The marriage between Arcade Fire’s indie-rocker spouses Win Butler and Régine Chassagne has flamed out.
The longtime collaborators and romantic partners split “after a long and loving marriage,” the Canadian “Reflektor” group announced Thursday in a statement shared on social media. Butler, 45, and Chassagne, 49, married in 2003 and will “continue to love, admire and support each other as they co-parent their son,” the band said.
Four people came forward about their alleged experiences with Butler in a report published by Pitchfork in August 2022. Three women alleged they were subjected to sexual misconduct between 2016 and 2022 when they were between the ages of 18 and 23. The fourth, gender-fluid accuser alleged Butler sexually assaulted them in 2015 when they were 21 and he was 34.
Amid Pitchfork’s report, Butler denied the misconduct allegations in a statement and said he “had consensual relationships outside my marriage.” Chassagne, who gave birth to her son with Butler in 2013, remained firm in her support for her now-estranged husband in 2022. The “Sprawl II” singer said, “I know what is in his heart, and I know he has never, and would never, touch a woman without her consent and I am certain he never did.”
She added at the time: “He has lost his way and he has found his way back. I love him and love the life we have created together.”
Arcade Fire rose to prominence in the 2000s for its anthemic rock, cementing its place in the Montreal indie scene with its Grammy-winning 2010 album “The Suburbs.” The group has been nominated for 10 Grammy Awards and has played some of music’s biggest stages including the Coachella and Lollapalooza music festivals. The group released its seventh album, “Pink Elephant,” in May.
Thursday’s statement clarified that Butler and Chassagne’s “bond as creative soulmates will endure, as will Arcade Fire.” The estranged spouses will also continue their charity work in addition to caring for their child.
“The band send their love and look forward to seeing you all on tour soon,” the statement said.
Times staff writer Stacy Perman contributed to this report.
Sails to: Ensenada, Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlán, La Paz, Cabo San Lucas and Catalina Island via three- to five-day wintertime voyages Cost: Starting at about $200 per person
Carnival Radiance is one of the cruise line’s oldest vessels, having launched in 2000 under its original name, Carnival Victory. Following a $200 million refresh in 2021, it’s become a staple along the Long Beach waterfront.
The 2,984-guest ship offers a variety of shorter trips, which first-time cruisers may appreciate. Some of its staterooms connect, allowing extended families to vacation together. And most of its outdoor activities — such as mini-golf, a sports court and a two-level ropes course — are conveniently clustered together. Nearby are waterslides and pools, one of which sits under a large movie screen.
Like Carnival Firenze, Radiance also has NASA and Dr. Seuss-themed activities, in addition to an at-sea Build-a-Bear workshop and “Zumbini,” a kid-friendly Zumba class.
Picky eaters need not fret. Radiance has 15 dining options, nine of which are included in the cost of your cruise. A few have celebrity names attached to them: along with Guy Fieri’s Burger Joint and barbecue restaurant, there’s also a chicken counter from basketball star Shaquille O’Neal.
If you’ve tested the waters with a short Carnival Radiance cruise and can’t get enough, the ship will also be embarking on a 14-day round-trip voyage in early January to Kahului, Maui; Honolulu, Oahu; Nawiliwili, Kauai; Hilo, Hawaii; and Ensenada, Mexico.
Brea Mall is now home to a Chuck’s Arcade, the first location in California and 10th in the U.S. When the company unveiled the concept earlier this year, headlines branded it as an “adult” Chuck E. Cheese. There’s some truth in that, but it’s not the full story.
Combine the word “adult” and “arcade” and recognizable spaces — say, Dave & Buster’s — instantly come to mind. Here in SoCal, we also have Two Bit Circus in Santa Monica, which marries retro and modern games with beer and cocktails. Chuck’s Arcade isn’t all that similar to either.
Chuck’s Arcade has a merchandise booth with vintage looks.
(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)
But we were intrigued by its promise of retro gaming and its attempts to appeal to a less kid-focused audience. You won’t, for instance, encounter a pizza party full of 7-year-olds here.
So what will you find? And will it possess the vintage arcade vibes many of us are craving? With the company and its mouse mascot now a cool 48 years old, we weren’t sure what to expect. So we took a visit to Chuck’s Arcade seeking answers.
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Where an adult can be a ‘kidult’
It’s not surprising to encounter a grown-up with fond memories of Chuck E. Cheese. For me, I was hooked by the stilted-yet-charming robotic performances from their once ubiquitous animatronic bands, in which tunes were delivered amid the clickety-clack of machinery. Yet a Chuck E. Cheese today is a fully-realized kid-focused video-game-inspired rec room, one where digital floors encourage a more active form of play. David McKillips, president and chief executive of the company, says the firm’s core locations heavily target those between the ages of 3 and 8.
And thus, Chuck’s Aracade, says McKillips, will fill a void. He’s hoping it taps into the marketing segment known as the “kidult” — grown-ups, perhaps, who were raised on games and still cherish the thought of crowding around a “Ms. Pac-Man” console. The kidult sector is booming, encompassing everyone from the so-called “Disney adult” to those who carry a Labubu doll as a fashion accessory. Think anyone who believes that a childlike openness to play and silliness doesn’t have to be eradicated by maturity.
David McKillips, president and chief executive of Chuck E. Cheese, poses for a portrait with a retired Mr. Munch figure.
(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)
So how does Chuck’s Arcade plan to reach the kidult? Its 3,600-square-foot space boasts 70 games, including a small — emphasis on small — retro section where one will find coin-op cabinets of “Tron,” “Centipede,” “Mortal Kombat” and a “Ms. Pac-Man” head-to-head arcade table. And while a modern Chuck E. Cheese is school-cafeteria bright, Chuck’s Arcade is dark, its black walls and low lighting recalling the arcades of the ’80s and ’90s.
McKillips says Chuck’s Arcade “is appealing to the collectible market,” betting large on grown-ups being drawn to its plethora of claw machines. There are also prize apparatuses dedicated largely to Funko’s plastic figurines.
It’s near the mall food court — which is part of the business strategy
The Chuck E. Cheese company has long had it eye on the Brea Mall.
In an era when malls are being refocused to cater to a more experience-based economy — see, for instance, the escape rooms of Westfield Century City, or Meow Wolf eventually taking over a portion of what is currently the Cinemark complex at Howard Hughes L.A. — Chuck E. Cheese saw an opportunity in Orange County.
One game at Chuck’s Arcade may drop Chuck E. Cheese plushies.
(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)
“We’ve been trying to get in here for a year and a half,” says McKillips. “The foot traffic is phenomenal. The anchors are strong. They have a really solid food court.”
The food court was a massive selling point.
“That’s where teens are congregating,” he says. “That’s where parents and kids are together. They’ll have a bite to eat and come over and play some games.”
There’s no booze … or even pizza
Here’s one way to think about Chuck’s Arcade: Imagine a Chuck E. Cheese, but subtract the pizza and detract the drinks. In one corner of Chuck’s Arcade rests a giant Skittles machine, and there is more candy available at the front counter. But the company decided to go without a proper food and beverage program for Chuck’s Arcade, meaning those grown-up kidults won’t be sipping on booze or mocktails.
I told McKillips I was surprised. At home, I’m more than 40 hours into “Donkey Kong Bananza,” but I wind down by playing the game and enjoying a beer — one of the core benefits, I believe, of being a certified kidult.
McKillips argues this is actually an advantage for Chuck’s Arcade, allowing it to reach a grown-up audience but still feel family-friendly. Just one Chuck’s Arcade, he says, is equipped to serve beer, wings and pizza, and it’s in Kansas City, Mo.
“This is an arcade destination,” he adds. “We’re not hosting birthday parties. We don’t do [food & beverage] here. You’re going to come here and play games.”
Where’s the nostalgia?
Chuck’s Arcade staffer Sabrina Hernadez checks out games at the new Brea location hours before it opens it doors.
(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)
I should be the audience for Chuck’s Arcade. I have fond memories of the brand.
Chuck E. Cheese, the character and the pizza chain, was the brainchild of Nolan Bushnell, best known as the founder of Atari. The franchise launched in 1977 in San José, first branded as Chuck E. Cheese Pizza Time Theatre. As Chuck E. Cheese flourished throughout the early ’80s, the original animatronic figures were a bit more bawdy (Chuck was a smoker). Bushnell envisioned the initial Chuck E. Cheese robotic characters as entertainment that appealed to the grown-ups while the kids played games in the neighboring room.
When I first heard of Chuck’s Arcade, I hoped the company was getting back a bit to its roots. And there’s a nostalgic touch here and there. Aside from the aforementioned selection of vintage games, there’s also a Mr. Munch figurine, who is displayed in a clear case and does not turn on. Munch, a friendly, purple-ish hairball of a creature, was once the anchor of Chuck E. Cheese’s Make Believe Band.
Seeing that one figure treated as a museum piece felt like a half-hearted wave to fans who grew up with Chuck. And while claw gizmos and plastic figurines aren’t my thing, I understand their popularity and wouldn’t mind their presence if there was a greater supply of old-school games, and perhaps some pinball machines.
With a digital key card for Chuck’s Arcade starting at $10, the buy-in to try out the space isn’t large, but this felt like a tentative step into adulthood. After all, Chuck is well beyond drinking age. The mouse deserves a cocktail.
Housed in a small unit, tucked away on a quiet by-street in Holborn, London, just off of Red Lion Square, is the strange yet excellent Novelty Automation
“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, for there is in London all that life can afford,” once mused Samuel Johnson. Presumably he had just come back from an afternoon at Novelty Automation when he said that.
Housed in a small unit, tucked away on a quiet by-street in Holborn, London, just off of Red Lion Square, is the perfect afternoon out, especially for those who have begun feeling that they’ve tasted all that the English capital has to offer.
You’ve been to M&M World. You’ve seen the big blue whale at the Natural History Museum more times than you care to admit. You’ve looked at Big Ben from Westminster Bridge. The obvious next step is Novelty Automation.
The shop is a vibrant treasure-trove of Victorian-style automatons operated by shiny silver coins that roll down the cashier’s chute into your awaiting bucket.
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Novelty Automation is brilliant if not quite weird
Over the course of one to two hours, you’ll make your way around the small shop, slotting between one and three coins into each of about 20 machines. The cost is reasonable: a bucket of 35 coins coming in at £28 and seeming plenty enough for three.
Some machines do all of the work for you, such as the AirbedbugBNB, which invites up to two players to draw a curtain around them and witness the story of a family of bedbugs as they look for a suitable holiday let to settle down in. Another, the Instant Eclipse, had my friend clamber into a small, dark rocket-shaped pod. He emerged a minute later and refused to explain what had happened. He seemed similarly perturbed after placing his socked foot inside the robot chipodist machine.
Those units that do require some participation are still much more focused on being vehicles of satire than on putting a gamer’s hand-eye coordination to the test.
One of the most addictive had the three of us tensely willing on a magnetised haul of coins up past financial regulators to the top of a skyscraper, where our ill-gotten gains could be effortlessly lost amid the City of London’s modern spires.
A particularly silly yet on-the-nose bit of satire comes in the form of the Fulfillment Centre machine, which has players powering an Amazon warehouse worker on an impossible and gruelling trial shift by running manically on the spot.
Divorce is another excellent game
Novelty Automation is the work of Tim Hunkin, a Suffolk-based inventor and cartoonist who presented a TV show called The Secret Life of Machines and drew a comic strip for The Observer called The Rudiments of Wisdom.
Clearly, that combination of experiences has been brought together and used to excellent effect. The stylisation of the machines, their absurdist humour and gross characters remind me of the work of Chris Simpsons Artist.
Arguably, the pinnacle of it all comes in the form of Is it Art?, which invited us to put an object into a small glass box. We chose a lighter which then rose up into the eyeliner of a mannequin art critic. After a short moment of consideration and a closer look he concluded that yes, it was indeed art.
