character

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.

Casualty fans were left both surprised and baffled on Saturday’s episode to see a returning face

Casualty aired explosive scenes involving Dylan Keogh on Saturday night.

Viewers will recall that only recently, recovering alcoholic Dylan, played by William Beck, relapsed after struggling with the news that his colleague, Stevie Nash, had been having an affair with his son Dr Matty Linlaker.

Since relapsing, Dylan has pushed his loved ones away, including son Matty, and he has caused concern in recent scenes after he was seen driving erratically with a bottle by his side.

At the start of Saturday’s episode, Dylan headed to a care home to visit his father, Brian Carroll. However, alcoholic Brian didn’t recognise his son due to his years of drinking and things soon got unpleasant when Brian said some horrible things about his son, claiming he never loved Dylan.

Taking to Twitter, now X, viewers were quick to do a double take over Brian as they quickly spotted that he had been recast with a different actor. Brian made his first debut in 2015 and he was last seen on the BBC medical series in 2018.

In the earlier episodes, Brian was played by actor Matthew Marsh but on Saturday’s episode, the character of Brian was being played by actor David Beames.

Viewers were quick to share their reaction to Brian’s return after eight years, especially as it was a new actor playing the character. One person said: “Woah that is a different Brian? What happened to Dylan’s little sister with Hazel? #Casualty”

Another person wrote: “Dylan’s father is back?! #Casualty”, a different viewer put: “they’ve recast dylan’s dad! oh! #casualty” while another fan added: “Hang on… That’s not Matthew Marsh… Dylan has a new dad? #Casualty.”

Later in the episode, upset by his father’s cruel words, Dylan rushed out of the care home and started drinking from the clear bottle as he drove off, leaving his son Matty a voicemail saying: “Things are going to change”, adding that he’s not like his own father and that he cares about Matty.

Upon listening to the message, Matty and Stevie were concerned to hear a crash at the end, where it looked as though Dylan had been involved in a serious car crash.

However, thankfully, Matty discovered his dad uninjured and upon confronting his father for drink driving, Dylan insisted he hadn’t drunk since his initial relapse. A breathalyser later confirmed that he was telling the truth.

The emotional episode ended with Dylan vowing to make things right again and start AA meetings, as well as therapy to tackle his addiction.

Casualty continues on BBC One.

This article contains many spoilers for “Heartstopper Forever.”

In the early minutes of “Heartstopper Forever” — the feature film finale of Netflix’s hit teen romantic dramedy series — Charlie Spring (Joe Locke) notices a crooked photo strip on his boyfriend Nick Nelson’s (Kit Connor) bedroom wall. Gently pulling down the pictures, taken on the beach day they made their relationship official, Charlie smiles wistfully at their younger selves: “We look like babies.”

It’s a line that applies to the characters as much as it does to Locke and Connor. Four years after being catapulted into global stardom, the pair are bidding a bittersweet farewell to the roles that have defined their own coming of age.

“Season 1 does feel like an immensely long time ago that I do look back and think, ‘Yeah, we do look like babies,’” Connor says, with Locke nodding in agreement next to him on a recent video call from London. “‘Heartstopper’ itself was this tiny little show that was clearly something quite special to us, but we didn’t really think or know anyone was going to watch. And, suddenly, it became this thing that was immensely important to a lot of people.”

Adapted by Alice Oseman from her own bestselling graphic novels, which originated as a webcomic in 2016, “Heartstopper” chronicles the endearing love story between high-strung, gay overthinker Charlie and kind-hearted, bisexual rugby player Nick at an all-boys’ school in England.

Nick (Kit Connor) and Charlie (Joe Locke) in a scene from Season 1 of “Heartstopper.”

(Netflix)

Upon its debut in 2022, the show was lauded for its unabashedly joyful, tender portrayal of queer youth — a refreshing departure from the trauma-heavy narratives that dominate other teen dramas. Even as “Heartstopper” ventured into darker thematic territory, such as Charlie’s history of eating disorders and struggles with self-harm, Oseman’s writing never lost its deft, light touch.

From the outset, Oseman knew she wanted to end “Heartstopper” with Nick going off to university in Leeds and Charlie, who is a year younger, finding independence as head boy at school. But with her cast growing increasingly more in demand every year, the author-turned-screenwriter says it would have been logistically difficult to make a fourth and final season.

After Netflix greenlit a two-hour finale instead, Oseman elected to zero in on her protagonists — not unlike her comics — rather than give each character their own, heavily condensed arc. “I think that was definitely the right decision, because we really get to spend a lot of time with Nick and Charlie and not feel like we’re missing anything,” she says.

Directed by Wash Westmoreland (“Colette,” “Still Alice”), “Forever” finds the first loves grappling with the reality of an impending long-distance relationship, leading to a rash breakup and, ultimately, an emotional reconciliation. In a surprising role reversal, as Charlie confidently steps into a leadership role as an advocate for other LGBTQ+ students, Nick is left to discover his own identity and self-worth outside of being the protective, supportive boyfriend.

On the set of “Heartstopper Forever” as Connor and Locke film a scene from the movie.

(Samuel Dore / Netflix)

Connor, who also executive produced the film with Locke, felt Charlie and Nick’s romance would be better wrapped up in a feature-length format. “There were a few very important and crucial, but short and intense [plot points] — the breakup and the time apart, and the eventual makeup and the two of them discovering who they are without one another,” he explains. “Doing it in a shorter period, I thought, would make those things hit that much harder and feel that much more visceral.”

Unlike previous seasons in which she could rely on her existing comics as storyboards for the show, Oseman was working simultaneously last year on the sixth and final volume of the “Heartstopper” comics, released earlier this month, and the “Forever” screenplay.

Juggling the same story in two different formats turned out to benefit each end product. “When I finished writing the first draft of the script, it actually made me do a really big rewrite of the comic, because it helped me see which moments were really important and which moments didn’t need to be there,” she says. (One of the pivotal scenes was the Pride parade, filmed on the last morning of production.)

As first-time producers, Locke and Connor also provided script notes that directly influenced the story. For instance, “there was no scene between Charlie and Mr. Ajayi in the original script,” says Locke, referring to the gay art teacher, played by Fisayo Akinade, whose classroom became Charlie’s safe haven from bullying before he befriended Nick. “I was like, ‘That scene in Season 1 with them is so pivotal to the story. It would be really lovely to have just a little moment for them in the film that circles on that chapter of their relationship.’ And straight away, Alice was like, ‘Yeah, great idea. Let’s do this.’”

For his part, Connor always feared that the show’s “rose-tinted” approach, though part of the story’s appeal, “would not be nuanced enough to talk about the complexities of being human and being young.”

Locke says he proposed a scene with Fisayo Akinade, who plays art teacher Mr. Ajayi, as a way to circle back on their relationship.

(Netflix)

“There was one moment where I was like, ‘Oh God, I hope these young people watching “Heartstopper” don’t suddenly forget that these kids are human, and that these kids can make mistakes and still be lovely, delightful and good people,’” Connor says. With Oseman and Locke, Connor was adamant about “finding the place [where] these characters were being treated in a way that we all felt good about.”

According to Oseman, Locke and Connor were also heavily involved in selecting a new intimacy coordinator, Robbie Taylor Hunt. Over the years, the amount of sex — or lack thereof — in “Heartstopper” has been the subject of much discourse. “It always annoyed me slightly that people were like, ‘Oh, this is so unrealistic. They’re not having sex.’ They were underage. What do you want us to do?” Locke says with a wry laugh.

Oseman has learned to tune out that online chatter, accepting that she cannot please everyone — let alone represent the entire spectrum of the young queer experience. With each season and now this film, her creative team chose to age up the story slightly. After Charlie and Nick lost their virginity to each other at the end of Season 3, the film uses physical intimacy to reveal more about their maturing relationship.

Locke says those scenes were necessary to the plot. “The pier sex scene is this carnal lust between these two people who need to get it out. The sex scene in the pillow fort is a moment of connection for them,” he says. “And the big sex scene at the end of the film is the reconciliation of their relationship.”

In the end, Nick and Charlie decide to give their relationship another shot, confident that their love can defy the conventional wisdom that teen romances rarely last. But what they learn during their split is “that you can’t put all of your hopes and dreams, your mental health and your ability to survive into one person, because it’s not fair on yourself and on that other person,” Connor says.

Over the years, the amount of sex, or lack of it, in “Heartstopper” has been the subject of online discourse. The film shows more physical intimacy.

(Netflix)

The film’s epilogue, like in the comics, offers a brief glimpse of Charlie visiting Nick for a weekend in Leeds, ending with the two of them looking through the pages of a scrapbook that still has room for new photos. While Oseman has her own vision of Nick and Charlie’s future in 10 years — they’d be newly married with a dog, she believes — the actors who play them aren’t so sure.

“I feel like the beauty of ‘Heartstopper’ is that we get to see a chapter of these two young men’s lives, and it ends in a way that doesn’t promise anything,” Connor says. “Even if they were to not end up together eventually, it wouldn’t make the experience that they shared together any less special or pivotal to who they are as people. I think that’s kind of beautiful.”

Locke is reluctant to divulge his own interpretation of the characters’ future, preferring instead to let viewers make sense of the hopeful ending. “I hope they’re happy,” he says simply. (But for the record, the actors both believe that Charlie and Nick will stay together. “Of course, we all hope so,” Connor clarifies.)

Although she is ready to tell new stories, Oseman believes that she will be revisiting Nick and Charlie, who first appeared in her 2014 debut novel “Solitaire,” “in small ways for the rest of my life.”

“I think there definitely won’t be another 10-year-long webcomic — probably not — but I love thinking about what Nick and Charlie might be up to when they’re 40 or 60,” Oseman says. However, she adds, “I think the main story of ‘Heartstopper’ has concluded, and I do feel good about that.”

Like their high school characters, Locke and Connor are ready to graduate from the “Heartstopper” universe. Wary of being typecast, they have established themselves as versatile stage actors, making their Broadway debuts in “Sweeney Todd” and “Romeo + Juliet,” respectively. Onscreen, Locke joined the Marvel universe in “Agatha All Along,” while Connor has explored vastly different cinematic genres — his next major project, the film adaptation of the dark fantasy video game “Elden Ring,” will reunite him with “Warfare” director Alex Garland.

Even on the day of our interview, Connor and Locke looked a world away from Nick and Charlie. Locke wore an all-black designer outfit, while Connor — dressed in a light blue striped button-down over a white tank and khakis — had traded Nick’s signature floppy hair for designer stubble. Yet both actors have made peace with the reality that they will forever be linked to each other and their roles. “That’s part and parcel of the job,” Connor says.

Fittingly, the last scene Connor and Locke filmed as Nick and Charlie was the anniversary scene in the park where there is a fallen tree with the letters “N+C” carved into the trunk. “It was lovely because it was back to how a lot of the ‘Heartstopper’ experience has been, which is just me and Joe,” Connor says.

“I love thinking about what Nick and Charlie might be up to when they’re 40 or 60,” says creator Alice Oseman. However, she adds, “I think the main story of ‘Heartstopper’ has concluded, and I do feel good about that.”

(Netflix)

Would they be open to revisiting Charlie and Nick’s love story as older adults? “In 10, 15, 20 years, who knows? Maybe,” Connor says. “Even if Alice were to decide that they wanted to make a TV show about another character in the universe of ‘Heartstopper’ and they wanted us to cameo or something, then, hey, maybe.”

While the “Heartstopper” team expected the series to resonate with younger audiences, they have been particularly moved by the reactions of older queer viewers, who have marveled at the strides in LGBTQ+ representation onscreen. Coming from the world of young-adult fiction — where she notes stories of queer joy are abundant — Oseman recalls being surprised that “Heartstopper” was treated as an anomaly in mainstream media. Still, she is proud to have helped move the needle on LGBTQ+ representation, particularly when such characters remain underrepresented.

“My hope is that people will be able to look back … and say, ‘Hey, “Heartstopper” did really well. Let’s make another queer show that’s got the [same] ‘queer joy’ vibes,’” Oseman says. “I hope it’s been able to give that encouragement to the people in power to let there be more stories out there because we just need more, different kinds of queer stories.”

Connor believes that anyone can enjoy the show because “Heartstopper” simply captures the universality of “human beings being happy and being in love.”

“Obviously, the [queer] representation is incredibly important. I think that the very existence of the show and the comfort and safety that it can bring people is one of the things that makes it so special,” Connor says. And the demand for such stories “isn’t going to change,” he adds. “Queer people are always going to exist.”

EXCLUSIVE: Hollyoaks newcomer Charlotte Riley, who replaced original Leah Barnes actress Ela-May Demircan, has revealed the pressure of taking on the role amid backlash

Hollyoaks‘ new Leah Barnes actress Charlotte Riley has shared her reaction to backlash from viewers aimed at bosses.

After the role was recast and original actress Ela-May Demircan was replaced, newcomer Charlotte confessed there was “pressure” with taking on the role. Hearing out why fans weren’t impressed about the changes to the character, Charlotte explained why the role was recast.

She also, in an exclusive chat with the Mirror, defended the changes to Leah as fans called out the character’s “personality transplant”. Hollyoaks bosses planned the change in order to take the character of Leah down a different route.

As for the changes to Leah as a person, it’s very much to do with her time in LA. Charlotte hopes the show will explore some of Leah’s past, while she added that we will see another side to Leah very soon.

On the backlash, Charlotte sympathised: “There is definitely pressure. I obviously understand it because when you watch your favourite show, and they recast someone, you’re like, it’s not her!

“I would be the exact same honestly. People don’t like change, myself included, but I think that’s why people need to get comfortable with change in that life changes people.

“People grow and that’s what they wanted to do with Leah, take her down a different route. She’s been in LA, she’s been studying, and she’s changed as a person.

“She’s had these American influences, and her style’s changed.” Charlotte also explained that a lot of the confidence and chaos we are seeing with Leah is a front she’s putting on.

She told us: “There’s a lot that’s gone on and you never lose your inner self. She has past trauma like with the loss of her mum, she’s not completely changed. But she’s got these great cover-ups, she puts on a front for everyone.

“In the summer we will see it deteriorate a bit. She’s not always perfect and she wants to put on a front. Finding this new aspiration of being an influencer, it’s given her confidence to change as a person.”

Charlotte is loving her time on the soap though, and she talked about reuniting with her Coronation Street co-stars Lewis Walton and Brook Debio, who both recently joined the Channel 4 soap too. She said: “Brook found out way before anything, then Lewis and then it just happened, it was me!

“I love it, it still doesn’t feel real and I don’t think it ever will. When you’re constantly doing auditions and it’s rejection therapy, when you do get the job it’s like imposter syndrome.

“But I have found my feet a bit, and I’m settled in now. I love it. I’m constantly living in that dream and doing what I have wanted to do since I was little.”

Hollyoaks is available to stream on Channel 4’s streaming service now, while it also airs Mondays to Wednesdays on E4 at 7PM. * Follow Mirror Celebs and TV on TikTok , Snapchat , Instagram , Twitter , Facebook , YouTube and Threads .

London — It’s a scorching day and the city feels blanketed by the heat. Even the unusually strong air conditioning in a suite at the Raffles hotel is no match for the temperature. Octavia Spencer immediately peels off her jacket after entering the room and realizing there are no cameras present for our interview. Hannah Waddingham, her co-star in “Ride or Die,” kicks off her heels as they settle onto a plush sofa.

“You’ve seen that we look nice,” Spencer says. “So now we can do this.”

There’s a relaxed, familiar vibe between the actors. They didn’t know each other prior to filming the series, now streaming on Prime Video, but they did develop a real-life friendship during production in Prague last year. It was perhaps inevitable considering that “Ride or Die,” created by Tessa Coates, is about two best friends whose relationship is upended when one of them is revealed to be a professional assassin.

Spencer, 56, plays Debbie Claybourne, a lawyer whose career has been put on hold due to her British husband David’s political aspirations. The actor was approached by Skydance, now part of Paramount, as part of a development deal with the studio. She said yes almost immediately, and by happenstance both she and the producers imagined Waddingham, 51, in the role of Judith Burton, a skilled assassin who works for a shady organization run by the Director (Bill Nighy).

“It was always just the two of us for these roles,” says Spencer, who won an Oscar in 2012 for “The Help.” “We did a Zoom and I was sitting there thinking, ‘I hope she says yes.’”

In “Ride or Die,” Spencer plays Debbie, a lawyer and wife of a British politician, who is best friends with secret assassin Judith, played by Waddingham. (Dusan Martincek / Prime)

“It’s Octavia Spencer and I’m thinking, ‘Be cool, be cool,’” Waddingham chimes in. “Octavia and Tessa start telling me the plot and at the end I said, ‘Who the hell are you going to get to play Judith?’ Octavia’s face filled the whole screen and she said, ‘We want to make you Judith, dummy.’”

Each professes to be a fan of the other, but Spencer is particularly effusive. She admits to initially having to remind herself that Waddingham is, in fact, an actual person and not Rebecca Welton, her character on “Ted Lasso.” She turns to her co-star. “We know you’re a brilliant comedian, but you also showed us in ‘Game of Thrones’ this depth,” Spencer tells Waddingham, adding, “With her beauty and that statuesque presence she has, this role was literally written with a woman of her caliber in mind.”

Waddingham turns red. “I’m not good when she does this,” she admits.

“Well, it’s very true,” Spencer responds. “I think it was kismet. I knew it was meant to be when we were at the upfronts for Amazon and we were in the wings with Will Ferrell and Reese Witherspoon, just chatting it up. I’ve always had severe stage fright. They walked out and I got really quiet, centered myself, and then I felt these arms around me. She wrapped me up from behind, and it was like, ‘OK, I’m good.’ That’s what it has felt like this entire process.”

Waddingham’s memory of that day, her second time meeting Spencer after their first call, is slightly different. “Octavia is so established in Hollywood,” she says. “I’m still a newcomer in this town. So I was having the worst impostor syndrome that day. I was thinking, ‘I look like a competition winner.’”

Nerves settled by the time the production started in January 2025. Before joining forces in Prague, Waddingham flew to Ischgl, an Austrian ski town known for its party vibe, to shoot the show’s opening sequence. The James Bond-style scene introduces Judith as talented, serious and a bit of a loner. That perception is quickly upended when the character arrives at Debbie’s home in London for their book club meeting and the duo begin singing along to Salt-N-Pepa’s “Shoop.”

“Octavia is so established in Hollywood,” Waddingham says of meeting her co-star. “I’m still a newcomer in this town.”

(Bexx Francois / For The Times)

“That was our first scene together and we didn’t plan anything or talk about it,” Waddingham says. “But we had an unspoken, organic process.”

“We had a lot of trust,” Spencer adds. “I knew she was going to come in with 1000% and that I was going to too. Some of those things you figure out when you’re on the set and some of those things just happen in the moment.”

Showrunner Matt Miller points to the scene as evidence of the actors’ “instant chemistry.”

“It really feels like this is a friendship that has endured 25 years from the moment they get on screen,” Miller says, speaking with Coates over video call later. “From the second you see them dancing around, you’re like, ‘Oh yeah, these two are best friends.’”

Coates and Miller wanted to ensure that the characters’ history was baked into the scripts. They’ve been friends for decades, so there had to be a shorthand between them that was immediately apparent and they had to be on equal footing. The duo are forced on the run across Europe, dogged by their past, and successfully get themselves out of danger.

“These characters came from a great desire to see women like this on screen,” Coates says. “So many stories suggest aging is the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. But what if getting older seemed really cool and you got wiser and better at your job and gave less of a s— about things?”

Coates adds they wanted both characters to be competent and clever women who happen to be thrown into difficult circumstances.

“Women in their 50s are just as capable, just as beautiful, just as sexy,” Spencer says. “We’re just aging.”

Spencer and Waddingham, both executive producers on the series, never sought top billing over the other. Although the show is ostensibly an action comedy, they wanted to ground it in real emotions. Everything is tethered to this friendship.

“Women in their 50s are just as capable, just as beautiful, just as sexy,” Octavia Spencer says. “We’re just aging.”

(Bexx Francois / For The Times)

“There couldn’t be one more important than the other,” Waddingham says. “The thing they say about relationships is that when one is at 90 and the other is at 10, or one is at 80 and the other is at 20. That’s what this had to be straight away. If you have that pendulum back and forth, you can create magic.”

Although both characters find small romances throughout the story, men are sidelined for the far more important relationship: their own. And it’s not always an easy partnership between them.

“There is a love story at the center of this,” Spencer says. “It’s not a romantic love story, but it is a familial relationship. It’s contentious, and the relationship is fractious at points.”

Waddingham adds, “You have to be able to call each other out, and then get through that storm and let the water settle.”

Still, there is a lot of action in “Ride or Die.” Judith frequently kicks ass, often taking on groups of imposing men. It’s deeply satisfying to watch Waddingham, who did most of her own stunt work, take these men down.

“In theater, I never had an alternate,” she explains. “I’m not usually Method, but with this I thought my exhaustion from fighting and the stunt training would lend itself to Judith’s exhaustion and her frailty. It wasn’t particularly healthy, if I’m honest, but that fractured tiredness really helped play the role.”

She adds, “It’s a real art form. The first stunt work I did was on ‘The Fall Guy’ and learning to stop before you punch someone in the face is hard.”

“That’s why I was terrified for you,” Spencer interjects. “Because I did punch somebody in the face. The only other time that I actually had to do stunts was on ‘Snowpiercer.’ It was so exciting watching you, but then I was like, ‘Somebody could hit her for real.’”

Waddingham felt added pressure knowing Judith’s background. “She’s not just an assassin, she’s a notorious assassin of 30 years,” she says. “If you see her punching someone, like when we’re running out of the gala, that punch can’t be some girly thing. You have to believe she can do it perfectly and effortlessly.”

Waddingham did much of her own stunt work in “Ride or Die.” “It’s a real art form. The first stunt work I did was on ‘The Fall Guy’ and learning to stop before you punch someone in the face is hard.”

(Bexx Francois / For The Times)

Both actors approached the show with complete dedication. Waddingham and Spencer appear in almost every scene, which vacillate between action, comedy and drama. Debbie, named after Coates’ mother, feels betrayed by Judith and her husband, who is involved in shady dealings with an Albanian gang. “There were the rigors of it physically, but there was also the emotional rigor of it,” Waddingham says.

“It might have been the most challenging job that I’ve ever done,” Spencer agrees. “The most challenging, but also the most gratifying. I knew I would not be called upon to do any stunt sequences, but I did have physical stuff I needed to do. And then dealing with the emotional weight of Debbie discovering that two very important relationships are not at all what she thought they were was a lot.”

She pauses. “But you know what, why not?” she continues. “We don’t want to be in a comfortable place all the time. You want to know you completed something that was very difficult to do. I feel very proud now, looking back.”

“We couldn’t have left our hearts and our bodies and our brains on it any more than we did,” Waddingham agrees. “It is splattered with us. I’ve been very privileged to go from ‘Ted Lasso’ to this, because ‘Ted’ is a very hard act to follow in terms of that constant and emotional push and pull. This has that as well.”

While filming “Ride or Die,” Waddingham found out Apple TV had greenlit a fourth season of “Ted Lasso,” which premieres Aug. 5. She wasn’t expecting to be pulled back to her Emmy-winning role of Rebecca after the series ostensibly concluded in 2023. “I didn’t know anything about it,” she says. “No clue.”

“We found that out together,” Spencer says.

Waddingham had only two weeks off after wrapping “Ride or Die” before flying to Kansas to film the first episode of Season 4, which sees Rebecca attempting to lure Jason Sudeikis’ Ted back to London to coach Richmond’s women’s soccer team. The rest of the series then shot in England. The new episodes keep Rebecca as one of the emotional cores of the show.

“I haven’t really stopped since then,” Waddingham says. “When I’m older, I’m going to have a little sleep. But this is what you wait for in your life.”

For Spencer, “Ride or Die” has raised the bar on what type of project she wants to do as a producer and as an actor.

“It is hard to get things made,” Spencer says. “I don’t have time to do things just for a paycheck. It has to resonate with me because your time and health are your most valuable commodities, and time is something that you have no control over. As an artist, I want to be fulfilled and when you get a project like this now everything has to compare. I’ve learned to be very discerning.”

She gestures to Waddingham. “Don’t you want to be excited about things?” she asks.

“Yes,” Waddingham agrees. “And it just doesn’t happen very often. But this was remarkable from the beginning. To be able to spend a couple of days together right now and regroup, it’s almost like a therapy session. We’ve had distance to reflect on all the good and all the exhausting, and on what we have created together. I know that neither of us will ever forget this.”

Spencer nods. “It is a dream. I feel very fortunate that we get to look for projects like this for ourselves and have an active voice in procuring those things for ourselves and for other people. But you dream it, and then you get something like this, and it surpasses everything you ever thought you could want.”

In the latest episode of “The De Los Podcast,” actor and comedian Fabrizio Guido spoke with hosts Fidel Martinez and Suzy Exposito about his role in the Netflix series “Running Point” — as well as being a part of a new wave of young Latino Hollywood stars and how he got his start in the stand-up comedy world.

Having grown up in L.A. himself, Guido talked about owning the persona of “Running Point” character Jackie Moreno: a concession-worker-turned-executive-assistant from Boyle Heights.

“I just felt I had all the tools necessary to bring this character to life,” Guido said. “It was a really important opportunity for people to see this side of L.A. … to get to know that kid that you see on the street or at the mall [and say] ‘Oh, that guy reminds me of Jackie.’”

Part of the appeal of the character was the chance to “showcase how much heart L.A. has.”

Alongside actors like Xolo Maridueña, Keyla Monterroso Mejia, Isabela Merced and Jenna Ortega, Guido is part of a new class of young Latinos taking Hollywood by storm — something the “Running Point” star said is “an honor.”

“It can be isolating if you’re the only Latino on a set,” Guido shared. “So to have peers that share a similar upbringing as you — you walk away with a friendship most of the time because you have stuff in common.”

He also mentioned that the bump in Latino talent has led to diversity in roles within the community.

“For the longest time, it could’ve been stereotypical — the only things Latino could play,” Guido said. “For the first time we’re starting to see this emergence of what it means for each one of us to be Latino. I’m bringing my experience to the table, Keyla is bringing her experience to the table, Xolito is bringing his. We’re not going by what the industry thinks Latino is, we’re bringing what we think Latino is.”

But beyond the acting world, Guido has also tackled the stand-up comedy scene in recent years.

He shared that he got his first gig thanks to comedian Gabriel Iglesias, who he worked with on the Netflix sitcom “Mr. Iglesias.” The arena comic convinced Guido to do a five-minute set — which Guido worked on for two weeks — at the Brea Improv.

“I got on stage, did my first joke and was super nervous,” he said. “Second joke did really well and it afforded me enough time to get present and then I ran through my five minutes, got off stage a different person. I knew I was in love. I felt like something in my life had shifted in that moment and I’ve been in love with stand-up ever since.”

Death in Paradise has seen a number of faces come and go over the years, but fans are now calling for change.

Fans of the BBC show are calling for a change in future series.

Currently, the long-running crime drama is filming its 16th season as the Death in Paradise cast are sharing glimpses of their time behind-the-scenes.

While the likes of Don Gilet, Shantol Jackson and shaquille Ali-Yebuah are reprising their roles, viewers are keen to see some other familiar faces on the programme have more of a staple role.

On a Reddit thread, one person asked: “Apart from Selwyn and Catherine, have there been any other recurring characters in DiP? As in, are there Saint Marie residents who have been brought back in subsequent seasons?

“I’m not really referring to characters who are brought in for multiple episodes to fulfil a storyline (such as Sophie for Neville, or Mervin’s brother, for instance).

People were quick to share their thoughts on the matter, highlighting that the taxi driver is a frequent character alongside the ambulance staff that appear in certain episodes, reports the Express.

One fan replied: “See, that makes me wonder why they haven’t made him sort of a character instead of just an extra. He could add some local flavour to the show. Give us a better sense of island life, if you know what I mean.”

Another chimed in: “I was thinking of him too (the taxi man), but he feels more like a background extra than a proper “character” most of the time tbh. Still wild how a tiny island somehow has infinite one-episode guest stars but almost no regulars.”With someone else adding: “YES. This is what I mean. Why are there barely any locals? It would give the series some depth and breadth.”

Over the years, Death in Paradise devotees have watched a steady stream of familiar faces arrive and depart on the fictional Caribbean island of Sainte Marie.

A host of detectives have led the show, including DI Richard Poole (Ben Miller), DI Humphrey Goodman (Kris Marshall), DI Jack Mooney (Ardal O’Hanlon), DI Neville Parker (Ralf Little) and most recently DI Mervin Wilson (Don Gilet).

Yet it is only Commissioner Selwyn Patterson (played by Don Warrington) and Catherine Bordey (played by Élizabeth Bourgine) who have featured in the BBC series since its very first series back in 2011.

Sadly, fans may have to exercise some patience before finding out whether their wishes are granted, as the current series remains in production, with the cast currently out in the Caribbean shooting season 16.

Earlier this year, it was announced that the show had been recommissioned for a further two series and two Christmas specials.

Death in Paradise is available to watch on BBC iPlayer

“Writers are always selling somebody out,” Joan Didion once wrote. She was talking about journalists, but it can be just as true of novelists. Whether the genre is romantasy or autofiction, making up stories often demands making up stories about real people — exploiting them — to serve a narrative purpose.

Cali Adeline’s debut novel, “People Watching in the Desert,” gives this thorny ethical business an impressively complex treatment for a book that comes on like a beach read. Sonny, its hero, has checked into Sanctuary, a spendy Phoenix-area resort, for an extended stay. She’s 25 and unemployed, and it’s unclear at first how she acquired the funds to splurge on an on-site cottage with a pool, 90-minute massages, and various forced-fun adventures. It’s also unclear why she chose a five-star resort for the splurging, given her discomfort with everything from the menu on down. Sitting down for dinner alone, she “discreetly googled some of the words on her phone under the table: cotija, calabacitas, tabbouleh, bisque.”

Adeline lays out a breadcrumb trail that eventually reveals that Sonny has lugged some especially heavy personal baggage to Sanctuary. Her neglectful, addict mom died when she was a child, only to be replaced with a repressive, overprotective grandmother who stomped on her every ambition. Early adulthood has been defined by failed relationships and uninspiring work. People are to be feared: She’d sooner indulge in croquettes at the resort’s cocktail party than make small talk with other vacationers, and when she braves the world outside her cottage it’s usually with a notebook in her hand.

The early pages of “People Watching” weave Sonny’s perspective with brief sketches of her fellow resort-goers, which usually open with godlike authority: “Allana was ten feet tall and beautiful.” “Chloe and Mark had been married for seven blissful years.” “Dale was invisible. He had that way about him.” The odd bluntness of these statements, combined with their touches of surreality (“ten feet tall”?), makes clear that these mini-bios are scribblings from Sonny’s notebook. Terrified of the world, but determined to better understand what she’s been excluded from for so long, she’s determined to imagine her way into reality.

Sonny’s Walter Mitty-like imaginings do some valuable double duty in the novel. For one thing, they offer some necessary conflict in a setting that’s all about relieving tension. Resorts are, almost by definition, boring, but as Sonny hangs out poolside or does yoga or endures a singing bowl, her mind (and the novel) is reeling with imagined infidelities, deaths, gambling debts and other domestic dramas. Second, her sketches serve as character-defining examples of projection on Sonny’s part, as her observations of others reveal her own concerns about love, sex, money and rejection.

And, of course, she’s deflecting, too — better to make up drama about others than confront her own. The memories Sonny eventually surfaces are more potent than anything she makes up. But they’re also crueler, and you can understand why she’ll think and write about anything but. She recalls a time as a child when she was neglected for days on end and braved a trip to a neighbor for help. “The woman asked Sonny when the last time she took a bath or changed her clothes was and Sonny didn’t know the answer. Her only response was, ‘I’m four,’ as she proudly held up five fingers,” Adeline writes. “She was three.”

Remember the words “beach read” up there? It’s not difficult to predict how Sonny’s arc will curve: It’s a Walter Mitty story, but also an Ugly Duckling story. That notebook full of mini-dramas becomes a source of drama in itself. Say, that bartender is pretty cute, isn’t he? And Sonny eventually integrates with a few of her fellow resort-goers, and learns there’s more to them in reality than her imaginings. As one character gently chastises her, “People can surprise you, Sonny, but you have to let them.”

The pat-ness of Sonny’s Sanctuary journey makes her yet another entry in an evolving genre you might call “Is This Character Concussed?” In these novels, the main character has been so absurdly addled by a (late-revealed) trauma that everyday human interactions are wildly aglow with (at first) terror or (later) manic-pixie wonder. Prime examples include Gail Honeyman’s “Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine,” Sayaka Murata’s “Convenience Store Woman,” and multiple characters in the oeuvre of Sally Rooney and Ottessa Moshfegh. (Women are the most common character in these books, but guys can play too: See Fredrik Backman’s “A Man Called Ove.”) Socially awkward characters offer an opportunity for dry humor and deadpan prose. Because these stories have to dramatize a search for normalcy, its leads tend to be awkward in ways that strain credulity.

But you don’t have to wholly buy into the idea of a character like Sonny to find something intriguing about what Adeline is saying about storytelling throughout “People Watching.” In Sonny’s notebook, every observation is a moral choice, a mini-essay about what proper conduct is, what failure is, how you might get past it, and what our responsibilities to others might be. A notebook is a place of wish fulfilment, and a place for vengeance. Sonny explains at one point that she only started to get free of her grandmother’s clutches once she was capable of imagining her violently erased:

“I wrote a story. About her. And how one day while I was at work the house caught fire. Which wasn’t that far-fetched because the whole place really was a fire hazard. And … and … well, she was asleep inside the house, in the story, and didn’t make it out. I didn’t mean it. I was angry. And it was a story.”

Adeline stresses the word “story” three times in one brief passage. Sonny wants to reassure everybody that she was just making it up. But no writer is, not entirely.

Athitakis is a writer in Phoenix and author of “The New Midwest.”

SACHA Baron Cohen has brought back the iconic Ali G character at Wimbledon ahead of a new film.

Sacha, 54, first played faux-streetwise poseur from Staines in 1998 on The 11 O’Clock Show before landing his own series, Da Ali G Show.

Sacha last played Ali G in 2014 but at the men’s singles final at Wimbledon on Sunday, the star resurrected the character.

Sitting in Centre Court, Ali wore a Wimbledon-coloured tracksuit with the motif ‘Official Ganja Dealer’ on the back, hat, heavy gold chain and glasses, Sacha sported his alter ego‘s facial hair, and attitude.

Ali also joined Instagram to share videos from the tournament and said: “I iz BACK!

“And if u iz at dis borin wimbledore final lookin 2 get grand slammed, I iz here wif de hookup.  dm me, especially if u iz fit.”

ISLA BE BACK

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He also shared a shot of a DVD of his TV series and wrote: “dm me if u want to buy one of these DVD box sets.

“Me iz got like 10,000 of dem. Dey iz very rare. Free pickup in the northwest surrey area.”

Sacha’s appearance at Wimbledon as Ali G comes as he prepares a new film for his comic creation.

While few details are known at the moment, in July last year, The Sun exclusively revealed pictures of Sacha in character as Ali as he filmed in a Cotswolds zoo park.

A passer-by who saw the filming in ­Chipping Norton, said: “He was with a whole film crew and was in full character.

“He seemed very comfortable in the role. I was amazed, I thought to myself ‘that’s Ali G’.

“He clearly updated Ali G’s ­wardrobe. He’s replaced his tracksuit and skull cap, but he still had gold jewellery and tinted shades.”

As well as Da Ali G Show, which ran for three series until 2004, he also had a film, Ali G Indahouse, in 2002.

When the cast members and creators of the 1990s “X-Men: The Animated Series” reunited at the 2019 Hill Country Comicon in New Braunfels, Texas, they went out for dinner and collectively yearned to one day work together again.

“We said, ‘Let’s put it to the universe: Universe, why don’t you manifest that somebody buys the rights to the show and decides to reboot it and bring us all back.’ We toasted the universe and here we are,” recalls Canadian actor Lenore Zann, the voice of the irresistibly tough Rogue, during a recent video call while visiting Los Angeles.

The result of that metaphysical request is Marvel’s “X-Men ’97,” which debuted in 2024 on Disney+, not as a reboot but as a continuation of the original 1992 classic animated show.

The first season of this new era for the X-Men received an Emmy nomination for animated program. Now, the long-awaited second season has arrived, with the fourth episode streaming this week. Even after the controversial firing of showrunner Beau DeMayo, “X-Men ’97” has already been renewed through Season 4 and the voice cast has started recording their lines for Season 3, Zann says.

The show’s success with both fans and critics is in large part due to its commitment to honor the original ‘90s show, about a group of mutants fighting for themselves and for humanity, not only by preserving its hand-drawn animation style and mature themes but also the voices and personalities of the characters.

“When I pitched the show to Kevin [Feige], he got it immediately and his first question was, ‘Are you going to get the original cast back?’ And I was like, ‘Yes, we are,’” says Brad Winderbaum, head of Marvel Television, Animation, Comics and Franchise at Marvel Studios.

Several voice actors from the original “X-Men” animated series returned for “X-Men ‘97,” which has returned for Season 2. From left, Beast (George Buza), Bishop (Isaac Robinson-Smith), Rogue (Lenore Zann), Professor X (Ross Marquand), Magneto (Matthew Waterson) and Nightcrawler (Adrian Hough).

(Marvel)

Not everyone was still around to return — Norm Spencer, voice of Cyclops, died in 2020 — but in addition to Zann, actors George Buza (Beast), Alison Sealy-Smith (Storm), and Cal Dodd, the voice of the lovable clawed grouch Wolverine, have reprised their roles in “X-Men ’97.” Their emblematic voice performances, Winderbaum says, are baked into his psyche.

“Any time Lenore says the word ‘sugah,’ it just makes me melt into a puddle on the floor,” Winderbaum says, laughing. “She is Rogue and, when she turns it on, she becomes an icon.”

Busy with her political career as part of Canada’s parliament, Zann stepped away from the entertainment business for over a decade. Zann was back home in Truro, Nova Scotia, figuring out her next chapter when she received an email from a friend who said producers at Disney were looking to have her audition for a show. She was skeptical.

Zann eventually got a call from casting director Meredith Layne and a screenplay with lines that were instantly familiar from her time voicing Rogue, the spunky heroine whose touch can be deadly, in the ‘90s.

”I thought, ‘I guess they’re looking for Rogue, so I’ll just give them Rogue,’” she recalls, laughing. “And I did my Rogue voice, which is basically just my own, but with a bit of a Southern accent thrown on,” she adds with a slight twang.

The producers then asked her if she would reprise her superhero for a new generation of kids.

Doing her Rogue voice, Zann recalls: “I said, ‘You had me at hello, sugah.’”

She revels in the similarities between her and Rogue. “We’re both social justice warriors. We really fight for people to be accepted as who they are.”

In 2024, Zann published “A Rogue’s Tale: A Memoir,” a tome recounting her storied life, titled after a memorable episode in the ‘90s series that revealed her beloved mutant’s backstory.

Wolverine in a scene from Season 2 of “X-Men ’97.”

(Marvel)

For Dodd, leaving behind Wolverine after five seasons of the original show felt like losing a part of himself. “X-Men ’97” offered him a chance to feel complete once again.

“I was so happy because when I first created the voice of Wolverine in ‘92, he became very quickly like my brother or my right arm,” Dodd says during a recent video call. “I got my arm back, and my brother.”

After all these years, Dodd was also pleased to see how the most important character of his career looked in the new series. “Out walks Wolverine and I just went, ‘Holy crap, you look great, bub,’” he recalls, laughing about his first time recording lines for “X-Men ‘97.”

When he first auditioned for the role in the ‘90s, Dodd had no idea who Wolverine or the X-Men were. At the time, he was making a living as a singer for commercials and jingles in Toronto.

Dodd remembers the lines he was asked to deliver were directed at the villainous mutant Sabretooth. He had never seen an image of Wolverine or any of the characters. “At one point, I said to them, ‘Is this an animal cartoon?’ They just thought I was a complete imbecile,” he recalls with a chuckle.

In that initial scene, where Sabretooth attacked Jubilee, a member of the X-Men who Wolverine sees as a daughter, his line was: “All right, you egg-sucking piece of gutter trash. You always like pushing around people shorter than you. Well, I’m shorter. Try pushing me.” Dodd recites it from memory in Wolverine’s voice with a growl.

“The lines I was reading, I’d heard them before in the small town that I grew up in Canada; it’s a fisherman’s town, a tough little town,” says Dodd about his reference for Wolverine’s voice. “I knew guys that were exactly like him, and I knew the way they sounded.”

Even without any notion of the X-Men, he nailed it.

“The next morning, they called me and said, ‘We would love to have you as our Wolverine for the very first X-Men animated series,’” Dodd recalls. “And I said, ‘I would love to be your Wolverine, whoever, and whatever he is.’”

1

2

1. Cal Dodd, voice actor for Wolverine in “X-Men ’97.” 2. Lenore Zann, who voices Rogue. (Pauline Aguirre)

When Rogue came into Zann’s life, she already had a notable career as a screen and stage actor. Zann had starred as Marilyn Monroe in a rock opera about the actor’s life, for which she received much praise. “My agent called me and she said, ‘Lenore, they’re doing this animated series, and they’re looking for “a woman with a deep husky, sexy voice who can do a Southern accent,”’” Zann recalls, laughing. “And she said, ‘That’s you!’”

Back then, Zann wasn’t interested in doing voice work, so she missed the first auditions. But about a month later, she says, her agent called again. They still hadn’t found the right voice, so she pushed Zann to audition. She walked in and looked at a drawing of Rogue that Larry Houston, the storyboard artist and director of the show, had drawn.

“She had a very sassy attitude, and she had her hand on her hip and her head back with the hair flowing. I was like, ‘Yeah, I can do that.’ And then I went into the studio, put the headphones on, and opened up my mouth, did the first line: ‘I remember I had a boyfriend, when I kissed him, poor boy went into a coma for three days,’” she says in Rogue’s voice. That was enough for her to land the life-changing part.

At the end of the first season of “X-Men ’97,” both Rogue and Wolverine find themselves in difficult times. Wolverine’s clash with Magneto, the perennial antihero, left him severely injured, physically and mentally.

“He’s as tough as nails and he is more pissed off than anything that he was the only one that stood up to Magneto. He’s disappointed,” says Dodd. “And it’s a struggle for him in Season 2 for a lot of it. And then you see what happens. He’s in a funky place, but he’ll handle it.”

Part of that healing process will involve leaning into the humor tat Dodd imbues in his delivery. “What I think is surprising when you go back and watch that original animated series is how funny Cal is,” says Winderbaum. “Wolverine has amazing one-liners throughout that original series.”

As for Rogue, she is grieving the loss of Gambit, a.k.a. Remy LeBeau, who died in the first season. To voice Rogue’s sorrow, Zann leaned into her own grief over the passing of her 17-year-old niece from cancer. In Season 2, Rogue is trying to move forward.

“She’s still basically on a hero’s journey wanting to get justice for what happened to Remy and for the genocide that she witnessed and that she is a survivor of,” Zann says. “She still got survivor’s guilt, and she’s still trying to find her place within the X-Men now that the one that she loves is gone.”

At comic conventions, Zann and Dodd often meet fans of the original show, who are now adults, and their children, who have also come to love the characters. The emotions that people share with them are at times overwhelming.

“Many times, they tell us that this show saved their lives. They were either LGBTQ+ or they were bullied, or they just felt othered,” Zann explains. “A lot of folks who are Latino tell me that when they were little kids, their parents were agricultural workers, and they learned how to speak English from watching our show. We made them feel it’s OK to be different.”

“I see grown men in tears. They’re in their 40s and they’re crying,” Dodd says about meeting lifelong fans. “I can tell you that Wolverine can cry as well.”

Zann believes the X-Men are like modern-day mythological heroes. Through their fantastical ordeals, the X-Men illustrate qualities that inspire viewers, young and old.

“They are a group of misfits who band together to learn how to control the things that make them different and learn to accept and love themselves,” she says. “It’s an honor to be part of this incredible group of people and these characters that can really touch lives and help change them for the better.”

For its upcoming Los Angeles venue, experiential art firm Meow Wolf will focus on the art of storytelling, with a specific eye toward spoofing our city’s moviemaking magic. To help bring that vision to life, Meow Wolf has entered into a creative partnership with Titmouse, one of L.A.’s most renowned independent animation houses.

The Hollywood-based studio behind popular series such as “Big Mouth” and “Star Trek: Lower Decks” will create animation that will be shown throughout the West L.A. venue, which is on target for a late 2026 opening at the Howard Hughes entertainment complex.

It’s a move that represents a shift for Santa Fe, N.M.-based Meow Wolf. Over the last decade-plus, the art collective has grown beyond its anything-goes, punk-meets-psychedelic roots into an organization with full-scale, maximalist installations in its hometown, Denver, Las Vegas, Houston and the Dallas suburbs. In the past, Meow Wolf kept most of its media in-house.

As part of its larger-than-life participatory art installations, Meow Wolf L.A. will feature a mix of live action and animation, the former filmed by Meow Wolf in its Santa Fe studio. Meow Wolf’s James Stephenson, a senior VP with the company and its creative director of emerging media, said the degree to which the L.A. exhibition will lean into various animation styles necessitated an outside partner. Titmouse’s work, in development by a number of directors with contrasting tones, will be shown on a variety of formats, ranging from cinema screens to full-room projections.

“I really believe in animation as an art form, and I know the Titmouse folks do too,” Stephenson says. “Animation is made by artists. It’s made by artists with their own hands. It’s something that is still very rooted in craft.”

Meow Wolf’s L.A. space is set in a former cinema complex, and will champion its location, taking guests on a journey through a converted movie house and beyond, into a sci-fi-inspired fantasyland with sentient spaceships and a 30-foot-tall mushroom tower. Meow Wolf creatives have spoken of the fantastical movie theater as one that will feature animated, self-aware candy before attendees enter the main exhibition space, making Titmouse’s work some of the first art guests will encounter. Titmouse co-founder Chris Prynoski has said the studio has lined up at least six directors for the exhibit.

An in-progress art installation destined for Meow Wolf L.A. at the art collective’s Santa Fe, N.M., headquarters. The L.A. exhibition will feature animation from Titmouse.

(Gabriela Campos / For The Times)

Titmouse, says Stephenson, is the right partner because “they’re known less for a house style, and more for a house vibe.” Over the years, Titmouse has been behind such diverse shows as “Scavengers Reign,” owning a Jean Giraud influence rooted in French and Spanish surrealism, the lively “Jentry Chau vs. the Underworld,” with an unique color palette that took inspiration from anime and Chinese mythology, the exaggerated comic book feel of Adult Swim’s “Metalocalypse,” and the approachable yet expressive tone of “Star Trek: Lower Decks.”

“Meow Wolf’s vibe is similar to Titmouse’s vibe,” Stephenson says. “It’s artist-first, artist-driven, independent and kinda edgy. They are always trying to find the edge of what’s possible. They try to see how far they can go, and it’s done for fun and in the spirit of taking risks.”

Prynoski says working with Meow Wolf will give Titmouse a sense of artistic freedom it doesn’t always have when delivering content for more traditional Hollywood partners. He says the multi-director approach is a callback to the early days of Warner Bros. Animation, when individual creators put their own stamp on Looney Tunes material.

“I use Bugs Bunny as an example,” Prynoski says. “You’ve got a Friz Freleng Bugs Bunny short. You’ve got a Chuck Jones Bugs Bunny short. You’ve got a Tex Avery Bugs Bunny short. They’re all different versions of Bugs Bunny, and people who are really paying attention can tell which director directed each one. Even though to the layman, these are all Bugs Bunny, but if you lined them up, they are drawing in different styles, sensibilities and techniques.”

Prynoski says that was a centerpiece of his pitch to Meow Wolf, noting that characters will reappear in multiple installations, each handled by a different artist. Meow Wolf L.A., in fact, will be the firm’s most character-driven exhibition, as guests will follow the storylines of three main protagonists throughout the space.

In announcing the partnership, Meow Wolf and Titmouse released an image from an animated work directed by Luca Vitale. It features a key character having a moment with a hummingbird and it’s done in an elegant, slightly anime-influenced style. It’s an image full of movement, reflecting a character in transition with inviting pastels and bold dashes.

“I like that image because I think it captures some of the sense of wonder that we want people to feel,” Stephenson says. “The character is having an encounter with the elusive nature of creativity and reality in a way that makes them have a different perspective of what’s possible.”

Other contributing animation directors to Meow Wolf L.A. include Space Dawg, Felix Colgrave, Alexander Vanderplank and Philémon Martin, and Jun Ioneda.

Titmouse’s partnership with Meow Wolf will extend beyond the L.A. exhibition. The two will be working on the development of Meow Wolf New York, which is slated to open some time after Los Angeles, and are collaborating on a planned animated series, which Prynoski is spearheading.

Meow Wolf exhibits are the result of sometimes hundreds of disparate artists coming together in a shared space. Distilling that into a signature, singular style for a series could be a challenge. Stephenson pinpoints some guiding principles.

“You really need to feel the hand of the artist,” he says. “You need to feel a DIY aesthetic. You need to feel the materiality. Those are very specific to what we are.”

Martina and artist Sketkh Williams, Sketch by Sketkh’s host, provide a welcoming atmosphere across identities, skill levels and nerdy interests, while also playing to their own backgrounds in theater. The sessions feature dramatic lighting, staging and soundtracks, and use professional cosplayers as models. Embodying characters from “Star Wars,” video games, anime and other IP, these pros don’t just dress the part, they take pains to hit their characters’ canonical stances for attendees to capture.

For Martina and Williams, the events are an alternative to nude or more traditional figure drawing sessions. “That just doesn’t interest us,” says Martina. “We’re both theatrical people, so for us part of putting on a show is seeing characters, some cool costume design and a theme.”

• Best for: Practiced amateurs with nerdy interests
• When: Every other Thursday at 7:30 p.m.
• Ticket price: Starts at $23.18

The American democratic experiment stands on shaky ground. Not since the Civil War have these proverbially United States been so disunited. As the nation throws itself a grand old 250th birthday bash in Washington, the mood in much of the country is more funereal than festive.

All-out partisan warfare has sown chaos. Republican legislators, taking their lead from a president who sees half the nation as his personal enemy, have put their own party’s interests over the republic’s. Staying in office has become the only thing that matters. The values imparted to me throughout my public school education — equal opportunity, impartial justice, respect for expertise, basic honesty — have been abandoned by a new breed of politician that has turned governance itself into a blood sport.

Where can one turn for reassurance that America’s best years are still ahead? Would you believe me if I said the theater? I’m not toeing the line for my field. I’m merely calling attention to a development that’s been gaining strength since I first reported on it in 2015. A cohort of playwrights, breathtakingly diverse demographically as well as aesthetically, has been rejuvenating American theater.

These writers aren’t on a sociological mission. They’re not trafficking in grievance or appealing to a particular political base. They let their plays do the talking. And they’ve been trying to have a conversation that isn’t hijacked by the most doctrinaire voices in the room.

From an institutional perspective, the American theater is in bad shape. The triple whammy of the COVID-19 closures, inflation and technological disruption has left everyone hurting. The Mark Taper Forum had to suspend programming for more than a year, smaller companies still in operation are producing fewer shows, and producers everywhere are gravitating toward the bankably familiar.

But despite this difficult terrain, it has been a boom time for American playwriting. For more than a decade, I’ve been teaching a course at the California Institute of the Arts called American Drama Now, and each year the selection of plays has become harder to whittle down. I designed the seminar partly around theater offerings in Los Angeles to connect students to recent developments in the field and to consolidate awareness that something special is happening in the American theater.

The current generation of playwrights has revealed itself to be remarkably resilient and independent. It has had no other choice. By the time many of these rising talents were accruing debt in graduate writing programs, the dream of a sustainable career in the nonprofit theater had already gasped its last breath.

When Wendy Wasserstein, Tony Kushner, Craig Lucas and Jon Robin Baitz emerged in the late 1970s and ’80s, it was still imaginable that a chosen few playwrights could make a living via the regional theater circuit, that constellation of companies founded as an alternative to the Broadway model.

That prospect was growing dimmer a few years later when playwrights such as Suzan-Lori Parks and Lynn Nottage came into prominence. But hope was still alive in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Regional theaters such as Seattle Rep, the Guthrie, the Goodman and Baltimore Center Stage remained committed to their missions while New York nonprofit companies continued to hold the line off-Broadway.

When did the picture change? In 2009, “Outrageous Fortune: The Life and Times of the New American Play” was published by the Theatre Development Fund, and one of the key findings in this study written by Todd London with Ben Pesner and Zannie Giraud Voss is that “there is no way to view playwriting as anything but a profession without an economic base.” A chasm had opened between the network of increasingly corporate-minded nonprofit theaters and the artists this system was built to serve.

The situation has grown bleaker in the last decade and a half as commercial pressures have ramped up and media consolidation and digital shortsightedness have obliterated arts coverage. Yet there’s been an unexpected upside. Theater artists who have come of age in this period have been released from the burden of having to conform to notions of regional theater respectability.

Instead of worrying about the timid taste of subscription audiences, these dramatists have been writing for themselves and their communities, dreaming up plays that don’t have to fit into institutional slots or stay within the staid bounds of traditional proscenium house decorum. The irony is that in not trying to pass muster with more conservative theatergoers (and their fastidious institutional guardians), playwrights have been winning over not just critics but also formerly squeamish artistic directors and perennially nervous Broadway producers.

The playwrights who appear regularly on the syllabus in American Drama Now — Young Jean Lee, Tarell Alvin McCraney, Annie Baker, Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, Samuel D. Hunter, Martyna Majok, Jeremy O. Harris, Will Arbery, Jackie Sibblies Drury, Quiara Alegría Hudes, Ayad Akhtar, among them — are of different ages, sensibilities and backgrounds. What they share is an appreciation of the complexities and contradictions in being an American.

The politics of identity for them is a lived experience. And as dramatists, they’re uniquely positioned to appreciate the conflicted loyalties and communal tensions of American life in dramatic rather than dogmatic terms. Whatever agendas they may personally espouse, these writers are too alert to the messiness of history and human nature to be rigidly ideological in their work.

The ongoing war between woke and anti-woke factions is a fatuous melodrama best left to the satirists. The goal of playwrights grappling seriously with what it means to be an American today isn’t to score social media points but to shed light on the fractured reality of our collective experience.

Characters in plays by Young Jean Lee, such as “Straight White Men,” are often “trying on masks to see what might prove effective in a given situation.”

(Lawrence K. Ho / Los Angeles Times)

Identity is not a fixed fact but a raucous collision of parts. No single category can contain the Whitmanesque multitudes jockeying for position inside us. Race, religion, ethnicity, gender, age, sexuality, class, disability and geography don’t line up in perfect political harmony, and each social marker tells only a fraction of the whole story. (Money, the great unequalizer, may be the most taboo subject of all.) “We are not only but also,” the sociologist and cultural historian Todd Gitlin wrote in his 1995 book “The Twilight of Common Dreams: Why America Is Wracked by Culture Wars.” We also overlap and often even clash with ourselves.

Discussion around identity can be dangerous. How can anyone be expected to navigate the minefield? Tribalists and traditionalists have controlled the terms of the battle, one by simplifying, the other by denying, the way privilege has shaped our compound selves.

Playwrights know better. They understand the way oppression, which falls disproportionately on the marginalized, has warped all of us. History, whether acknowledged or not, is etched in our souls.

It is a long-held tenet of the theater that the most interesting characters, like the most interesting people, are defined by their schisms and paradoxes. (How else could Hamlet have maintained his centuries-long hold?) Dramatists are more cognizant than ever of the sociopolitical import of these contradictions and they’ve been chronicling the way this historically freighted baggage emerges in the drama of everyday life.

All the world is indeed a stage and all its inhabitants merely stock players, as Jaques lays out in “As You Like It.” Hegel described Shakespeare’s characters as “free artists of their own selves.” The truth where we and our contemporary stage surrogates are concerned is somewhat more constrained. Culture and representation largely determine the range of our performance possibilities.

Plays such as Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ “Appropriate” reexamine “the canon of great American family dramas … to uncover the stories that have been suppressed.”

(Craig Schwartz)

Jacobs-Jenkins has recognized perhaps more acutely than any of his peers the way dramatic forms have locked us into set scripts about our lives. He tackles genres — adapting a Dion Boucicault melodrama in “An Octoroon,” reexamining the canon of great American family dramas in “Appropriate” — to uncover the stories that have been suppressed in the dominant white middle-class narratives that would prefer not to think of themselves as political.

Lee’s standout identity plays — “Straight White Men,” “The Shipment” and “Songs of the Dragons Flying to Heaven” — reject the illusion of stable, coherent characters propagated by psychological realism. The figures in her uncategorizable works are in experimental flux, trying on masks to see what might prove effective in a given situation. Even “Straight White Men,” which uses the old home-for-the-holidays genre as a springboard, can’t help spinning away from the drama’s droll hyper-naturalism toward something resembling performance art. (Not even straight, white men want to be confined to a box, even a relatively plush one.)

“Fairview,” by Jackie Sibblies Drury, “theatricalizes the experience of the white gaze.”

(Jeff Lorch)

In “Fairview,” Jackie Sibblies Drury theatricalizes the experience of the white gaze, ultimately reversing the comfortable position white theater audiences have traditionally held. Bess Wohl’s “Liberation,” this year’s most decorated play, reanimates the history of the 1970s feminist movement by questioning what it could be leaving out of the picture. “The Balusters,” by David Lindsay-Abaire, brings the current culture wars to the stage with unique sensitivity through the squabbles of a neighborhood association torn between protecting its town’s heritage status and coming to terms with the more pluralistic demands of the 21st century.

“Fairview,” “Liberation,” and “The Balusters” are extremely funny plays that also happen to be deadly serious. If philosophy begins in wonder, trenchant social drama seems to start in laughter.

What do theatergoers want? They don’t just want to look; they also want to be seen. Isn’t that what any of us wants when gazing into the mirror held up to nature, as Hamlet describes the theater? To be granted a more expansive view of ourselves and others?

E pluribus unum, the motto of the United States, is so fundamental that it’s printed on our currency. There’s perhaps no place where the truth of this phrase — out of many, one — is more regularly realized than at the theater, where strangers transform over the course of a show into that mysterious organism we call an audience.

Gitlin ends “The Twilight of Common Dreams” with a plea: “For too long, Americans have busied themselves digging trenches to fortify their cultural borders, lining their trenches with insulation. Enough bunkers! Enough of the perfection of differences! We ought to be building bridges.”

A coalition mindset doesn’t mean denying history or pretending that America has been a level playing field. It’s been anything but in this “melting pot where nothing melted,” to quote the rabbi whose eulogy sets Kushner’s “Angels in America” in motion. But history happens to all of us, not just a select few. And to be an American is to be embroiled in the great democratic experiment that has been defined by division from the beginning. Empathy, the nuclear fusion of playwriting, is expanded when we’re allowed to take in more of our patchwork selves. Today’s dramatists have been extending a generous invitation to their compatriots: We’ll show you our complexity, if you’ll show us yours.

It’s the 250th birthday of the United States of America and how better to celebrate than with a big-screen hagiography of America’s first president, George Washington? “Young Washington” arrives in theaters just in time for the Fourth of July with a chiseled, hot young actor in the lead role and the sheen of a prestige HBO drama, though the result isn’t really big-screen spectacle or appointment television. It feels more like something to be watched on the AV rig in a middle school social studies class. At least there won’t be a quiz at the end.

But there could be, because the plot of “Young Washington” plays out with all the thrill of a textbook chapter. It takes place mostly around 1753-55, at the advent of the French and Indian War. We open in medias res when the 23-year-old Col. Washington (William Franklyn-Miller) lurches from a dysentery-riddled nap directly into battle in the Pennsylvania woods, his battalion on the back foot, surrounded by gore and gunpowder. Another officer describes how dire the situation is while George ponders saving his men and asks, “What could be worth the risk?” Washington steels his gaze and we cut to black. You can almost hear the eagles scream, guitars riff and engines rev.

“Young Washington” is produced and distributed by Angel Studios, the faith-based movie studio that churns out films based on true stories that either feature freak accidents, strange illnesses or, more recently, unique stories from the past in which faith in God is a factor. Apparently, our nation’s founding also falls under this umbrella.

The film is directed by Jon Erwin, one of the in-house Angel Studios mainstays, who also helmed “Jesus Revolution,” “I Still Believe” and “I Can Only Imagine.” Erwin gives the whole project a kind of gritty, visceral approach — very “Game of Thrones” in red coats. It’s violent, muddy, the contrast is high and too many drone shots soar over the forest treetops.

Though it opens with a bang, this 1755 battle framing device gives way to the George origin story, starting with his father’s death 12 years earlier, when the 11-year-old George is bereft that he’ll have to sacrifice his education in order to become a tenant farmer and provide for his family including his mother, Mary (Mary-Louise Parker, doing a bizarre accent).

His older half-brother Lawrence (John Foss) takes him under his wing and teaches him, and the young George grows into a smart, bright, ambitious young man, whose dreams of becoming a British officer are dashed because he doesn’t have formal education, a fortuitous marriage or his own land. But he’s bootstrapped himself into intelligence and with savvy networking and know-how, he becomes indispensable to the British, volunteering as a major to survey land and negotiate treaties with the Native tribes and French army. It’s all a bunch of politicking and petty disputes until it escalates into all-out war thanks to an ill-advised ambush.

Sir Ben Kingsley, Kelsey Grammar (who starred in “Jesus Revolution”) and Andy Serkis play the British officers who begrudgingly, at times, believe in George and his capabilities, though a lot of the film is about a young man getting rebuffed by snobbish British officers.

He’s the kind of character who always makes the noble choice, does and says what’s right, and sees everyone as equals (including enslaved African men and Native American allies). He inspires his brother and others that the world can change and takes inspiration from his mother, who encourages him to continue his path and do it as God’s servant.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t make for a character that’s in any way complex or interesting at all. Franklyn-Miller is certainly pretty, serving as a fine face for this story, but the screenplay (by Erwin, Diederik Hoogstraten and Tom Provost) flattens his character into a basic cookie-cutter hero. Audiences, including the middle school social studies students, deserve better and more nuanced stories about this country and the values it was built upon.

“Young Washington” is propaganda in the form of a history lesson wrapped in a summer blockbuster. If only it were even slightly entertaining — maybe they’ll tackle that in the inevitable sequel.

We made it. With just days left in Phase I voting, this week marks the last issue of The Envelope, and the last edition of this letter from the editor, until we return with a crop of newly minted Emmy nominees in August.

Until then, may you have a summer as magical as a German soccer fan’s road trip through the American South — and enjoy reading the below highlights from our coverage.

Cover story: ‘Industry’

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

How do “Industry” stars Myha’la and Marisa Abela want the series to end? Let’s just say they are as unsentimental about their characters as series creators Mickey Down and Konrad Kay.

“I want there to be a huge statue of Harper Stern in front of J.P. Morgan,” Myha’la says of her hard-charging trader. “And a bird s— on her arm.”

“In her mouth,” interjects Abela, who plays Harper’s No. 1 frenemy Yasmin Kara-Hanani.

After the laughter ringing through the room subsides, though, Abela does allow for a moment of reverence — for the HBO drama if not for the disreputable people who populate it. “I don’t know if I need Yasmin to be happy at the end of it,” the actor says, reflecting on her character’s emergence as a Ghislaine Maxwell type in the Season 4 finale. “I know I want it to feel worthy of everything that has come before… What I love about the show is that [the writers] don’t often backtrack. You commit to something and then you have to live with the f— fallout. Which is savage.”

Read more of our conversation in this week’s cover story.

Writers Roundtable

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Though he joined The Envelope’s 2026 Emmy Writers Roundtable to discuss the return of another beloved comedy, “The Comeback,” we couldn’t resist asking Michael Patrick King about the intense fan reactions to his “Sex and the City” revival “And Just Like That…”

“What happened was, it was really well made, but it wasn’t their Carrie,” he said. “Even though you stand behind it, you go, ‘Wow, that’s a surprise. I thought that they would be interested in 57-year-old women who still hadn’t figured everything out. And instead they wanted them to be 35 and still allowed to be lost.’”

For more juicy tidbits from the minds of of TV’s top writers, be sure to check out the full conversation, which also included Megan Gallagher (“All Her Fault”), Jonathan Glatzer (“The Audacity”), Andrew Guest (“Wonder Man”), Bruce Miller (“The Testaments”) and Sonja Warfield (“The Gilded Age”).

How Connor Hines won over Ryan Murphy

Writer Connor Hines, who translated the real-life relationship between JFK Jr. and Carolyn Bessette into FX’s major hit “Love Story.”

(Evan Mulling / For The Times)

While our On Writing series of screenwriter essays are always revealing — about the inspiration behind a series, the process of adaptation or the making of a major plot turn, to name just a few — I don’t remember one as candid about the art of the pitch as Connor Hines’. In this week’s issue, the writer behind “Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette” explains how he prepared to present his vision for the new anthology’s first season to one of TV’s most powerful producers, Ryan Murphy. As it turns out, landing the meeting is not the (only) hard part.

“I spent roughly three months in the trenches with [producers] Brad [Simpson] and Nina [Jacobson], deepening and refining my presentation [to Murphy] — one that I’d recite in the shower, on runs, at Trader Joe’s, while I drove,” Hines writes. “It was a crash course in storytelling, producing, and understanding the alchemy that propelled so many of Ryan’s shows into the zeitgeist.”

More stories from our June 16 issue