’re lying. Beyoncé don’t want to get on nothing with me. Come on, it’s me! I know I’m Megan Thee Stallion, but dang!”

I can’t be mad at the next girl for wanting to be the best. Why can't we both agree that we bad?

Mark Cousins’ latest encyclopedic romp is a glorious enterprise that unearths footage from some of the greatest film-makers ever – all of them women

A perfect lockdown gift has landed, one which might have sounded daunting in ordinary times: a 14-hour documentary about female directors, which goes live from next week on BFI Player. This glorious enterprise unearths footage from some of the greatest movie-makers of this century and the last – all of them female. At the same time, the BFI is showing 36 of the hundreds of films mentioned, so that viewers can enjoy full immersion over weeks, possibly awarding themselves a degree in, say, The Cinema of the Second Sex afterwards.

Narrated by women including Tilda Swinton and Thandie Newton, Women Make Film – A New Road Movie Through Cinema is the latest encyclopedic romp from the Northern Irish film historian and documentary-maker Mark Cousins, who previously directed the 15-hour television series The Story of Film: An Odyssey, in 2011. The new documentary will be released in palatable chunks over five weeks from 18 May, and aims to open a conversation on the lost legacy of women behind the movie camera.

Related: Angry young women: how radical, female film-makers defined the spirit of '68

(New Deal)
With his fourth solo album the acclaimed producer faces down the confusion of modern life with intoxicating calm

Blake Mills has picked up Grammy nominations for his production work on Laura Marling’s Semper Femina, John Legend’s Darkness and Light and Perfume Genius’s No Shape. However, the fourth solo album by the 33-year old Californian former touring guitarist should turn the spotlight towards his own work. Mutable Set is intended as a “soundtrack to the emotional dissonance of modern life”. Themes range from precious people and experiences to disappointment and isolation, though this isn’t conventional singer-songwriter fare.

I have always maintained a professional relationship with my two female lodgers but spending more time together recently led to a lapse in judgment

I share my house with two female lodgers. We’re all single at the moment but we have always maintained a professional relationship with each other. In the current circumstances, we are obviously spending more time together. The other week, the inevitable happened. After a few drinks, I ended up getting intimate with one of them on the sofa. The following day, she didn’t bat an eyelid but we agreed to put it down to too many beers.

The thing is, I now see her in a new light. She is 20 years younger than me and I find her sexually attractive. I’m struggling to keep that line drawn. We still have a great relationship, sharing drinks and a chinwag, but I feel different. Should I tell her how I feel and run the risk of everything going pear-shaped?