character

A one-size-fits-all sartorial approach is out of the question for the showmen of “Sinners,” “Hamnet,” “Frankenstein” and “Marty Supreme.” But whether the arena is theater, music, science or sports, all wear garments that accentuate their emotional states and prodigious talents — and leave an enduring mark. Here, Oscar-nominated costume designers Ruth E. Carter (“Sinners”), Malgosia Turzanska (“Hamnet”), Kate Hawley (“Frankenstein”) and Miyako Bellizzi (“Marty Supreme”) discuss defining menswear statements with The Envelope.

In Carter’s third collaboration with Ryan Coogler, Michael B. Jordan’s sharply dressed twins Smoke and Stack return to the Mississippi Delta in 1932 to open a juke joint, tapping their gifted blues musician cousin, Sammie (Miles Caton), to perform. “You see this style that [old blues players] embodied, whether it’s two-tone shoes, the hat, vest, shirts; all of that was laced into the storytelling,” says Carter. He might be a preacher’s son, but Sammie wears his passion on his blues-infused clothing in the record-breaking “Sinners.” “The vest is patched to show the wear from the guitar strap.”

Before the night goes to vampire hell, all eyes are on Sammie in earthy and gold tones as he sings “I Lied to You.” Artists spanning centuries and continents (including an electric-guitar-playing rocker and a Zaouli dancer) add to the mesmerizing sequence before returning to Sammie. “When we come back to him, we’re coming back to his own force and look,” Carter says.

A sketch of Sammie’s bluesman-inspired costume in “Sinners.”

(Ruth E. Carter)

A final scene set in 1992 shows Sammie (played by musician Buddy Guy) still beguiling audiences. Carter incorporates Guy’s real-life signature polka dots to highlight “this is a real story of the blues, and this is a real bluesman.” Stack’s authentic Coogi sweater (a nod to Biggie Smalls) contrasts with Sammie’s classic tailoring, which doubles as a memorial to his other cousin: “The color blue was an homage to Smoke and the flat cap.”

Clothing is also for remembrance in Chloé Zhao’s “Hamnet,” in which a grieving William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal) turns to a meaningful shade in paying tribute to his son during the inaugural run of “Hamlet” at the Globe Theatre in London. “Will, in my head, was imagining, remembering and holding on to the memory of Hamnet,” Turzanska says. “And in a super crude, simplified way, putting the paint and the colors that he remembered onto Hamlet’s character with those brushstrokes.”

Turzanska constructed the players’ costumes from raw linen, using slightly enlarged, period-accurate shapes combined with contemporary latex paint. Using this stage language, Hamlet’s (Noah Jupe) jerkin is “quilted and painted flat,” to conjure Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe): “It was a memory of the vertical stripes.”

There are echoes among the costumes for William Shakespeare, Hamlet and Hamnet in Malgosia Turzanska’s costumes for “Hamnet.”

(Malgosia Turzanska)

Offstage, growing slashes in Will’s leather doublets depict “emotional turmoil.” Still, his turn as Hamlet’s murdered father (the Ghost) is the most overt example. The off-white cloak caked in clay is deliberately drained of all color. Turzanska tested the symbolic shroud (“You put this little harness on”) to ensure Mescal could move freely. Catharsis comes after Will exits the play: “The clay is cracking and falling off. Finally, when he washes it off, we see him break down for the first time and actually cry.”

Not every stage has a paying audience. In Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein,” Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) reanimates a corpse during a disciplinary hearing demonstration. Clad in red, white and black, the renegade scientist’s sartorial inspiration is not bound to a single era.

“That was the first note from Guillermo [about Victor]. He goes, ‘Dandy, rock star. Look at David Bowie. Look at Prince,” says Hawley. “When we started talking with Oscar, he came in with his Prince stuff. When you look at his performance, you see all those subtleties, the physicality, the swagger.” Piping on the waistcoat is “a kick” to stand out against judges in black.

Hawley embraces “wonderful peacock” 1850s menswear shapes: Victor’s puffed-out chest accentuates the “wasp waist” likening him to a matador. An exaggerated period heel adds flair. “Shoes are what root the actor to the ground and their character,” Hawley says. “It elevates every gesture from there.”

Victor Frankenstein’s costumes in “Frankenstein” were inspired by musicians like David Bowie.

(Kate Hawley)

“Marty Supreme’s” Bellizzi is equally mindful of footwear. Bellizzi “worked with Keds to find the shape” resembling a narrow 1950s sneaker for Timothée Chalamet to wear as ambitious table tennis player Marty Mauser. “When he was training, I would give him a few different sneakers to see what looked good but also what felt good,” says Bellizzi. “Because he had to wear them all day and play in them.”

Marty switches from a sedate black polo shirt and high-waisted wool pants while playing at Wembley in London to an eye-catching pink satin set on tour with the Harlem Globetrotters during a lighthearted interlude in Josh Safdie’s propulsive comedy-drama. “We overexaggerated the pants and the sleeves in the body so it is big and flowy,” says Bellizzi.

By the time Marty arrives in Japan, his everyday suit “has been through the wringer.” Luckily, a rigged ping-pong exhibition match allows Marty to embrace his theatrical talents. “It was an opportunity to show him as someone else. He’s undercover,” says Bellizzi. “He has the cap and the jumper.” Ever the showman, Marty relishes ditching the pretense and his wardrobe onstage, embracing his competitive streak. “He turns it into a bigger situation than it should have been, and maybe part of the surprise is that he’s derobing,” Bellizzi says. “It shows how much passion comes out.” Across venues and centuries, each man’s attire is ovation-worthy.

The cast of “Scrubs” knows that the show’s creator, Bill Lawrence, has a habit of building communities with his series, which include “Ted Lasso” and “Shrinking.” But the “Scrubs” crew knows they are the closest.

“Since I work on all those shows, I can say that we’re the tightest-knit group,” says Zach Braff on a video call with his fellow fake doctors Sarah Chalke and Donald Faison. “We vacation together.”

Lawrence, just a day later, has to concede that Braff has a point. “It’s annoying because I have to admit that they are right,” he says. “We’ve stayed the tightest because we all still spend way too much time together.”

And now the gang is back together for a new, nine-episode season of the beloved series premiering Feb. 25 on ABC, and the next day on Hulu. When “Scrubs” debuted in 2001, narrator J.D. (Braff), his best friend Turk (Faison) and on-again, off-again love interest Elliot (Chalke) were interns at Sacred Heart Hospital. Now, J.D. is a concierge doctor, while Turk and Elliot have advanced to leadership positions at Sacred Heart. There’s a new batch of interns, a new cheery hospital representative (Vanessa Bayer) whose job involves making sure no one gets offended, and a new doctor (Joel Kim Booster) who is not too fond of J.D. But there are also other familiar faces including John C. McGinley as J.D.’s begrudging mentor Dr. Cox and Judy Reyes as nurse Carla, who also happens to be Turk’s wife.

“Scrubs” then and now: Sarah Chalke, Zach Braff and Donald Faison in the original series, left, and in the ABC revival. (Chris Haston/NBC) (Brian Bowen Smith/Disney)

In the Season 8 finale — before the show reset with a medical school setting — J.D., always prone to elaborate fantasy sequences, sees a vision of how his life is going to turn out. His reality doesn’t exactly resemble that.

“We say midlife crisis or whatever, but it’s a time of questioning, a time where you take stock of your life,” says showrunner Aseem Batra. “That’s really a cool time to catch up with our characters because when we saw them last, they were in their quarter life.”

Batra herself has followed a similar path to the characters. After working as an assistant at ABC, her first writing gig was on “Scrubs.” Now she’s in a position of authority. “Truly, it was the best job I had and it was my first job and I’m doing it again out of pure love,” she says. (Longtime “Scrubs” writer Tim Hobert was originally announced as co-showrunner but departed the project.)

Lawrence, who serves as executive producer on the new incarnation, can also see a parallel between his path and that of his fictional creations. “I’m only good at writing about stuff that’s at least tangentially part of my life and the idea that of those young goofballs who are the students now being the teachers, it’s very much part of my life right now,” he says.

“Scrubs” creator Bill Lawrence has handed the reins to Aseem Batra, who is the showrunner of the revival. “Truly, it was the best job I had and it was my first job and I’m doing it again out of pure love,” she says.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Still, Lawrence says the reason the revival of the show was able to work is because of the closeness of the original cast. Faison and Braff are still constantly collaborating whether that’s on a podcast or commercials, and even though she’s decamped from Los Angeles to Canada, Chalke makes a point to keep in touch. On a boisterous Zoom call, we spoke about returning to their beloved characters.

What were your reactions coming back to this world?

Donald Faison: Please. Please. Revive it. Do me that solid and revive it.

Sarah Chalke: I manifested it. A couple years ago, I was like, “Oh, I miss ‘Scrubs.’ I want to do a comedy like ‘Scrubs’ that shoots in Vancouver, and then it all happened.”

Zach Braff: To be honest, I was very surprised when it actually started happening that ABC was going to put it in prime time. I thought it might be something on Hulu. That felt like a giant audience with Hulu the next day and a really big scale and really a belief in the project. That was really exciting.

Why do you think the show’s legacy is so strong that there is that belief?

Braff: I think that it’s Bill’s unique mix of comedy and pathos and emotion and fantasy. It’s such a unique recipe. But in execution, as he did with the first pilot, it was undeniable. It was so groundbreaking at the time. No one had done that in the network space. It was also at a time when there was no streaming. So, the show was on at 9:30 and Bill was trying to push what you could still do on network [television]. That’s why it was a more risqué version of what we’re doing now. I think now the goal was — well, there’s streaming for that. What’s a show that we can have on at 8 that pairs with “Abbott Elementary” that parents can watch with their kids? Maybe some jokes will fly over the kids’ heads, but it’s not trying to compete with what people are doing on streaming.

What do you remember about getting cast? You were all in your 20s.

Faison: I was the oldest one. Still the oldest one. I remember how big of a deal it was. This was the pilot of the season. I remember everybody and their mama was talking about how great the script was and how they wanted to be on the show. I remember my agent telling me, “This is a big one. The creator of the show really likes you. Let’s see what you can do.”

Chalke: I didn’t know this until two days ago. Our casting director came up to set to visit, and she said I was the first person to audition on the first morning of casting. In the character description, it said she moves and talks at a faster pace than normal humans. And in every single job, I’ve been told, “Slow down.” It felt like the luckiest thing; I’ll never forget when Bill called me and said that I got it and I truly couldn’t believe it. And the experience far exceeded any expectation I could have had about what it was going to be.

When I think back on it, what I remember is what that felt like to be at work every day, genuinely laughing so hard to the point where it would get late at night and there was one sound that Zach and Donald could make that would make me laugh.

Sarah Chalke on being cast in “Scrubs”: “I’ll never forget when Bill called me and said that I got it and I truly couldn’t believe it. And the experience far exceeded any expectation I could have had about what it was going to be.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

What was the sound?

Faison: It’s almost like a fart.

Braff: No, it’s not a fart.

Faison: I’m not trying to make a fart joke. But do you know how when you fart, it always sounds like a question mark. So, that’s the sound.

Braff: Esther, do not use this, please. It’s a high-pitched noise like this [does noise]. We would do it quietly enough that no one would hear we were doing it. And then she would break down laughing and ruin the take and we’d be like, “Sarah, what are you doing? It’s late. We want to go home.”

Zach, what were your initial thoughts about the project?

Braff: I was waiting tables at a French-Vietnamese restaurant called Le Colonial at Beverly and Robertson [in L.A.]. And I had to wear a tunic, which I put into “Garden State.” I’d been auditioning for so many things and not really getting much traction in the sitcom space, but I read this and I thought it was so funny. I was like, “Oh, I think I could really sell this because I find it so funny.”

How did you know the chemistry between the three of you was going to work?

Braff: When we were shooting the pilot, I was just like, “Wow. I really love these people.” I was obsessed with Sarah. I thought Donald was the funniest person I’d ever met. And then Bill was legitimately the funniest person I’ve ever met. I just felt in really good hands.

Chalke: We were all so excited to be there and we’d just hang out and watch the other scenes that we weren’t in. And I remember just being by the monitor, watching everybody else work and just being so blown away.

Braff: We would hang out after we were wrapped, which Sarah still does occasionally. This time Donald came early because there’s this really weird coffee robot in the production office that Donald seems to think is amazing coffee. So, I caught him a few times coming in early for the coffee robot.

Faison: That’s not why I came in early. I was notoriously late and unprepared the first go of “Scrubs.” I heard Tom Hanks talking about how he was a young actor and a very established actor kept forgetting their lines. And the director finally goes, “Ah, come on, come on guys. Three things. Show up early, know the text, have an idea. Let’s take 10,” and walks away. And Tom Hanks goes, “Oh, if that’s what it takes, I can do that s—.” So, I took that to heart and this is the second opportunity.

Braff: I thought it was the coffee robot.

Zach Braff on his co-stars: “When we were shooting the pilot, I was just like, ‘Wow. I really love these people.’ I was obsessed with Sarah. I thought Donald was the funniest person I’d ever met.” (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

But Sarah would hang out after you wrapped?

Chalke: We are all executive producers on this. Zach is producing and directing and editing and writing and doing all of the things, and that’s been really neat to watch. I legitimately do want to learn. Obviously, there’s a balance of that with also going back into work full-time and having two kids.

Braff: Sarah gave me this whole speech at the top of the show. She’s like, “Hey, I really do want to learn this stuff. I want to sit by your director’s chair. I want to ask you questions. I want to learn to genuinely [executive produce], genuinely direct.” And I was like, “Great.” The first week I was like, “All right. Sarah, we’re going on a big tech scout. It’s probably going to be about…”

Chalke: “In a van for seven hours.”

Braff: I go, “You’re going to learn more on the tech scout than you could in film school.” And she’s like, “No, I won’t be able to do that.” And then by the end of the nine episodes, Sarah was like, “I think my EP thing is morale.”

Faison: I want to piggyback on something Sarah said though. Zach has done a lot, these nine episodes. For this revival, he’s done so much and has worked so hard on this. And that’s made us all feel very safe and secure also because we know we have the No. 1 guy on the call sheet who cares about the show completely putting in 100% to make sure that we’re coming out the gate with something very, very, very, very strong and undeniable for the fans.

What were your conversations about where your characters would be after all these years?

Braff: One of the big conversations we had was we wanted to reground the show because the show got really broad over the years and we wanted to dial it back and go back to where we started, where it exists in a real place. We have the luxury of the fantasies where we can be super silly. And obviously, we dip our toe over the line sometimes and stuff is a little broad. But for the most part, the new show is back to Season 1 and grounded again.

As we all know, especially when you reach 50 years old, a lot of things in life don’t turn out the way you hope they would. And that’s why we opened the show with J.D. living this fantasy that he is this heroic trauma ER guy when in fact he’s fixing toes in the suburbs. Also, I think with regard to me and Donald, [Lawrence] said, “I want them to be silly as those two guys are in real life, but … when they drop in and they’re teachers, they’re really good teachers.”

Donald Faison on returning for the revival: “When we did the table read, I laughed so hard when the first voice-over kicked in, when Zach read the voice-over.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Was it easy to fall back into your rhythms?

Faison: When we did the table read, I laughed so hard when the first voice-over kicked in, when Zach read the voice-over.

Braff: The whole room did. It was really funny because no one had heard me do that voice in 20 years.

Chalke: One of the coolest things that helped with the show was Bill would just write to everybody’s strengths or write to their quirks or write to their personalities and weave it in. That happened this season, but it happened all through the first eight years. And so, to a certain extent, the lines blurred sometimes between ourselves and our characters. So, stepping back into them, there’s a reason why it felt so comfortable.

Braff: Sarah is a fast-talking klutz.

Chalke: I am. We met all the interns and Zach said, “So, guys, Chalke’s going to come in every day and something’s going to be broken. Every day there’s going to be a story.” And then I proceeded the very next day, which was the day before filming, to fall and break my finger. So, I did have to come in on the first day and say, “So, I broke my finger.”

How did you break your finger?

Braff: Walking.

Chalke: It’s part of who I am, but it’s also part of who Elliot is.

Braff: I think if we put in the show how really klutzy you are, people would think it’s too much.

Was there anything you were nostalgic for that wasn’t in the new incarnation?

Chalke: Sam Lloyd.

Braff: Sam Lloyd who played the lawyer was such a big part of the show and not only a fan favorite, but our favorite. He was just the funniest, nicest man. And Bill calls people like Sam Lloyd “comedy assassins.” They come in and they have one line and you’re laughing. And he was one of the greats.

Faison: It’s not the same “Scrubs.” And I kind of miss a little bit of that. There are so many new stories to tell. And you get nostalgic when you see the stuff that we’re doing in it, but I do sometimes miss some of the stories that we told in the past. It’s like capturing lightning in the bottle again, and I feel like we did it. I really do hope we have that opportunity again. I really do hope that this isn’t just nine. But it’s important for the audience to know that we’re definitely older. That’s just real talk. I’m not a 26-year-old man anymore. I’m 50.

“Strip Law,” a new cartoon premiering Friday, finds Netflix in an Adult Swim state of mind, which is to say there was no thought of it being made for everybody. (Possibly including some of the people it was made for.) It’s rude, lewd, surreal in a banal sort of way, at times ridiculously violent — that is, the violence is ridiculous.

It was the cast that attracted me: Adam Scott, once more the schlemiel as leading man; Janelle James, sure of her own magnificence, not far from her character on “Abbott Elementary”; and Keith David, whose deep, sonorous voice is almost necessarily one of authority, turned to good or evil or in between as the script demands. James and David, especially, I could listen to for days.

Created by Cullen Crawford, (“The Late Show With Stephen Colbert,” “Star Trek: Lower Decks”), the series is centered on a failing Las Vegas law firm, headed by Scott’s Lincoln Gumb, with James as Sheila Flambé, “a magician and three-year all-county sex champion” he hires as his “co-counsel in charge of spectacle.” Niece Irene (Shannon Gisela), an iron-pumping 16-year-old, works as his investigator; she wears a blindfold labeled “Underage” whenever she’s required to be in a bar. Stephen Root plays his disbarred (later undisbarred — rebarred?) lawyer uncle, Glem Blorchman, the strangest of them all — “It’s 115 degrees out so I put marshmallows in gin,” is something he says as they gather to watch Christmas movies. And David plays Lincoln’s nemesis, Stevie Nichols, the very successful former partner of Lincoln’s late mother, upon whom the son remains perversely fixated.

Much of it is the sort of thing that will work or not work depending on your mood, but generally I prefer the small throwaway jokes to the big gross ones. There are self-reflexive meta gags about “hard-working cartoon writers” and “reappropriating out-of-date catchphrases.” There are many nods to “The Simpsons,” including “frosty chocolate milkshakes” and James L. Brooks’ Gracie Films logo. The final episode, of 10, takes place within the finale of a “Suits”-like legal dramedy. (“It’s against their nature to let something be sweet and fun and airy,” that firm’s bromantic lawyers say of Lincoln’s team. “They have to make it dark and strange and crass.”) And there are left-field references to Cocteau Twins and Bikini Kill, whose “original bass player” Glem claims to be. (“I don’t know what Bikini Kill is,” says Irene. “Neither did I, according to Kathleen Hanna,” says Glem.)

There are various oddball judges (nothing remotely legal happens in a courtroom); “local character” Lunch Meat, who turns up in many roles; a barman, Mr. O’Raviolo, who switches between exaggerated Irish and Italian accents in mid-sentence. Comedian George Wallace plays himself as the mayor of Las Vegas. A Halloween Christmas episode parodies “Miracle on 34th Street”; another takes off on Colton Burpo, the “boy who saw Heaven,” which includes a live-action trailer for a faith-based film featuring Tim Heidecker as a coke-snorting atheistic Lincoln. A virtual reality HR seminar is hosted by “a computerized amalgamation of all five personalities of the Rat Pack,” an immersive Autoverse, in which actors create situations that somehow amount to a driving test. There are the “Nevada-grown” Hot Dates, a sexualized version of the California Raisins; riots occur when the characters are redesigned to be more respectable (“They’re walking away from years of established canon,” laments Lincoln.)

The series felt a little off-putting at first, as if it were straining for effect, but gathered steam as it went on, either because the later episodes are weirder or better written, or because one just gets used to being in that world with those people. There is just enough character in the comedy to create stakes in the narrative; its misfit energy has fueled the screen’s bands of outsiders throughout the years. (“Even when you’re a disaster, you’re a disaster for the right people,” Irene tells Lincoln.) As to the famous fine line between stupid and clever, the stupidity and the cleverness are all but inextricable, and to the point.

The credits declare that the series is “proudly made by real, non-computer human beings,” which is pleasant to know, and in 100 years will still have been the best way to make cartoons, even if by then they are only made by and, for all we know, for machines. The thin-lined drawing style is standard for more or less realistic 21st-century adult TV animation, with perhaps a hint of comics artist Daniel Clowes laid on. But the characters are expressive, and the medium is used to unreal ends, which is, after all, what cartoons are good for.

Tom Noonan, a character actor and filmmaker known for playing villains in “Manhunter” and “The Last Action Hero,” died on Valentine’s Day. He was 74.

The death was confirmed by Fred Dekker, director of “The Monster Squad,” who wrote on Facebook, “Tom’s indelible performance as Frankenstein … is a highlight of my modest filmography.”

Noonan had a nearly 40-year career on TV and in film, making his mark with a role in “Manhunter,” the 1986 movie based on a Thomas Harris novel.

In “Manhunter,” which starred William Peterson of “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation” as an FBI agent and “Succession” star Brian Cox as Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Noonan played Francis Dolarhyde, the serial killer also known as the Tooth Fairy. It was a performance that “knocked out” Dekker, who then pursued Noonan for “Monster Squad.”

Playing a killer wasn’t unusual for Noonan, who stood 6-foot-5 or 6-foot-6, depending on who you trust. On a 2013 episode of TV’s “The Blacklist,” he played “the Stewmaker,” a man with a taste for dissolving human bodies in acid. In the 1993 comedy “The Last Action Hero” he was the Ripper, a fictional nemesis who comes to life in the high-concept film-within-a-film starring Arnold Schwarzenegger as action star Jack Slater.

Born in Greenwich, Conn., on April 12, 1951, Noonan was raised by his math-teacher mother Rita and a large extended family after the death of his father, John Ford Noonan Sr. He went to school at Yale Drama and later founded New York’s Paradise Factory theater with Jack Kruger at the site of the Paradise Ice Cream Factory, where the ice cream cone was invented. The two built a theater and rehearsal rooms where the condemned building stood.

Paradise Factory now bills itself as “bringing the rigor of theatrical discipline to the process of cinematic art, and bringing the intimacy and immediacy of the cinema into theatrical performance art.”

“I wish I had more success as an actor,” the New York-based actor told The Times with a dash of melancholy in 2015. “I think people call me because they’re channel surfing late at night and they see me in a movie on cable.”

In that story, about the actor and his friend and collaborator Charlie Kaufman and Kaufman’s stop-motion animation film “Anomalisa,” a Times staff writer described Noonan: “Like Kaufman, he has a dark worldview, an idiosyncratic sensibility, blackly comic thoughts and, at times, an endearing crankiness.”

In “Anomalisa,” Noonan was credited with playing “Everyone Else” — and that wasn’t an exaggeration. Jennifer Jason Leigh and David Thewlis played the leads; Noonan voiced more than 40 other roles in the film.

“Even I can’t tell if it’s me sometimes,” he told The Times in 2015 about the extensive studio-recording process. “I mean, I recognize the voice, but I’m not sure where it came from.”

“My first TV interview was with Tom Noonan for a local NYC show called MIDDAY(?),” actor Jerry O’Connell wrote early Wednesday on Instagram, including a blurry image of them on the show’s set. “I was so nervous. Tom was so kind. I saw him in every (NYC) play he was in after. He bought my brother and I tickets to Eddie Murphy’s RAW (we were too young to purchase). Btw, on this episode, I was talking about a movie about to come out (Stand By Me) and Mr. Noonan was talking about his movie (Manhunter). Rest In Peace LEGEND.”

Noonan appeared in the famous 1980 flop “Heaven’s Gate” and cast a creepy gothic shadow decades later in “The House of the Devil” (2009). He was a ghoulish host of a late-night television horror program in the 2005 vampire movie “The Roost,” then played a wagon-train missionary in the 2007 western “Seraphim Falls.”

“Robocop 2” (1990) had Noonan as Cain, a messianic maniac with a nose ring who leads a gang of terrorist dope dealers.

In 18 episodes of the series “Hell on Wheels,” which ran for five seasons on AMC, he was the Rev. Nathaniel Cole. Other TV credits included episodes of Fox’s “The X-Files,” HBO’s “The Leftovers,” CBS’ “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation” and the Louis C.K. series “Louie” (FX) and “Horace and Pete.”

Noonan’s half-dozen directing credits include the 1994 film “What Happened Was …,” which was produced as a play, then became a movie and then won the Sundance Grand Jury Prize for dramatic feature. In addition to writing and directing the movie, Noonan played the lead male role opposite actor Karen Sillas. Noonan also won Sundance’s Waldo Salt screenwriting award for the script.

The next year, his feature “The Wife” — a dark comedy once again written, directed by and starring Noonan — was a nominee for the same Sundance Grand Jury Prize. Described by the New York Times as a “bleakly funny evisceration of modern marriage,” the movie co-starred Karen Young, who was Noonan’s wife from 1992 to 1999.

And Noonan’s 2015 movie “The Shape of Something Squashed” was born out of confusion and some despair after his agent called him with what initially looked like a part in one of the “Mockingjay” installments of “The Hunger Games” franchise. When he got the script, though, he saw only one role for someone his age, and that job — playing President Snow — already belonged to Donald Sutherland.

Turns out there never had been a part in the offing. Sutherland was just busy, and Jennifer Lawrence and the rest of the “Hunger Games” cast needed someone to rehearse with them for a week.

After recovering from a brief emotional tailspin, Noonan knocked out the script for “The Shape of Something Squashed” — then directed and acted in the film.

He was preceded in death by his older brother, “A Coupla White Chicks Sitting Around Talking” playwright John Ford Noonan Jr., who died in 2018 at age 77.

Former Times staff writer Steve Zeitchik contributed to this report.

This article contains spoilers from the Season 3 finale of “Tell Me Lies.”

“Tell Me Lies” ended with the hard truth.

Based on the book by Carola Lovering, the Hulu series centers on the toxic and manipulative on-again, off-again relationship between college students Lucy Albright and Stephen DeMarco — portrayed by real-life couple Grace Van Patten and Jackson White — whose distressing bond causes a ripple effect of chaos and turmoil for their friend group that stretches across eight years.

It all culminated in Tuesday’s Season 3 finale, which brought explosive revelations, the return of old habits and final fractures to the friend group. But what about its central pair?

Across the show’s two timelines, Stephen’s admission to Yale Law School was revoked and his engagement blew up — but is that enough retribution for the most-hated fictional millennial man with a buzz cut after all the emotional and mental abuse he inflicted? Meanwhile, Lucy’s life is upended when she is expelled from school; but years later, and not without making another questionable choice, she is finally free from his torment. For good. Hours before the finale dropped, creator Meaghan Oppenheimer announced the series would not return for another season.

Over two separate video interviews from New York — Oppenheimer from her home; Van Patten and White, later in the day, from a hotel room — The Times caught up with the trio to discuss bringing the dark and twisted saga to an end, why Stephen wasn’t dealt more severe punishment and the love story between Bree and Wrigley. The conversations have been combined and edited for clarity and length.

Lucy (Grace Van Patten) and Stephen (Jackson White) in the series finale of “Tell Me Lies.”

(Ian Watson / Disney)

Before we dive into the finale, the other big news is the announcement that the show will not return for another season. Would you have wanted more or are three seasons enough?

Oppenheimer: This was definitely a very thoughtful, mutual decision that I came to with Hulu and 20th [Television,” which produces the show]. I went into this season wanting to write it with a sense of finality. I always felt like three seasons was sort of a perfect number for a smaller show like this. I always envisioned Lucy and Stephen’s worst, biggest breakup in college, and her public downfall culminating with the wedding weekend. But we went into this season not knowing for sure if there would be another one — and after seeing the amazing fan response and the numbers being so great, we definitely discussed “is there an organic way to keep it going?” I was definitely trying to make a very specific point with the way that Lucy and Stephen ended, which is that it was inevitable that he was going to hurt her, and that if she chooses him over her friends, she’s going to lose them. To keep going after that and force them back in each other’s lives, it would have felt like it was undermining the stakes of everything we set up.

Does it feel like the right time to be done with these characters?

Van Patten: It does. Of course, it’s bittersweet. But in terms of the story, it feels really right that it’s ending here, and we’ve had a beginning, a middle and an end.

White: I like the way that goes out.

Will you be glad to not be the most hated fictional man on TV?

White: I’m stoked. I’m stoked. I really am. I’m really excited to not trigger people like that. It’s a strange burden, like an odd social burden.

Van Patten: Because it’s out of love, but what they’re saying is so negative.

White: Yeah, it’s a compliment, but it’s mean. It’s kind of like how Stephen talks to the other characters.

Grace Van Patten as Lucy Albright in the final moments of the “Tell Me Lies” series finale. (Ian Watson/Disney) (Ian Watson/Disney)

Finales are challenging because they come with a lot of expectations from fans. Since you weren’t sure if the series might return, how did that shape how you wrapped this third season?

Oppenheimer: I had to go into it not worrying too much about what would happen in the future. When we found the [Season 3] ending in the writers room, we all were like, “Oh s—, that’s the ending to the story, not the ending of the season.”

Sometimes, when I see certain [fan] theories, I’m like, “What show are you watching?” I think people that were expecting a resolution to the Macy story, for instance, for him [Stephen] to get arrested — that’s so surprising to me … because I’m like, “I don’t feel like you’re watching the same show that I’m watching.” It’s one of the few things that we kept from the book. He doesn’t get justice for that. In reality, people get away with really bad things and that’s one of the scary truths of the show.

How did you and the writers decide on the moment that ends the series? Lucy choosing to ride off with Stephen after the wedding goes off the rails, only for him to leave her stranded at a gas station.

Oppenheimer: The show was going to end in one of three ways: Does she reject him? Does he reject her? Or do they end up together? I felt for a very long time that they should not end up together because this is a story about abuse. I don’t think this is a love story. It felt like staying true to what the show meant not having this overly positive, optimistic ending where she wins.

At the same time, the one thing we’ve learned about Stephen is that he will never let you go unless he’s the one making that decision. For Lucy to actually be free of him, he needed to be the one to walk away. It actually is the only way for her to really wake up and see it.

I will get images for scenes before I know what the actual scene is, and it’ll be almost more of like a symbolic image, or it’ll be a fable that I’ve heard before. But I said to the writers room, “I just want it to be her finally having the decision — Bree or him, friends or him — and her choosing him and then, it’s not this, but it’s as if he just drives away and leaves her by the side of the road.” And they were all like, “He could literally just drive away and leave her by the side of the road.” The idea of her being on this island alone, and the inevitability of it. And that’s why we have the whole —

Grace Van Patten on ending the series: “Of course, it’s bittersweet. But in terms of the story, it feels really right that it’s ending here, and we’ve had a beginning, a middle and an end.”

(Dutch Doscher / For The Times)

Allusion in the previous episode to the scorpion and frog fable?

Oppenheimer: Yes. The answer is, of course, he was going to hurt you because he’s Stephen. It’s in his nature. Also he’s not driving away, thrilled and happy. When he says, I’ve just blown up my entire life. If I hurt you, I’m hurting myself. It’s true. He would have more fun if he just learned to be nice and be with Lucy. But he can’t help it. His nature is to win and to wound and to get the last laugh.

White: That character is all about himself, and this is one final way to leave on the last laugh.

Van Patten: I find the ending to actually be a little bit helpful. I think there’s a lot of freedom and relief in that last moment when she realizes he left her.

There’s that almost wistful look that she has at the gas station, getting the coffees. Then there’s the one when she realizes she’s been stranded and all she can do is laugh. It’s quite the trajectory.

Van Patten: Every time Lucy has gone back to Stephen, she’s completely in denial. There’s a sense of hope, maybe it’s going to be different this time — also, he had just blown up every relationship she had at the wedding. We’re completely on an island together. There’s this hope of like, maybe we can be OK now, there are no more secrets left. The friend group isn’t together. There’s nothing being held over one another’s head. Then she’s hit with, “Oh, my God he did it again. Shame on me.” She totally could have cried, but she just decided to laugh instead because it is predictable. She actually saw it for the first time as definitive.

Jackson White on playing the hated character Stephen: “It’s a strange burden, like an odd social burden.”

(Dutch Doscher / For The Times)

How did you and the writers grapple with why Evan and Bree would invite Stephen to the wedding after everything that happened in college?

Oppenheimer: It’s one of the things that struck me in the book and scares me about a lot of young men in general (especially operating within groups) — the way guys tend to forgive other guys for what they do to girls. When Evan and Stephen leave things in senior year, they’re actually at a relatively good place with each other. Even though Evan knows that Bree knows the truth (about Lucy‘s one-night stand), he knows that Stephen still recognizes the worst parts of him, so he’s made a decision to keep him close in order to keep himself safe. Bree has a line where she says, “I begged Evan not to invite him.” So it’s not up to Bree, and like a lot of people do, she’s decided to accept that her fiancé has this friend she hates.

On social media, there are fans who say they won’t be satisfied if this show doesn’t end with Stephen dying. And there was the theory that characters were plotting their revenge on him to take place at the wedding. What do you make of that? Why not go that route?

Oppenheimer: When you’re writing anything based on fan expectations or giving them the happy ending all tied in a bow, I think you’re doing a disservice to the story. Different writers would do different things. I have to stay true to my taste. Hoping for all that, I get it. But I think that the way that we do it is with a laugh.

But why not go that route? It just didn’t feel realistic. Maybe I’m just very jaded, but as I look around the world — everyone after #MeToo was like, “Oh, did we cancel all the men?” It’s like, “No, we didn’t.” That is the reality of the world that we live in, especially now, with everything coming out about the Epstein files — it’s appalling. To me, it feels almost belittling to people who’ve been abused and been in these kind of things to say, “Oh, it all works out in the end.” But also, I will say, Stephen is not going to be happy. He’s miserable.

White: He was hardwired to hate. I think the character was designed to start hating. He’s started as a confusing character, and by the end, I think it’s pretty clear that he is one-sided and complicated, sure, but also unquestionably immoral. And there’s a lot of satisfaction in wanting to take that person out, especially if you’re projecting your own whatever onto this character. I totally understand the impulse to want to ice him. But that’s not the way the world works, and I think that’s why the ending is well done because [that’s] not always the case. You don’t get that satisfaction. You actually have to live with it for a long time. And I think the message is that it’ll keep happening over and over and over unless you fix it yourself. No one’s gonna save you. You have to heal yourself.

What about the outcome of the college timeline — in the end, Yale revokes its law school admission offer to Stephen after receiving a tip about behavior that goes against its code of conduct, namely the distribution of pornographic material, which we come to learn was Wrigley’s doing. And that’s one big loss for Stephen. What intrigued you about that? And was it always going to be Wrigley who did that?

Oppenheimer: We didn’t think, initially, that it was going to get reported. That was something that someone — I can’t remember who it was — said, “It really doesn’t feel fair for Diana not to get to go to Yale after everything she’s done to get past every obstacle to better her life.” Then when we were deciding who reports him, it was just very obvious that it needed to be Wrigley because it’s the last person Stephen expects. I thought it was really important to have a guy … it really devastates me the way that men choose other men over their female friends and turn a blind eye. I just wanted one boy to stand up against the other mean boys.

White: I think [having Yale revoke his admission] really messed him [Stephen] up. He is a survivor, though, he’s a shark. A lot of these people don’t face consequences. I think eventually they do. Everything does come around. I think the people who wish ill upon other people will get what’s coming to them. We’re just not going to see when. But in his lifetime, he will get his ass kicked in that way.

Grace Van Patten, left, on the set of “Tell Me Lies” with showrunner Meaghan Oppenheimer.

(Ian Watson / Disney)

To move on to Lucy, we learn what happened in the college timeline that led to her being largely estranged from the friend group. Grace, what stands out to you about playing her in that state of numbness to her life crashing down?

Van Patten: It’s been set up the past two seasons, in the present day, that the worst thing happened to Lucy in college, and we haven’t known what that thing was until this last episode. It’s the last piece of the puzzle for the audience to see what really ruined Lucy’s life. It was so tragic and heartbreaking because she is not computing anything. She’s completely reverting back to being a little girl and doesn’t know how to deal with getting in trouble, and she’s not taking in what’s what’s going on; she’s completely disassociating. I think if she allows herself to feel, then she would not be able to pick herself up off the floor. It’s self-protection and complete denial.

“It’s the last piece of the puzzle for the audience to see what really ruined Lucy’s life,” says Grace Van Patten of “Tell Me Lies.”

(Dutch Doscher / For The Times)

At what point did you both learn that it was Bree who released the tape with Lucy confessing to lying about being sexually assaulted by Chris — a lie she told to protect Pippa, his actual victim?

Van Patten: I forget if it was through reading or Meaghan just telling us before we got the scripts. I was definitely surprised by that because the first few episodes, they’re really emphasizing the closeness between Lucy and Bree and how they’ve developed this really tight-knit relationship, which made sense; they were bumping it up to make that feel like real betrayal. But I just see it as Bree getting even.

White: I really did like that. I liked playing that I genuinely didn’t do it.

Tell me more.

Van Patten: His first time!

White: Just because every single person will obviously think he did. We’ve just established him for three years as the guy who would do that. And to actually have it not be him is confusing, and it was very fun to play. I did not do this horrible thing — I’ve done a lot of other horrible things, but I didn’t do this.

I love the way you deliver the line, when it clicks for you that it was Bree — “Oh, my God, you released the tape, didn’t you?”

White: If the character’s putting pieces together, I like to try and put pieces together. It was just easy to act in that moment. That entire wedding sequence was very easy for everybody because it was well-crafted. We were all bringing it. We knew it was one of the big, important moments.

The cake got demolished.

White: Branden Cook [Evan] is amazing in that sequence.

Van Patten: He insisted that he do that stunt. He was like stretching beforehand.

White: He was chomping at the bit. Oh, he was ready.

Was the end goal to find a way to use ‘Toxic” by Britney Spears to score the climax?

Oppenheimer: I love it so much. It’s really funny because since Season 1, I was, “When are we gonna use ‘Toxic’?” It’s just so perfect for the show. We were editing that scene and we were throwing different songs in, and we’d actually tried this other song that worked really well — “I Gotta Feeling” [by the Black Eyed Peas]. But then I was like, “Should we just try ‘Toxic’?” And my editor, Jen, was like, “It’s literally now or never.” The way that the music lines up with Evan crashing into the cake. It timed out perfectly.

Wrigley (Spencer House) and Bree (Catherine Missal), during a break from the engagement party, have a conversation about their relationship that leads to sex. (Ian Watson / Disney)

The night of his wedding to Bree, Evan (Branden Cook) learns about her affair with Wrigley. (Danielle Blancher / Disney)

How did you arrive at some of the other big moments, like Bree and Wrigley. She goes through with the wedding, but their secret is out. What happens next for them? It’s also like, is this trauma bonding or … ?

Oppenheimer: I don’t think it’s trauma bonding. I think they’re soul mates, personally. Trauma bonding is a thing, but there’s also something very real about meeting someone in a moment of grief and it has just taken all of your outer layer off, and it has exposed the real you. I think that’s what they’re seeing when they connect at the beginning of Season 3; they’re the truest version of themselves. I knew that I wanted it to come out because Evan could not get away with this. Evan could not have the happy marriage to Bree. Lucy had a choice that she was making with the full knowledge of the choice, but Bree doesn’t know all the things that Evan did to her to completely destroy her relationship with her mom. It would have felt so unfair for that to work out. I always saw that exploding and coming to light. That smile at the end of the wedding, that tells you they’re going to make this work. I literally wrote it into the action line of the script. I said, “Their eyes meet across the room, and they smile. And you get the sense that in spite of it all” — I think I wrote “carnage” — “they’re gonna find a way to make it work.” And I think they do.

White: I like happy endings, just as a viewer. I like when things work out for characters that didn’t really do anything bad. I love Wrigley and Bree. It’s a great relationship.

Van Patten: I love that relationship. I feel like they deserve each other and like they’re the two with the most well-rounded moral compass. They feel right together. And so do Pippa and Diana. They’re the only ones who are leaving happy, in the end. They’re like, “Let’s get out of here. We do not belong here.” And they just walk off. They kind of leave unscathed when everyone else is in the fire?

Grace Van Patten and Jackson White of “Tell Me Lies.”

(Dutch Doscher / For The Times)

Do you wish, especially as a real-life couple, that’s what you could have played?

Van Patten: I thought it was the perfect ending for these characters. If they ended up together and figured things out, it would just be so unrealistic. Look what these people have done to each other for the past three seasons. They’re not going to be OK together.

I guess I mean the whole trajectory, having to play the fictional couple that’s so toxic as you’re starting a relationship.

White: Yeah, not a lot of blending between work and real life.

Van Patten: Thank God. It’s only a nice, warm feeling to know we’re nothing like them. But it’s just fun acting together. We have to do crazy things and say crazy things. It’s very, very separated for us.

What do you hope for your characters?

White: I don’t hope much for him. I’m trying to think if I know anybody like that or with those tendencies — I do. I do know people who have a lot of similarities, and I pray for them, and I hope they do well. I also hope they get what’s coming to them. Actually let me take it to back because if somebody has wronged me, then I wish them the best. But for somebody like him, he’s sort of beyond that, isn’t he? I don’t know how to answer that question. I don’t know what I would want for him.

Van Patten: I hope that final instance that we see in the last episode pushes her into a journey of self-analysis and her really trying to figure out why she looks for that type of thing in a relationship, and why she has been so drawn to that. Hopefully she does the work to change that and focus on the relationships that matter, that she should be paying more attention to. I hope it’s the beginning for her.

On a final note, I will say, I was relieved to see Stephen at least left behind Lucy’s purse.

White: That’s pretty funny.

Van Patten: I wish there was footage of him placing it there. Like, him hopping out of the car and carefully placing it. I always wondered if he parked in a place where he can see Lucy, just to see her reaction.

When Robert Duvall was floundering around in college, his father, a career Navy man who retired with the rank of rear admiral, told him to shape up — and start acting.

“I wasn’t pushed into it but suggested into it,” Duvall once told an interviewer. “They figured I did skits around the house. They figured I had a calling, or whatever, in that line.”

They figured correctly. With his weathered face and receding hairline, he did not stand out for his movie star looks but for the intensity and depth he brought to his craft. New York Times film critic Vincent Canby in 1980 called him “the best we have, the American Olivier.”

Duvall, a veteran of many leading roles but best known for his sharp portrayal of supporting characters such as “The Godfather’s” Irish American consigliere and the unhinged Army colonel who loved the smell of napalm in the morning, died at 95 on Sunday, his wife, Luciana Duvall, announced on Facebook.

“Bob passed away peacefully at home, surrounded by love and comfort,” she wrote.

Although he could play comic characters such as Maj. Frank Burns, the priggish Army doctor who was obsessed with nurse “Hot Lips” Houlihan in “MASH,” Duvall specialized in tightly wound tough guys.

In “The Great Santini,” he was a Marine fighter pilot who was as overbearing and explosive with his family as with the men under his command. In “The Apostle,” he was a preacher who killed his wife’s lover with a baseball bat. In “The Godfather” and “The Godfather Part II,” he was Tom Hagen, a buttoned-down attorney who was loyal to his mob bosses and lethal to those who got in their way. He was an expert, one critic said, in playing “self-controlled men who should not be pushed too far.”

Duvall was known for pouring himself into his characters. He could move with the grace of the tango aficionado he became or with the slow, pained gait of the cancer-ridden editor he played in “The Paper.” He was a keen student of dialect; doing movies in the South, he meandered down backroads, learning just the right way to frame a question in rural Mississippi or deliver a compliment in west Texas.

He loved playing country people and particularly loved westerns.

“That’s our genre,” he said in a 2011 interview with the News and Advance in Lynchburg, Va., near his home on a 362-acre horse farm. “The English have Shakespeare, the French Moliere, and the Russians Chekhov. The western is ours.”

When asked about his acting technique, Duvall would describe it as simply as his favorite character — Augustus McCrae, the wry trail boss on the TV miniseries “Lonesome Dove” — might have described riding a horse.

“It’s just talking and listening,” Duvall told The Times in 2006. “Nothing’s precious. Just let it sit there and find its own way.”

Nominated seven times for an Academy Award, Duvall won lead actor honors in 1983 for his role as Mac Sledge, a broken-down country singer in “Tender Mercies.” A guitar player since childhood, he did his own singing and wrote two of the songs.

Turning down his studio’s offer of a cast party at glitzy Studio 54, Duvall hosted a heartfelt hoedown in his New York City apartment. The crowd ate down-home food cooked by character actor Wilford Brimley, who had flown in from Tennessee. As the party ended at 3 a.m., an exuberant Duvall had everyone join hands for a chorus of “Amazing Grace.”

Willie Nelson — who sang duets with Duvall at the party — told Village Voice columnist Arthur Bell that “Tender Mercies” was dead-on accurate.

“These people Bobby portrayed in his movie, I grew up in those parts and know each of them personally,” he said. “And I’ll probably be that character he plays someday if I don’t take care of myself.”

Many of Duvall’s characters had hardscrabble backgrounds, but Duvall grew up in privilege. Born in San Diego on Jan. 5, 1931, he was raised in places around the U.S. where his naval officer father was posted.

When he was 10, the future star of so many westerns rode his first horse and got to know his first Texans on a family trip to see his mother’s relatives.

By his teen years in Annapolis, Md., Duvall had become an excellent mimic, absorbing dialects and mannerisms wherever he happened to be. He did hilarious impressions of people like his cousin Fagin Springer, a singing evangelist from Virginia, and the tough old cowhands on his uncle’s Montana ranch. Years later, on the set of “The Godfather,” he did impressions of Marlon Brando.

In his more than 85 movies, many of his characters were heavy drinkers, but not Duvall. He went to a Christian Science boarding school in St. Louis and to Principia College, a Christian Science college in Elsah, Ill., and never smoked or drank.

When the affable, athletic Duvall was nearly kicked out of college for poor grades, administrators summoned his parents for an emergency meeting. Everyone agreed he was miscast as a history major. The boy’s only talent, besides tennis, appeared to be acting.

Switching to drama — a decision supported by his parents, who wanted him to stay in school — he turned his academic career around.

In a college production of Arthur Miller’s “All My Sons,” Duvall so deeply merged into the character of a ruthless businessman haunted by a bad decision that he found himself crying. “That clinched it,” wrote Judith Slawson in “Robert Duvall: Hollywood Maverick,” a 1985 biography. “Acting was for him.”

Graduating in 1953, Duvall was drafted into the Army. He trained in radio repair at Camp Gordon in Georgia but spent his off-duty time with a community theater group in nearby Augusta. When he left the service in 1955, he studied at New York’s Neighborhood Playhouse School of the Theatre, a training ground for such top talents as Gregory Peck, Steve McQueen and Jon Voight.

Sanford Meisner, the school’s legendarily demanding director, was impressed.

“There are only two actors in America,” he told playwright David Mamet years later. “One is Brando, who’s done his best work, and the other is Robert Duvall.”

In New York, Duvall worked night shifts at the post office, washed dishes and kept auditioning. He shared an apartment at Broadway and West 107th Street with a fledgling actor named Dustin Hoffman. The two also palled around with Gene Hackman and James Caan.

Over coffee at Cromwell’s Drugstore, the yet-to-be-discovered actors would discuss the mumbling, moving technique of another young actor.

“If we mentioned Brando once, we mentioned him 25 times,” Duvall told The Times in 2014.

After several years of off-Broadway productions, summer stock and roles in TV dramas such as “Naked City” and “The Twilight Zone,” Duvall landed his first Hollywood role in 1962.

As Boo Radley, a mysterious recluse in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” Duvall was on-screen for less than five minutes at the film’s end and had no lines. But he played a pivotal character and the film launched a cinematic career that lasted more than five decades.

In the 1979 Vietnam War epic “Apocalypse Now,” he delivered one of the most famous lines in the history of film. As the swaggering Lt. Col. Bill Kilgore, he orders U.S. helicopters to destroy a coastal Viet Cong-held village so he and his men could surf there.

“You smell that? Do you smell that? Napalm, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that,” Kilgore says nonchalantly as the village before him erupts in flame. “I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”

Kilgore’s chilling monologue topped the list of best movie speeches in a 2004 BBC poll. Duvall later said he had no idea people would remember it.

Duvall seldom played leading men, but Mac Sledge, in “Tender Mercies,” was a notable breakthrough.

“This is the only film where I’ve heard people say I’m sexy,” he told an interviewer. “It’s real romantic — rural romantic. I love that part almost more than anything.”

Duvall was married three times before meeting Luciana Pedraza, a young woman who was dared by her friends to approach him on a Buenos Aires street and invite him to a tango gathering. She played opposite him in “Assassination Tango,” a 2002 film in which he portrays a hit man dispatched to Argentina. They married in 2005 and for years practiced tango on a dance floor they installed in one of their barns.

In addition to his wife, Duvall is survived by his older brother William, an actor and music teacher. His young brother John died in 2000.

Duvall’s legacy includes a wide range of films, from “True Grit” to “True Confessions.” He played a retired Cuban barber in “Wrestling Ernest Hemingway”; a cynical TV executive in “Network”; a dirt-poor Mississippi farmer in “Tomorrow”; a quietly effective corporate attorney in “A Civil Action”; a middle-aged astronaut in “Deep Impact”; a grizzled cattleman in “Open Range”; a tobacco company bigwig in the satirical “Thank You for Smoking”; and in the miniseries “Ike,” he was Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower.

He also tackled some less commercial projects. In 1977, he directed a documentary about a Nebraska rodeo family, “We’re Not the Jet Set.” In 1983, he wrote and directed “Angelo, My Love,” a drama inspired by and starring Romani whom Duvall came to know in New York City.

He worked well into his later years. In the 2009 film “Get Low,” he was a backwoods hermit who staged his own funeral. Two years later, he was a rancher and ex-golf pro who takes a young golfer under his wing in the spiritual drama “Seven Days in Utopia.” And four years after that, he played an alcoholic and abusive justice in “The Judge,” earning a supporting actor Oscar nomination — the oldest actor at the time to do so.

In “A Night in Old Mexico” (2014), he played an ill-tempered rancher preparing for suicide after losing his land to foreclosure. His plans change when he meets an adult grandson he never knew he had and the two wander across the border into bars and bordellos and reflect on life.

“No one plays wise old coots more convincingly,” the New York Times said.

Duvall drew on his inner curmudgeon throughout his career.

As an actor who prided himself on an up-close, deep-down knowledge of his characters, he sometimes bristled at direction.

“If I have instincts I feel are right, I don’t want anyone to tamper with them,” he told After Dark magazine in 1973. “I don’t like tamperers and I don’t like hoverers.”

Horton Foote, who adapted “Mockingbird” for the movies and wrote “Tender Mercies,” became one of Duvall’s few lifelong friends in the industry.

When Duvall was checking out Southern churches as he researched “The Apostle,” which he wrote, directed and starred in, the two were frequently in touch on the phone.

“I could always tell he’d been with a different preacher,” Foote told The Times in 2006, “because he’d try out these different voices.”

Authenticity was so important to Duvall that he gave some key roles in “The Apostle” to local people with little or no acting experience.

Rick Dial, who played a small-town radio reporter in the film, was actually a local furniture salesman.

“Rick improvised a lot of his dialogue,” Duvall told Backstage magazine in 2001. “At the end of ‘The Apostle’ when they cart me off, his skin turned a certain color of grief. I don’t know who told him to do that. He just did it.”

For Duvall, known as an actor who “just did it” in film after film, that was the highest kind of praise.

Chawkins is a former Times staff writer.

In this episode of The Envelope video podcast, Teyana Taylor describes the “slingshot” of success that’s come with “One Battle After Another” and shares her insights as to why fictional revolutionary Perfidia Beverly Hills does what she does in the film.

Kelvin Washington: Hello, everyone, and welcome back to The Envelope. Kelvin Washington, Yvonne Villarreal, we have Mark Olsen as well. Hopefully you all have been great since the last time I saw you. Everybody been good?

Mark Olsen: Of course.

Washington: Well, I tell you what, there’s a list of folks who’ve been very good because they’ve been nominated for an Oscar. And obviously, you kind of get the usual suspects, if you will. And then you get some surprises out there. Some folks you go, “Whoa!” So I want to start with you. Either of you can jump in on this. Is there someone that maybe surprised you, a film or something that you were just excited about or maybe someone said, “Them again?” or “That film again?”

Olsen: I think it was very exciting that “Sinners” got the most nominations of any film ever with 16 nominations. It was nominated in every category that it was eligible for. To see a movie that has had commercial success and felt like a cultural moment now being recognized somewhere like the Academy Awards, it’s just exciting to see that all coming together and rolling along for that film, regardless of how it turns out at the show.

Villarreal: I was very excited to see Rose Byrne get acknowledged for “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You.” Because I was worried about that movie losing steam after all the raves it got at Sundance [in 2025] and it’s a smaller movie. I wasn’t sure, “Are people going to remember it?” But I just think she’s so great in that film.

I was sort of surprised that Chase Infiniti didn’t get nominated.

Olsen: Because of the nature of the movie, the whole lead/supporting business was tough, and also it being her first movie, it’s a little harder to get that nomination — especially in lead actress, faced with, say, Kate Hudson, someone who’s been in the business for a long time, is much beloved in the industry, has obviously family historical ties to Hollywood. It’s interesting to see even in the nominations this sort of alchemy of like, “a little of this, a little bit of that” as far as who the academy was choosing to recognize.

Washington: You know, I go back to something you said, Mark, when you go to “Sinners.” You mentioned the blockbuster feel of it, getting people’s butts to the theaters, spending money. And also kind of original. We’ve had vampire movies before, but, you know, you get the “Transformer 12’s” and “Expendable 32’s.” I think a lot of folks were excited to see something original that also had commercial success as well.

Another film that had a bunch of success is “One Battle After Another.” You had a chance to speak with a star from that film, who’s been a star in her own right musically, but now into the film world, with Teyana Taylor.

Olsen: That’s right. It’s so exciting. She’s nominated for best supporting actress. This is a long movie, it’s over two and a half hours long. She more or less exits the picture about 30 minutes in. So I think it says something about the strength of her performance that her character kind of hovers over the rest of that movie. You feel her in the movie, even though she’s actually not onscreen. So at the Oscar nominees luncheon recently, we had a chance to sit down with Teyana and she was just so vibrant, so full of energy, really has a great attitude about this moment for herself. I mean, she just recently won a Golden Globe, she hosted “Saturday Night Live.” So much is like happening for her, seemingly right now and she’s just got this real like, taking it all in, very open to it [attitude]. It was really an exciting conversation.

Washington: A culmination of all her hard work. Here is Mark’s conversation with Teyana Taylor.

Teyana Taylor.

(Ian Spanier / For The Times)

Mark Olsen: You were just at the Super Bowl. About a week before that, you were a nominee at the Grammys. About a week before that you hosted “Saturday Night Live.” About a week before that you won a Golden Globe. And you’re here today as an Academy Award nominee. I’m sure I’m leaving some things out. I would say what’s the last year been like for you, but I feel like, what’s the last month or two been like for you? It feels like the rocket ship has really taken off.

Teyana Taylor: Yeah, it’s really taken off. I’m so blessed and I’m so honored and I’m filled with so much gratitude to just see so many prayers get answered all at once, where I’m also OK with one at a time. But it’s all happening, you know? And I’m just beyond blessed. And like we were talking about earlier, just how much fun I’m having with it. I’m really having a good time and I’m taking it all in because life is short and life is so fragile. So I just try and take time to enjoy life and enjoy my blessings and enjoy just being alive and well.

Olsen: Has there been a moment that felt the most surreal, like a “What is happening to me right now” moment?

Taylor: Honestly, all of it, because it reminds me of a slingshot, you know what I’m saying? It’s just like, here’s the way, here’s the way, here’s the way, here’s the way, here’s the work, here’s the prayers, here’s the tears, just here, here, here, here, here. And then whoosh — whatever the ball hit, it knocked down everything at once. And that’s what this feels like. It feels really good because literally everything is happening at the same time. So it’s not like only one moment or only two moments that’s making me feel this way. It’s everything. The small wins, the big wins, the medium wins. Every single win and every single blessing is a big deal to me. You know what I’m saying? Even my Ls. I’m not gonna win everything and I’m not gonna get everything, and some things are not even meant for me. But even those are blessings. It’s preparation for something that is in store for me and something that is meant for me, because all of this is already written. What’s for you is for you and will be for you, because that’s just what’s written. So I have that mindset.

Olsen: You’ve been doing this since you were a teenager, at first as a choreographer and a dancer, a singer, an actor, you’re going to direct your first feature soon. What keeps you moving through all of this, through these different disciplines and pursuits?

Taylor: My babies. My support system. My village. My community. I love to make my people proud. I love to make my peers proud, my family. I just love to make everybody proud and that’s what keeps me going. Even right now, I’m also in culinary school. So it’s just juggling that, but taking out the little moments to just be quiet and cook and feed my people. So it’s a push. It’s understanding it’s a marathon and that it’s not a sprint. It’s a part of the faith walk. And I think that’s what keeps me going, to wake up and feel so blessed, how could I ever complain? How could I ever be like, “Oh, this is too much”? It is everything I’ve ever asked for. I’m never going to complain about answered prayers. What pushes me is just the reassurance from my support system, the reassurance from Father God himself, the reassurance for my babies. They keep me going. That’s who I do it for. I want to create generational wealth. So them babies are my reason. They are my why.

Olsen: To start asking you about “One Battle After Another,” your character, Perfidia Beverly Hills, she’s inspired a lot of conversation and some controversy. For you, was there something about that character that you felt you hadn’t seen on screen before?

Taylor: Yes. Perfidia is complex and she is also misunderstood. This is a woman who has been in survival mode, who has been fetishized, who has been ignored, not seen. We’re seeing this woman deal with that, where in movies we’re used to seeing us women have to be in capes all day and you see this woman rip this cape away and it’s just unapologetically herself — even in her weakness. And even like you said, with the controversy of her sexuality, I think her sexuality is her armor. It is also her power. She’ll give somebody what they want to get what she wants. And literally in the movie, she’s made selfish decisions. But if you think about her spirit and mentally and emotionally as a woman, it felt good to see a woman actually be selfish and put her[self] first, which we never really get to do because we have to be super this, super this, super this. Super mom, super wife, super woman, super chef; everything is always with a super in front of it. And you see this woman not really caring about what people think. Nobody can quiet her. And in this space of, “OK, you’re too loud, quiet down; you stand too tall, have a seat,” Perfidia is all of the things that they can’t make her do. She’s like, “I’m gonna stand tall, I’m gonna use my voice, I’m gonna use whatever I need to use to get what I want.” And she makes decisions that we don’t agree with, but I think one thing we all can agree on is that she’s a badass. And I can always respect anybody that’s unapologetically themselves.

Another thing that I feel like the controversy is proof of is how much of a nonfactor postpartum depression is. Half of the mistakes we see Perfidia make is her dealing with postpartum depression. You see the moment where they say, “Perfida, she’s a runner. She comes from a long line of revolutionaries.” That in itself is a pressure on her to feel like she gotta keep that going. The revolution is instilled in her. It’s a part of her identity. So imagine getting pregnant and you’re feeling like, “Oh, my God, does this slow down the revolution? Am I gonna play house with a person that’s ignoring me?” Nobody is really taking the time to think about what’s happening in her mind. We can’t control how a person handles postpartum depression. We hear her, through the door, cry, and then we see Bob put his ear to the door — and instead of him walking in, he walked away. And then what was the result of that? Her walking away. Even if it had to be walking away from Baby Willa, it’s something that she felt like she needed to do, and that’s what postpartum make you do sometime. And every mother handles postpartrum depression differently. But I think that’s what I love about her character, because you get to see a harsh reality that I know is hard to take in. But when you watch it a few times you understand exactly what’s happening. … I think that’s what makes the letter at the end so important. Because you hear the pain, you hear the hurt, you hear the regret, you hear the accountability, “Do you have love? Are you happy? Will you try and change the world like we did? We failed, but maybe you will not.”

And that’s another thing. This is a story that Paul Thomas Anderson wanted to tell. It was Perfidia’s job to go and anchor this boat and stay there and create the path for Willa to take on these battles, because her past haunted Willa and Bob. That’s a part of Perfidia being supporting — supporting the next steps of what is for Willa. It’s for Willa to go on and to rise. So you see Perfidia in the beginning of the movie, you see her drive this boat, you see her get to the middle of the sea and you see her anchor herself. And from there, we have to continue the story. So I’m happy that the controversy around her can create dialogue like this, can create healthy dialogue or even uncomfortable dialogue. As long as it’s dialogue and we’re conversing and we are speaking and people are speaking from their point of views, I can absolutely respect that.

Olsen: Is that a conversation you expected to have? When you were making the film, were you and Paul, or you and your co-stars talking about the depiction of Black women in the movie? Or have you been surprised that’s been such a talking point now that the movie’s out in the world?

Taylor: Honestly, I’m not surprised of any of the talking. I think one thing that I said before the movie even dropped and we were doing our press junkets, I was always very boisterous about the fact that this movie, period, not just the character, would definitely shake the table, and it would definitely spark, whether it was great debates or — I love conversation and I like when we can converse. Get it off your chest, tell me how you feel. And I’m open to receive that. So I knew that it would shake the table. I also knew that it needed to be done. Postpartum depression is a big thing for me that I feel like it needs more light. It needs light around it. We need more solutions for it. And like I said, you see this person, this woman in survival mode. You see this woman be ignored. You see this woman be fetishized. And is that not the truth? Is that not what happens, especially in this place of a Black woman feeling the least protected? So I’m really happy that Paul put wings on that to be able to spread and fly with that. And like I said, I know it’s probably tough to take in, but that’s what we got to see because everybody is not wearing capes. Everybody is not handling things the way you may handle things, I may handle the things, the way that person or this person may handle things. So we all just got to give grace and take in the film. It’s a story that’s being told.

Olsen: To me, one of the biggest surprises about the movie is considering how cohesive and complete it feels, to learn how improvisatory and collaborative the process of making the movie was. Were you surprised by that? What was it like for you entering into the process of making this movie with Paul?

Taylor: I was shocked at how collaborative it was. And I loved every bit of it because one thing about it is, again, when you are telling a story that someone wrote — he’s been working on this project for 20 years. This is something that I consider to be his baby. And when you’re trusting me to take on a job like this, I don’t ever wanna walk into any set and feel like I’m doing what I want to do. I just want to be of good support. If you tell me, “Hey, let’s find this together,” I’m gonna find it together. If you say, “This is my vision of what that is and this is how I want it to be,” it’s my job to give you that vision of what you want it be, and then add my little sauce on top of it. But to be fully collaborative, I thought it was really dope. We found Perfidia’s layers and we color-coordinated those layers. And I’m really happy that he let me be a part of that.

Olsen: What do you feel you brought to Perfidia or you were able to add to the character?

Taylor: I was able to add a lot. Paul was very, very collaborative. And again, we found her layers, which was the most important, especially with such a complex character. And you know, I just came from “A Thousand and One.” So I came from being another complex character, but this one was complex to a whole other level, where we almost didn’t understand why we never see Perfidia cry. But you see these little moments, like little details, in her face that’s just like, it’s this strength, but the strength — because I also don’t really love the term “strong Black woman” — it’s this strength that you feel like she has to have because the strength is really survival mode. And again, like I said, you hear her crack down and you hear her vulnerable, and nobody stepped through that door. So when you see a strong Black woman, there is no grace, it’s, “Oh, she’s OK, she fine, she got it all figured out.” And then you hear her vulnerable and you still feel like even at her most vulnerable, she got this, she’s strong. And it’s just like, “Step through the door. Step in early. Step in the first time. Hear me the first time, see me [this] time, wipe the first tear away. Would she have walked out that door on Baby Willa and Bob, had he walked through that door when he heard her cry?

Olsen: I’ve heard you a number of times when you’re talking about Paul, you always call him Paul “Let Him Cook” Thomas Anderson. What does that mean?

Taylor: Let him cook! Listen, because he to me is a master chef. And honestly, I’m very, very big on leadership. I respect the person that is a leader. What makes it so dope is because, with being in culinary school, I originally signed up for culinary school, of course, to learn the art of culinary, but to just cook, I love to cook and I wanted to learn the art of that. With being enrolled in culinary school, it’s a lot of writing work and a lot of discussion forums and a lot of quizzes and stuff like that. So you’re not only learning to cook, but you’re learning how to run a business. You’re learning how to navigate your staff, front of house, back of house, in the kitchen. You have to understand it’s a whole system in how you handle people in general. In the kitchen they call it like a “servant leader,” where your leader is in the kitchen with you, they’re cooking with you. They’re your mentor, they are your guidance, but they’re cooking with you. They’re not just pointing, “Do this, do that, boom, boom, boom.” And it’s just, like, his gentle servant leadership is something that I respect so much and something that inspires me as an upcoming movie director on how to handle and navigate my staff.

So it’s like the best of both worlds because I have PTA and then I have culinary school who’s teaching me how to be the best leader. Even in how we handle people, it’s bigger than just the people that work for us or with us. It’s also the people that come into this restaurant. It’s your customers. It’s just the hospitality of it all and the hospitality that he gives, it’s really amazing to see. I’m also a big sports girl. So even in regards to him being our quarterback, you know, he’s not on the side, pointing at what to do. He’s on the field with you. But he has an even bigger job because now he’s trusting that he’s going to throw this ball to you and you’re going to receive that ball. So we’re his receivers, we’re his wide receivers to take it to the touchdown. It’s all about being present. And that’s what I learned in culinary, it’s what I learned in sports, it’s just everything about being a leader as I prepare to lead my village and lead my community. That’s just so important to me. So I always respect people that are in the field with you. I become a warrior for you. You see Paul, you’re running in the battlefield, you look to your left, he’s with you. He’s not on a horse, he’s not on his high horse. He’s in the field with you. Let’s go, we got this! And it just makes you want to you want to go so hard for him. And that’s how I look at it. So I am a student. I am a teammate. I am a soldier. I am a warrior. That’s what I am with people that are great leaders.

Olsen: When you won the Golden Globe, your speech was so moving and you specifically spoke to your “brown sisters and little brown girls” and said that their light does not need permission to shine. Can you talk more about that? What was it that made you want to say that in that moment, specifically talking about this movie?

Taylor: I thought it was a very important moment on a very important stage. I wanted to use my voice and I wanted to use my platform. And in that moment, I had the voice and the platform to say just that. It’s nothing less than that. There’s nothing beyond that. Exactly what I said. We deserve space. What that night showed was that here’s the space. And I appreciated that. I was filled with so much gratitude. That moment hit hard for me because I was that little girl that sat on the floor on a TV watching the other queens onstage accept their awards. Like, “You can do it too, you can do it too.” And I knew that one day when it was my turn, I would tell my little queens, “You can do it too — all the little queens that look like me, you can do it too, you deserve space.” To know that also my daughters were watching as well, it’s everything to me. It’s everything for me to know that they embrace that as well. It’s so important. I’ve gotten so many women come up to me like, “Wow, that speech was just everything.” And that’s what it’s all about. That’s what is all about: to inspire, uplift and remind us that there is space.

Olsen: Before I let you go, you just bring it on red carpets time and time again. And the one thing I like is that you wear these really bold outfits, and it never looks like the clothes are wearing you. Do you have tips for people? What do you do for confident personal style?

Taylor: Honestly, follow your heart. Follow your heart. If you see it and you like it, put it together. You might put it together and be like, “That didn’t work the way I [intended].” Practice. Play in clothes. I love to play in clothes — but also will walk in the store and redress a whole mannequin. I’ll also be like, “I like that tie, I think it should be a little bit tighter.” I dream about certain outfits. I dream of certain moments where I’m like, “Oooh. I already know what I feel like I want my Oscar dress to look like. I already know what I want my Golden Globes dress to look like.” It’s always a vision. Or sometimes you might have a base. You might see something and be like, “I like this, but I feel it could use this.” Add it. If you feel like something can use something, add it. Because before you know it, now you done created your own thing. So don’t hesitate. When I was younger, I used to hesitate and be like, “This looked pretty cool, but now I’m not gonna do it.” And then later on, I see somebody try it, and I’m like, “Oh, I should have just…” Always follow your gut and always follow you heart.

SACRAMENTO — Gavin Newsom writes in his upcoming memoir about San Francisco’s highborn Getty family fitting him in Brioni suits “appropriate to meet a king” when he was 20 years old. Then he flew aboard their private “Jetty” to Spain for a royal princess’s debutante-style party.

Back home, real life wasn’t as grand.

In an annual performance for their single mom, Newsom and his sister would pretend to find problems with the fancy clothes his dad’s friends, the heirs of ruthless oil baron J. Paul Getty, sent for Christmas. Poor fit. Wrong color. Not my style. The ritual gave her an excuse to return the gifts and use the store credit on presents for her children she placed under the tree.

California’s 41st governor, a possible suitor for the White House, opens up about the duality of his upbringing in his new book. Newsom details the everyday struggle living with his mom after his parents divorced and occasional interludes into his father’s life charmed by the Gettys’ affluence, including that day when the Gettys outfitted him in designer clothes at a luxury department store.

“I walked out understanding that this was the split personality of my life,” Newsom writes in “Young Man in a Hurry.”

For years, Newsom asserted that his “one-dimensional” public image as a slick, privileged politician on a path to power paved with Getty oil money fails to tell the whole story.

“I’m not trying to be something I’m not,” Newsom said in a recent interview. “I’m not trying to talk about, you know, ‘I was born in a town called Hope with no running water.’ That’s not what this book is about. But it’s a very different portrayal than the one I think 9 out of 10 people believe.”

As he explores a 2028 presidential run and basks in the limelight as one of President Trump’s most vociferous critics, the book offers the Democratic politician a chance to write his own narrative and address the skeletons in his closet before opponents begin to exploit his past.

A book tour, which is set to begin Feb. 21 in Nashville, also gives Newsom a reason to travel the country, meet voters and promote his life story without officially entering the race. He’s expected to make additional stops in Georgia, South Carolina, New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles.

The governor describes the book as a “memoir of discovery” that sent him interviewing family members and friends and digging through troves of old documents about his lineage that his mother never spoke about and his father smoothed over. Learning about his family history, the good and the bad, Newsom said, helped him understand and accept himself. Mark Arax, an author and former Los Angeles Times journalist, was his ghostwriter.

“I’ve changed the opinion of myself,” Newsom said when asked if he believed the book would revise his glossy public image. “It kind of rocked so many parts of my life, and kind of cracked things open. And I started to understand where my anxieties come from and why I’m overcompensating in certain areas.”

Newsom writes that his interest in politics brought him and his father, William, closer. His mother, Tessa, on the other hand, didn’t share his father’s enthusiasm.

She warned him to get out while he still could, worried her only son would eschew his true self.

“My mother did not want that world for me: the shrewd marriage of tall husbands and tall wives that kept each year’s Cotillion Debutante Ball stocked with children of the same; the gritted teeth behind the social smiles; the spectator sport of who was in and who was out based on so-and-so’s dinner party guest list,” Newsom wrote.

At the heart of her concern was her belief that Newsom’s “obsessive drive” into business and politics was in response to his upbringing and an effort to solve “the riddle” of his identity from his learning disorder, dyslexia, and the two different worlds he inhabited.

“As I grew up trying to grasp which of these worlds, if either, suited me best, she had worried about the persona I was constructing to cover up what she considered a crack at my core,” Newsom writes. “If my remaking was skim plaster, she feared, it would crumble. It would not hold me into adulthood.”

Newsom’s mother was 19 years old when she married his father, then 32. He learned through writing the book that his mother hailed from a “family of brilliant and daring misfits who had carved new paths in botany and medicine and left-wing politics,” he writes.

There was also secret pain and struggles with mental health. His maternal grandfather, a World War II POW, turned to the bottle after returning home. One night he told his three young daughters to line up in front of the fireplace so he could shoot them, but stopped when his wife walked in the door and took the gun from his hand. He committed suicide years later.

Newsom’s father’s family was full of more traditional Democrats and Irish Catholic storytellers who worked in banking, homebuilding, law enforcement and law. Newsom describes his paternal grandfather as one of the “thinkers behind the throne” for former California Gov. Edmund “Pat” Brown, but his family never held public office despite his dad’s bids for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors and the California Legislature.

The failed campaigns left his father in financial and emotional turmoil that crippled his marriage when Newsom was a small boy. A divorce set the stage for an unusual contrasting existence for the would-be governor, offering him brief exposures to the wealth and power of the Gettys through his dad.

Newsom said he moved casually between the rich and poor neighborhoods of San Francisco as a boy.

“It was a wonder how effortlessly I glided because the two realms of my life, the characters of my mother’s world and the characters of my father’s world, did not fit together in the least,” Newsom writes.

Mayor Gavin Newsom and his dad, Judge William Newsom, have lunch at the Balboa Cafe in San Francisco.

(Christina Koci Hernandez / San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)

Though William Alfred Newsom III went on to become an appellate court justice, Newsom’s father was best known for his role delivering ransom money to the kidnappers of J. Paul Getty’s grandson. He served as an adviser to the family without pay and a paid administrator of the $4 billion family trust.

The governor wrote in the book that the ties between the two families go back three generations. His father was close friends with Getty’s sons John Paul Jr. and Gordon since childhood when they became like his sixth and seventh siblings at Newsom’s grandparents’ house.

Gordon Getty in particular considered Newsom’s father his “best-best friend.” Newsom’s dad helped connect the eccentric music composer “to the outside world,” the governor wrote.

“My father had this way of creating a safe space for Gordon to open up,” Newsom writes. “He became Gordon’s whisperer, his interpreter and translator, a bridge to their friends, a bridge to Gordon’s own children.”

San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom and his sister, Hilary Newsom, in a promotional portrait for the Search for the Cause campaign, which raises funds for cancer research, on Nov. 21, 2025.

(Caroline Schiff/Getty Images)

His father’s friendship with Gordon Getty exposed Newsom and his younger sister, Hillary, to a world far beyond their family’s own means. Gordon’s wife, Ann, and Newsom’s father organized elaborate adventures for the Gettys’ four sons and the Newsom children.

Newsom describes fishing on the Rogue River and riding in a helicopter while studying polar bears on the shores of the Hudson Bay in Canada. He recalled donning tuxedos and carrying toy guns pretending to be James Bond on a European yacht vacation and soaring over the Serengeti in a hot air balloon during an East African safari.

Throughout his travels, Newsom often blended in with the Gettys’ brown-haired sons. He wrote that the actor Jack Nicholson once mistakenly called him one of the “Getty boys” at a party in a 16th-century palazzo in Venice where guests arrived via gondola. Newsom didn’t correct him.

“Had I shared this encounter with my mother, she likely would have asked me if deception was something I practiced whenever I hobnobbed with the Gettys,” Newsom said in the book. “Fact is, I was always aware of the line that separated us from the Gettys. Not because they went out of their way to make us aware of it but because we, as good Newsoms, paid constant mind to the distinction.”

Newsom wrote that his mother seemed to begrudge the excursions when her children returned home. She raised them in a much more ordinary existence. Newsom describes his father’s presence as “episodic.”

“For a day or two, she’d give us the silent treatment, and then we’d all fall back into the form of a life trying to make ends meet,” he wrote. “After enough vacations came and went, a cone of silence took hold.”

Newsom’s mother worked as an assistant retail buyer, a bookkeeper, a waitress at a Mexican restaurant, a development director for a nonprofit and a real estate agent — holding as many as three jobs at once — to provide for her children. His mother’s sister and brother-in-law helped care for them when they could, but he likened himself to a latchkey kid because of the amount of time he and his sister spent alone.

They moved five times in 10 years in search of a “better house in a better neighborhood” with good schools, taking the family from San Francisco to the Marin County suburbs. Though his mother owned a home, she often rented out rooms to bring in extra money.

Tired of his mother complaining about finances and his father not coming through, Newsom wrote that he took on a paper route.

In the book, Newsom describes his struggles with dyslexia and how the learning disorder undercut his self-esteem when he was an emotionally vulnerable child.

Eager to make himself something more than an awkward kid with sweaty palms and a bowl haircut who couldn’t read, Newsom mimicked Remington Steele, the suave character on the popular 1980s detective show. He chugged down glassfuls of raw eggs like Sylvester Stallone in “Rocky” and ran across town and back like a prizefighter in training.

He found confidence in high school sports, but his struggle to find himself continued into young adulthood. Newsom wrote that he watched tapes of motivational guru Tony Robbins and heeded his advice to remake yourself in the image of someone you admire. For Newsom, that became Robbins himself.

“Find a person who embodies all of the outward traits of personality, bearing, charisma, language, and power lacking in yourself,” Newsom described the philosophy in the book. “Study that person. Copy that person. The borrowed traits may fit awkwardly at first, but don’t fret. You’ll be surprised by how fast the pose becomes you, and you the pose.”

His father scoffed at the self-help gurus and nurtured his interest in business.

More than a half-dozen friends and family members, including Gordon Getty, invested equal shares to help him launch a wine shop in San Francisco. Newsom named the business, which expanded to include restaurants, hotels and wineries, “PlumpJack,” the nickname of Shakespeare’s fictional character Sir John Falstaff and the title of Gordon Getty’s opera.

“Gordon’s really inspired me to be bolder and more audacious. He’s inspired me to be more authentic,” Newsom said. “The risks I take in business … just trying to march to the beat of a different drummer and to be a little bolder. That’s my politics. But I also think he played a huge role in that, in terms of shaping me in that respect as well.”

Newsom described Gordon and Ann Getty as like family. The Gettys also became the biggest investors in his wineries and among his largest political donors.

In an interview, Newsom said there are many days when he feels his mother “absolutely” was right to worry about the facade of politics and the mold her son stuffed himself into.

Gavin Newsom heads for his home neighborhood on Nov. 3, 2003, to cast hisvote for San Francisco mayor.

(Mike Kepka / San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)

He described the day the recall against him qualified for the ballot amid the COVID-19 pandemic as humbling and humiliating, though it later failed by a wide margin. Still today, he said, there’s a voice in his head constantly questioning why he’s in politics, what he’s exposing his wife and children to and doing with his life.

By choosing a career as an elected official despite his mother’s warnings, Newsom ultimately picked his father’s world and accomplished his father’s dream of taking office. But he said the book taught him that so much of his own more gutsy positions, such as his early support for gay marriage, and his hustle were from his mother.

Newsom said he’s accepted that he can’t control which version of himself people choose to see. Writing the book felt cathartic, he said, and left him more comfortable taking off his mask.

“It allowed me to understand better my motivations, my purpose, my meaning, my mission… who my mom and dad were and who I am as a consequence of them and what truly motivates me,” Newsom said. “There’s a freedom. There’s a real freedom. And it’s nice. It’s just so much nicer than the plaster of the past.”

When we decided to rank the best Los Angeles movies, we thought 101 titles would be plenty: room enough for undeniable classics, personal obsessions, even a guilty pleasure or two. Of course it wasn’t. You let us know, endorsing many of our selections but insisting we’d missed a few.

Sifting through your responses, 14 films had the most passionate advocacy. You’ll find them listed below in alphabetical order. Together they make up a perfectly valid alternate list, one that captures the glamour and romance of L.A. — as well as its lovable plasticity — just as well.

‘American Gigolo’ (1980)

Richard Gere and Lauren Hutton in the movie “American Gigolo.”

(Paramount Pictures)

Reader Cindy Simon from Pacific Palisades shares an anecdote: “I had just moved to L.A. from New Jersey. My friend and I — young mothers — ducked out of our baby-centered life to see ‘American Gigolo.’ The first scene was the incredible Richard Gere smoothly walking outside a Malibu beach house. My friend and I literally gasped!”

There is so much to recommend to this movie — an excellent choice and a regrettable omission on our part. Not only is it responsible for introducing Blondie’s “Call Me” to the world, it does so via an opening credits scene of Pacific Coast Highway cruising that all but defined L.A. hedonism as the ’70s became the ’80s.

‘The Anniversary Party’ (2001)

Jennifer Beals, Alan Cumming and Jennifer Jason Leigh in the movie “The Anniversary Party.”

(Peter Sorel / Fine Line Features)

“A dysfunctional showbiz marriage in the Hollywood Hills, a party with a lost dog, what’s not to love?” asks reader Jim Ehlers of Pasadena. “It’s so iconically L.A. — the sexy mid-century modern house. When do you get Parker Posey, Gwyneth Paltrow and John C. Reilly in the same cast?”

That spectacular glass-walled home in the Hollywood Hills is the Schaarman House, designed by architect Richard Neutra. But fans know the movie for other reasons: Phoebe Cates came out of retirement to act with her “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” co-star Jennifer Jason Leigh. Today’s audiences ogle a young Alan Cumming.

‘City of Gold’ (2015)

Jonathan Gold in the documentary “City of Gold.”

(Sundance Selects)

Junko Garrett of Eagle Rock says this documentary “captures the essence of L.A.: diversity and vibrancy, amazing food and people. I was a big fan of Jonathan Gold’s articles and looked forward them every week.”

So did we. Gold’s omnivorous enthusiasm remains a guiding light for so many Angelenos and his Pulitzer-winning food writing is easy to find. We’re still going to several of the film’s featured restaurants: Jitlada, Chengdu Taste, Guelaguetza.

‘Crash’ (2004)

Thandiwe Newton and Matt Dillon in the movie “Crash.”

(Lorey Sebastian / Lions Gate Films)

More than a few of our readers bemoaned the omission of an Oscar-winning best picture like “Crash.” Says Jim Rodriguez of Torrance, it “captures the quintessential reality that, in L.A., all the levels of social strata, at one time or another, exist side by side on our roads and freeways, separated by a few feet, metal and glass. And yet, still so isolated from each other.”

And Ian Barnard of DTLA calls the movie “a wonderful antidote to Hollywood’s whitewashed and unrealistically glamorous depictions of L.A.” It shows the city “in all its diversity, prejudices, contradictions, inequities and generosities.”

To us, “Crash” will always be the movie that stole “Brokeback Mountain’s” glory. But let’s be generous and note that Carney’s Restaurant on Ventura gets a nice moment.

‘The Day of the Locust’ (1975)

William Atherton, left, and Donald Sutherland in the movie “The Day of the Locust.”

(Paramount Pictures / Getty Images)

The Nathanael West novel is, of course, essential, so where’s the movie? Reader Andrea Hales, a San Diegan who lived in Los Angeles for 15 years, calls the film version “eerie and fascinating, capturing the essence of Los Angeles: the city of hopes and dreams, fires and riots. The setting is 1930s Hollywood but it could be today.”

One thing is certain: As a one-stop shop for classic L.A. locations, you can’t do much better than “The Day of the Locust,” which takes us to the Ennis House, Paramount’s iconic Bronson Gate and Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.

‘Earthquake’ (1974)

A scene from the movie “Earthquake.”

(United Archives / Hulton Archive / Getty Images)

Reader Dina Schweim, writing from Winston-Salem, N.C. (fine, we’ll allow an outsider’s perspective in this case), expressed her disappointment to not find “Earthquake” on our list: “There are few things I love more than a good disaster movie that obliterates L.A. to balance out fanciful and the corrupt — and yes, I was pleased to see that ‘Volcano’ made the list but ‘Earthquake’ really does capture the raw core of what destruction in L.A. can look like.”

The film was mostly shot on the Universal backlot and we wish it had more of an authentic L.A. feel. Still, if you harbor satisfaction at seeing the city get trashed (and who doesn’t on occasion?), we’re not getting in the way of that rumble.

‘(500) Days of Summer’ (2009)

Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel in the movie “(500) Days of Summer.”

(Chuck Zlotnick / Fox Searchlight Pictures)

You like this one. Really like it. “It celebrates and beautifies the city in a way few other movies ever have,” says Anthony Cavalluzzi of Yorba Linda, adding, “Its absence completely invalidates the list.” And Michael Backauskas of Beverlywood writes, “I went to see it five times and I never do that.”

Any film about an aspiring architect is going to make the most of its locations. If you mourn the lovers’ bench at Angel’s Knoll Park, know that it became immortal because of this film.

‘Get Shorty (1995)’

John Travolta and Rene Russo in the movie “Get Shorty.”

(MGM)

This comedy’s dialogue was quoted in our comments twice. For reader Sean Dickerson of Beverly Grove, the movie gives us “maybe the greatest line about our city: ‘What is the point of living in L.A. if you’re not in the movie business?’” And for David Hughes of Sierra Madre, the moment comes when John Travolta’s gangster-turned-Hollywood-wannabe is asked what he knows about the movie business: “I don’t think the producer has to know much.”

There is an unforced charm to the way Travolta’s character falls in love with Hollywood — he’s already a movie geek but other elements fall into place for him. Eagle-eyed viewers will recognize both the Aero and Vista theaters.

‘Grand Canyon’ (1991)

Kevin Kline and Danny Glover in the movie “Grand Canyon.”

(20th Century Fox)

Paul Krekorian of Encino calls this one “a brilliant and underrated study of life in Los Angeles. In a deeply personal way it lays bare so many of the societal challenges Los Angeles always struggles with — economic segregation, racial division and injustice, violence, the disparity between Hollywood-created facades and the reality of ordinary life, and the struggle to find meaning and substance.”

Its writer and director, Lawrence Kasdan, was also responsible for “The Big Chill,” a similar portrait of generational flux, and there are quiet moments in “Grand Canyon” that are some of his best. It also starts with a Lakers game.

‘Knight of Cups’ (2015)

Christian Bale in the movie “Knight of Cups.”

(Melinda Sue Gordon / Broad Green Pictures)

Reader Peter Turman of Brentwood sees depth in Terrence Malick’s oblique portrait of a distracted screenwriter (Christian Bale) searching for grace but finding a lot of sex, calling it “a fever-dream meditation on Los Angeles and Hollywood, with its promises, chimeras, illusions, seductions, nightmares and disappointments, told by a great filmmaker who knows of what he speaks.”

Malick shot all over Los Angeles but his moments on the Warner Bros. lot, the enormous numbered studio buildings looming, may be his most beautiful.

‘Lost Highway’ (1997)

Patricia Arquette and Balthazar Getty in the movie “Lost Highway.”

(October Films)

Even with two other David Lynch films placing on our list, that wasn’t enough for Clark Leazier of West Hollywood, who calls the L.A. vistas and landmarks in “Lost Highway” “the most burned in my brain — particularly the Firestone Auto Shop that is now the popular All Season Brewing in Mid City. Also it captures Southern California nighttime driving in a messed up yet accurate way.”

Lynch obsessives know “Lost Highway” to be the one narrative film in which you can see the director’s own house, part of his compound on Senalda Drive in the Hollywood Hills, used as the setting for his main characters’ mansion.

‘Spanglish’ (2004)

Paz Vega, left, Téa Leoni and Adam Sandler in the movie “Spanglish.”

(Bob Marshak / Columbia Pictures )

Says Rochelle Lapides of Ventura County, “It tells one of the essential stories of our Los Angeles-bound Mexican immigrant population and the cultural challenges they face. Also, in my opinion, it’s one of Adam Sandler’s best dramatic roles.”

Agreed, especially on Sandler, whose turn in “Punch-Drunk Love” so impressed director James L. Brooks, he decided to cast him here. The film’s romantic patio scene is filmed at the Beverly Hills restaurant Il Cielo.

‘Star 80’ (1983)

Mariel Hemingway, left, Eric Roberts and Cliff Robertson in the movie “Star 80.”

(Paramount Pictures / Getty Images)

“Talk about dying for the dream,” writes William Mariano of Escondido. “It was filmed in the same spot she died.” He means Playboy model Dorothy Stratten, murdered by her sicko husband Paul Snider in a Rancho Park home that was actually used by the movie’s production while filming their dramatization of the crime.

“Star 80” does crystallize the ominous side of the L.A. myth, as a place where you’ll arrive, find success (and exploitation) and be destroyed in the process. Bob Fosse completists need to see it; it was the “All That Jazz” director’s final movie.

‘Tequila Sunrise’ (1988)

Kurt Russell, Michelle Pfeiffer and Mel Gibson in the movie “Tequila Sunrise.”

(Warner Bros. Pictures)

Jean Clark of Manhattan Beach celebrates this thriller’s cast, cinematography and plot, which she sums up as “classic good guy vs. bad guy and the woman who loves them both, set against the dark underbelly of glamorous L.A. and its golden beaches back in the 1980s.”

And Jean would know — the movie was largely shot around Manhattan Beach. But don’t go looking for Michelle Pfeiffer’s restaurant Vallenari’s. It was entirely constructed on a soundstage.

Bridgerton star Claudia Jessie has landed a leading role in an upcoming Channel 4 drama.

Bridgerton’s Claudia Jessie has secured a leading role in an upcoming Channel 4 drama, where she’ll star alongside Glenn Close.

Known for her portrayal of Eloise, the sharp-tongued and defiant fifth child in Netflix’s popular period drama Bridgerton, Jessie is set to take on a contrasting role in Up To No Good. The six-part series marks the television writing debut for playwrights Nina Raine and Moses Raine, who have adapted Helen Tursten’s short story collections An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good and An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed.

A press release teasing the forthcoming series reveals that Fatal Attraction star Glenn Close will portray Maud Oldcastle, described as “a hilariously brusque, cantankerous, ruthless older woman-and those are her nice qualities”.

The synopsis continues: “She is also a killer. Determined to break from a lifetime spent caring for her sister, Maud sets out to claim a long-overdue second act, but when a suspicious young detective investigating a death in Maud’s building starts to believe there is more to her than meets the eye, Maud is forced to reckon with her crimes, present and past.”

Toxic Town’s Jessie will be stepping into the shoes of young detective Hannah, with Andor’s Gloria Obianyo portraying Astrid, EastEnders‘ Anita Dobson as Elsa, Game of Thrones’ Ben Crompton playing Barry, and The Wheel of Time’s Meera Syal taking on the role of Margaret. Rounding off the star-studded cast announcement, Downton Abbey’s Penelope Wilton will be seen as Charlotte, reports the Manchester Evening News.

Rebecca Holdsworth, Commissioning Editor for Drama at Channel 4, expressed her excitement in a statement: “Nina and Moses Raine’s deliciously dark and witty world has drawn together a truly fantastic line-up, and we’re excited for audiences to be introduced to Maud Oldcastle and the unforgettable characters surrounding her. UP TO NO GOOD promises a bold, razor sharp and wickedly entertaining series that feels undoubtedly Channel 4.”

Scott Huff, Joint Managing Director, Playground, also shared his enthusiasm, saying: “We are thrilled to have brought together this extraordinary group of artists for UP TO NO GOOD. A cast of this calibre is a testament to Nina and Moses’s brilliant scripts, our casting director Robert Sterne’s exceptional taste and Glenn Close’s legendary talent. We can’t wait for audiences to see this group of actors together on screen.”

Andrew Plotkin, EVP of Drama Development at Sony Pictures Television, commented: “We are thrilled to have Lee Haven Jones directing the series, not only setting the tone, but immersing himself on the ground throughout production. With a standout cast joining Glenn to bring Nina and Moses’ brilliantly crafted scripts to life, their collaboration further elevates the storytelling at the heart of UP TO NO GOOD. What’s coming together is remarkable, and audiences are in for something truly special.”

The new series will see Claudia in a character completely different from her present role as an outspoken and curious Bridgerton daughter, who desperately resists societal pressures and would rather immerse herself in books than attend balls, showing minimal interest in marriage or potential suitors.

The current season follows Benedict Bridgerton (Luke Thompson) as he searches for a mysterious woman, Sophie Baek (Yerin Ha), whom he met at a masquerade ball. It’s also building towards Eloise’s storyline, with Claudia having previously hinted at what lies ahead for her character when her moment in the spotlight eventually arrives.

The Shonda Rhimes production, based on Julia Quinn’s novels, first graced our screens in 2020, tracing the romantic journey of Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor) and Simon Basset (Regé-Jean Page). The following two series then saw the eldest Bridgerton sibling Anthony (Jonathan Bailer) tie the knot with Kate Sharma (Simone Ashley), and third Bridgerton son Colin’s (Luke Newton) passionate affair with the true author of Lady Whistledown, Penelope Featherington (Nicola Coughlan).

Discussing how the current series is paving the way for her own season, Claudia shared with RadioTimes.com: “Eloise is desperately trying to find her way of doing it, right? That’s what I’ve always been excited to be able to one day do, is to show love or romance or whatever her journey is in the most Eloise way possible. I think she’s just trying to find out her way of doing it.”

For the latest showbiz, TV, movie and streaming news, go to the new **Everything Gossip** website

She further added: “That’s what I think the set-up is until ultimately we see what her way of doing it is, her version of it. I’m buzzing to one day do it. I love this show with my whole heart.”

Discussing the future of her character, she previously shared with Netflix Tudum: “I like the idea of her becoming political. Obviously, romance is a very important part of the show, but out of all of the characters, Eloise is the one you’d like to see go a slightly different route. Because we see it in Season 2 where she’s meeting different people in different parts of society and reading new things, so I’d like to see that continue. Right now, she’s young and she’s just taking everything in. But I’d like her to have a really clear purpose, something that she really desires.”

Bridgerton is available to watch on Netflix.

New York — Keke Palmer can make Jack Whitehall blush.

We’re sitting in the green room at the 92nd Street Y on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, just before Palmer is set to host a live edition of her podcast, “Baby, This Is Keke Palmer,” with Whitehall and their other co-stars from the Peacock series “The ‘Burbs,” premiering Sunday.

In the show, Palmer and Whitehall play Samira and Rob, new parents who move back to Rob’s hometown of Hinkley Hills, a beautiful suburb where Samira immediately suspects something is amiss.

Palmer has kicked off her high heels and tucked her feet under her on the couch where she sits next to Whitehall as I ask them about their chemistry read.

“He was making me — not just me, everybody — laugh,” she remembers. “It was like, yeah, I can see how you fall in love with this guy because he’s just so funny and he’s so sweet. It’s so true, Jack. Seriously.”

Whitehall’s face turns red, which I point out. He admits that’s the case through giggles. Palmer interjects, “He knows how I feel. That’s my boo.”

“The ‘Burbs” reimagines the 1989 Joe Dante movie starring Tom Hanks for a modern era. In the original, Hanks’ character is driven to madness, imagining that his neighbors in the creepy house across the street might be murderers.

Jack Whitehall as Rob and Keke Palmer as Samira in “The ‘Burbs,” a series that reimagines Joe Dante’s 1989 film.

(Elizabeth Morris/Peacock)

Developed by Celeste Hughey, this version puts Palmer’s Samira, a lawyer on maternity leave, at the center. Though initially ill at ease among the carefully manicured lawns, she develops a fast friendship with a group of gossipy wine guzzlers on her block (played by Julia Duffy, Paula Pell and Mark Proksch). When a creepy man (Justin Kirk) moves into the dilapidated Victorian mansion across the street, she starts to wonder whether it has something to do with the disappearance of a teenage girl years ago. And then she starts to ponder how Rob might be involved. Is it a case of paranoia thanks to new motherhood? Or is there something really amiss in this paradise?

Initially, Brian Grazer of Imagine Entertainment, which made the original, and Seth MacFarlane’s Fuzzy Door Productions had teamed up to do a new film version of “The ‘Burbs.” During the COVID-19 pandemic, MacFarlane thought that the title might make sense for the “dark, humorous, creepy vibes of our shared fear inside our own communities,” Fuzzy Door president and show executive producer Erica Huggins explains in a phone interview. After it was reconceived as a series, they reached out to Hughey.

“When I thought about it for a modern take, I really wanted to center an outsider,” Hughey says, adding, “I grew up in Boston, a very white suburb, as a mixed kid; I wanted to center it on a Black woman who has a new baby, a new husband, in a new neighborhood kind of unwillingly and seeing it through her eyes.”

Palmer was always who Hughey wanted to play Samira, and Grazer had the same idea.

Keke Palmer says she was attracted to the idea of playing a mom having experienced the realities of being a new mom herself.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

“She’s so versatile,” Grazer says, adding she could be “really funny and really pretty and she could be the average person. Like, you could live through her and that’s a big thing. What was so great about Tom Hanks is you could live through him.”

It turns out the timing was perfect. Palmer wasn’t all that familiar with the 1989 version, but she identified with Hughey’s vision, especially given that her son, Leo, was around 1 year old at the time.

“Thinking about playing a mom and now being a mom and also being able to use horror and comedy to play with the realities of what it feels like to be a new mom all felt very exciting to me,” she says.

Once Palmer signed on, Hughey and her team needed to find someone to match her infectious energy. Hughey says she imagined Rob as a “fully supportive partner” whose childhood guilt is putting a wedge in their marriage. She and her collaborators landed on Whitehall, a British stand-up comedian who has had stints in blockbusters like 2021’s “Jungle Cruise.”

Whitehall flew into Atlanta from the U.K. to meet Palmer, who was shooting the upcoming Boots Riley film “I Love Boosters.” He tells me he has had bad experiences coming to the U.S. to read with potential co-stars before, but Palmer immediately put him at ease.

“I think I’m just genuinely curious, trying to get to know him, because at the end of the day we’re going to be together every single day and we’re going to be making out and kissing and hugging,” she says. “We gotta be married. Is this my Desi? Am I his Lucy?”

Jack Whitehall, who is also a parent, says he found elements of the script relatable.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

Whitehall also understood the nuances of the part because he had a young child as well. His daughter Elsie is now 2 and a half. (Leo is about to turn 3 when we speak.)

“So many elements of the script were really relatable, with the character of Rob and the slight guilt that he has that he’s going back to work and his wife is feeling trapped and wanting to be a protector and to be helpful, but then also not not quite knowing where his place is and how he can be sort of useful and caring,” Whitehall says.

For Palmer, portraying Samira’s unease wasn’t just about highlighting the disconnect between her and Rob, it was also about portraying the specific fears of living in a postpartum state.

“You’re always kind of having this anxiety,” she says. “And I don’t want to say it’s disproportionate, but to a certain degree it is. You’re constantly filtering out, is this real danger? You are kind of constantly gaslighting yourself.”

Throughout the eight-episode season, which ends on a major cliffhanger, “The ‘Burbs” is always trying to make its audience question what is really going on. That specifically relates to Rob, who is keeping a lot of secrets that may or may not be nefarious. It’s an aspect of the character that attracted Whitehall, though he notes, “I think at one point in this series the finger is pointed at literally every single member of our cast.”

“The ‘Burbs” sets out to subvert expectations, and that also applies to the way it deals with Samira’s race.

“It was really important to me that we didn’t make it a cliché,” says Palmer, who is also an executive producer. “It’s expected that we play up the ‘Get Out’ aspect. So I think it was about not being untrue to that reality and how that plays a role in the story but to talk about the bigger thing where it’s really just about being a fish out of water.”

Samira finds a true community among the other neighborhood oddballs, which is true to Palmer’s experience of growing up in Robbins, Ill., outside of Chicago. Whitehall, meanwhile, says he grew up in the “British equivalent of Hinkley Hills” in a town called Putney, on the outskirts of London.

“It was just full of very proper people, but very judgmental, and there were secrets on the street,” he says. “There was scandal as well.”

During our interview it’s clear that Palmer and Whitehall have an easy rapport. They go on tangents about Palmer introducing Whitehall to the 1997 film “Soul Food,” which Whitehall proceeded to reference on set. Palmer grabs Whitehall in exuberance as they speak. While they have different styles of deliveries, their senses of humor are the same, according to Palmer. And they figured out how to make everything click in the show.

“I think we found our timing together and we let each other have our moments,” Palmer says. “Like very telepathic. Like, ‘Time for the bit.’ We can feel each other’s pacing. I guess we just really work well together.”

Ever since Hunter Greene stepped foot on campus at Sherman Oaks Notre Dame High as a 14-year-old freshman, everyone has predicted stardom in baseball. But one day, it will be remembered how much he has done to help inspire and encourage the next generation of students to follow their dreams.

Greene, the No. 2 draft pick of the Cincinnati Reds in 2017, has become a member of the team’s starting rotation while continuing to serve as a role model for others.

On Saturday, he returned to Notre Dame to present two scholarship awards from his foundation given annually to a boy and girl who demonstrates character and commitment to their community. It’s the seventh and eighth scholarships since he began the annual presentation four years ago.

Donors list for the Hunter Greene Scholarship Fund at Sherman Oaks Notre Dame.

(Eric Sondheimer / Los Angeles Times)

Even in high school, Greene was seen as someone who could be a leader in helping others. He embraced that role and has continued as a professional baseball player, whether it’s at his former school or helping youth around the country.

Notre Dame held an alumni baseball game, where former major leaguers Brendan Ryan and Brett Hayes were among the participants.

Greene did not play, but what he continues to do off the field is admired and much appreciated.

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email eric.sondheimer@latimes.com.

It is painful to have to write about Catherine O’Hara, so alive and lively a presence, in the past tense. O’Hara has lived inside my head — is it too corny to say my heart? — from “SCTV” to “Schitt’s Creek” to “The Studio,” on whose second season she was scheduled to start work, when she died, Friday at 71.

Any appearance constituted a recommendation for — a benediction upon — whatever she was appearing in; you felt she would only say yes to things that used her well, that sounded fun or interesting, and that her casting reflected well on the project and people who cast her. I think of her not as a careerist, but a Canadian. Of joining “Schitt’s Creek,” she said when I interviewed her in 2015, “it took me a few moments to commit, [but] I already trusted [co-creator, co-star] Eugene [Levy] as a writer and an actor, and as a good man who I could stand to spend time with.”

This is how it began for her, in Toronto, where her brother Marcus was dating Gilda Radner, who was in “Godspell” with Levy and Martin Short. “And it was really watching Gilda when I realized, ‘cause I’d always liked acting in school, that it was actually a local possibility. And then she got into Second City theater, and I was a waitress there — it’s like I stalked her — and then she did the show for a while and then took on a job for the National Lampoon. So I got to understudy or take her place — I got to join the cast, and Eugene was in it. It was really just the luck of having a professional actor suddenly in my life.”

As an “SCTV” early adopter, O’Hara was first attractive to me because she was funny, but she was also beautiful — a beauty she could subvert by a subtle or broad rearrangement of her features. Though fundamentally a comic actress, her characters could feel pained or tragic beneath the surface — even Lola Heatherton, one of her signature “SCTV” characters, an over-exuberant spangled entertainer (“I love you! I want to have your babies!” was a catch phrase) is built on desperation. Among many, many other parts, she played a teenaged Brooke Shields singing Devo’s “Whip It!,” Katherine Hepburn, a depressed Ingmar Bergman character, and, most memorably, chirpy teenage quiz show contestant Margaret Meehan, buzzing in with answers before the questions are asked, and growing tearfully undone as the host (Levy) becomes increasingly angry.

Elsewhere, she played a forgetful suburban mom in “Home Alone,” the work for which she’s arguably best known, given its ongoing mainstream popularity; an ice cream truck driver messing with Griffin Dunne in Martin Scorsese’s “After Hours”; and a tasteless art snob and indifferent mother in “Beetlejuice,” where she met her future husband, production designer Bo Welch. She shone in three Christopher Guest movies, paired with Fred Willard in “Waiting for Guffman” as community stars; opposite Levy in “Best in Show,” as a dog handler with a lot of ex-boyfriends; with Levy again in “A Mighty Wind,” as a reuniting ‘60s folk duo; and in “For Your Consideration” as an aging actress dreaming of an Oscar. In the great Netflix miniseries “A Series of Unfortunate Events” (also designed by Welch), she played an evil optometrist, the sometime girlfriend of Neil Patrick Harris’ Count Olaf, dark, cold, sexy. Last year, she picked up a supporting actress Emmy nomination as a dethroned but not knocked down executive in “The Studio”; she’s fierce and funny. And, though she was fundamentally a comic actress, she could play straight, as in the second season of “The Last of Us,” penetrating opposite Pedro Pascal as his therapist, and the widow of a man he killed.

Lived in across six, ever-richer seasons of “Schitt’s Creek,” Moira Rose is certainly her crowning achievement, a completely original, Emmy-winning creation whose quirks and complexities were embraced by a wide audience; going forth, she’ll be a reference to describe other characters — a “Moira Rose type” — with no explanation needed. With her original, breathy way of speaking, stressing odd syllables and stretching random vowels to the breaking point, her mad fashions and family of wigs, Moira is a sketch character with depth. Of all the Roses, she’s the one most resistant to adapting to their motel world, to coming down off the mountain, but she is as needy as she is condescending, and underlying her fantastic, tightly structured carapace is a fear that’s terribly moving when it shows through the cracks.

Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara in scene from “Schitt’s Creek.” The actors worked together frequently over the years.

(PopTV)

“I like to think she’s really threatened by this small-town life — because she’s been there, you know?” O’Hara said back when the series began. “That just makes it more threatening in my mind. And I like to think of her as more vulnerable than just snobby or superior. I think it’s way more insecure.”

Her tentative acceptance of her circumstance, as well as the show’s overarching arc, finds expression in the series finale, where, all white and gold, in flowing robes with long blonde locks cascading from beneath a bishop’s hat, she tearfully conducts the marriage of her son, David (co-creator Dan Levy). Speaking of a sort of wind of fate, she says, “All we can wish for our families, for those we love, is that that wind will eventually place us on solid ground. and I believe it’s done just that for my family in this little town, in the middle of nowhere.” You might cry, too.

I had the luck to speak with O’Hara several times over the run of the series. The last was in Canada, a day or two before the last day of filming. We sat on the apron of the Rosebud Motel, looking across the muddy parking lot to where fans were gathered on the road above.

“They’re there as much for each other as for us. It’s almost that we don’t have to be there, but we brought them together somehow.” That’s what actors and the stories they tell, give us — the joy, and sometimes the pain: A world of strangers, united in this awful moment, out of love for Catherine O’Hara.

She portrayed a spoiled socialite turned impoverished rural motel manager in “Schitt’s Creek.” She played a self-centered stepmom who, when possessed by an evil entity, channeled Harry Belafonte’s voice singing “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)” in 1988’s “Beetlejuice.” She was the harried, forgetful mom who left her son behind in “Home Alone,” a goofy ‘90s comedy that would become a Christmas classic.

Catherine O’Hara, who died Friday at the age of 71, brought to life dozens of characters over her 50-year career across film and television, and no two of her performances were alike. She might play an eccentric artist one moment, an insufferable snob the next, then a deceptively “normal” housewife, animating each with their own personality, quirks and ticks.

Though a comedic performer at heart, O’Hara, as they say, had range. From her recurring role as a grieving therapist in Season 2 of HBO’s dystopian drama “The Last of Us” to voicing and acting a plethora of bizarre characters in Tim Burton‘s films, O’Hara made her mark. Here are 10 of her most memorable roles.

Don’t stop me if you’ve heard this one before, since I’m admittedly something of a broken record on the subject, but I very much prefer Marvel’s television series, which tend to be fleet, original and unpredictable, to its movies, which tend not to be. “Loki,” “Ms. Marvel,” “Moon Knight,” “Echo,” “WandaVision” and its spinoff “Agatha All Along” — all (among others) are worth watching, even the ones that are dumped after a season.

Developing longer stories with less money, the TV shows makers need to be inventive, creative with their resources, so they invest in characters and ideas rather than special effects and action. They focus on secondary or ensemble figures who would never be given a theatrical feature of their own to carry, are particular about culture and family and place, and are often less contingent on the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with its phases and stages, its crossovers and cross-promotions and long-range marketing plans. At once higher concept and more grounded than the movies, they’re interesting on their own, to the point where, when they finally hitch on to the Marvel multi-mega-serial train, I find them disappointing.

“Wonder Man,” whose eight episodes premiere all at once Tuesday on Disney+, is perhaps the most grounded of these series. Created by Destin Daniel Cretton (“Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings”) and Andrew Guest (who has written for “Community” and “Brooklyn Nine-Nine”), the series is a (generally) sweet, disarming tale of actors in Hollywood, tricked up with picture-business details that you don’t need to be au fait with the MCU to appreciate. There are things it might be helpful to know, but you can work out everything that matters through context. (Locals will enjoy playing Spot the Locations.)

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II plays Simon Williams, who as a child became a fan of a B-movie superhero called Wonder Man — not a “real” superhero, in this reality, merely a fiction. Now in his 30s, he’s a struggling actor in Hollywood, good enough to land a small part in an “American Horror Story” episode, but not clever enough to keep from slowing down the production with questions and suggestions when all he needs to do is deliver a couple of lines before a monster bites his head off. He loses the part and a girlfriend directly afterward.

Taking in a revival house matinee of “Midnight Cowboy,” he meets Trevor Slattery (Ben Kingsley), who is back from having played the Mandarin — that is, he acted the part of a terrorist called the Mandarin, believing it was just a job — in “Iron Man 3” and providing appealing comedy relief in “Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.” The character here is more fleshed out, something of a mess (but 13 years sober, he likes to point out), serious but not a joke. Before it all went wrong, Trevor played King Lear (in Croydon), appeared in “Coronation Street” and in a movie with Glenda Jackson, was off-off-off Broadway in “The Skin Our Teeth” and briefly had the lead in a hospital show with Joe Pantoliano, who’s very funny playing himself.

Trevor Slattery (Ben Kingsley), left, and Simon Williams (Yahya Adbul-Mateen II) team up in “Wonder Man.”

(Suzanne Tenner / Marvel Television)

Slattery tells Simon that European art director Von Kovak (Zlatko Burić) is rebooting Wonder Man, a role Simon feels born to play. He makes an end run around his unconvinced agent, Janelle (X Mayo), and wheedles an audition — where he again meets Trevor, auditioning for Barnaby, Wonder Man’s pal, or sidekick or something. There are wheels behind wheels in this setup, some of which could use a little grease, but for most of the series they do their squeaking off to the side. It’s a love story, above all — “Midnight Cowboy,” not an accidental choice, is more of a touchstone than any Marvel movie.

Simon does have powers — things shake, break or explode around him when he’s upset, and his strength can become super in a tight spot — which puts him in the sights of the Department of Damage Control, embodied by Arian Moayed as P. Cleary, who would like to contain him. But he struggles to keep them secret, especially in light of something called the Doorman Clause — its history established in a sidebar episode, a cautionary Hollywood fable with Josh Gad as himself — which prohibits anyone with super powers from working in film or television, all Simon lives for.

There is little in the way of action, and you won’t miss it. The fate of the world is never in question, but a callback for a second audition means everything. The only costumed characters are actors playing costumed characters; the only villains, apart from the bureaucracy that seeks to bring him in, are Simon’s own self-doubt and temper. As things progress, Trevor will become a mentor to Simon. As is common in stories of love and friendship, a betrayal will be revealed, but if you have seen even a few such stories, you know how that’s going to go, and will be glad it does.

Whether discussing acting techniques or the traffic they’re stuck in on Hollywood Boulevard (Trevor: “Probably the Hollywood Bowl.” Simon: “It’s too late for the Bowl.” Trevor: “It’s usually the Bowl. I remember seeing Cher there once — breathtaking. Chaka Khan, now there’s a woman”), Abdul-Mateen and Kingsley work well together; their energies are complementary, laid back and loose versus worked up and tight and, of course, each will have something to teach one another about who they are and who they could be. I was genuinely anxious for them, as friends, more so than just wondering how such and such a superhero (or team) might defeat such and such a supervillain (or team).

“Our ideas about heroes and gods, they only get in the way,” says Von Kovak, putting a room of hopeful actors through their paces, and essentially speaking for the series he’s in. “Too difficult to comprehend them. Let’s find the human underneath.”