character

“It Ends,” a microbudget marvel by 20-something writer-director Alexander Ullom, has a straightforward premise that expands in your imagination.

Four school pals — go-getter James (Phinehas Yoon), drop-out Tyler (Mitchell Cole), anxious Fisher (Noah Toth) and creative Day (Akira Jackson) — pile into a Jeep just after college graduation. The car turns onto a dark road that, to the youngsters’ growing unease, appears to stretch on forever through an infinite forest. There’s no safe place to pull over, no signs pointing toward escape, no assurance that their lives have a destination. Stop moving and a horde of desperate, violent strangers sprint from the woods to try to steal their car. Keep going … for how long? Is this hell, purgatory or just a cosmic punchline?

“It Ends” premiered at SXSW in the spring of 2025, over a year before audiences stormed Kane Parsons’ “Backrooms,” yet the two breakout filmmakers share a suspicion that our seemingly ordinary existence hides something very, very wrong. The scale of the peril is hard to comprehend and harder to articulate; they’re more curious to explore the crisis than find a fix. What matters is that humanity feels lost.

Everyone in the car already seems to sense it even before this particular ride goes awry. Yoon’s dour James has impressively (and depressingly) mapped out his next few money-making decades down to his eventual diminished sperm count. To him, the future “seems like it sucks ass.” Weary Tyler has resigned himself to blue-collar work. Fisher and Day can’t even secure jobs, stuck literally and metaphorically frittering away their youth in the back seat.

The first act has a visceral, terrifying sequence with panicky close-ups of extras sprinting pell-mell toward the car. (The credits list as many background actors as crew members.) Matthew Robert Cooper’s unnerving ambient score bleeds into the relentless dink-dink-dink of the Jeep’s strobing hazard lights.

For several minutes afterward, the images are so disorienting that we can’t even make out where anyone in the car is sitting. Then cinematographers Evan Draper and Jazleana Jones along with Ullom, who also edits, take a steadier hand with evocative montages that emphasize the passage of time.

With rare exception, the camera stays tethered to the vehicle. The blur outside becomes enveloping and unfathomable; the universe inside the car evolves as the friends invent tension-defusing rituals to keep from screaming at one another. The mood toggles between cozily habituated and heavy. How long have they been driving now?

Early on, I kept a running tally of the hours until that began to feel naive. The days blend together with no time stamps, although Ullom occasionally reveals how many miles the car has gone. I did some back-of-my-notepad math and realized you can drive massive distances faster than I would have guessed. Then I pictured myself in their seats. Excruciating.

Evading plot holes, “It Ends” paves over the obvious biological needs. The foursome discover they no longer need to eat or drink. Likewise, the car no longer needs gas. The characters check off every idea you want them to try in the small space of the car, plus other brilliant brainstorms. Bursting through the confinements of movie logic, “It Ends” untrains audiences out of their certainty that every crisis has a solution. Does it even matter what they do?

Dread runs through “It Ends,” yet I’m hesitant to frame it as a horror movie. Scares fall by the wayside when it shifts into a more philosophical gear, vibrating with questions about how to live a meaningful life: Should these victims accept their fate or keep struggling? At least one will leave the car, never to be seen again as Ullom shrewdly refuses to reveal whether that choice was right. I think the filmmaker has an answer for himself, but he’d rather ask how we feel about it. Keep an open mind. Your opinion may change more than once.

This car setting taps into our cultural belief that speeding ahead is progress, an opinion shared by films as varied as “The Fast and the Furious,” “Mad Max: Fury Road,” “Two-Lane Blacktop,” and “Thelma & Louise.” Like actual religion, to continue on versus stopping becomes a question of faith. Some find comfort deciding on an answer, any answer. Others are driven by the spiritual quest itself.

The cast of unknowns is fantastic. It’s a major feat to shoulder a movie sitting still. Yoon’s prickly, unlikable James is the character many will align with, to their chagrin. Cole’s Tyler acts practically while collapsing into a black hole of cynicism. You’ve met a dozen guys like him who all claim “So what?” is the only sensible reaction. The jokers Toth and Jackson, bless them, keep things endearing and funny.

I’m bored of studios and indie financiers forcing filmmakers to stick to so-called bankable names. From “Heated Rivalry” to “Obsession,” this has been a phenomenal year for discovering fresh faces. Hopefully Hollywood won’t misunderstand the lesson in those projects’ success. It’s not to add Connor Storrie and Inde Navarrette to that stifling shortlist — it’s how much more talent there is waiting for a shot. (And it’s worth mentioning that Yoon and Cole also direct their own movies.)

Some of Ullom’s richest themes need only a casual mention, like Fisher muttering that he has fewer photos of his family on his phone than stupid memes. The friends are passingly concerned that they’ve outsourced too much of their mental stimulation to the internet. Now that they don’t have Wi-Fi, will they run out of topics to discuss? In these murmurs, Ullom wonders how much modern technology has led us astray. Obeying GPS has trapped them on this road in the first place, and may have done the same to those wretches in the woods, each so individually fixated on carjacking the Jeep that it never occurs to them to team up. A material goal devolves people into savages. At least Ullom has a slight optimism that society can turn things around.

Climbing into my car after “It Ends” felt like a sick joke. Was I really steering straight back to work? When was the last time I pulled over for an ice cream? But I kept on driving until I made it to my desk to start this review. That’s how excited I was to share the news of Ullom’s staggering debut. It’s a thrill to see his generation of filmmakers take the wheel.

The show’s co-creator says it turned out to be one of his ‘great joys’ in life

The beloved show’s creator shared there are two main reasons behind the decisions.

Fans of Parks and Recreation are still discovering some behind the scenes secrets. This includes the reason behind some of the names used for both key characters on the show, as well as some who only appear briefly in an episode.

For those unaware, the series follows the parks department in the fictional Indiana town of Pawnee. They are lead by the overly enthusiastic Leslie Knope, who rallies her colleagues and friends to do the best for their community, including their attempts at creating a new park.

Co-created by former writers of The Office, Mikes Schur and Dan Goor it is described by some fans as one of the best comedy series ever made. Despite it being more than 10 years since it finished airing, its dedicated fan base are still learning secrets of the show.

Schur appeared on Amy Poehler’s podcast Good Hang where he revealed some of his own. At one point during their conversation, Amy notes that Schur enjoyed coming up with character and names. He even had a long list of alternate choices for her role of Leslie Knope.

Asked why he put so much thought into names of every character, he explained it was for two reasons. One was that he was heavily inspired by Monthy Python, who would often utilise silly names in their sketches.

He decided that the fictional town of Pawnee would also be a place that contains almost limitless people who happen to have ridiculous sounding names.

However, he also explained another meaningful reason. He said: “The actual thing that’s going on here is different. I would go to actors’ IMDb pages to see what they had been in when we were casting them in the early days of the show and you would see like woman number two or like man in crowd or guy with sandwich and it really bummed me out.

“Because I love actors. I love them so much. I think that they have the hardest job when it comes to making a show. It is so hard. Anyone who doesn’t believe this should try it, by the way. Try acting.”

Schur continued: “That person auditioned for this and booked this gig and drove all the way cross town and like put on fake clothes and put on makeup and whatever and had to stand in a certain place, follow a million instructions, say a line or two, and then they yelled cut and that person went home and they got paid like $600 for like a week’s worth of work.

“They should be something better than man number two or man and crowd. So I decided early in season one of Parks that every character who appeared on the show was going to have a first and last name. So instead of man in crowd, you’re like, ‘Oh, well that it doesn’t really count as an acting gig’. But if you see Marv Vavma, which is a name I gave a character once, you’re like, who the hell is Marv Vavma? What was Marvma up to?'”

The writer described the decision as one of ‘great joys’ in his life to give every actor a character name. He added that there is also a legal issue, with names used on the show needing to be cleared in case they used the name of a real person. As a result he would opt for the ‘weirdest names’ as there would be a chance that no one else has that name.

Some of Schur’s favourite names they created for the show include Mona-Lisa Saperstein, who was played by Jenny Slate and Trodd Frankensteip who was a reporter who only appeared briefly.

There was also a Tyrion Fonzarelli, which was a combination of Tyrion Lannister in Game of Thrones and Arthur ‘Fonzie’ Fonzarelli from Happy Days. Coincidentally, Henry Winkler, who played Fonzie, also starred in Parks as Dr. Lu Saperstein.

One fan discovering for the first time commented: “I never knew about this and I love it!” Another added: “These names are just incredible.”

Parks and Recreation is streaming on Paramount+, Channel 4 and U.

In 2007, the actor Felicia Day debuted “The Guild,” one of the first works, maybe the first, to demonstrate that the web could be a legitimate platform for full-blown, character-driven, narrative comedy. (YouTube was only two years old at the time.)

Online since there was a line to be on, Day — also known also for “Supernatural,” “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” “Eureka,” “Mystery Science Theater 3000” and as the female lead in Joss Whedon’s “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog” alongside Neil Patrick Harris and Nathan Fillion — played Cyd, a.k.a. Codex, a young woman at loose ends who finds community with a group of gamers whose quirkiness puts her own into perspective. The series, which she created and wrote, from experience, grew more ambitious and technically impressive across its six seasons, with cameos by the likes of Fillion, Zachary Levi, Stan Lee, Brent Spiner, late Mythbuster Grant Imahara and Wil Wheaton. There was a cultural specificity to the setting and storytelling — lots of gaming jargon and jokes — but the humor in the characters was universal, and the show, for all its well-proportioned silliness, felt very alive.

Now, as the series’ 20th anniversary approaches, Day is reviving “The Guild” as a feature, “The Guild: Ren Faire’d,” through a Kickstarter campaign due to end Friday. By the time I pledged, early on the first day of fundraising, the campaign had already met its initial $1.5-million goal — the minimum required, Day calculated, to pull off a version of her script. As of this writing, with just a few days to go, the campaign has raised more than $5 million. Everything over $4.5 million will go to making the film even better, but also support “Conludo,” a new game-playing series with Wheaton along the lines of their “Table Top,” created in 2012 for the Day-founded YouTube channel Geek & Sundry.

Day is also the author of a charming memoir, “You’re Never Weird on the Internet,” and a mental exercise book, “Embrace Your Weird: Face Your Fears and Unleash Creativity.” Earlier this year, Simon & Schuster published “The Lost Daughter of Sparta,” her graphic novel (with illustrator Rowan MacColl) about Philonoe, Helen of Troy’s lesser-known fourth sister, an on-brand tale of self-determination and embrace of one’s difference.

I interviewed Day by email as she traveled the convention circuit.

Day’s Kickstarter surpassed $5 million, allowing her to make not only “The Guild: Ren Faire’d” but also a new game-playing series. (Parker Burr / For The Times)

How does it feel to be back wearing, or about to wear, the character of Codex?

It’s so empowering to go back to this world that I crafted and this character that means so much to me and my fans. She and I have diverged a lot over the years, but her voice is still strong and clear in my ear, and I’ve had so much fun writing for her again. I haven’t been in charge of my own stories on this scale in a long time, so this all definitely feels like coming home.

It was an offer to turn “The Guild” into a television show that prompted you to get the film going. Had you thought of the possibility of bringing it back before then?

Early in 2025, I’d been thinking about the 20th anniversary of the show and how to celebrate it, but a movie is a huge project, one I was wary of committing to. A phone call with a very nice Hollywood executive wanting me to reboot the show with younger actors was the kick in the pants I needed. The business has been so hard on me, and a lot of people, especially these last five or so years. To even think about having the one project I held dear taken away from me? That got my fire lit.

How did you know to hang on to your IP?

I had met a few people in the early web days who’d sold their show to producers and networks, only to have them buried in development hell and never be seen again. My audience meant, and still means, so much to me, that I didn’t see the point in losing control of the show when it felt like we were doing all the right things on our own. The fans’ support gave me that confidence, and thank goodness for it, or I wouldn’t be able to make a movie today.

How did you cast the original show? Were any of the actors already gamers?

I wrote two of the main parts for improv friends, Zaboo (Sandeep Parikh) and Vork (Jeff Lewis), and I found the rest of the actors from a Backstage casting call. Several of them were already gamers, but a few were anything but (namely, Amy Okuda, who played Tinkerballa — she took some arm twisting). Over the years, though, they’ve all turned into gamers. We’ve enjoyed many a Fortnite session together, especially during COVID times.

Felicia Day as Codex. Other characters returning for “The Guild: Ren Faire’d” are Zaboo (Sandeep Parikh) and Vork (Jeff Lewis).

How has your reunion been going?

I had to make sure the script was good enough before I asked my fans to support it, so in February I had a table read with the main cast. Truly, it felt like no time had passed. We were all laughing so hard, ribbing each other on any little mistakes. It was so much fun to rediscover our characters together again. What we have together as a group is magic, and I can’t wait to get the band back together on set again.

You have a “no AI” sign on the Kickstarter page. What are your thoughts about artificial intelligence versus human creativity?

I look at AI as a great robber of humanity. Not only in the sheer existence of the AI itself, which is comprised of literal stolen material, but in robbing creators of their process. Because process is everything. It’s the whole point, in my opinion. That challenging struggle to write a first draft is how you discover who you are as an artist. But if you don’t do the work, you’ll never truly find out what you want to say to the world. You can’t create anything truly unique to yourself. It just makes me sad. To use a tool filled with other people’s stolen ideas in order to fast forward to an end result for attention, well, that isn’t art. That’s a cheap dopamine hit. And you’re no better a creator for having done it. Please don’t rob yourself like that.

The movie will be set at a Renaissance Faire. What’s your own history with them? Do you go in costume?

I’ve gone to Ren Faires for over a decade. We have a few great ones in SoCal I encourage everyone to explore. The costumes, the vendors, the food — all of it transports you to another world in such a magical way. I want to celebrate everything I love about the setting in our movie. I often go in costume, now with my 9-year-old daughter. It’s actually our Mother’s Day tradition and very dear to my heart.

Day on her work and motherhood: “I’ve learned that, especially as an artist, you have to be your own protector, own advocate, and give yourself unconditional love to be able to tap into what makes your art your own.”

(Parker Burr / For The Times)

Has motherhood changed how you work?

Absolutely. I had no idea how to parent myself before I parented another person. I’ve learned that, especially as an artist, you have to be your own protector, own advocate, and give yourself unconditional love to be able to tap into what makes your art your own. My experience writing this movie has been entirely different from in the past, when I let fear and outside pressure take the fun out of creating. This time, I allowed myself room to play and to make mistakes, just like I encourage my daughter to do. I think my work has benefited greatly from that gentle parenting.

The original “Guild” and the way you’ve mounted this campaign feels like the work of friends, like Mickey and Judy getting the gang together in a someone’s uncle’s barn to put on a show. (Which isn’t to say “amateur.”)

The heart of everything I do is this: I just want to play with my friends and my fans. I want to delight them with new ideas. I want to surprise them with laughs. The industry often divorces us from what got us into the business in the first place: making believe. Creating together. I like my work to embody the kind of spirit you can’t have in more mainstream media where there are levels of approvals over everything and the budgets are so high that the pressure takes the fun out of it. Yes, it’s challenging to make anything with fewer resources, but the community can see the ins and outs of my process and I hope that empowers them, in turn, to create their own things with their own friends one day.

What inspired your new graphic novel?

Being cut off from Hollywood over COVID made me brave enough to write a story I knew wouldn’t be anything an executive would care about if I pitched it. For many years, I didn’t allow myself to develop ideas like that. What was the use if they didn’t find it useful? But in allowing myself the space to write this story set in the world of Greek mythology, I’ve found new confidence as a writer. I want to keep telling stories only I can tell, in whatever format I can. I never want to discard them again because other people won’t find them useful. I hope that anyone reading the book feels the same encouragement to follow their inner muse. Because everyone deserves to be loved for exactly who they are, even our stories.

Earlier this year, Colman Domingo devoted a portion of his monologue on “Saturday Night Live” to a few things he is famous for. One example? “When you come to my house, the vibes are spectacular.”

Those vibes must have transitive properties: On a recent morning in a borrowed backyard in Santa Monica, the vibes were as impeccable as one of the actor’s famously natty red-carpet looks. Posing for photos poolside, Domingo was the picture of laid-back charm, chatting with the crew in that commanding leather-and-gravel voice and flashing a toothsome smile.

With four projects in 2026 alone and more than 100 credits across film, television and the stage dating back to 1994, you definitely know Domingo from something. Increasingly, people recognize him from several things. Or, as the case may be with a performer of his caliber, they don’t — and that has been the highest compliment of all for the 56-year-old Philly native.

“It is the wildest thing,” says Domingo, stretched out on a sectional in the shade. He recounts how people have approached him about his role as Danny, the elegantly snarky architect on the Netflix comedy “The Four Seasons,” and were flummoxed to discover that he also plays the tightly wound Ali, he of shaken faith and sawed-off shotgun, on the recently concluded HBO drama “Euphoria.” “I’ve had so many people who saw me as one character, but they didn’t know I played the other character, even if they watched both. They’re like, ‘Wait a minute, that’s the same guy?’”

Domingo in “Euphoria.”

(Patrick Wymore / HBO)

That’s the same guy. Familiarity has bred respect as Domingo nabbed Emmy nominations for both roles for the second time — supporting actor in a comedy for “The Four Seasons” and guest actor in a drama for “Euphoria,” a trophy he took home in 2022.

“I get the yin and yang,” he says of the pleasure and challenge of inhabiting men from such different worlds.

Domingo credits “Euphoria” creator Sam Levinson with the complexities of Ali’s journey, which were showcased in the finale in breathtaking extremes of violence and grace and included a poignant monologue about the limits of empathy as he grieved the loss of his sponsee Rue (Zendaya). “It was so beautiful,” says Domingo of the conclusion of his arc. “Sam gave me words that are not just for Rue. They’re like a prayer for the world, sitting down at tables and having the hard conversations and trying to get people to come to their personal truths. To have a breakthrough in their lives. That’s how he’s been utilizing me for the series.”

(Evan Mulling / For The Times)

Conversely, Tina Fey and the writing staff of “The Four Seasons” have been using Domingo’s Danny as, among other things, a brutally effective vehicle to deploy acidic one-liners. (A favorite: “This the town Tracy Chapman sped away from.”)

“He is fictitious, but in many ways there’s a lot more of me in him than I personally have seen [in my previous characters],” he says of the man whose bravado masks an unsettled energy as he encounters the challenges of midlife. “Even in my notes to Tina and the showrunners, I started to craft a character that was closer to myself. I’m like, ‘I don’t see the mes in the world, queer men who are mostly in heteronormative worlds and how we activate and how we love and our friendships that are not just based on the fact that we are queer.’”

Domingo’s own midlife — conversations about fiber and the proliferation of readers in every room aside — is enviable. In addition to the two series, he appeared in two of the most talked-about films of the year, the blockbuster Michael Jackson biopic “Michael” and Steven Spielberg’s sci-fi thriller “Disclosure Day.” In another instance of playing a set of disparate characters, he was the imperious patriarch Joe Jackson in the former and the rebellious, empathetic whistleblower Hugo Wakefield in the latter.

“I wanted to challenge myself in different spaces,” says Domingo with gratitude for those roles as well as other 2026 opportunities, like his “SNL” appearance — which brought him back to his “Big Gay Sketch Show” days — and his recent guest-hosting stint on “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” “I never want to get caught up just doing the same thing.” He recalls a time when he played a couple of villains in a row and similar offers poured in. “I thought, ‘Oh no, I’ve done that.’ I knew it was time to move on to something else. And even ‘The Four Seasons,’ when that came along, I had been going back to back with dramatic roles — ‘Sing Sing,’ ‘The Color Purple,’ ‘Rustin.’ It takes a little toll on you.”

Domingo with Marco Calvani in “The Four Seasons.”

(Emily V. Aragones / Netflix)

Fortunately, all of that work has helped Domingo amass a very comfy set of laurels (upon which he refuses to rest). While his success has been a slow burn, including years of work on Broadway as an actor and playwright — Domingo co-wrote the book for “Summer: The Donna Summer Musical” as well as several straight plays — and his stint as a series regular on “Fear the Walking Dead” the last five years lighted the fuse on the rocket.

In that time, Domingo has won four NAACP Image Awards, been nominated for back-to-back lead actor Oscars, Golden Globes and BAFTA awards, and received a second Tony Award nomination, this one for best play as a co-producer of the “Hamlet” adaptation “Fat Ham.” (His previous Tony nod came in 2011 for featured actor in a musical for “The Scottsboro Boys.”)

Colman Domingo.

(Evan Mulling / For The Times)

“I’m very happy that this has happened the way it has,” he says of this golden period of work and creativity in his 50s. It’s not that he wouldn’t have appreciated or been ready for it in his youth, he says, but he has seen the pitfalls of success that happens too young. “At this age, I know myself. I know what I need. I have boundaries. I know how to still be a person in the world. And that’s the part that’s important to me, which is not being so isolated.”

There’s little danger of that given how often he is now stopped on the street. But he is cheered by the interactions because, whether fans love him as a good guy, a bad guy or a character in between, they all want the same thing. “Whatever I’ve done, people always ask, ‘Can I have a hug?’” Maybe the vibes are not about the house, but Domingo himself.

We’d have to say the most challenging thing about us writing “The Comeback” was coming back from the dead after the show was canceled following its first season way back in 2005. Talk about a hiatus.

There are always nerves when you return to do the next season of a series, but when the hiatus lasts 10 years between Season 1 and Season 2, and then another 10 years between the second and this third, final season — that’s a whole other level of “When we last left Valerie …”

But, gratefully, when we get together to write Valerie Cherish and her world again, it’s somehow more exciting than daunting. The nerves fade and the fun starts. The fun along with — of course — the doubts, the surprises, the deadlines, the page count. The comedy and the tragedy (see page count again). We improvise dialogue so much in the writing room that our notes tend to reach into hundreds and hundreds of pages — per episode. That’s a joke … kind of. And on top of all that, this season and this script that we’ve been nominated for writing had a particular challenge.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Between the second and third seasons, one of our most beloved cast members, Robert Michael Morris, died. Robert played the beloved, significant, audience-favorite character Mickey, Valerie’s hairdresser. At first, we couldn’t imagine doing a season without this important person and character … but when we decided to go forward with this season’s story, which deals with the TV industry’s fear of an AI takeover, we knew we had to find a way to deal with Mickey’s absence. We decided that since Robert Michael’s death happened during that second 10-year hiatus, we had to find a way to incorporate that history into the Valerie and Mickey storyline. And because it had never been dealt with by the show on camera, we decided that maybe Valerie hadn’t fully dealt with it as well. That way, the viewers wouldn’t feel like they missed a significant turn in Valerie’s journey. We decided if we could create a story where Valerie hadn’t really grieved Mickey’s passing and had to face it in the episode, then she and (hopefully) the viewers could share the sadness and the love together. And together, they could find a way to accept and release him with respect for the actor and the character and with a bit of triumph for all he meant to Valerie and to all of us on our series.

So, we created a character named Tommy Tomlin — another hairdresser and longtime friend of Mickey’s who Valerie hires to step in and take Mickey’s place and be the hairdresser on her new AI-written sitcom. Well, Tommy can do her hair but, by design, can never replace Mickey, and that conflict between Valerie and Tommy underlines her loss and her denial of Mickey’s passing. Tommy’s presence helps push Valerie to acknowledge Mickey’s absence and moves her to gently face it, finally scatter his ashes and let him go.

It was an emotional story to write and even more emotional to film. Lisa was standing on top of a Warner Bros. soundstage ready to open the box of prop ashes, to allow them to float over “Old Hollywood,” a lure that Mickey loved. But we were filming this scene at sunset, and what comes with the light at that picturesque time of day in Burbank is a strong wind from the surrounding mountains that gets trapped in an impromptu kind of wind tunnel between the soundstages. If Lisa opened the box at the wrong moment, the ashes would fly right back into her face — and in this moment, we were not going for comedy.

I was directing from down on the ground, and I looked up to the heavens and said to Robert Michael Morris, “This is your big moment — please quiet the wind so it can be beautiful and touching and an appropriate goodbye to you and your character.” And — I swear — the wind died down. I called “Action!” and on top of the soundstage, Lisa said her goodbye as Valerie, opened the box and the ashes lifted out, almost magically, and floated out and away into the sunset over the Warner Bros. Studio back lot — just as we imagined in the writing room all those months earlier.

When David Lynch moved from Philadelphia to Los Angeles in the summer of 1970, he was stunned by the sunshine that radiated onto the city — the “most beautiful light I’d ever seen in my life,” he wrote with Kristine McKenna in his 2018 memoir “Room to Dream.” In that book, he described his first morning walking out of an apartment on San Vicente Boulevard.

David Lynch in 2016.

(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)

“I kept kind of moving around with my arms outstretched and I almost got hit by a car wandering into the street,” he wrote.

That light — and Los Angeles itself — continued to inspire and energize the filmmaker and artist throughout his five-plus decades of calling L.A. home, until his death last year at the age of 78. In “Room to Dream,” he wrote about the “magical street” of Mulholland Drive and all its twists and turns: “It’s really got a history, and if you’re in Los Angeles long enough you start hearing stories about things that have happened on it that get your mind going.” In an interview with the Filmographers, he told the story of how his character in “Twin Peaks” was a name plucked from Billy Wilder’s
“Sunset Boulevard,” which very well may have been inspired by Wilder’s
commute to Paramount that passed the Hollywood streets Gordon and
Cole. And the dissolve from Naomi Watts’ face in “Mulholland Drive” to rows of palm trees has become a classic shot for representing his work and his love for the city, hopeful and drenched in his beloved sunlight.

Much like L.A., the artistic legacy of Lynch is difficult to encapsulate — trying to describe his work is like attempting to explain a dream. His films so strongly defied categorization that they necessitated an eponymous term: Lynchian.

The Hollywood Sign, as seen from Beachwood Drive. (Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

Palm trees, which Lynch often used as a symbol in his films, tower above the city. (David McNew / Getty Images)

Unsettling to many, beloved by more, he refused to explain his work, allowing and challenging his audience to parse through it and imbue their own meanings and discoveries. The reward, for him, was in the doing, in taking a daydream and forming it into an idea that he could shape into something real in the world, blending the mundane and the macabre.

Here are some places around L.A. that offer a glimpse into Lynch’s world.

Note: the Lynch compound and all other residential locations mentioned are all private residences, and not to be disturbed.

Classic diners, especially Bob’s Big Boy Burbank

Lynch would often to go to Bob’s Big Boy in Burbank to meet with creative collaborators, or simply sit and think

(Jill Connelly / For The Times)

Lynch was fond of the straightforwardness of a diner, and he considered them to be ideal for creative thinking and work meetings. In his book “Catching the Big Fish,” he said: “I’d have a milkshake and sit and think. There’s a safety in thinking in a diner. You can have your coffee or your milkshake, and you can go off into strange dark areas, and always come back to the safety of the diner.”

One of the most viscerally terrifying scenes of “Mulholland Drive” takes place behind the dumpster at the abandoned Caesar’s diner in Gardena. And he liked having meals with his family at what is now the Denny’s in Gower Gulch, a place where aspiring cowboy actors once congregated. But the most significant diner in Lynch’s legacy is Bob’s Big Boy in Burbank. He spoke of going to Bob’s almost every day from the mid-’70s until the early ’80s. In an interview with Charlie Rose, Lynch claimed he saw a man at the counter who inspired the Frank Booth character in “Blue Velvet.”

Signs of Lynch at Bob’s Big Boy: His headshot displayed alongside actors Kyle MacLachlan and Laura Dern; a milkshake at the counter. (Stephanie Breijo / Los Angeles Times)

Lynch’s order included a chocolate milkshake and coffee, the cold sugar and caffeine fueling his ideas. He believed 2:30 p.m. was the perfect time to order the milkshake, specifically ”after the lunch rush when the machine had enough time to chill, the silver goblet would be frosted when it arrives at the table, and the ice cream is almost like butter, like cold butter, it’s almost solid, and it has specks of chocolate in it, and it almost gets a frost on it when it arrives,” he said in a conversation with the Filmosophers.

Today there is a framed photo of Lynch over the door of the Burbank location, indicating that his love for the restaurant was mutual. After his death, Bob’s became the de facto location for fans needing to pay homage to the beloved director, piled high with tributes of cigarettes, cans of Coke, donuts, slices of pie and tear-stained letters of gratitude.

Franklin Canyon Park

Leaves illuminated by sunlight under a canopy of trees in Franklin Canyon.

(Blake Fagan / For The Times)

Franklin Canyon Park was once a summer retreat for the Doheny family, who built a Spanish-style home at the base of the canyon in the 1930s. The 605 acres were purchased by the National Park Service in 1981.

A frame overlooks the water in Franklin Canyon, which stood in for many interstitial woodsy scenes in “Twin Peaks.”

(Blake Fagan / For The Times)

The mysterious woods are an essential element in Lynch’s world of “Twin Peaks.” While the pilot for the TV drama and the film prequel “Fire Walk With Me” were filmed in Washington (and there’s lots of scenic footage from the Pacific Northwest throughout the series), much of the show was filmed on Southern California soundstages. And for the many interstitial scenes in the woods, Franklin Canyon and its lush forest stood in. Lynch and co-creator Mark Frost opened an esoteric window to prime-time viewers with the concept of the Black Lodge. The filming location of its entrance, known as Glastonbury Grove in the show, is in Franklin Canyon Park.

Doheny landmarks

In an interview with Charlie Rose, Lynch stated that “everybody is a detective and the unknown is a magnet.” He invited his audiences to look at a door and investigate what lurks behind it. This philosophy ties to his connections with an L.A. legacy, one that contains its own mysteries and contrasts: the Doheny family and its historic properties:

The Doheny Mansion

Glimpses of the Doheny Mansion, clockwise from left: the music room; a stained glass sky light; a sculpture adorns a table in the Pompeian Room. (Blake Fagan / For The Times)

The sprawling and opulent Doheny Mansion, now part of the Mt. St. Mary’s campus, was built in 1899 by architects Theodore Eisen and Sumner Hunt. Patriarch and oil baron Ed Doheny and wife Estelle acquired the home in 1901 and the Doheny family made it their home for nearly 60 years. Lynch used the mansion as the home for Laura Dern’s character in his 2006 film “Inland Empire,” and also filmed an Armani commercial there in the 1990s.

Greystone Mansion

The central courtyard at the Greystone Mansion.

(Blake Fagan / For The Times)

In the 1970s, Lynch was a fellow at the newly founded American Film Institute, based at Greystone Mansion at the time. He eventually took over the mansion’s stables, converting them into a production studio and occasionally (and illegally) living there while he filmed his debut feature, “Eraserhead.” He slept in the room that became the bedroom for the character Henry. “I’d lock myself in there in such a way that from the outside it looked as if no one could possibly be inside,” Lynch said in Mark Altman’s 1990 book “Twin Peaks: Behind The Scenes.” “We’d put these special blankets up on the walls to deaden the sound for shooting and it was quiet.”

Scenes from the Greystone Mansion. (Blake Fagan / For The Times)

Greystone Mansion carried an air of secrecy in itself. Built in 1928 by Gordon Kaufmann, and a gift from Edward Doheny to his son Ned and his family, the stately Tudor Revival was home to a horrific tragedy. Months after moving in, Ned and his lifelong friend and personal secretary, Hugh Plunkett, were found in a guest bedroom, victims of a murder-suicide. While their motives were never defined for certain, the accepted belief was the tragedy was tied to their involvement in the Teapot Dome political corruption scandal and Plunkett’s looming testimony that could’ve implicated the Dohenys.

The city of Beverly Hills purchased the grand manor in 1965 and installed an underground reservoir, and leased the property to the newly formed American Film Institute in 1969 for $1 a year, with the agreement that the school would maintain the property. Greystone was dedicated as a public park in 1971 and is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

L.A.’s Transcendental Meditation centers

After moving to Los Angeles, Lynch started visiting the Spiritual Regeneration Movement Center in Santa Monica and it altered his life. Here he learned the methods of Transcendental Meditation, developed by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, with the focus of seeking enlightenment. His first meditation session was July 1, 1973, and from there, he practiced twice a day, every single day.

“Before I started meditating I worried that doing it would make me lose my edge, and I didn’t want to lose the fire to make stuff,” Lynch wrote in “Room to Dream.” “I found out it gives you more fire to make stuff and more happiness in the doing and way more of an edge. People think anger is an edge, but anger is a weakness that poisons you and the environment around you.”

Lynch became a staunch devotee of Transcendental Meditation and spoke about the positive effects he believed it could have for everyone, particularly veterans, those suffering from PTSD and women who have survived violence. He started the David Lynch Foundation for Consciousness-Based Education and World Peace in 2005 to offer children throughout the world the opportunity to learn to meditate. The foundation recommends several Transcendental Meditation centers in Los Angeles, including the center on Hillhurst Avenue in Los Feliz.

The Pink House, David Lynch’s compound in Hollywood Hills and his final resting place at Hollywood Forever

The historic Tower Theater, built in 1927, was converted into the Apple Tower Theatre.

(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)

On screen, Lynch loved the old glamour of Los Angeles — the majestic Tower Theater in downtown Los Angeles was used in “Mulholland Drive,” “Inland Empire” and “Twin Peaks: The Return.” His characters lived in equally memorable spaces, with the women of “Mulholland Drive” going from the grandeur of the Il Borghese apartments (architect Charles Gault, 1929) to meet tragic endings in the fairy-tale-esque “Snow White” apartments (architect Ben Sherwood, 1931) that are believed to have also inspired Walt Disney. (It’s worth noting that this theater has been refurbished into an Apple store. A beautiful achievement of preservation work, but it’s hard not to see the consumer-driven sleekness and think about a theme in Lynch’s work: the terrors lurking inside a changing America.)

Personally, Lynch loved modern architecture, and experienced love at first sight with the home he purchased in the mid-’80s in the Hollywood Hills. The Pink House, as Lynch referred to it, was designed by Lloyd Wright Jr. for writer Beverly Johnson in 1963. Lynch commissioned Eric Wright (Lloyd’s son and Frank Lloyd Wright’s grandson) to add a pool and pool house in 1991. He told the Wall Street Journal that he preferred Lloyd Wright’s work over his father’s, explaining, “Lloyd Wright is more minimal. More pure. But just as beautiful.”

The house is semi-secluded against a lush hill, beneath the actual Mulholland Drive, and has a subtle chevron pattern detail that runs throughout the house, similar to the floor of the “Twin Peaks” red room. Lynch loved this house and spent much of his time in Los Angeles here, particularly in his later years. He gradually added two neighboring properties to form what would become the Lynch compound.

A “Twin Peaks” coffee cup that was gifted to David Lynch by a fan.

(Chris Pizzello / Invision / AP)

When filming began on “Lost Highway,” he struggled to find the right location for the home of the lead characters, Fred and Renee Madison. This set piece would be crucial to building their sense of dread. Lynch then had an idea: He would use the Brutalist structure in his compound. He transformed the interior and altered the exterior windows, making it difficult for the characters to see the dangers circling outside. “Some people open windows of houses, but I like interiors and don’t care about windows,” Lynch wrote in “Room to Dream.” “I like to go deeper into a house and find things underneath things.”

For the next two decades, the compound was Lynch’s dream space where he could create anything he imagined, including his 2000s-era daily weather reports for local radio stations and his website, a hobby he revived during 2020. Homebound the last few years because of emphysema, he was forced to relocate during the Sunset fire in January 2025, and died shortly after. David Lynch’s final resting place is at Hollywood Forever, across from the Fairbanks Lawn where movies are shown, under the stars.

Hayden Panettiere spent much of her life in front of a camera, beginning her acting career before she was even a year old, starring in commercials. At the tender age of 4, she landed her big break with a recurring role on the ABC soap opera “One Life to Live,” which led to a role on another soap opera, CBS’ “Guiding Light.” Over the years, she performed in a number of films and TV series, landing notable roles that made her a staple of network television. In addition to her onscreen work, she did voice acting for animated films like “A Bug’s Life” and “Dinosaur,” as well as the video game franchises “Kingdom Hearts” and “Until Dawn.”

The actor, who died Sunday at 36, was a versatile performer whose no-nonsense attitude and vocal range added depth to roles. Here is a guide to some of her notable work.

‘Remember the Titans’

Disney’s 2000 sports drama was based on the real story of Herman Boone, a Black football coach who was installed as head coach at the desegregated T.C. Williams High School in Arlington, Va., and led the team to a perfect season and state championship. In the film, Panettiere plays Sheryl Yoast, the young daughter of coach Bill Yoast (Will Patton), whose job Boone is given by the school district to placate Black community members as racial tensions rise. Panettiere’s Sheryl makes an impression right away, with a fiery speech directed at an official who comes to tell Yoast that Boone will now be head football coach of T.C. Williams. “You can’t just walk in here and take my daddy’s job away,” she cries as she stomps away, but not before kicking said official in the back of the leg. Later, she understands the implications of the decision, even if it comes at the cost of her father’s selection into the high school football hall of fame, preferring to put the team and their teamwork first: “Bunch of old rednecks … Let’s knock ‘em dead at state, coach.” (Watch on Hulu and Disney+.) — Maira Garcia

‘Ice Princess’

In Disney’s 2005 film, Panettiere was a little too good at playing the popular mean girl. She was even better at playing the popular mean girl who lets her icy walls melt away to welcome in the new girl. As talented figure skater Gennifer Harwood, Panettiere faithfully portrayed the evolution of friendships — especially for young women — in highly competitive sports and the tension between young athletes and their well-intended, but overbearing parents. While Panettiere could stand on her own talents, her performance was even more memorable for the dynamic she shared with screen partner Michelle Trachtenberg. The latter played Casey, a student with Ivy League ambitions whose interest in physics brings her to the figure skating world. Trachtenberg died in 2025 at 39. (Watch on Disney+.) — Alexandra Del Rosario

‘Heroes’

Claire Bennet (Hayden Panettiere) with her father Noah (Jack Coleman), also known as H.R.G., in NBC’s “Heroes.”

(Chris Haston / NBC)

This superhero series was a hit from the moment it debuted in 2006. An international cast fueled a show that featured people gifted with superpowers around the world that had a mysteriously ominous connection. At its heart was Panettiere’s Claire Bennet. An unbreakable high school cheerleader, she embraced the role of hero, facing pushback from a shadowy government group, serial killers and a twisted family dynamic. Panettiere became the face of NBC’s freshman ensemble success story, and despite an industry work stoppage and dwindling fan support afterward, the show’s viral campaign — “Save the cheerleader, save the world” — centered her, and her character’s courage, on a bona fide fandom-generating ride that ended way too soon in 2010, after four seasons. (Watch on Netflix and Tubi.) — Jevon Phillips

‘Scream’ franchise

Hayden Panettiere at the premiere of “Scream VI” in New York City in 2023.

(Nina Westervelt / Variety via Getty Images)

The actor joined the hit horror franchise in 2011’s “Scream 4” as Kirby Reed, a Woodsboro High student who is a horror film buff. One of that film’s memorable scenes featured Kirby in a tense trivia telephone showdown with the Ghostface killer, rushing through the titles of several slasher films while attempting to save one of her friends.

Although Kirby was seemingly killed off, she returned as an FBI agent in 2023‘s “Scream VI” when the franchise continued with younger characters and moved its setting to New York. “Scream” fans cheered during an early screening when Panettiere’s character appeared — she and Courtney Cox were one of the few “Scream” veterans to return for the new film.

Panettiere’s hair was longer and her role was expanded in the new “Scream.” Kirby explained that she had survived the Ghostface attack: “I was technically dead for four minutes. When I was revived, I got mad … I wanted the monsters to be afraid of me.”

Kirby also engaged in another trivia back-and-forth with Mindy Meeks-Martin (Jasmin Savoy Brown) where they agreed on the best “Nightmare on Elm Street” (“the original”) and that “Psycho 2” was “underrated,” but disagreed on the best “Friday the 13th” sequel. Although she is investigating a new set of Ghostface killings, Kirby later becomes a prime suspect. (Watch all on Paramount+.) — Greg Braxton

‘Nashville’

In ABC’s “Nashville,” Juliette Barnes’ storyline was infused with personal struggles similar to Panettiere’s.

(Katherine Bomboy-Thornton / ABC)

Panettiere was noticeably more mature when she became a co-lead role in ABC’s “Nashville” as Juliette Barnes, a crossover singer with more than a few similarities to Taylor Swift. The music-flavored drama, which premiered in 2012, starred Connie Britton as country star Rayna Jaymes, whose career was on the downturn at the same time Barnes was climbing the charts.

The actor injects her “Nashville” character with a mix of sexiness, snark and edge as Barnes becomes rivals with Jaymes. When the two first meet in a dressing room during the pilot, Jaymes is gracious while Barnes is condescending.

Panettiere said in an interview that she was tense during that scene. particularly since it was the first time the two actors had met. She said she apologized to Britton repeatedly saying, “‘I am so sorry!’ Because it was our first experience together, and I didn’t want to step on toes. Sometimes it gets real, very real, you know?”

While filming the series, Panetierre gave birth to her daughter in 2014. She detailed her struggles with postpartum depression in interviews, saying the condition was “scary and needed to be talked about.” In the series, Barnes also suffered from postpartum depression during the show’s third and fourth seasons. (Watch on Pluto TV and Netflix.) — G.B.

‘Kingdom Hearts’

Square Enix’s beloved video game series was my personal introduction to Panettiere and her acting abilities. In the first two installments, Panettiere voiced the kind island kid turned princess Kairi for the games’ English dub. Before protagonist Sora’s (voiced by a young Haley Joel Osment) world descends into darkness, Panettiere’s Kairi is playful and tender early in “Kingdom Hearts 1.” In the slightly more complicated “Kingdom Hearts 2” Panettiere’s older Kairi is contemplative, defiant and desperate to help all her friends. Kairi’s scenes are often accompanied by the powerful score from composer Yoko Shimomura, amplifying the emotion that has driven the games’ fanbase for more than two decades.

“Don’t ever forget. Wherever you go, I’m always with you,” Panettiere’s Kairi says in a memorable cut scene. — A.D.R.

Christy Knowings, an actor best known for the Nickelodeon sketch comedy series “All That,” has died. She was 46.

According to her father, Charles Dunn, Knowings died Tuesday in Long Beach after she suffered a severe asthma attack on Aug. 7 and went into cardiac arrest. The actor had been on life support for several days.

Knowings joined Nickelodeon’s sketch show for kids and teens, “All That,” in 1997 when she was a teenager trying to break into the business. She impressed casting directors with a repertoire of characters and accents she’d been perfecting since she was 4 years old.

“I filmed a bunch of different characters, and then a week after that, producers and writers from ‘All That’ flew out from Hollywood to come see me in New York, and that’s all she wrote,” Knowings said during a 2019 interview. “Five minutes later, I was asked if I wanted to move to California.”

On “All That,” Knowings joined an all-star cast that included Kenan Thompson, Amanda Bynes, Kel Mitchell, Nick Cannon and Gabriel Iglesias, to name a few. She stayed with the sketch show for three seasons, departing in 2000.

Following “All That,” she appeared on “Sesame Street” across three episodes in twin-themed sketches.

“Sesame Street” posted a tribute for the actor on social media, writing, “Sesame Workshop mourns the loss of Christy Knowings, who appeared on Sesame Street alongside her brother, cast member Chris Knowings. Our deepest condolences go out to Chris and his family.”

Christy Lorraine Knowings was born Feb. 25, 1980, in the Bronx. She attended Manhattan’s Professional Performing Arts School and started honing her skills as a character actor from an early age.

“I did impersonations, but my thing was really creating new characters, and the characters would stem from different dialects,” she told the Pop Culture With Pat podcast.

“I was pretty good … Even if I had a small role playing a judge at a science fair, I would still try and make that character stand out by using a different accent or doing something a little dangerous. Didn’t always work! But most of the time it did.”

In 2019, ahead of the 25th anniversary of “All That,” Knowings spoke with Bustle about the way the show was ahead of its time. The Native American Afro-Latina actor said the cultural nuances brought by the diverse cast were celebrated.

“People tell me, especially Black ‘90s kids who were watching for my seasons, they’re like, ‘We really paid attention to you because you were the only Black girl!’ I was there to represent them in a way and I didn’t even realize it at the time because social media was not a thing,” she said.

“‘All That’ showcased the unity that we all wanted, needed and still need in a very humorous way. We brought each other together in a very lighthearted way. With Amanda and I doing ‘Whateverrr!’ you didn’t see a Black girl and a white girl, you just saw these two insane girls who loved the same guys. We both loved Leonardo DiCaprio and we both loved Kobe Bryant! I think we pushed a lot of boundaries.”

Knowings’ “All That” castmates posted tributes to her on social media.

Thompson, now a “Saturday Night Live” star, wrote alongside a photo of Knowings, “Man this one hit hard!!! Rest well Christy!!! Never could have imagined this day!! Sending so much love to her family!! She was a real one and one of the funniest people out here!!! Gonna miss you buddy!!!”

Alisa Reyes wrote that Christy was “not only an immensely talented actress, singer, and artist, but she was also a star seed, a light worker, and a true uplifter of humanity … Her frequency and vibration are now soaring into the ethers, and I can already feel her magic sprinkling upon us like stardust.”

Lisa Foiles posted a tribute on Facebook, writing, “It doesn’t feel fair when we lose one of our own. Christy was mesmerizing to me on ‘All That.’ I studied her facial expressions, her commitment to a bit, her talent for comedy way beyond her years. I dreamed of being in her shoes — and even when I joined the show, I knew they were impossibly big shoes to fill. She was a comedic icon to me, and when I finally got to meet her, her kindness matched her talent. Take some time to let her make you laugh today. RIP Christy Knowings.”

Knowings is survived by her father, twin brother, mother Rénee Knowings Dunn and siblings Charles Dunn Jr., Ashley Dunn Ledger, Yavonka Vega, Tamea Dunn and Lee Elder.

For all their vaunted power, superheroes are at the mercy of the people who write them, draw them, play them on the screen, and by extension the producers and executives who decide what should go where and for how much. Sort of powerless, really.

Sometimes this combination of forces works out well for the hero, and sometimes not so much. The Green Lantern, a secondary figure in the DC Comics pantheon, had the ill luck to be trapped in a 2011 Ryan Reynolds film even its director didn’t like. Fifteen years later, he has had the very good fortune to be played by Kyle Chandler, and additionally to star in a television series — “Lanterns,” premiering Sunday on HBO — rather than a theatrical feature, with its investment in noisy set pieces and earth-shaking battles royale.

I’ve often championed the supposedly humbler medium as the best place to tell these stories, with the time to investigate character, in all its shadings and ambiguities, and a haven for concepts too quirky or niche or … conceptual for conservative big-budget theatrical IP exploitation. And here again, I have been proved right.

Creators Damon Lindelof (“Lost,” “Watchmen” and, best of all, “Mrs. Davis”), comic book writer Tom King and Chris Mundy, who wrote for “Criminal Minds,” “Ozark” and “Bloodline” (in which Chandler starred), have expressly looked to television for inspiration — specifically to “True Detective” (on which Mundy worked), with its uncomfortable partnerships, and “Slow Horses” (for its disreputable hero, I guess), with “Slow Horses” director James Hawes helming the first two episodes. (I detect a hint of “Fargo” as well, for its Midwestern plainscape, dark comedy and bigger-than-life yet somehow ordinary characters.)

“I’m a regular person, like you,” Hal Jordan (Chandler) says in a 1996 TV interview that opens the series; indeed, he’s only super powerful by reason of the gear that comes with the job, a human “beat cop” working as part of the Green Lantern Corps, an extraterrestrial galactic peacekeeping organization — the special ring and the lantern-shaped gizmo that charges it. It gives him the ability to fly and to manifest objects at will, most often a protective green bubble, but also a bottle opener and a $10 bill. (There’s a uniform, but for the most part, he leaves it in the closet.)

Watching that interview is young John Stewart (then a Lantern-obsessed child). We’ll meet him again in 2016, played by Aaron Pierre (“The Underground Railroad”), when most of the action takes place, as a former Marine sniper and art student — human talents that will prove useful — assigned to Hal as a “trainee,” ostensibly to provide backup if something happens to him. Hal, after two seemingly successful decades in the job, is unused to the company and suspicious of the arrangement. (“The big blue bosses may think you’re hot s— but you’re just a f—ing substitute teacher.”) He sets John tests that might kill him, if he is not actually trying to kill him. But he’s also the more genial of the two.

Through an agent whose identity the producers are counting as a spoiler — I’m sure I don’t know why — Hal receives a message that there’s hail in Rushville, Neb. (i.e., aliens!), at which point he jets off from the taco stand where he’s happily been signing autographs and posing for selfies, leaving John to fly there on his own, in the usual way, while the Stooges’ “No Fun” plays on the soundtrack.

They arrive, separately, in the aftermath of a high school football game that has left dead bodies on the field. (Hal suspects some sort of alien rumble.) Here we meet Kelly Macdonald, suppressing her Scottish accent as tough but tender Sheriff Kerry, asserting her jurisdictional rights. Hal finds her “something incredible.” (John: “I think she hates your guts.” Hal: “Yeah, but it’s the way she hates them.”) Kerry is married to lawyer Billy Macon (Jason Ritter), whose father, William (Garret Dillahunt), is a local bigwig, with a cowboy militia and a wife, Zoe (Poorna Jagannathan), who possibly not coincidentally meets John in a bar.

At 60, Chandler is arguably more attractive than ever, with the sort of seasoning that served James Garner so well as Jim Rockford, TV’s greatest detective. Five seasons of “Friday Night Lights” have cemented him in the popular consciousness as a preternaturally decent guy, which allows us to excuse Hal’s less creditable moments, or at least to see things through his eyes. Pierre, 32, who competes in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, has the body of a superhero; he plays John wound tight, humorless, grimly ambitious — he grew up letting his father shoot apples off his head to prove his fearlessness, the primary requirement for a Green Lantern — though the character warms up across the course of the season (which also takes place in 2026). The actors are at their best in their scenes together, which the writers make happen even when it seems impossible. (Spoilers, or I’d explain.)

Combining detective work and science fiction is nothing new — see “Sugar,” currently; “The X-Files,” classically. (And there’s an interrogation scene I’m pretty sure nods knowingly to “Blade Runner.”) “Lanterns” isn’t totally free of cliches, which is practically impossible for sci-fi and crime stories anyway, so many have been told over the years, and to some degree that’s just what we come for. But the series is fresh enough in its details and execution, and strong enough in its writing, and so well performed, that it feels quite original.

I watched “Lanterns” without any particular knowledge of the character, who has been around since 1940, and in this particular version since 1959. (I did a little reading afterward.) Happily, the show is not up to its cowl in DC cross-references and crossovers. There are fleeting mentions of Gotham and Metropolis (where Superman works) and Nathan Fillion reprises his bad-hair Green Lantern from the 2025 “Superman” movie (a long story), but “Lanterns” comes equipped with everything you need to know. Bringing in extra mythology wouldn’t make the confusing parts any less confusing, and would just confuse the parts that aren’t confusing at all. Most every character, whichever side they’re on — and it’s not always easy to tell, given that the aliens look exactly like the humans — comes with layers.

Did I ever fully understand what these factions were after, or even what exactly the factions were? Nope. Did it matter? Nope.

“The Wrong Girls” is the right comedy if you want to unplug your brain and laugh. The first punchline doesn’t even have words. It’s just two stoner roommates, Frankie (Kristen Stewart) and Molly (Alia Shawkat), ripping a mega-hit and coughing at each other. Finally, they speak in unison: “Jinx.”

Frankie, a Stanford dropout, engineered the living room’s impressive “bong-a-tron.” Molly, a wannabe chef, bakes brownies spiked with pot and blue cheese. (We’re assured they‘re delicious.) These screw-ups share everything: a taste in thrift store cat paintings, a chillaxed attitude toward overdue bills and a comfy inertia that’s kept them both stunted, frustrating Molly’s boyfriend Josh (a likable Zack Fox). In turn, possessive Frankie thinks Josh is a buzzkill.

Soon, the insular twosome will share a mind, too, thanks to a telepathic drug they ingest like idiots, not that they have any gray matter to spare. That’s not entirely fair. The friends aren’t dumb; they’ve just been baked for so long that acting dumb is a habit. (Don’t worry, writer-director Dylan Meyer won’t force them to sober up.)

The plot is confidently stupid. A criminal courier (LaKeith Stanfield) mistakes Frankie for her more successful doppelganger Francis (also played by Stewart), saddling her with a briefcase that a trio of dangerous Danes are determined to steal back. Thus, our heroes must peel themselves off from the couch and go on the run with their resentful felines Dio and GG bouncing along in backpacks.

Voiced by Seth Rogen and Kumail Nanjiani, the pets have opinions their owners don’t want to hear. “I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who gave us fleas,” GG sneers. I like those comics and live with two annoying Maine Coons. Nevertheless, these cats are too chatty.

Meyer is a screenwriter-turned-filmmaker who met Stewart on the set of the underseen 2015 comic thriller “American Ultra.” In the years since, she has also become Stewart’s wife. That’s important only because “Wrong Girls” has the pinpoint silliness of soulmates who spend a lot of time goofing around at home. Meyer wrote the script a decade ago about her friendship with producer Maggie McLean, but no doubt she knows better than anyone how much the smart and sensible-projecting Stewart delights in acting the fool.

The jokes are as flawlessly tailored to Stewart as Chanel couture, be they zany schemes, spacey freak-outs or the sly middle finger Stewart flashes with her 818-tattooed knuckles while her character suffers a jerk (Tony Hale). And they custom-fit Shawkat’s mellower Molly, who trots behind in Frankie’s wake of destruction. The sci-fi twist in the script turns their relationship into a send-up of co-dependence. Their insular bond can’t last forever — can it?

Meyer subverts a couple tropes, embraces others. Comedy capers like this usually deflate in the third act when their pleasures get punctured by unfunny gunfire. The movie sees that trap coming and dodges it by the skin of its teeth. Nimbly, it manages to be both a pacifist film and a subversive one with no faith in the system as it stands. Characters deliver jabs at “Jeff Bozos” and the Epstein class while slyly revealing you shouldn’t trust their takes, either. Frankie invents a new nonsensical insult, calling Molly’s boyfriend Josh “such a customer.” Sure, whatever that means!

“The Wrong Girls” shares its own hive mind with David Wain’s also-good “Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass,” released earlier this summer. Both are star-studded, hyper-L.A. chase comedies that treat their central contrivances as nothing more than scaffolding for the scenes that actually count. Who cares what happens to the Danes’ precious briefcase? We just want to see Frankie and Molly melt down upon learning that their favorite all-you-can-eat lunch spot is closing due to uncertainty in the buffet sector (a eulogy for the real-life Souplantation, whose absence remains deeply felt).

Even within the tenuous reality of the movie, Frankie and Molly aren’t focused on saving their own necks, especially after their clairvoyant powers kick in and the friends realize they can communicate with closed mouths. As lab-coated figures played by Kate McKinnon and Geena Davis attempt to deliver exposition, the pals drown them out chit-chatting about drivel. The stars know it takes skill to act dumb. Christina Applegate described it best: About her portrayal of hair metal bimbo Kelly Bundy in “Married … with Children,” Applegate said, “In her own mind, she’s a genius.”

The film is just wonky enough to wonder if some beats got chopped out of it, like a go-nowhere running joke about how Hale’s front door won’t close or an aside about how Stewart’s Frankie once Jerry-rigged an escape parachute, which cinematographer Todd Banhazl seems to be reminding us of when he lingers on a shot of an awkward shindig’s helium décor. Banhazl does pull off one of the few inventive psychedelic sequences I’ve seen in a while. (To see another, go stream the giddy new campus comedy “Pizza Movie.”)

Or maybe “The Wrong Girls” is simply making an artistic statement about the joy of sloppiness. Here, to be chaotic and colorful is a badge of honor. Just compare the girls’ cluttered digs with their pursuers’ sterile white suits. In that same spirit of excess, there’s an extra scene in the end credits that goes over like a lead balloon. No one in my theater chuckled. But I respected it anyway for insisting on these jokers’ right to remain an unapologetic mess.

Jessica Williams always goes to bed laughing.

“Everything’s so sad,” the actor explains. “Not taking yourself seriously is the only way, because otherwise I would just be upset, especially as a Black woman in the year 2026. I hate when people are on ‘The Bachelor’ and they’re like, ‘I love laughing,’ but it’s true. I really love it.”

Williams, 37, knows a thing or two about making others laugh. A three-time Emmy nominee for supporting actress in a comedy series for her work on “Shrinking,” she’s made an art of it. On a show about grief and mental health, Williams is often on hand to bring the funny.

Curled up in a chair on the top floor of The Times’ offices in El Segundo, looking down on the runways of LAX boiling in the late July sun, Williams gives runway fierceness against the beige office walls. She is just like the pop of bubblegum pink polish on her toenails as she strikes a pose in a chic all-black linen ensemble — a delightful burst of cheer in a subdued environment, something effervescent amid so much inoffensive sameness. She’s always been that way.

I would know; I’ve known her since we were 12 years old, awkward adolescents in Marcia Barryte’s Dodson Middle School drama class. As we catch up, I remind her of a PG-13 scene she caused in eighth grade science class during an earthquake drill. (To be fair, the drama students were asked to play standardized patients, and she was assigned “hysteria.”) While the class collected our backpacks, she broke into an award-worthy performance, wailing about not wanting to die a virgin.

“No!” she gasps, covering her mouth but unable to hide the mischievous grin that’s broken across her face at the memory. “That’s very inappropriate. I love that.”

Under slightly different circumstances, it’s a storyline that could belong to her “Shrinking” character, Gaby Evans, a therapist who brings her sunny demeanor, audacious sense of humor and enviable stores of energy into every room. That’s partly because so much of who Gaby is has been carefully honed by the writers and Williams to align with the actor’s voice.

“We can write almost anything and Jessica can make it sound like it has stemmed from Gaby,” says series co-creator Bill Lawrence. “She’s in charge of Gaby’s voice — and it’s a tremendous safety net for us as a writing staff.”

Jessica Williams in “Shrinking.”

(Apple TV)

Williams agrees this has been her experience, one she’s grateful for in an industry often dead set on ignoring perspectives like hers. “At the end of the day, white guys are in charge of this business,” she says. “Progress in film and TV requires them to go to bat for us. I feel really lucky to be on a show where Bill pulled me aside and was like, ‘If I’m doing my job right, the first couple episodes, we write these stories, and then, there’s a moment where it switches to being your character and you are the shepherd of her.’ It made it really collaborative and a safe space for me to play.”

Three seasons in, the set has become the world’s best playground. For instance, the writers gave Williams ample runway in a scene where Gaby turns the tables and proposes to her boyfriend, Derek (Damon Wayans Jr.), after discovering an engagement ring in a desk drawer (and getting it stuck on her finger). “Look, if you’re a television writer and you have a proposal scene and you don’t let Jessica Williams run with it, you’re cheating yourself,” quips Lawrence.

That mutual trust doesn’t mean that Gaby and Williams are the same person — just that Williams’ lived experience has shaped who Gaby is. “The point of a scene is we don’t know what it’s going to be,” she says. “We learned our lines. We’re going to show up. The director’s here. They have an idea. We’re going to make this thing together. We’re going to ‘Yes, and?’ until we get the scene up.”

Her ability to take the ball and run with it is what caught Lawrence’s eye in the first place, discovering Williams as a correspondent on “The Daily Show.” “She works very hard at making it seem like it’s off the cuff,” he emphasizes. “She is quick to call the writing staff with questions and is always looking to improve things. That’s not always the truth with everybody. She works her ass off.”

Jessica Williams. (Ryan Pfluger / For The Times)

That work ethic was essential for her Season 3 arc, which found Williams facing some of the toughest acting challenges of her career. Gaby bonds with a new, albeit reluctant, patient, Maya (Sherry Cola), only to be devastated when Maya takes her own life. It’s the heaviest storyline of the season — and a heartbreaking look at the realities of suicide, loss and trauma in the lives of mental health professionals.

One of the show’s consultants had experienced a similar loss, and their insights helped the writing staff find dramatic resonance. For Williams, it was a chance to showcase what she always believed she was capable of. “For women, people of color, queer people, any minorities, we just want the opportunity to show what we can do,” Williams says. “I was rubbing my hands together. Like, ‘F— yeah. Let’s go.’ But I was also really nervous. Sometimes when I get scenes that are a bit more difficult, I wake up and I wonder if I can do it. Every single time it’s proving to myself that I can. It felt like I didn’t get to rest last season in a way that was really nice. Most times I feel like I’m just goofing, but that felt like, ‘Oh, I’m an actor.’”

That’s an inevitable side effect of appearing on a Bill Lawrence show. His blend of humor and pathos demands a high-wire act from his ensembles. “With Bill, you have to have the acting chops to be able to do the drama, but then be able to turn a joke very quickly,” says Christa Miller, who’s been married to Lawrence since 1999 and played major roles on “Scrubs” and “Cougar Town” before “Shrinking,” in which she stars as Liz. “You really have to be able to do it on a dime.”

Lawrence clocked early on that Williams had the chops to hold her own against heavyweights like Harrison Ford. “We knew comedically she would crush it. The only question mark was about who she was as an actress,” says Lawrence. “But she was great from the second she set foot onstage. It would’ve been a massive mistake not to let her showcase that stuff.”

The storyline also pushed Williams to reopen an old wound. In 2019, she lost her longtime boyfriend to a heroin overdose. “He had a therapist who had come recommended from my therapist,” she says. “I don’t remember that time that much because it was so intense and traumatic. I do remember my therapist was helping me work through it, but she was also like, ‘I’d like to check in with his therapist and see how he’s doing.’ That was the first place I went when they told me about that storyline. It was a good opportunity to work through that a little bit.”

Even though her grief was readily accessible, it also churned up emotions that Williams often tries to quiet. “There’s always something when someone dies, whether it’s suicide or an accident, where you feel guilt,” she reflects. “‘What could I have done?’ It was something that I’ve processed and am still processing, and it was easy to transfer that into Season 3. Grief is so ongoing. It’s a wound that I have forever, and I would give anything to not have it. But now I have it, and I live with it. It’s like an old friend.”

Williams describes the days filming those scenes as different for her, harder to shake. Driving home from the set in Burbank, she’d often take side streets back to her house in Eagle Rock, getting lost in music and her environment. “It felt like trying to shed it,” she explains. “I really felt it. But so many people responded to it in a way that was what I wanted. It’s such an intimate thing, this job, and to be able to portray something [that resonates], that’s the whole point.”

One emotion the work generated that she wasn’t expecting? Embarrassment. “I’m usually not embarrassed doing comedy,” she says. “I’m like, ‘There’s no rules. We can try anything.’ It doesn’t feel as vulnerable, whereas acting, there’s something fundamentally so indulgent about it.”

It’s a surprising admission; though I haven’t spent substantial time with Williams in years, she always seemed fearless to me. Willing to do whatever it took to get a laugh. It’s why our drama teacher invented an entirely new role for her in our spring musical, to showcase her generational comedic talent.

Williams agrees she was a cutup in class, but she never got the chance to do any capital-A acting in middle school. “I would get a part, and then I wouldn’t be able to do it,” she recounts. “Mrs. Barryte would have to call my parents and be like, ‘She did not do her homework. She has bad grades. She can’t do the play.’ I let people down. I remember feeling really sad about it.

“That taught me I’m a part of a team,” she reflects. “I have to be professional. I have to be ready. But I’m glad I don’t have to do my math homework to be able to perform. Public school’s tough — you had to be an awkward Black girl and get good grades to do the musical.”

That all changed when Williams found improv, joining the ComedySportz team at Harbor City’s Narbonne High (she continued on the college team while she was a student at Cal State Long Beach). “I cared about improv so much that I wasn’t not going to do my homework,” she says. “It just affected my life profoundly. I’m getting misty thinking about these programs that are underfunded, that s— really matters.”

Williams has also found reassurance in the response to her character. “She makes me more confident,” she admits. “Just seeing the response to Gaby. A lot of that is amazing writing, directing and an amazing crew, but it’s also my instincts.”

“The first time I was like, ‘Whoa, what the f—?’” she says of her three Emmy nominations for the role. “Second time, it was like, ‘OK, it wasn’t a fluke.’ And then the third time you’re like, ‘Oh s—!’ All the actresses that I admire are in this category, so I’m honored. But these are my peers too. So it’s like, ‘Oh, they see me.’ Gaby means something to people, it feels like — and that’s really nice. It encourages me to keep going.”

As for what that future will hold, besides at least one more season of “Shrinking,” Williams is hungry to do a play on Broadway, having not done theater since high school. Somewhere in there she’d like to capitalize on her tendency to play erudite characters and embody a detective in a thriller (preferably a paranormal one like her childhood faves “So Weird” and “The X-Files”).

Mostly, though, she just wants to keep doing what she’s been striving for since we were kids — “I want, when you watch me, for you to feel like you’ve seen something magic happen.”

Well, abracadabra.

“Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is a witty, gory slasher-romance that feels so personal to writer-director Jane Schoenbrun that they’ve essentially sliced out their soul and smeared it on the screen.

“Hacks’” Hannah Einbinder plays a rising director named Kris, a Sundance darling and Schoenbrun avatar of sorts who wants to convince a long-forgotten scream queen named Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson) to star in her next movie. It’s a resurrection of the fictitious “Camp Miasma” franchise, a hack-’em-up about hormonal camp counselors slaughtered by a gender-bending, spear-wielding killer called Little Death, who has an air-conditioning vent for a face. (The reason why sort of makes sense when you see his lair.) Billy played the final girl in the 1983 original film, then disappeared. And so Kris heads out to Billy’s snowbound hideaway — which just so happens to be where the movie was shot.

Young Billy (a riveting Amanda Fix) imprinted on Kris in a way she can’t articulate. Smoking weed with the real woman will hopefully help. Anderson’s Billy steps out of the shadows with a full face of femme fatale makeup and a syrupy Dolly Parton drawl, promptly serving Kris enough fried chicken to feed a bobsled team. Has Anderson ever had more fun onscreen? Her performance presents as camp, but her dynamic range of loud cackles and quiet glances is fabulous.

Acting in a film within a film, Fix’s version of teenage Billy is so nervous it seems impossible she’ll become Anderson’s diva. You can practically hear the girl’s heart beating so loud that it breaks your own. The two Billys almost snatch the movie from under its lead. But then toward the climax, Einbinder has a powerful close-up that puts the film back in her pocket. (Metaphorically, that is — by then, her character isn’t wearing any pants.)

Kris’ breakout movie was a high-concept inversion of “Psycho” told through the shower curtain’s POV. Yet she’s well aware that the studio hired her to rescue the “Camp Miasma” franchise not for her genius but because she’s queer and the internet has deemed Little Death “problematic.” The satirical scenes of Kris’ agent (Sarah Sherman) getting annoyed that her client can’t pitch a four-quadrant movie are hilarious while also ringing of truth.

Likewise, Schoenbrun specializes in zeitgeisty fables about 21st century isolation. Their own debut, the 2021 micro-budget internet thriller “We’re All Going to the World’s Fair,” was simultaneously mesmerizing and tedious, a mental breakdown that burrowed so deeply inside its own world that several COVID-era high schoolers I know felt like it had been made just for them.

A strange thing about Schoenbrun is that even when I haven’t liked their work, I’ve left the theater certain that I just watched what will be someone else’s favorite film of all time. (The affectless disassociation of 2024’s “I Saw the TV Glow” drove me bonkers.) Yet “Camp Miasma” finds Schoenbrun bravely opening up and getting vulnerable. It’s not just a lament about loneliness; it’s a challenge to change your perspective and maybe your life.

I suspect Schoenbrun could deliver a five-hour TED Talk on the pop cultural kitsch of “Friday the 13th’s” Jason Voorhees. They’re so fluent in how Hollywood squeezes the fun out of a franchise that they can convey “Camp Miasma’s” descent into schlock in a sprightly opening montage that sees Little Death become a trading card, a bobblehead, an 8-bit video game, an anti-drug spokesman and a novelty rapper. Over 13 sequels, the character’s trail of nubile corpses stretches from Manhattan to Mars to Quibi.

Kris pops in a disc of “Camp Miasma’s” tawdry 2008 reboot, which cinematographer Eric Yue makes look as flat as the discounted DVD. As that movie’s disposable bimbo strips off her top, the score cranks up a porno-chic song and Kris scribbles the word “desire” in her notebook in all caps. But the contrast between that sham seduction footage and a 35mm reel of the original “Camp Miasma” is like night and day — or rather, trash and art. Kris and Billy watch that one together in an intimate sleepover, sinking into the murky texture of a scene in which the virginal actor allowed a jerk to take off her clothes.

Schoenbrun loves the movie-ness of movies. You can see their devotion in outdoor backdrops that are deliriously false, in sight gags that reference Cronenberg and Carpenter or in production design that includes the perfect nostalgic ’90s video store carpet. Inside Billy’s private movie theater, the projector beams down on the back of Anderson’s head like that infamous Nicole Kidman AMC promo. Maybe I’m loopy, but I’d even swear the entrance to Billy’s screening room has a handmade mural of the Roku City screensaver. Watch for clues when the storyline we’re watching becomes its own nested narrative.

Horror fans waiting for jump scares will be thwarted. At least there are several sequences of macabre murder-comedy with blood geysers shooting up to the sky and a tracking shot through a killing spree that’s a riot. The soundtrack sets a more accurate tone right away with a gentle cover of R.E.M.’s “Nightswimming” that segues into Alex G’s dreamy synths. Yet Schoenbrun’s needle drops also seem to have been chosen to make the audience chuckle. A massacre set to the Counting Crows’ piano-and-accordion ballad “A Long December” is bizarre. (The only excuse I can think of is that Little Death hibernates at the bottom of a frozen lake?)

It feels like a magic trick when the film finally reveals where it’s going. “Teenage Sex and Death” is about climbing out of your head, admitting what you want and allowing yourself to enjoy it. Sexually, yes — that’s right in the title — and creatively, too, as Schoenbrun wants us to keep loving movies that make us squirm.

Lately, it’s been hard to talk about difficult art, with culture warriors deeming entire filmographies unworthy of enjoyment. People have gotten so used to preemptively apologizing for what they like that their mea culpas feel as reflexive as a sneeze. But Schoenbrun sticks up for the right to forgive a movie’s flaws. Here, when Kris anxiously whispers that a scene in the first “Camp Miasma” is transphobic, Billy gives her a shush.

We’ve all got our kinks, including ones for canceled flicks. (I still adore “Revenge of the Nerds” despite its god-awful rape joke.) Kris can intellectualize her “Camp Miasma” fandom all she wants. But Billy counters that the appeal of “Camp Miasma” is simple: “It’s flesh and fluids,” she says. And since she’s still living in it, we believe her.

Marvel’s new X-Men team appears to be coming together.

“Heartstopper” star Kit Connor is reportedly Marvel Studios’ pick to play Scott Summers, the mutant hero also known as Cyclops, in its upcoming “X-Men” reboot. According to Deadline, the film’s director, Jake Schreier, and Marvel Studios President Kevin Feige had met with a number of candidates before landing on the British actor.

Marvel did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

Created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, Cyclops is one of the leaders and founding members of the X-Men. He needs to wear special eyewear — usually goggles or glasses — to control the beams of energy that blast from his eyes. The character was previously portrayed by James Marsden in Fox’s original “X-Men” film trilogy (2000, 2003, 2006) as well as in the 2014 crossover “X-Men: Days of Future Past.” Tye Sheridan played a younger version of the character in “X-Men: Apocalypse” (2016) and “Dark Phoenix” (2019).

Marsden is among the original “X-Men” actors set to reprise their roles in the upcoming “Avengers: Doomsday.”

Connor’s casting follows recent reports that Samara Weaving has landed the role of Emma Frost in the upcoming “X-Men” film. Created by Chris Claremont and John Byrne for the comics, the mutant-villain-turned-hero is a powerful telepath also known as the White Queen. The character has previously appeared onscreen in “X-Men: First Class” (2011) portrayed by January Jones.

With his “X-Men” casting, Connor would join his fellow “Heartstopper” and “Heartstopper Forever” star Joe Locke in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Locke made his franchise debut as William Kaplan, a.k.a. Billy Maximoff, in the 2024 Disney+ series “Agatha All Along.”

These latest “X-Men” developments follow the debut of the MCU’s new Jean Grey, portrayed by Sadie Sink in “Spider-Man: Brand New Day.” Although no official announcements have been made regarding Sink’s future Marvel projects, she is expected to appear in the “X-Men” reboot.

The “X-Men” reboot is expected to land some time after next year’s “Doomsday” follow-up, “Avengers: Secret Wars.” In 2024, Feige told Entertainment Weekly that “the whole story of ‘Secret Wars’ really leads us into a new age of mutants and of the X-Men.”

Rhea Seehorn possesses what Vince Gilligan calls “Jumbotron face.” As the creator of “Pluribus” and (with Peter Gould) “Better Call Saul,” Gilligan has relied on Seehorn’s ability to broadcast what her characters are thinking and feeling without saying much of anything. Gilligan loves silences and uses them in long stretches, allowing — or, perhaps more accurately, demanding — his audience to figure out what’s happening on their own.

And in Seehorn he found someone who, with a mere sidelong glance or knitted brow, can let you in on Gilligan’s secrets.

But Seehorn carries this ability wherever she goes, she tells me. People take a look at her and make assumptions. She’s 5 foot 4, lean and seems athletic, though she says she’s “the least athletic person that anybody knows.” That hasn’t stopped her from being cast as a golf instructor in the upcoming second season of the Owen Wilson comedy series “Stick” and a track and field coach in a movie she’s shooting right now called “Running.”

“I do not run,” she told the movie’s director, Gavin O’Connor. “I can tell people to run, but you don’t want to see me running.”

It’s not just work, though, where these deductions are made. Up until a few years ago, when people started recognizing her for playing poker-faced attorney Kim Wexler on “Better Call Saul,” Seehorn would be standing in a store and customers figured she worked there. Shopping at the Gap, she’d be asked if a T-shirt comes in medium. In Target, she’d be queried about where to find the Christmas decorations. Even on set, a background person would approach her, wondering if there’s any more plain bagels at craft service.

Why do you think this happens? I ask her. Because, even with her fame and her Golden Globe win for playing Carol, a sad woman forced to save the world from happiness and the hive mind in “Pluribus,” Seehorn, 54, says this still takes place on a regular basis.

“I’ve asked my friends, and apparently my daydreaming or thinking face looks focused,” she says. “I guess my interior monologue is highly interpretable to people, and if you’re standing in a store and you see somebody really thinking and thinking, they’re like, ‘She must be restocking the shelves.’ When in reality, I’m probably thinking about what I said wrong to somebody at a party in the ’80s.”

Rhea Seehorn as Carol Sturka in “Pluribus.”

(Apple TV)

Seehorn bursts out laughing, which she does often and with great gusto throughout our conversation. We’re at The Times, nine years after her last visit to our offices, which I know because she shows me a photo on her camera roll of her youngest stepson, McLain, taken when we were downtown and he was 9, young enough to still be thrilled about being in a “newspaper building.”

This prompts another take-your-kids-to-work memory.

“I brought him and Gray [the other stepson she shares with her partner of 12 years, real estate agent Graham Larson] to the set of ‘Better Call Saul’ when they were 7 and 9, and the thing they were most excited about was signing an NDA,” Seehorn says. “Everybody in the production office made a huge deal of it, pretending like they were spies, because I knew they’d think that was cool.”

Seehorn played Kim opposite Bob Odenkirk on “Better Call Saul” for six seasons, creating a character that evolved from a minor role to what Gilligan calls the “backbone of the series.” Dazzled by her versatility, Gilligan wrote “Pluribus” for Seehorn. But he didn’t want to tell her about it until he had a script and not just an outline. He asked “Saul” executive producer Melissa Bernstein to act as a spy and tell him if Seehorn was close to taking another job. One day, during the show’s final season, Bernstein told him he’d better pounce.

“I didn’t want to miss my opportunity,” Gilligan says over the phone. “That would have been a bummer. Rhea is the manager that makes the show work.”

(Ian Spanier / For The Times)

Where Kim Wexler was a composed and poised overachiever, suppressing her emotions when things (as they often did) spiraled out of control, “Pluribus’” Carol Sturka lets it all hang out. She’s volatile and angry, drinking heavily to obliterate her regret and rage. The characters share a fierce drive to fight for what they believe is right, which, for Carol, means maintaining her autonomy and resisting the good-vibes group contentment of the Others. A hero has never been more reluctant than this curmudgeon.

Seehorn is the ultimate professional: pleasant, quick to credit her colleagues, a team player. So Carol’s bitter fury feels distinct from her friendly personality as well as anything we’ve ever seen her do onscreen. But it’s not entirely foreign. Talking about the “Pluribus” season finale, she said that while she’s never murdered anyone, she has felt out-of-control rage.

When did this happen?

“I’m not going to tell you that!” she answers, laughing.

I’m just trying to picture it, I tell her.

“I know, because a lot of people are like, ‘I’ve never seen you mad,’” Seehorn says. “I suppress. I suppress too much. That’s something I work on with my therapist. I used to scream and yell as a teenager. That’s how I fought. And I just decided in college one day — I think I had an out-of-body experience — that I don’t want to be this person. And it probably moved the needle too far the other way. Now, when I’m angry, often I withdraw and get very quiet. I say everything is fine and then I’m never speaking to you again.”

That could have made playing a highly reactive character like Carol therapeutic. Instead, it did a number on Seehorn’s body.

(Ian Spanier / For The Times)

“Unlike Carol, I cry often when I’m extremely angry and in the middle of trying to tell someone how upset I am,” Seehorn says. “Like the anger disturbs my body so much that it makes me cry. No matter how much I tried to unplug from Carol, my body didn’t understand that I was pretending.”

We start talking about relationships and unhealthy withdrawal and letting things fester to the point that when the emotions come out, it feels abrupt and the other person has no idea what’s going on. And out of nowhere, Seehorn gives me a taste of Carol, growling the words, “Can you just get it?” with such ferocity that I’m almost physically blown back in my chair.

“God, you scared me with that,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” Seehorn says, beaming.

Because she’s a (generally) well-adjusted human being, Seehorn has developed ways of dealing with the terror and flop sweat that comes with playing the lead on an expensive, highly touted TV series, one that earned 18 Emmy nominations, including one for her lead turn. She converted the garage at her home into what sounds like a veritable wonderland. In one corner, there’s a tiny gym. There’s a place to record voice-over work, not a proper booth, which she’d like someday, but close. There’s a space to be quiet and read scripts. There’s an area where she can paint, sculpt, do jigsaw puzzles, Lego sets, embroider — all the things that ease her anxiety but also help her work through creative blocks.

“If I have too much of a vice grip on a scene and I can’t figure it out, I’ll do a jigsaw puzzle or draw while running the lines,” Seehorn says.

She loves creating things, but she also loves projects that involve following instructions. That soothes her. In the middle of enthusing about a cross-stitch embroidery project, she says, “Don’t roll your eyes at me!” Which I most definitely was not doing. That was my daydreaming, thinking face.

(Ian Spanier / For The Times)

Sometimes these projects make their way inside the house, where Seehorn might turn on the television and watch what she calls “murder TV,” sitting under a big, curved metal dome lamp that feels like an interrogation spotlight. There, her brain still working on what she was doing in her office, she’ll lose herself on multiple fronts as she wrestles with a scene.

Seehorn loves watching shows like “Dateline” because they provide a sense of order in a chaotic world. Bad guy. Bad guy gets caught. Bad guy goes to jail. All is well. But it goes beyond that. As an actor, she loves watching people trying to lie — and failing. She can’t believe how bad people are at not telling the truth.

“Every single time, I’m like, ‘Dude’s lying,’” Seehorn says. “Women too, where I’m watching an interrogation scene and thinking, ‘There’s a zero percent chance you did not know someone was going to break in and shoot your husband.’ It’s funny because as actors, whenever we’re playing criminals that are lying to the police, we’re really good at it.”

Does that mean Seehorn is an adept liar? Yes and no. You’ve seen her act. She can make you believe anything. But when she does lie, she is compelled to confess, even when the fib is innocuous.

“I’ll be in a conversation where there’s a bunch of cool people talking about a movie they saw, and I’ll be like, ‘Oh yeah, that was great!’” Seehorn says. “And then I’ll leave and then I’ll come back and say, ‘I didn’t actually see it. I’m sorry.’ And they’re like, ‘Who’s that weird girl?’ I’m good at lying, but bad at holding the guilt.”

So when you’re telling me you don’t know any details about the second season of “Pluribus,” are you misleading me? I ask.

“I know nothing!” Seehorn says. The atomic bomb in the crate that a helicopter carefully deposits in Carol’s driveway in the last scene? “As soon as they said, ‘Cut,’ I went up to Vince and asked, ‘Now can you tell me what we’re doing?’ And he said, ‘I have no idea.’”

“And all these months later, I know no more than that,” she continues.

But if you did…

“You’d be getting a phone call from me about an hour after we say goodbye, confessing all,” Seehorn answers, smiling.

The phone still hasn’t rung.

(Ian Spanier / For The Times)

EMMERDALE star Jack Downham has quietly quit the show after 17 years.

The actor, who plays Noah Dingle on the ITV soap, is set to exit the soap tonight, but not before their family dog Monty passes away.

The Sun revealed last month that Noah was leaving the Dales.

Noah has recently shared his desire to apply for a job in Germany but Charity was reluctant for him to leave.

On Wednesday’s show, the Woolpack landlady had a change of heart and encouraged her son to purse his dreams.

As Noah prepared to depart, the Dingle family suffered another major blow when their beloved dog Monty was rushed to the vets.

And sadly Monty couldn’t be saved, leaving the Dingle clan heartbroken.

In Monty’s final scenes, Cain praised the pooch for being a good boy all these years and asked dad Zak Dingle to take care of him in heaven.

In emotional scenes, Cain told a dying Monty: “You are a good boy, I know my dad was always grateful for having you.

“When you get up there, tell him how much you love him and that we miss him loads and that he takes you for plenty of walks, just like old times.

“We love you, scruffy old thing,” with tears running down his face, he turned to vet Rhona and added: “I think he’s gone.”

Noah then visited Cain to bid farewell as he headed off on his new adventure.

Last month, we revealed that character was set to depart and had already filmed his exit scenes.

A telly source said: “Jack is such a lovely lad, and everyone adores him.

“He’s been on the show since he was a young child so it’s all he’s ever known.

“He was told of the news last month and his axing has once again sent shockwaves through the cast and crew.

“Everyone is wondering who will be next.”

But one of his pals added: “Jack is looking at the positives though and is hopeful about future opportunities.”

The bloodbath in the Dales has already hit another popular Dingle recently — plus other cast members.

Bradley Johnson who has played Mandy ­Dingle’s on-screen son Vinny for seven years has been dumped, as well as Nick Miles — who’s been in his Jimmy King role for 22 years — and Olivia Bromley who plays Dawn Taylor.

And rumours are rife that bosses are planning a big stunt that could kill off even more of the long-running soap’s cast later this year.

Last month Emmerdale took home two gongs at the ­Television and Radio Industries Club awards — for Soap of the Year and for Best Soap Actor, which went to Jeff Hordley who has played Cain Dingle for more than 20 years.

With the biggest global opening weekend in history, “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” is cleaning up at the box office in a manner that left “The Odyssey” spitting sand. (Relatively speaking; “The Odyssey” also had a strong worldwide debut and is on track to become the third R-rated film to hit the billion-dollar mark.)

But while Christopher Nolan’s vision of a nearly 3,000–year–old epic poem has received, with the exception of a few less-than–impressed classics experts and the usual “replacement theory” nut jobs, waves of gratitude for helping revitalize cinema, the success of “Spider-Man” has many of these same people scratching their heads.

Certainly the reviews have been mixed — some find the narrative streamlined and personal with Tom Holland giving his best-ever performance; others declare “Brand New Day” to be overstuffed with franchise teasers and/or suggest that, at 30, Holland is getting a bit old for the job.

So how is it, pundits wondered, that Spidey has vanquished the ultimate supervillain: superhero fatigue.

It’s simple really: love.

There’s a reason “Love Actually” featured a kid in Spider-Man face paint, as opposed to a Superman cape. People, especially kids (and the adults they will become), love Spider-Man with an affection that is deep and true. Unlike so many other superheroes, Peter Parker is one of us. He’s not a super-scientist or a god or an extraterrestrial or a one-percenter able to develop all manner of nifty crime-fighting gadgetry. He’s a kid who, having been accidentally endowed with superpowers that do not disfigure him, physically or emotionally (no Red Room trauma, inner rage monster, centurylong life span), remains a kid with an adolescent’s delight in all he can now do.

He’s funny, sweet and, having been raised right (in this latest iteration by Marisa Tomei’s hip and humanitarian Aunt May), extremely polite, even as he takes down all the bad guys — a cheeky bright spot in a landscape super-peopled almost exclusively with adults and all their existential whinging and regretful brooding.

But our feelings for the character is not the only, or most important, love story helping to drive the success of “Brand New Day.” Perhaps because they are closest in age to Romeo and Juliet, the complicated courtship of Peter and MJ (or Gwen), has always been the best built-in love story in the multiverse. The actors playing those roles — Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst, Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone — invariably became romantic partners so when the series was revived with Holland, with Zendaya as MJ, producer Amy Pascal warned them not to date.

Mercifully, they did not listen and in Holland and Zendaya, “Brand New Day” has a real-life beloved couple (recently married) playing a fictional beloved couple, now divided by the memory-erasing spell of the previous film, “Spider-Man: No Way Home.”

Screenwriters Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers’ decision to have Peter Parker wiped from everyone’s memory, including MJ‘s and Ned’s (Jacob Batalon), was a brilliant twist that not only saved us from “Spider-Man Goes to College” but also injected a star-crossed romantic pathos that Shakespeare would envy.

I can’t have been the only person who bought an opening weekend ticket for the sole purpose of finding out if/when/how Peter and MJ would find their way back to each other.

This has been spoiled elsewhere, but we’ll leave it at they do and they don’t. Although the more jaded among us might see the ambiguity as a nakedly emotional hook for future films, including “Avengers: Doomsday,” the opportunity for both Peter and MJ to mature a bit, independent of each other, feels thematically essential and more than a little revolutionary. It certainly sparks an intriguing question about the nature of romantic love, something too often associated with “being saved” in Marvel, and many other, films.

Seeing the famously private couple playfully interact with each other and Batalon during the press tour of “Brand New Day” only amped up the already fevered anticipation of how the trio will regroup as surely they must — the love Peter has for Ned is just as strong and singular as his love for MJ. The fact that we’ve watched these actors grow up before our eyes (Zendaya and Batalon were 19 and Holland 20 when they filmed “Spider-Man: Homecoming” in 2016) makes it even more of a family affair — of course we want to know what happens to Spidey and his gang!

Given the extraordinary success of “Brand New Day,” on top of “The Odyssey,” there is a very good chance that Hollywood, in its infinite and historically flawed wisdom, will decide that superhero fatigue is a myth and that what audiences really want is spectacle. So this is a plea for those in charge to tear their eyes away from the box office returns and look at the film itself.

Yes, “Brand New Day” is full of terrific web-slinging and swinging scenes (albeit ones in which Spider-Man gets even more beat up than usual), but its power is emotional not spectacular, built more on dialogue than special effects.

Holland’s Spider-Man relates more personally to everyone — friends and foes — than any other superhero; his scenes with the Punisher (Jon Bernthal), Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo), Det. DeWolff (Liza Colón-Zayas) and, at the end, Jean Grey (Sadie Sink) are always less about exposition or explosive action than character revelation and connection.

He cares and so do we.

That’s how it works in love stories and, as “Brand New Day” is proving, love stories are pretty hard to beat.

Alone and engulfed in the darkness of a Madrid cinema, Javier Bardem watched Martin Scorsese’s 1991 psychological thriller “Cape Fear” after learning he’d be starring in an episodic reimagining of the crime saga for Apple TV — the series finale is now streaming.

He arranged the private screening to symbolically request Robert De Niro’s blessing to play the dangerously charismatic Max Cady, an ex-con parched for revenge against those who had a hand in his imprisonment. De Niro received an Oscar nomination for that role.

“It was my way of honoring the work he did back then and, at the same time, to detach myself from that performance and ask his permission to create my own take,” Bardem tells me in Spanish while sitting at a restaurant inside a Beverly Hills hotel.

His informal getup, a T-shirt and shorts, contrasts with the elegant environment primed for business lunches and ostentatious dinners. He exudes an easy-going air. A quintessential cool dad casually sipping on an iced Diet Coke as he shares anecdotes about his passion for acting.

Bardem, 57, agreed to play Cady because the version of the character that the show’s creator, Nick Antosca, envisioned was not only decidedly distinct from those embodied by De Niro and Robert Mitchum, the latter of whom starred in a 1962 film adaptation, but also tailored to him as a Spanish man.

Had it been a standard remake, Bardem would have passed. Still, like the films, the show also “drinks from the fountain” of John D. MacDonald’s 1957 novel “The Executioners.” What remains intact across all versions of Cady is a devilish sense of humor and a lack of self-importance. In any of his iterations, he has nothing to lose. That makes him lethal.

In “Cape Fear,” Bardem’s Max Cady is distinct from the versions of the character played by Robert De Niro and Robert Mitchum in earlier films.

(Apple)

The cerebral Cady that Bardem inhabits spent nearly two decades in prison convicted for his wife’s murder. When the discovery of new evidence results in Cady’s freedom, his new mission is to torment Anna (Amy Adams) and Tom Bowden (Patrick Wilson), the attorney and prosecutor on his case, who are now married and have two teenaged children.

Cady turns their lives into a trap of paranoia and, indeed, fear, while procuring plausible deniability to avoid consequences. It’s a malicious and relentless barrage of the mind.

“He’s a 2026 Max Cady. It’s a different way of approaching violation of privacy, and the intrusion of the characters’ psyches. The digital world has made everything very different now,” he explains. “We are hyper-aware of what is said and written about us. We are inundated with so much information that, at times, we can’t tell what is true and what is false.”

While in the 1991 film the audience is aware that De Niro’s Cady committed sexual crimes making him “an absolutely despicable character,” Bardem says this new version portrays a complex person who’s suffered at the hands of the American justice system.

“Here we understand that he was imprisoned for something he didn’t do. He may have done other things, but he says, ‘You turned me into this monster.’ It’s true. From that point on, a vengeful and destructive mindset developed,” Bardem says of his Cady.

The final episode shows the public unmasking of Cady, just before he learns he is responsible for his own son’s death. Bardem describes him as a “dying beast” who has lost control of the narrative that he so meticulously orchestrated to rebuild his image.

The character was written to account for the actor’s Spanish accent. This Cady grew up in Spain until he moved to North Carolina at 13 and learned English on the streets. Bardem worked with renowned dialect coach Tim Monich to infuse his speech with a hint of a Southern drawl, aware that his character didn’t have to sound like a native speaker.

“I’m not bilingual,” Bardem says. The statement is somewhat shocking, considering he’s worked in the U.S. for decades in numerous English-language productions.

“Acting in English is easier for me because the dialogue is set,” he says. “But when the time comes to improvise, I find it difficult. That still doesn’t come naturally to me in English.”

The Spanish actor says acting in English is easier for him but that improvising is more challenging.

(Erik Carter / For The Times)

There’s a freedom to working in English since words have less emotional significance, the Oscar-winner believes. “I can be more daring in English. I can say the words or verbalize the thoughts with much less inhibition, because I am not as emotionally attached,” he explains. “But when you speak in your mother tongue, your body tenses up a bit because you think, ‘I understand the full emotional spectrum of what I’m talking about.’ ”

At this stage in his lauded career, Bardem is interested only in roles that explore “contradictions with an underlying humanity.” He’s played one-dimensional parts in the past, but the cost of being away from his loved ones is too high.

The job has to measure up to the trade-off of precious time he’s surrendering.

The “Cape Fear” production structured the schedule for Bardem to work for two weeks followed by five or six days off, allowing him to travel back to his family, which includes his famous and just as in-demand wife, Penélope Cruz, and their two teenaged children, Leo, 15, and Luna, 13.

“Cape Fear” filmed in Atlanta and Savannah, Ga. That’s a long trip back to Spain but manageable and certainly worthwhile, he says. “One of the few things I ask for contractually is time with family, and that has always been respected; Penélope and I have always managed our projects in such a way that one of us is always present for our kids.”

Thanks to his award-winning turn as an unnerving killer in “No Country for Old Man” and the dapper cyberterrorist in “Skyfall,” audiences might associate Bardem with sinister characters (his Cady joins the ranks). And they are satisfying to portray, he says.

“It’s true that characters with that kind of darkness are very attractive to play,” he says. “The villain is always more compelling than the hero. The hero is perfectly upright. A good villain has many cracks, which is what makes him more human.”

Bardem on playing sinister characters like Max Cady: “The villain is always more compelling than the hero. The hero is perfectly upright. A good villain has many cracks, which is what makes him more human.”

(Apple)

In recent years, however, Bardem made a deliberate effort to work on projects that his children could watch, particularly when they were younger, namely the fantasy musical “Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile” and the live-action remake of “The Little Mermaid,” in which he played King Triton.

“I needed my children to see what I do,” he says. “They knew I’d leave home for two weeks and then come back, and I’d tell them about it and show them photos, but they hadn’t been able to watch any of my movies yet because they were geared more toward adults.”

Cruz and Bardem have always encouraged their children’s creative pursuits. It wouldn’t surprise them if they eventually pursue a life in the arts. “I don’t see them becoming scientists or lawyers, which makes sense. I don’t know if they will become ‘nepo babies’ or not, but we are conscious that children always feed on what their parents do,” Bardem says.

Every time either Bardem or Cruz gets an offer for a new role, the couple discuss it and then bring their kids into the conversation. It’s important, Bardem believes, that Leo and Luna know how fulfilling acting is for both of their parents.

“They know we feel immense gratitude for being able to make a living from our passion. And they understand that the way we try to live up to that gift is by doing our absolute best and giving it the full attention it deserves,” he says.

When they were younger, the kids weren’t interested in seeing their parents on screen, but that’s changed. “They have seen ‘The Invite’ three times. They love it. And they’ve watched ‘Volver’ and ‘Bandidas,’” he says. “They’ve watched me in ‘F1,’ and Leo is watching ‘Cape Fear.’ ”

In June, Bardem became part of Hollywood history when his hands and footprints were added to the entrance of TCL Chinese Theatre. The ceremony included directors Michael Mann and Denis Villeneuve and producer Jerry Bruckheimer.

“I missed my mother so much at that moment because there are so many footprints of classic actors and actresses there. I imagine my mother seeing my hands and feet next to Gary Cooper, who was one of the loves of her life,” he says.

In June, Bardem’s hands and footprints were added to the entrance of TCL Chinese Theatre: “I missed my mother so much at that moment because there are so many footprints of classic actors and actresses there.”

(Erik Carter / For The Times)

It felt surreal, Bardem says, to have Mann present at the event. They worked together on “Collateral” over two decades ago. “I was crazy about ‘Miami Vice’ in the ’80s,” Bardem says. The suit he wore in the photo shoot for this piece, he adds, reminded him of that emblematic series and film.

Bardem’s latest collaboration with Villeneuve, “Dune: Part Three” hits theaters in December. He recalls the joy of shooting the film’s opening sequence, a battle where the cast was covered in mud. It reminded him of childhood play. “Denis would laugh and say to me, ‘But why are you laughing?’ And I’d say, ‘This is what I used to do in the schoolyard, but now it’s for real. Now I look to my right, and I have 50 guys under my command,’ ” he says.

“I was lucky enough to shoot some scenes with Timothée [Chalamet]. I saw him playing a Paul who is very different from the Paul in the second film,” Bardem continues. “Years have passed, and Paul is now wielding power and is a victim of that power.”

Outspoken about the ongoing plight of Palestinians, Bardem wishes more people could apply the lessons they mine from fiction they consume to the world in turmoil.

“We root for the rebels in ‘Star Wars’ and want them to defeat Darth Vader, or we side with the Fremen in ‘Dune.’ We always take sides in fiction. Yet, when we witness oppression, abuse and the violation of the most fundamental rights by an oppressor in real life, we seem to struggle to stand with the oppressed,” Bardem explains. “That cannot be.”

Even while attending matches at the recent World Cup, where Spain won the title, the actor advocated for an end to the carnage. A viral video shows him engaging with a Palestinian man at a match. “Existence is resistance,” Bardem tells him. On social media he’s shared images of Lamine Yamal, one of his national team’s stars, waving the Palestinian flag.

“The impunity Israel enjoys regarding these crimes, both legally and in terms of international support, creates a profound sense of powerlessness,” he says.

Bardem admits he’s been asked, whether directly or indirectly, to tone down his vocal support. But he doesn’t fear backlash. On the contrary, he’s never felt more support from everyday people who share his mindset.

“If I’m so privileged to have a good life where I work doing what I love and can provide my family with stability and security, how could I not use that privilege to denounce those things that I think are wrong?”

Almost five years ago, “Spider-Man: No Way Home” swung into theaters in the teeth of a COVID-19 surge and did what almost nothing else could that winter: drove cooped-up moviegoers to cinemas and opened to one of the biggest domestic debuts on record, pulling in $260 million.

This weekend, Peter Parker is back — a little older, more world-weary and facing a far less forgiving market.

The genre’s floor has dropped out since then.

Annual box office revenue for superhero movies is down, on average, about $3.5 billion, about half of what it was during the pre-pandemic years of 2017 to 2019, according to data from the FranchiseRe industry newsletter. Sony Pictures is betting that more real-world stunts, a relatable narrative and Spidey’s lasting popularity are enough to put “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” on the other side of that trend.

Whatever the approach, the commercial appetite is there. Pre-sales for the film, which stars Tom Holland and Zendaya, have been robust, and industry tracking estimates an opening weekend haul of at least $195 million in the U.S. and Canada. If that holds, it would be the year’s biggest domestic debut, beating Walt Disney Co. and Pixar’s “Toy Story 5” ($159.7 million). The movie cost about $225 million to produce and is produced by Sony’s Columbia Pictures, Marvel Studios and Pascal Pictures.

“This movie takes a grounded, emotional approach to the story, and I actually believe that’s what audiences are hungry for,” said Tom Rothman, chairman of Sony’s motion picture group. “It’s got all the whiz-bang wow visuals. But at its heart, it’s more a superperson movie, if you will, rather than a superhero movie.”

“Brand New Day” picks up where the last film left off. A spell has erased Peter Parker from the world’s memory — the price of undoing the public exposure of his identity — leaving him a stranger to his best friend, Ned, and to MJ. Without those friendships, he pours himself into his crime-fighting work to stave off his loneliness.

That feeling of being adrift without knowing where to turn is what the filmmakers built the movie around.

“We’re all really isolated from each other,” said Amy Pascal, one of the film’s producers who has overseen the entire franchise. “That kind of longing for connection between people and not knowing how to make it happen and living in a world where we become more and more remote, matched the moment that people are going through.”

The smaller scale was also a reaction to what came before it. “No Way Home” brought back Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield in a time-bending multiverse crossover, and there was no topping it.

“That was a movie that was 20 years in the making,” Pascal said. “There was no way to be bigger than that. So we went smaller. We went internal instead of external, and we found the bigness in that.”

Peter Parker’s isolation is what drew director Destin Daniel Cretton, who made 2021’s “Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings” and was an executive producer on the Marvel Television series “Wonder Man.” He said he related to the pain and tragedy the character goes through, and to the idea of a superhero story that felt like it was happening in a real place.

The production’s rule of thumb became trying to execute scenes practically, in front of a lens, wherever possible.

That included a tank chase shot largely on a street in Glasgow, Scotland, on the first day of filming, complete with a rig that let an actor swing with explosions going off behind him. Thousands of people showed up to watch, which was “a big adrenaline rush on day one,” Cretton said.

A later set piece — Spider-Man against a group of red-clad ninjas known as the Hand — was shot at a former prison outside London.

Cretton’s insistence on real locations has an argument behind it. At a moment when audiences want to know what goes into moviemaking and are increasingly unsure whether the myriad images they’re looking at were generated by artificial intelligence, the answer is visible labor.

“Right now, more than ever, I think it’s important for audiences to really feel that people made the thing that they’re watching, and people went through an experience to make the thing they’re watching,” said Cretton, who grew up watching behind-the-scenes segments on his favorite DVDs. “All of that, I think, is just as important as the thing that they’re watching.”

Effects alone don’t carry a superhero movie — or any movie, for that matter — anymore, Cretton said.

“The action can be great, the [visual effects] can be fantastic, the explosions can be huge, but if there isn’t some type of emotional spine that connects with people where they are and what they’re going through, it’s just another big, explosive movie,” he said.

The slump itself isn’t in dispute. Many of Marvel’s newer films haven’t come close to the heights its predecessors once cleared, and this year, movies like Amazon MGM Studios’ “Masters of the Universe” and Warner Bros. and DC Studios’ “Supergirl” underperformed in theaters.

What’s driving it is contested.

“I don’t think it’s fatigue of the genre,” Rothman said. “I think it’s the audience wanting new things and less predictability.”

For Marvel, long treated as the genre’s gold standard, part of the problem was volume; a dense web of interconnected films and TV shows that made casual viewers feel like they had too much homework to do before a new premiere.

The likeliest near-term explanation for that estimated $195-million opening, though, may have less to do with tone than with supply and brand. “Brand New Day” is the first Marvel superhero film since last year’s “The Fantastic Four: First Steps,” and Spider-Man remains one of the most commercially durable characters in the genre.

The calendar is also less accommodating than it was. The latest “Spider-Man” installment opens against Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey” and holdovers including “Toy Story 5” — a considerably more crowded field than the thin, pandemic-era slate its predecessor benefited from on the way to $1.9 billion.

And the movie has a second job. With Disney and Marvel’s “Avengers: Doomsday” arriving at the end of the year, “Brand New Day” has to leave audiences wanting it.

“It’s got a lot riding on it,” said Steve Granelli, a teaching professor and division head of communication studies at Northeastern University. “Not just in terms of this being yet another ‘Spider-Man’ film, but also this being a huge storytelling device in the larger [Marvel franchise].”

Which is the tension at the center of the pitch. The filmmaking team went internal on purpose, and built a movie about a young man nobody remembers. It also has to set up the largest external event on Marvel’s calendar.

Spoiler alert: This post contains details from the new film “Spider-Man: Brand New Day.”

Apparently Tom Holland isn’t the only “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” creative with a bad habit of accidentally spoiling movies.

Grammy winner Steve Lacy joined the festivities during the film’s Hollywood premiere on Monday, detailing more than just his original song for the latest “Spider-Man” flick. The “Oh Yeah” and “Bad Habit” singer also allegedly spilled the beans on “Stranger Things” alumna Sadie Sink‘s “Spider-Man” character, which Marvel has kept tightly under wraps. Lacy delivered the accidental reveal while speaking with Twitch star Valkyrae, who hosted the film’s official red carpet stream. During Monday’s carpet, Valkyrae asked Lacy to name his favorite character from the movie “without spoiling anything,” according to video shared on social media.

“Jean. I like Jean,” he responds, “she’s the villain but, like, there’s a reason to her madness.” After Valkyrae asks whether his answer was a spoiler, Lacy seemingly tones down his enthusiasm for the character. “I like her character. I don’t know why.”

Lacy didn’t quite link Sink with this mystery Jean. Still, it’s worth noting that Sink’s role has been the subject of much speculation, with fans suspecting she would play Marvel-verse X-Men telekinetic and telepath Jean Grey. Sink would be the third actress to play the role, after Famke Janssen and “Game of Thrones” alumna Sophie Turner. (Another Marvel universe Jean is Jean De Wolff, a Spider-Man ally who was a police detective and captain.)

“Spider-Man: Brand New Day” will also see Tom Holland, Zendaya and Jacob Batalon reprise their roles and also features Mark Ruffalo and Jon Bernthal among others. Holland recently starred alongside Zendaya and Bernthal in Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey.”

The trailer, released in March, shows Peter/Spider-Man (Holland) reeling as he struggles to reconnect with his friends. To his dismay, MJ (Zendaya) has a new man in her life. As in the previous films, Peter attempts to balance his personal woes with superhero struggles — but he’ll have another Avenger in his corner. The clip shows Ruffalo’s Bruce Banner (a.k.a. the Hulk) guiding Peter through an “enormously dangerous” physical evolution and teases several baddies, including Bernthal’s antihero Punisher.

Sink has been all-in on the “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” press tour, managing to keep tight-lipped about her role. Earlier this month, Marvel shared playful videos of Sink somewhat discussing her role to help stave off eager fans’ curiosity. In one clip, she provides “Spider-Man” fans with three incredibly helpful clues: She does not play Spider-Man, she does not play Aunt May (who perished in “Spider-Man: No Way Home”) and she is definitely in the latest movie.

When it comes to spoiling “Spider-Man” and other Marvel films, it often seems like the call is coming from inside. Over the years, Holland has gained a reputation for his loose lips, spoiling plot details from “Spider-Man” and “Avengers” films.

Maybe accidental spoilers are just par for the course?

“Spider-Man: Brand New Day” hits theaters, with showings on Thursday leading into Friday’s release.

Coronation Street’s Jodie Ramsey has finally confessed to Shona that she attacked Sarah Platt on the night of Theo’s murder and now fans think this could finally spell the end for the controversial character

Jodie Ramsey confessed to her sister Shona that she attacked Sarah Platt on Sunday night’s episode of Coronation Street. Earlier this year, her long-lost sister, who had never been mentioned before, turned up in the programme’s crossover with Emmerdale, arriving tied up in the back of a van.

Ever since her arrival, Jodie (Olivia Frances Brown), who was first seen tied up in the back of a van, has been shrouded in mystery, although it is quite clear that there is something sinister about her. In the four months since she made her debut, Jodie has been stealing various items that belong to neighbours – the most recent of which was a gun – and also tried to pass herself off as Shona at the hospital.

Viewers have known for months that Jodie attacked Sarah on that fateful night in April, just moments after the factory supervisor, who has been played by Tina O’Brien since 1999, killed the abusive Theo Silverton by hitting him over the head with a pole.

Whilst David, Shona’s husband, was visiting his sister in prison, she told him that she believed Jodie had hit her over the head to stop her seeing what was in her box.

Back at number eight, Shona had dragged a confession out of Jodie and raged at her: “I’m starting to doubt whether or not you were even kidnapped. OK, all right, so you hit her.

“Then what? Well, I mean, you know, you see her lying on the ground, you realise you’ve just attacked David’s sister. Did you check her pulse? Did you do mouth-to-mouth?”

Jodie begged for forgiveness, and then twisted things around as she said: “You know, when you think about it… ..by not saying owt, well, I was actually protecting Sarah,” to which Shona laughed in disbelief. At her wits’ end, Shona told Jodie to get out of the house, telling her she didn’t care where she ended up.

Later on, Shona was clearly worried when her sister hadn’t turned back up and was constantly ringing her. As David’s daughter Lily looked around the house to try to find her confiscated gaming console, she stumbled upon Jodie’s trinket box and discovered the gun that her mysterious long-lost step aunty had stolen and stashed away some weeks ago.

Reacting to the explosive scenes, fans predicted this could finally spell the end of Jodie now that Shona is edging ever closer to realising something is clearly not right.

One fan wrote on X: “Really hope Jodie gets put away soon…not sure why she’s there, and what happened to her dad?”

Another said: “Hoping it’s the end of Jodie soon,” but a third remained unconvinced this was all leading to Jodie’s exit as theyd ranted: “Soap is unbelievable so Shona has found out Jodie has attacked Sarah and you watch in a few weeks they will be friends again and living together.

“Imagine that happening in real life would be completely different. Before people say it’s not real #Corrie was meant to portray life!”

Coronation Street airs weeknights at 8:30pm on ITV1 and ITV X.

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On paper, Lauren Meyering’s debut feature “Horsegirls” sounds like it was made in a 2000s indie movie lab: It features a quirky heroine with a unique hobby, a loved one with a devastating illness and the formation of an unlikely community that rallies around our protagonist and her dream. But surprise — the events of “Horsegirls” are inspired by a true story, one close to Meyering, who based the film on her family friends Mackenzie and Sandra Breeden. Sometimes real life can be the realest indie movie of all.

“Horsegirls” might read on paper as too sickly sweet, but Meyering’s thoughtful direction and star Lillian Carrier’s performance keep it from tipping too far in that direction. Carrier stars as Margarita, a young woman with autism who lives with her cancer-stricken mother, Sandy (Gretchen Mol). The pair are inseparable, with Margarita accompanying her mother to chemotherapy treatments and their own special celebration rituals involving karaoke and sharing combo platters.

Sandy desperately wants Margarita to get a job but her first steps toward independence come when she spies a hobby horse rehearsal and becomes fixated on joining. If you’re unfamiliar with hobby horsing, it’s a sport originating from Finland that’s growing in popularity. It involves a choreographed routine involving elements of gymnastics and traditional dressage performed while using a “hobby horse” — a stuffed horse head on a stick.

For Margarita, who loves horses but isn’t allowed to interact with them due to her mother’s safety fears, it seems the perfect solution, and she persists despite the clique-ish mean girl behavior from some of the younger participants. The coach (Jerod Haynes) sees her determination and encourages her participation, so she gets a job at a Halloween store to pay for it but keeps it a secret from Sandy. As it turns out, both mother and daughter are keeping secrets from each other.

While the plot unfolds in a fairly predictable manner, it’s the character of Margarita who keeps us on our toes. Carrier, who also has autism, brings an inherent authenticity to the role as well as a sense of good humor that draws people to Margarita, a character who always says what’s on her mind, whether or not it’s polite or appropriate. But her refreshing honesty is what people respond to, and both she and Sandy know she’s going to need people in the not-so-distant future.

Meyering carefully threads the themes of parental concern and young adult independence throughout her screenplay. The anxieties are universal — any parent wants to feel assured that their child is going to be OK when they’re gone; any child wants to prove that they’re capable and free to do what they want. Characters like Margarita’s store manager Hank (Iqbal Theba) prove that strangers can “get” Margarita just as she is, without her mother’s interference or interpretation, even if it takes some time for Sandy to understand that.

Meyering and cinematographer Natalie Kingston create a naturalistic and often dark look, though “Horsegirls” is beautifully shot. The distinctive photography sets it apart cinematically from other films in this genre — just like Margarita herself, who visually stands out from the other girls.

This is a simple story executed with singular panache, and while “Horsegirls” follows expected narrative beats, it’s in the moments of surprise that it works best, often thanks to Carrier and her straightforward line deliveries, which help the tone pop. The film is a reminder that conformity is never compulsory, and that putting yourself out there is the only way to find out who’s ready to catch you.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.