character

This story contains some spoilers for “Superman.”

In James Gunn’s “Superman,” the titular superhero is devastated when he learns that his birth parents sent him to Earth to subjugate humanity.

In theaters now, the film is set a few years into Superman’s caped career. The Kryptonian — who grew up as Clark Kent on a farm in Smallville, Kan. — always believed a message left to him by these birth parents was an encouragement to use his powers to be a protector and hero. He is more than shaken to learn that was never the case.

It’s Clark’s human father, Jonathan, who points out that the message’s intent doesn’t really matter.

“Your choices [and] your actions, that’s what makes you who you are,” he says to his son.

Being an alien refugee might be why Superman has his superpowers, but it’s who he is as a person that makes him a superhero. And although it is mostly left unsaid, Clark’s kindness and values come from how he was raised — by loving parents in America’s heartland.

Despite “Superman” being as all-American as ever, the movie has become the most recent front in America’s never-ending culture war because of comments made by Gunn acknowledging the character is an immigrant.

But Superman is more a story about the triumph of assimilation and opportunity. As the new movie also shows, Superman would not be Superman if he was not raised by Martha and Jonathan Kent on a farm in Kansas. And as much as Superman is undeniably an immigrant, it’s hard to deny in the current political climate that he also resembles the type of immigrants who have traditionally been more embraced in this country.

Since early last month, the Trump administration has aggressively targeted Latino communities across California. Immigration raids have seemingly indiscriminately taken people from their workplace, on their way to court and even in parking lots. Federal officials have pushed back on claims that these operations have targeted people “because of their skin color.” According to federal authorities, more than 2,700 undocumented immigrants have been arrested in L.A. since early June.

This is not the first time the U.S. government has targeted specific communities of color because of their ancestry. During World War II, 120,000 people of Japanese descent were incarcerated in wartime camps regardless of their citizenship.

Gunn, however, has long maintained that his “Superman” is “a movie about kindness [and] being good.”

The filmmaker, who has been outspoken in his criticism of President Trump, told the London Times that “Superman is the story of America. … An immigrant that came from other places and populated the country.” He reiterated that the movie is about “human kindness.”

The backlash was swift, with familiar right-wing commentators and personalities criticizing the film for allegedly being “superwoke” before it was released. Even former Superman actor Dean Cain has spoken out against Gunn’s comments and the perceived politicization of the character’s story.

In response, comic book fans, including Democratic politicians, have pointed out that Superman — an alien born on the planet Krypton, sent to Earth to escape his planet’s destruction — has always been an immigrant.

“The Superman story is an immigration story of an outsider who tries to always do the most good,” Rep. Robert Garcia (D-Long Beach) posted Wednesday on X. “His arch nemesis is a billionaire. You don’t get to change who he is because you don’t like his story. Comics are political.”

“Superman was an undocumented immigrant,” Gov. Gavin Newsom’s press office wrote Thursday on X in response to an image of Trump as Superman posted by the White House.

Others on social media have circulated clips from past Superman media, including from Cain’s show “Lois & Clark,” where the character’s immigration status is addressed.

Despite the accusation and backlash, Superman has never been as “woke” as the current debate makes him seem.

Created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel, both children of Jewish immigrants, Superman’s first official appearance was in the first issue of “Action Comics” in the 1930s. With his iconic red and blue caped costume, the character is known as much for his godlike superpowers as he is for being the ultimate good guy with all-American looks and charm.

His adventures have spanned comics, radio, television and film. Besides evil billionaires, Superman has taken on superpowered supervillains, alien invaders and even his clones, as well as human threats like Nazis and the Ku Klux Klan. Yes, some Superman stories are more political than others.

But Superman has never been radical in his politics. As a Kryptonian raised on Earth by human parents, the character has been shown in stories where he struggles with his own sense of otherness and belonging because he straddles two worlds. But other than rare outliers, his story has never delved deeply into how immigrants or those perceived as other are treated in the U.S. (For that, consider checking out some “X-Men.”)

That’s because Clark Kent’s immigration status or Americanness will never be questioned because of his appearance. That itself could be subversive, but that’s a debate for a different “Superman” movie.

Welcome to Screen Gab, the newsletter for everyone who can’t stop watching their favorite fictional serial killer.

The “Dexter” universe expands this week with the arrival of another spinoff. And it brings Dexter Morgan, the titular antihero played by Michael C. Hall, back from the dead. “Dexter: Resurrection” picks up after the events of “Dexter: New Blood” — we promise, we’re not trying to start a drinking game here — where the serial killer vigilante was seemingly killed. In anticipation of the show’s Friday premiere, Greg Braxton, our certified “Dexter” expert, spoke with Hall about reviving the killer role — check it out here. And this week’s Guest Spot features David Zayas, Hall’s co-star who plays Angel Batista, discussing his return.

Also in this week’s Screen Gab, our streaming suggestions include a cozy crime comedy featuring an antiques expert heroine and another home improvement series from the Chip and Joanna Gaines factory.

ICYMI

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“Girls” creator Lena Dunham, right, returns to TV with the Netflix rom-com series “Too Much,” led by “Hacks” breakout star Megan Stalter.

(The Tyler Twins / For The Times)

When Lena met Megan: How a DM blossomed into ‘Too Much’: Netflix’s “Too Much” isn’t a story about friendship or sex. It’s about love — Lena Dunham’s version, and she knew Megan Stalter had what it took to be the star.

Maggie Q brings the heat to cold cases in ‘Ballard,’ a ‘Bosch’ spinoff series: The actress, known for her action-heavy roles in “Nikita,” “Mission: Impossible III” and “Designated Survivor,” stars in “Ballard,” about a LAPD detective based on a popular character in Michael Connelly’s bestselling novels.

Up, up and … eh? A rebooted ‘Superman’ gives the Man of Steel a mind of marshmallow: Director James Gunn launches his DC Extended Universe with a high-energy Superman played by David Corenswet, joined by co-stars Nicholas Hoult and Rachel Brosnahan.

Commentary: Can ‘Love Island USA’ watch parties offer a guide for saving linear television?: You don’t have to love “Love Island USA” to appreciate that in this increasingly fractured time of TV viewership, it is drawing people together.

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Recommendations from the film and TV experts at The Times

Steve Edge as Dom and Sally Lindsay as Jean in a scene from Acorn TV’s “The Madame Blanc Mysteries.”

(Mark Cassar / AcornTV)

“The Madame Blanc Mysteries” (Acorn TV)

Back for a fourth season, this series set among British expatriates in the south of France (played by the island of Malta) is nominally a detective show — there’s always a crime to solve — but at heart it’s a small-town comedy more interested in the lives of its quirky repeating characters than in whodunit. Series co-creator Sally Lindsay stars as Jean White, an antiques expert regularly called upon by Police Chief André Caron (Alex Gaumond) to analyze some clue or give the history of vintage stolen goods. Completing her world are alliterative, spritely rich oldsters Judith and Jeremy (Sue Holderness and Robin Askwith); garage owner Gloria (Sue Vincent); taxi driver Dom (Steve Edge), whose long-simmering passion for Jean has at last come to a boil; and, excitingly, Tony Robinson, who was Baldrick on “Blackadder,” as Dom’s formerly larcenous Uncle Patrick, now running the local bar where all the characters inevitably wind up. As is the case with many such shows, it gets sillier as it goes on; but if you want serious, there are plenty of dark serials happy to take your time. This place is sunny. — Robert Lloyd

“Mini Reni” (HBO Max, Discovery+)

As someone who can spend an alarming amount of time watching Sunday-reset cleaning videos on TikTok as a way to convince myself it has motivating powers, I am always on the lookout for home improvement shows that have the same effect. In the series, shiplap queen Joanna Gaines ditches hubby Chip to tackle “quick” home makeovers. With each episode, she has about a week to transform three rooms — “There’s no demo day. We’re just using things like paint, trim, tile and furniture” to change a space, she assures us. It’s still an ambitious undertaking for the average person — I have towel hooks that I’ve needed to hang for months, so the thought of having secret doorways installed anywhere in my space is just not happening — but it feels just as good to believe you’re getting ideas for a project down the line. — Yvonne Villarreal

Guest spot

A weekly chat with actors, writers, directors and more about what they’re working on — and what they’re watching

David Zayas as Angel Batista in “Dexter: Resurrection.”

(Zach Dilgard / Paramount+ with Showtime)

“Dexter: Resurrection,” the latest addition to the ever-expanding “Dexter” universe, makes good on its title. After being shot in the chest — by his son, no less — and pronounced dead in the 2021 series “Dexter: New Blood,” Dexter Morgan (Michael C. Hall), the forensics specialist who moonlighted as a serial killer vigilante, is now very much alive and well enough to deliver some more narrative intrigue in the series for Paramount+ with Showtime. While there are newcomers added to the mix, returning characters include Angel Batista (David Zayas), Dexter’s friend who is now a captain at the Miami Metro Police Department where they once worked together — and he’s on a mission to fill in questions about Dexter’s past. Zayas stopped by Guest Spot to talk about what to expect in the new sequel series and how his own experiences in law enforcement inform his onscreen roles. — Yvonne Villarreal

Fans had hoped for the long-teased face-off between Batista and Dexter in “Dexter: New Blood,” but it didn’t happen. “Dexter: Resurrection” provides that anticipated reunion. What can you tease about the dynamic that plays out between these characters?

The dynamic between Batista and Dexter is now a cautious cat-and-mouse game. Batista is also still in shock about the revelation that Dexter been alive all these years.

One would imagine that your own experiences in law enforcement have loosely inspired or informed at least one scenario in the police or detective roles you’ve played in your career. What’s interesting to you about getting to explore that other career dramatically and/or cinematically?

I always explore the human element and the circumstances of the scene regardless of the position the character holds. Having been a real police officer, it helps me break down certain characters that I have encountered in my previous career.

You’re back in the new season of “The Bear,” as the supportive husband of Tina, who is played by your real-life wife, Liza Colón-Zayas. Describe what one of the show’s intense workplace scenes would look like if it were set in the Zayas kitchen.

I think a scene in our kitchen would become intense. Liza would just kick me out. She calls the shots in the kitchen.

What have you watched recently that you’re recommending to everyone you know?

Season 4 of “The Bear” [Hulu]. The characters are so real and unapologetically flawed. It makes every moment of the show important and captivating.

What’s your go-to “comfort watch,” the film or TV show you return to again and again?

“The West Wing” [HBO Max]. It always gives me hope of how our political system should work for the people of this country.

A sequel? For spring? Groundbreaking.

After 19 years and some mixed messages from the cast, “The Devil Wears Prada 2” is officially in production and set to hit theaters in May.

The original film, based on the 2003 bestselling novel by Lauren Weisberger, is set in the cutthroat New York City fashion industry. Here’s everything we know so far about the upcoming sequel.

Who‘s returning from the original cast?

Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt and Stanley Tucci will be reprising their roles for the highly anticipated sequel.

Joining the stars onscreen will be Tracie Thoms — who played Lily, the best friend of Anne Hathaway’s character, Andy Sachs — and Tibor Feldman, who is reprising his role as Irv Ravitz, chairman of Runway’s parent company, Elias-Clarke.

Director David Frankel, who led the first film to a $326 million worldwide box office haul, will be returning, as will screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna (co-creator of “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend”).

Who isn’t returning?

Adrian Grenier’s Nate Cooper, Andy’s boyfriend who’s since been dubbed by the internet as the “real villain” of the film, reportedly won’t be back for the sequel.

Who’s joining the cast?

Kenneth Branagh will join the cast to play the husband of Streep’s character, Miranda Priestly. Other notable additions include actors Lucy Liu, Justin Theroux, B. J. Novak and Pauline Chalamet.

What‘s “Devil Wears Prada 2” about?

While plot details are being kept under wraps, the movie reportedly follows Streep’s Miranda as she navigates a floundering magazine publishing industry. and reunites with Blunt’s character, Emily Charlton, who is now a high-powered executive. The movie is set nearly 10 years after the original and may also borrow from the book’s 2013 sequel, “Revenge Wears Prada: The Devil Returns.” Let’s hope there’s a nod to Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour, the inspiration for Miranda’s character, stepping down from her post.

What’s the release date for the sequel?

Disney’s 20th Century Studios announced the start of production with a stylish teaser on June 30. The movie will open in theaters May 1, giving fans plenty of time to get ready.

If you’re itching for a refresh, you can stream the original “The Devil Wears Prada” on Disney+ and Hulu. The movie is also available to rent on Prime Video.

When Danny DeVito arrives — camera off — on our video call with Charlie Day late last month to discuss the 17th season of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” he apologizes for sounding like he has “just come out of the salt mines.” His voice is hoarse, and Day is worried he’s sick.

“I did a lot of yelling this week,” DeVito explains.

You would think he would be practiced at that.

For 20 years now, DeVito has been exercising his vocal cords as the mischievous, disgusting Frank Reynolds, layabout father of Dee (Kaitlin Olson) and Dennis (Glenn Howerton), colleague of Mac (Rob McElhenney or Rob Mac, as he announced recently), and roommate of Day’s Charlie. In the upcoming season premiering Wednesday on FXX and streaming next day on Hulu, the gang that runs Paddy’s Pub gets into more absurd scrapes. They visit “Abbott Elementary” in the second of two planned crossover episodes with that ABC sitcom; they head to a dog track; Charlie opens up a ghost kitchen in his apartment to make Frank a smashburger; and, as is teased in the trailer, Frank goes on “The Golden Bachelor.”

During our interview, Day and DeVito offer up a dose of the chemistry that has long made Frank and Charlie a madcap pair as they discuss their history with each other, their brushes with Bachelor Nation and, naturally, turds. DeVito remains off camera most of the time, but he pops on occasionally for dramatic effect.

Charlie (Charlie Day) and Frank (Danny DeVito) over the seasons in “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” (Patrick McElhenney / FX)

Danny, what do you remember about that first meeting you had with the three guys?

Danny DeVito: I knew lots about the show already. I was going in because I was friends with [then-president and now current FX Networks chairman John] Landgraf. Landgraf sent me the first eight shows, and I watched it with my family. He was saying he was talking about these really talented guys that he was working with, and John was building the network over there. I can’t remember exactly where we met. But where we met was a weird — that was the first thing that threw me a little bit. Do you remember where it was?

Charlie Day: We had a lunch — you, me, Rob and Glenn — [on] Beverly Boulevard. We didn’t have an office. We were writing the second season. You’d agreed to the show, and you came in like your character from “Get Shorty.” You started ordering for all of us, and you told us some crazy story about your father having a box full of teeth and watches, and we were just taking notes, man. I think we pitched you a couple different character names. I think you shot down a few of them, but you liked Frank. Frank was my step-grandfather’s name.

DeVito: I had an Uncle Frank.

Day: You came in like a tornado. It was great.

DeVito: Well, I usually do that. Way before “Get Shorty,” I would just come in and everybody would be looking at their menus, and I would just look at the menu right away and just say a half a dozen things and everybody would look at me like, “You’re ordering everything on the menu!”

Day: Danny, know that I went and spent maybe almost a whole week rewatching almost everything you’d ever done before we met with you. I watched every episode of “Taxi.” I watched almost every single movie I could find. Just studying a fighter you’re going up against. And it was “Get Shorty” that really kind of locked in for me. A lot of people would have you do that Louie De Palma thing over and over again, and you’re so great at that. But there was something so idiosyncratic about the “Get Shorty” character and unpredictable that we’re like, “Oh, if we can tap into that …” I think it took us a couple seasons to do it, and then it felt like kismet that you sort of came into that meeting like that guy.

On “It’s Always Sunny,” Charlie Day, left, and Danny DeVito are friends, roommates and schemers: “Whenever Charlie does something, it titillates Frank.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

How do you feel like the dynamic between Frank and Charlie has shifted over the years? Or even if it hasn’t, what do you discover coming back season after season?

DeVito: I think Charlie offers a lot of avenues for Frank to follow for some reason. I like the idea of the scheming and everything that everybody else does, and they do it in a normal way. They want to make money, they want to get ahead, they want to be famous, they want the bar to succeed, they want this, that. But whenever Charlie does something, it titillates Frank. They know when I am really happy with the material. When I see I’m going to eat a turd, I go like, “Wow, man. We’re pushing the envelope.”

Day: I’m always loving writing and working on the scenes in our apartment and then getting to the set and filming those. I’m always excited for it. There’s something about filming in that intimate space that feels like there’s a magic there. Same with the little back office in the bar. Any time we’re there, there’s something funny to these cramped spaces.

DeVito: We’re playing sardines all the time.

This season opens with the “Abbott” crossover and ends with Frank on “The Golden Bachelor.” How did that come about?

Day: Well, the funny thing about this show is, there’s so many different ways that we do it. I think there’s a push-pull where I really was wanting to do the EMT episode and the dog track one. And Rob has these really big ideas, like buying a soccer team. He wanted to do this “Abbott” crossover, and he wanted to do this “Golden Bachelor” episode. To be perfectly frank, I didn’t really want to do both. I think you can do one or the other. The “Golden Bachelor” thing I thought was funny, but I was like, maybe we could just do the “Sunny” characters’ version of it. But to his credit, those are the things that people latch onto and are talking about. I tend to like when we’re not doing the pop culture references as much, but then we have a big back and forth and we argue. And then when we land on it, the second we agree to do it, then I’m always all in, as is Rob. So then we’re both writing together and saying, well, what’s the best version of how to do this?

The gang is back at “Abbott”: Danny DeVito, left, Charlie Day and Rob McElhenney in this season’s opening episode of “It’s Always Sunny.” (Patrick McElhenney / FX)

The “Abbott” crew — Chris Perfetti, from left, Sheryl Lee Ralph and Quinta Brunson — in a scene from the crossover episode. (Patrick McElhenney / FX)

Danny, what was it like filming Frank’s “Golden Bachelor” moment?

DeVito: I had no idea what they had in mind at first because I must admit, I’m not a “Golden Bachelor” watcher. Once I got there and figured out what they had up their sleeve, I just went with it big time. Being Frank is really wonderful, I must say. It gives you the opportunity to do a lot of things that you wouldn’t. And they push the envelope and come up with all these crazy things, and I go along with it, and from the time my feet hit the ground, when I get there, I’m smiling.

Day: Rob and Glenn and I spend weeks and months really digging in and arguing and pushing each other out of our comfort zones in all sorts of directions. And then towards the end, we’re all invested in the same thing. And what really makes it work is that Danny comes in and gives it a hundred percent. Really, if Danny wasn’t so supportive, it would be really challenging. But pretty much everything we bring to you, Danny, you say, “OK, I’m going to make this work.” “Golden Bachelor” was a perfect example. We had a lot of arguments about how to do that, whether to do it. And then once we committed to it and tried to write what we thought was the best version of it we could, Dan, you come in and just sell it in a way that it needs to be sold.

I don’t want to spoil anything, but there’s also a very sweet “Taxi” reunion in there.

DeVito: That was big for all of us. We were blessed to have that in our show.

“Frank gives me just the wonderful opportunity to be naughty. I can go where other characters can’t go,” Danny DeVito says.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Danny, you said you love being Frank. Why do you love it?

DeVito: I felt operatic as the Penguin [in “Batman Returns”]. There’s a freedom to that. Even in “Taxi,” there was a freedom. I am not like that. I don’t boss people around. I mean, I do a little bit, but I don’t do over the top stuff. Frank gives me just the wonderful opportunity to be naughty. I can go where other characters can’t go. And it’s kind of like we’re bringing people along with Frank. Maybe it’s something that you would say, “Oh god, I would never do that.” But it’s so much fun to imagine the taste of that turd in that soup.

Charlie, Lynne Marie Stewart, who plays your mother, died before the release of this season. How did you think to honor her?

Day: It was pretty tragic and unexpected. She was on the show, and then about a month later we got an email that she was close to the end, and then I think a day later we got an email that she had passed. Mary Elizabeth [Ellis, who plays the Waitress and is married to Day,] and I got to go to her memorial service, and it was luau-themed. It was packed, and there was so much love for her. She always elevated the material that we wrote for her, and she was just as lovely a person as a performer, and I’m going to miss her a lot. We were still in the editing room when she passed away, and so we felt as though it was right to build a little tribute to her because she’s been there since Season 1 and we’ve worked together for over 20 years. Other than it just being a tragedy, I don’t know how we’ll deal with it next season.

DeVito: She was always a favorite of Frank’s.

Day: And we would always have great stuff for the two of you guys.

DeVito: And maybe one day Charlie and I will sit down and have the talk.

For how long do you want to keep coming back to these characters?

DeVito: Well, why does time exist?

Day: Look, we have a contract with FX up to 18 seasons, and all of us feel as though we can do that. So that’s at least one more. Beyond that, I’m not sure they’ll ask for more seasons, so next year could be it.

DeVito: Yeah, they might have some kind of mental defective thing happen to them between next year and not ask for another bunch. That’s always the case. Then also, maybe, they might want to pay us more.

“It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” was renewed up to Season 18. “Beyond that, I’m not sure they’ll ask for more seasons, so next year could be it,” Charlie Day says.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Day: Who knows? But this far in the run, I think Rob and Glenn and I, at least in terms of having to sit and write them, really sort of just say each year: Do we have it in us? Do we think we can do a good job? That has to do more with the people that we’re working with. If we can get the band together and have all the musicians that we want, then we’ll try to make some music, to use a bad sort of analogy.

DeVito: It’s a lot of fun. And we have good times. You guys always deliver. Everybody comes with their game, and you can’t ask for anything more. I just feel like I don’t want to let these guys go. I want to be with them all the time. I nag everybody. I call Charlie all the time, even if it’s to call up and say, how’s Mary Elizabeth and Russell? I just feel like I need that connection. I miss these guys. I miss Kaitlin and Rob and Glenn. Every time I see Glenn [I] go, “Is that Glenn?” He does radical things. He, like, shaves his hair.

Speaking of shaving, Charlie, you shaved your beard off for a gag this season. What was that like?

Day: It was horrible, just to see how old the man is under the beard. Once you take off the eyebrows, that’s when it really starts to look freaky. We had that idea, and we knew we had to shoot it last because if I was going to shave, that had to be the last thing we were going to shoot. Right after we wrapped, I went on a little vacation with my wife and son, and I rarely got recognized, which is funny. Every now and then, people who were fans of the movie “Pacific Rim,” because I didn’t have a beard in those movies — they’d be like, “Hey, man, where have you been? Why you not been working?” The funny thing was I couldn’t unlock my cell phone with that look because I looked so different.

Brigitte Knightley’s debut novel, “The Irresistible Urge to Fall for Your Enemy,” has everything fans of enemies-to-lovers romance are looking for: disagreement that becomes flirtatious banter, ethical quandaries, forced proximity, and characters who can overcome their prejudices to see a human beneath a label. Featuring a brutal assassin and a magical healer forced to work together while trying — desperately — not to fall in love, the heat of this romantasy novel is perfect for warm summer nights.

Osric Mordaunt, considered a dark magic user, is part of an order of assassins hated and dismissed by Aurienne Fairhrim’s light magic order of healers. When Osric seeks medical treatment for a degenerative condition, he gets roped into helping Aurienne’s order cure an outbreak of pox that is killing children in droves. The pair traipses around seeking healing under romantic full moons and become involved in spycraft that reveals evidence that the outbreak is not what it seems. They begin to see each other beyond their individual allegiances, but it happens slowly, prejudices unraveling at a crawling pace. The author’s bio declares that she puts the unresolved back in “unresolved sexual tension,” and it’s true: Knightley is a master of the slow burn.

There is plenty of fun along the way: Getting to know both magical orders, their fortes and foibles, is a squelching, bodily fluid-filled delight: The only thing sharper than their wit is the divide that separates their lives. The magic system has an almost science-fiction element to it, with lots of medical talk about magical maladies and a well-rendered in-line breakdown of how “Outlander”-esque menhir travel works. Aurienne is as much a scientist as a witch, which is a treat in a genre overrun by wand-waving laziness. The novel is set in the 19th century, but in a version of England where the Norman Conquest of 1066 failed. Instead of a unified empire, the smaller kingdoms of the Heptarchy still dominate, their various dangerous machinations providing the raison d’être for the differing orders.

“Irresistible” might be set in the period we know as the Victorian era, and there are royals and attendant paraphernalia, but lovers of polite courtly romances might want to steer clear. With more dick jokes than a Deadpool movie, Knightley’s novel is dirty. Sexual attraction is not hidden behind genteel metaphors; Aurienne and Osric want. They’re not blushing virgins on their way to an altar, but adults who have loved and lost, who each bring a trolley’s worth of emotional baggage and sexual preferences to their relationship. Their self-awareness is part of the charm; they might wield magic like us mortals wield butter knives, but they’re relatable.

Readers plugged into the world of fan fiction may recognize the author’s name, which is a pseudonym. Writing under a previous nom de plume, isthisselfcare, Knightley gained an enormous fan base dedicated to “Draco Malfoy and The Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love,” her 199,000-word Dramione — short for Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy — on a popular fan-fiction site. With a Jane Austen-influenced voice, it was ironic, sarcastic and delightful. Knightley’s new novel is like a grown-up version of “Mortifying” — more mature, more grounded and more voicey than ever. Fans will be pleased to see how she’s grown.

People love to denigrate fan-fiction writers, though some of today’s most popular authors started as fan-fiction writers: Cassandra Clare, Naomi Novik and Andy Weir, to name just three. Novels like “Irresistible” are proof positive that writing fan fiction is an excellent training ground for building a novel. To write truly great fan fiction, a writer must identify what makes the source material sparkle and then replicate it. It’s not enough to graft existing characters into new situations. The most effective fan fiction shows readers how characters can continue to grow beyond the bounds of the original work while remaining consistent with the source material. That exercise in maintaining consistency and internal logic is excellent practice for creating original worlds.

In some cases, that also means identifying elements about characters that original authors themselves might not see. This was especially true of the explosion of Draco/Hermione fic after the Harry Potter series ended. Where author J.K. Rowling saw an irredeemable villain in Draco Malfoy, thousands of people saw an abused child who had grown up in a dangerous household and was trying to survive. Fan fiction allowed writers to transform Draco into a good person who falls in love with his childhood enemy; this gave readers the redemption arc Rowling set up but didn’t follow through on. There are tens of thousands of fics that explore this arc.

Literary-minded sociologists could probably study how millennial women never fully recovered from Draco’s lost redemption. The preponderance of platinum blond bad boys with chances at redemption has only grown as the girls who grew up reading Harry Potter became authors themselves: Coriolanus Snow in Hunger Games trilogy prequel “Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes,” Sebastian Morgenstern in “City of Glass,” Cardan in “The Cruel Prince.” (“Buffy’s” Spike is a clear predecessor.)

With Knightley’s debut, we can add Osric Mordaunt to the list. He is a tragic figure, doomed to a life filled with violence after an abusive childhood. He’s shaken out of this destiny by meeting the STEMinist figure Aurienne, who accepts no excuses for his bad behavior.

Though Osric seems to have Malfoy DNA at his heart, the rest of the cast is original and well-developed. That said, Aurienne does toe the line between aloof and arrogantly unlikable. We get the hint that she has a dark backstory, that her snark is a shield, but we’ll have to wait for Book 2 to find out. Until then, “Irresistible” will probably inspire fan fiction of its own, training a new generation of authors.

Castellanos Clark, a writer and historian in Los Angeles, is the author of “Unruly Figures: Twenty Tales of Rebels, Rulebreakers, and Revolutionaries You’ve (Probably) Never Heard Of.”

SEOUL — The third and final season of Netflix’s “Squid Game” broke viewership records on the streaming platform following its release on June 27, marking a fitting close for what has arguably been the most successful South Korean TV series in history.

Although reviews have been mixed, Season 3 recorded more than 60 million views in the first three days and topped leaderboards in all 93 countries, making it Netflix’s biggest launch to date.

“Squid Game” has been transformative for South Korea, with much of the domestic reaction focused not on plot but on the prestige it has brought to the country. In Seoul, fans celebrated with a parade to commemorate the show’s end, shutting down major roads to make way for a marching band and parade floats of characters from the show.

In one section of the procession, a phalanx of the show’s masked guards, dressed in their trademark pink uniforms, carried neon-lit versions of the coffins that appear on the show to carry away the losers of the survival game. They were joined by actors playing the contestants, who lurched along wearing expressions of exaggerated horror, as though the cruel stakes of the game had just been revealed to them.

At the fan event that capped off the evening, series creator Hwang Dong-hyuk thanked the show’s viewers and shared the bittersweetness of it all being over.

“I gave my everything to this project, so the thought of it all ending does make me a bit sad,” he said. “But at the same time, I lived with such a heavy weight on my shoulders for so long that it feels freeing to put that all down.”

Despite the overnight global fame “Squid Game” brought him (it’s Netflix’s most-watched series of all time), Hwang has spoken extensively about the physical and mental toil of creating the show.

Visitors take photos near a model of the doll named “Younghee” that’s featured in Netflix’s series “Squid Game,” displayed at the Olympic park in Seoul in October 2021.

(Lee Jin-man / Associated Press)

He unsuccessfully shopped the show around for a decade until Netflix picked up the first season in 2019, paying the director just “enough to put food on the table” — while claiming all of the show’s intellectual property rights. During production for the first season, which was released in 2021, Hwang lost several teeth from stress.

A gateway into Korean content for many around the world, “Squid Game” show served to spotlight previously lesser-known aspects of South Korean culture, bringing inventions like dalgona coffee — made with a traditional Korean candy that was featured in the show — to places such as Los Angeles and New York.

The show also cleared a path for the global success of other South Korean series, accelerating a golden age of “Hallyu” (the Korean wave) that has boosted tourism and exports of food and cosmetics, as well as international interest in learning Korean.

But alongside its worldly successes, the show also provoked conversations about socioeconomic inequality in South Korean society, such as the prevalence of debt, which looms in the backstories of several characters.

A few years ago, President Lee Jae-myung, a longtime proponent of debt relief, said, “‘Squid Game’ reveals the grim realities of our society. A playground in which participants stake their lives in order to pay off their debt is more than competition — it is an arena in which you are fighting to survive.”

In 2022, the show made history as the first non-English-language TV series and the first Korean series to win a Screen Actors Guild Award, taking home three in total. It also won six Emmy Awards. That same year, the city of L.A. designated Sept. 17 — the series’ release date — as “Squid Game Day.“

Although Hwang has said in media interviews that he is done with the “Squid Game” franchise, the Season 3 finale — which features Cate Blanchett in a cameo as a recruiter for the games that are the show’s namesake — has revived rumors that filmmaker David Fincher may pick it up for an English-language spinoff in the future.

While saying he had initially written a more conventional happy ending, Hwang has described “Squid Game’s” final season as a sobering last stroke to its unsparing portrait of cutthroat capitalism.

“I wanted to focus in Season 3 on how in this world, where incessant greed is always fueled, it’s like a jungle — the strong eating the weak, where people climb higher by stepping on other people’s heads,” he told The Times’ Michael Ordoña last month.

“Coming into Season 3, because the economic system has failed us, politics have failed us, it seems like we have no hope,” he added. “What hope do we have as a human race when we can no longer control our own greed? I wanted to explore that. And in particular, I wanted to [pose] that question to myself.”

Fernando Urquiza screamed himself hoarse, slapping palms with strangers on the field level of Dodger Stadium. He’d waited six innings — each on the very edge of his seat. He refreshed flight options to Milwaukee in case Clayton Kershaw made him wait until his next start for strikeout No. 3,000.

Roderick Abram, a die-hard New York Yankees fan celebrating his 40th birthday, rejoiced when Kershaw reached the strikeout milestone. In enemy pinstripes, his team allegiance wavered long enough to clap for a man he often hopes gets shelled — particularly in the Bronx — but not on Wednesday night.

Kershaw’s historic game wasn’t necessarily a vintage outing, but to his dearest fans, that only deepened the meaning.

The Chicago White Sox didn’t make it easy for Kershaw. He labored. He gave up runs. It seemed he might fall one short of the three strikeouts he needed. And still, he managed to finally become the 20th pitcher in MLB history to reach 3,000 strikeouts.

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“Building the emotion and building it up to what it came to be,” said Urquiza, who has attended Dodger games for 38 years. “But Clayton Kershaw pitching, it wouldn’t have happened any other way than to be an emotional outcome.”

As Kershaw wrapped the fifth with just two strikeouts, the mood at Dodger Stadium tightened. Phones rose with each windup, fans stood between pitches and that rare postseason stillness crept in, nearly three months early.

And though some considered leaving early to beat traffic and others weighed booking Milwaukee flights, it didn’t seem as though hope fled Dodger Stadium.

“I know it took a little bit longer for him to get it, but I knew he was going to get it, and that’s why they kept him in. And he wanted it bad, and he got it,” said 34-year-old barber Steven Moreno, who said he “wouldn’t have missed the game for the world.”

Back in 2008, Daniel Palomera brought his kids to watch Greg Maddux pitch. Instead, a baby-faced 20-year-old with a towering leg kick took the mound.

A young fan holds a sign with the number “3,000” on the night Dodgers pitcher Clayton Kershaw recorded his 3,000th career strikeout.

(Luke Johnson / Los Angeles Times)

Palomera saw the early days of Kershaw’s career 17 years ago and returned Wednesday for what could be one of his last major milestones.

“Two years ago, I didn’t think he was gonna make it,” Palomera said. “And last year, I thought he might have thought of retiring with all the injuries, but him coming back just makes it that much more special. He’s getting to do it here — that’s really special.”

Jeremy Wasser stood a few rows behind home plate in a sky blue Kershaw Foundation T-shirt. He tilted his head back and paused for a moment when asked about Kershaw’s legacy.

“To see him be as successful as he’s been, as consistently great as he’s been, he’s represented the city and represented the team with class and with character,” Wasser said. “And the combination of that character and his performance on the field is an extraordinary achievement.”

Kershaw’s accompliment will forever be known as a major milestone in Dodgers history, but it meant more than a statistic to the fans who gave the loyal veteran pitcher a six-minute standing ovation.

“The way he cares and treats his own teammates like family,” Moreno said. “He’s made this organization like a family.”

Emmerdale will be waving goodbye to a character this week for at least a month, as their mystery and worrying new storyline takes a turn, amid fears it’s health related

There was some news in the latest episode of Emmerdale that confirms an exit for one character.

One character will seemingly leave the show imminently, announcing their plans to be out of the village by the end of the week. Bosses had confirmed a departure would be on the cards temporarily as part of the mystery new storyline.

Amid fears for Bear in a secretive storyline that has seen his personality change and him displaying concerning behaviour, the character will flee the village for around a month if not longer. When he returns, he will spark concern with characters and viewers as there’s clearly something not right with him.

He will be different, with his loved ones and pals set to miss the signs of what’s really going on. Bear will exit the soap for a while and won’t be onscreen for weeks, and it’s this brief exit that was confirmed on Monday night.

He told his son Paddy Kirk after yet another run-in that he was going to stay with a friend in Ireland. He confirmed he would be leaving this coming Friday, meaning the scenes will likely air on Tuesday or Wednesday this week.

READ MORE: Emmerdale fans ‘solve’ who’s really targeting Joe – and they’re not working alone

It’s not known if we will see or hear from Bear in his absence, but it’s thought he will be AWOL and not in contact with Paddy or anyone. When he returns, more about what’s going on with him will be revealed until we finally find out what”s happened.

It’s been tipped to be something health related, with concerns from fans suggesting it could be a physical or mental health issue. Paddy was seen confiding in Gabby Thomas and Marlon Dingle that he was worried his dad may have dementia.

Some fans are worried it might be a brain or head injury from his wrestling days, or he may be diagnosed with a tumour. Other health conditions were also suggested, after “symptoms” in recent scenes included confusion, forgetfulness and Bear lashing out.

He’s been physically and verbally aggressive, pinning Paddy up against a wall and attacking Kammy too. He’s been seen with a temper, and on Monday after Paddy was seriously injured in a dog attack, the character slammed his own son saying he let people walk all over him.

Trashing his son’s character he left Paddy heartbroken, before he fumed about Paddy’s wife Mandy Dingle too in a judgmental way. He’s acting very out of character, and the aggression and his recent funny turn, which saw him nearly collapse, and the fact he’s angry one moment and then completely calm the next, has left fans fearing the worst.

One viewer speculated: “Brilliant performance from Joshua Richards in tonight’s #Emmerdale. Could bear have a tumour, Alzheimer’s disease, depression or something totally different.” A newer theory saw fans predicting he was suffering with a brain condition called Chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), thought to be linked to repeated head injuries.

Emmerdale airs weeknights at 7:30pm on ITV1 and ITVX, with an hour-long episode on Thursdays. * Follow Mirror Celebs and TV on TikTok , Snapchat , Instagram , Twitter , Facebook , YouTube and Threads .

In the beginning there was chaos.

Three years ago, FX’s “The Bear” splattered across our screens and made it impossible to look away. The yelling; the cursing; the gravy-slopping, bowl-clattering, grease-slick, jerry-rigged anxious sweaty mess of the Chicago sandwich shop the Beef and the wildly dysfunctional group of people who worked there, including elite chef Carmy Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White), who inherited the Beef from his dead-by-suicide beloved brother Mikey (Jon Bernthal), wowed critics and raised the culture’s collective cortisol count to eye-twitching levels.

Critics used terms like “stress bomb” and “adrenaline shot”; current and former restaurant workers described symptoms not unlike those of PTSD, and viewers ate it all up with a spoon.

Season 2, in which Carmy follows through on his plan to turn the Beef into a fine-dining establishment, only increased the anxiety level. With real money on the table (courtesy of Carmy’s uncle Jimmy, played by Oliver Platt), along with the hopes, dreams and professional futures of the staff, including Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), Marcus (Lionel Boyce), Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), Sugar (Abby Elliott) and, of course, Cousin Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), stakes were cranked to do-or-die.

When the episode “Fishes,” a stomach-clenching holiday buffet of trauma, revealed the twisted roots of a family forged by alcoholism — Carmy’s mother Donna (Jamie Lee Curtis) — and abandonment — Carmy’s father — viewers could not get enough.

This being television, we knew that all the wild dysfunction would inevitably coalesce into triumph — you cannot achieve greatness without driving yourself and everyone else crazy first, right? When, at the end of Season 2, the Bear somehow managed to have a successful opening night, despite Carmy locking himself in a refrigerator and having a full-on existential crisis, our deep attachment to “yes chef” pandemonium appeared vindicated. Fistfuls of Emmys and dopamine cocktails all around.

Except being able to open is a rather low bar for success, even in the restaurant business. Carmy is, for all his talent, an utter mess, and creator Christopher Storer is not, as it turns out, interested in celebrating the time-honored, and frankly toxic, notion that madness is a necessary part of genius — to the apparent dismay of many viewers.

When, in Season 3, Storer and his writers opted to slow things down a bit, to pull each character aside and unsnarl the welter of emotions that fueled the Bear’s kitchen, some viewers were disappointed. Which, having become dependent on the show’s stress-bomb energy, they expressed with outrage. “The Bear” had lost its edge, was getting dull, boring, repetitive and reliant on stunt-casting; it should have ended with Season 2 or, better yet, become a movie.

Thus far, the reaction to Season 4 has run the gamut — where some condemn what they consider continuing stagnation, others cheer a return to form. Which is kind of hilarious as this opens with the staff of the Bear reeling from an equally mixed review of the restaurant from the Chicago Tribune. (Shout out to the notion that a newspaper review still has make-or-break influence, though the Bear’s lack of a social media awareness has long been worrisome).

Season 4 of “The Bear” starts with the restaurant’s crew reaction to the Chicago Tribune review and how it will affect the restaurant. “They didn’t like the chaos,” Sydney says.

(FX)

Turns out that Carmy’s obsessive determination to change the menu daily, and keep his staff on perpetual tenterhooks, was perceived as disruptive, but not in a good way.

“They didn’t like the vibe,” he tells Syd in a morning-after debrief. “They didn’t like the chaos,” she replies. “You think I like chaos?” he asks. “I think you think you need it to be talented,” she says, adding, “You would be just as good, you would be great … without this need for, like, mess.”

Coming early in Episode 1, Syd’s message is a bit on the nose, but addiction does not respond to subtlety, and “The Bear” is, as I have written before, all about the perils and long-range damage of addiction. That includes Donna’s to alcohol, Mikey’s to painkillers, Carmy’s to a self-flagellating notion of perfection and, perhaps, the modern TV audience’s to cortisol.

As Season 4 plays out, with its emphasis on introspection and real connection, viewers might consider why “addictive” has become the highest form of compliment in television.

It’s such a sneaky bastard, addiction, happy to hijack your brain chemistry in any way it can. Our collective attention span isn’t what it used to be and the adrenaline rush unleashed by crisis, real or observed, can create a desire to keep replicating it. Even on broadcast and cable television, most dysfunctional family series take a one-step-forward-two-steps-back approach to their characters’ emotional growth. The mess is what viewers come for, after all.

Particularly in comedy, we want to see our characters get into jams for the pleasure of watching them wildly flail about trying to get out of them. Early seasons of “The Bear” took that desire to a whole new level.

But having amped up the craziness and the stakes, Storer now appears to be more interested in exploring why so many people believe that an ever-roiling crucible is necessary to achieve greatness. And he is willing to dismantle some of the very things that made his show a big hit to do it.

Frankly, that’s as edgy as it gets, especially in streaming, which increasingly uses episodic cliffhangers to speed up a series’ completion rate — nothing fuels a binge watch like a jacked up heart rate.

Like Carmy, Storer doesn’t appear content with resting on his laurels; he’s willing to take counterintuitive risks. As an attempt to actually show both the necessity and difficulty of recovery, in a micro- and meta- sense, “The Bear” is an experiment that defies comparison.

At the beginning of this season, Uncle Jimmy puts a literal clock on how long the Bear has before, short of a miracle, he will have to pull the plug. Carmy, still addicted to drama, claims they will still get a Michelin star, despite evidence to the contrary, which will solve everything. (Spoiler: A gun introduced in the first act must go off in the third is one of many tropes “The Bear” upends.)

The rest of the staff, mercifully, takes a more pragmatic approach. Richie, having become the unexpected sensei of the Bear (and the show), does the most sensible thing — he asks for help from the crackerjack staff of chef Terry’s (Olivia Colman) now defunct Ever. Watching chef Jessica (Sarah Ramos) whip the nightly schedule into shape only underlines the absurdity, and damage, of the auteur theory of anything — greatness is never a solitary achievement.

As Carmy loosens his grip, other outsiders pitch in — Luca (Will Poulter) shows up from Copenhagen to help Marcus and also winds up aiding Tina; Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson) drafts an actual mentor (played by Rob Reiner) to help him figure out how he can grow the Beef sandwich window and Sweeps (Corey Hendrix) finds his own in another sommelier (played by retired master Alpana Singh).

Donna (Jaime Lee Curtis) apologizes to Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) for her actions and the harm she caused.

(FX)

Carmy, thank God, not only returns to Al Anon, but he finally visits his mother, which allows a now-sober Donna (in another potentially Emmy-winning performance by Curtis) to admit the harm she has done and try to make amends.

It is, inarguably, a very different show than the one that debuted three years ago, with far fewer cacophonous kitchen scenes, and many more Chicago-appreciating exteriors. When the long-awaited wedding of Richie’s ex, Tiffany (Gillian Jacobs), reunites many of the characters from the famous “Fishes” episode, fears about a gathering of Berzattos and Faks prove unfounded. Despite a high-pitched and hilarious spat between Sugar and her ex-bestie Francie Fak (Brie Larson), the event is, instead, a celebration of love and reconciliation and includes what passes for a group therapy session under the table where Richie’s daughter Eva (Annabelle Toomey) has hidden herself. (This scene, which involved all the main characters, was more than a little undermined by said table’s TARDIS-like ability to be “bigger on the inside” and the fact that it held the wedding cake, which did not fall as they all exited, is proof that “The Bear” is not a comedy.)

Not even the digital countdown could generate the sizzling, clanking, sniping roar of chronic, organic anxiety that fueled the first two seasons. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it — I love my adrenaline rush as much as the next person.

But that’s the whole point. Real change doesn’t occur with the speed or the electricity of a lightning bolt; as many addicts discover, it’s about progress, not perfection. Recovery takes time and often feels weird — if you want to have a different sort of life, you need to do things differently.

That’s tough on a hit TV show, as the reactions to Season 3 proved (we’ll see how it fares when Emmy nominations are announced in a few weeks). Few series have made as large a shift in tone and tempo as “The Bear,” but its intentions are clear. To illuminate the necessity, and difficulty, of breaking an addiction to anything, including chaos, you can’t rely on talk; for your life to be different, you have to do things differently.

This article contains many spoilers for Season 3 of Netflix’s “Squid Game.”

“Squid Game” is a twisty, twisted thriller, with ordinary, financially stressed people playing children’s games to the death for the amusement of the hidden wealthy. Beneath that surface, creator, writer and director Hwang Dong-hyuk has been embedding sociopolitical commentary amid the shock and awe of protagonist Gi-hun’s (Lee Jung-jae) personal roller-coaster ride; the characters’ desperation as the saga ends forces those messages to poke through the slick, candy-colored exterior.

“It was a result of elevation of the themes and stories,” said Hwang of those ideas becoming more clearly voiced. They “became more upfront and intense just as a natural course of the story unfolding.”

The global phenomenon, still Netflix’s most-watched non-English show ever (its first two seasons are No. 1 and 2 on the streamer’s all-time list, with nearly 600 million views to date, according to Netflix), ends on its own terms with the release of its third and final season Friday. And what an arc everyman Gi-hun will have completed. How better to represent Hwang’s themes of end-stage, winners-and-losers capitalism, with its warping, destructive power, and how the ill-intentioned can exploit democracy’s flaws, than to depict an ordinary person buffeted by the unseen hand of pain for profit?

“You can say this is a story of those who have become losers of the game, and also those of us who are shaken to our core because of the chaotic political landscape,” said Hwang, who with Lee, spoke via an interpreter on a video call earlier this month from New York. “I wanted to focus in Season 3 on how in this world, where incessant greed is always fueled, it’s like a jungle — the strong eating the weak, where people climb higher by stepping on other people’s heads.”

Lee Jung-jae as Seong Gi-hun in final season of Netflix’s “Squid Game.”

(No Ju-han / Netflix)

Gi-hun’s hands become bloodied in the competition in Season 3, Hwang said. “That’s the first time he kills someone [in the games]. This person who symbolized goodness, the original sin is now on him because of what society has done to him,” he said. “How does he pick himself up from that? That’s the heart of Season 3. In a way, we’re all put in this situation due to the capitalist society and chaotic political situation. Gi-hun symbolizes what all of us go through these days.”

When we meet him in Season 1, Gi-hun is down and out, an inveterate gambler. Through Season 1’s horrific gantlet of murderous kids’ games, his exterior is scraped away with a rusty edge until all that’s left is a flawed but good man. Gi-hun is someone who sees what he believes with clarity, while becoming the suddenly rich champion of the games.

But after he reaches that peak, Season 2 plunges him back down the roller coaster as he becomes obsessed with vengeance against the elite voyeurs who fund the game and the Front Man (Lee Byung-hun), who oversees it. Righteous anger carries Gi-hun to the brink of his goal of destroying the games, only to see it all brutally dashed. Season 3 finds him a broken man, near catatonic with guilt. Without him to guide the less bloodthirsty players, the games will enter a fearsome phase of all-out mayhem, from which unexpectedly emerges a chance at redemption for the battered protagonist.

“All of those changes within Gi-hun are depicted in such minute detail” in Hwang’s writing, said Lee, “so nuanced and with so many layers. You’ll see Gi-hun have a change of heart. Sometimes his beliefs will be shaken. But despite all of that, he will continue to struggle to find hope and his will.

“All of those changes within Gi-hun are depicted in such minute detail, so nuanced and with so many layers,” Lee Jung-jae said of his character and Hwang Dong-hyuk’s writing.

(Justin Jun Lee / For The Times)

“All I can say is, I’m a very lucky man. You don’t come by characters like Gi-hun every day. It’s been a true honor,” he adds.

Lee’s public appearances in support of “Squid Game” have provided an almost comic contrast with Gi-hun. He’s movie-star handsome, elegant, always sharply dressed. On the show, especially as Gi-hun deteriorates in Season 3, he’s wrecked.

“Jung-jae went on this extremely harsh diet for over a year so he could really portray, externally, the pain and the brokenness, to really express how famished and barren he is, both mentally and physically,” Hwang said.

Gi-hun isn’t the only person the games destroy. Another hallmark of the show is its deft development of characters into fan favorites, coupled with its “Game of Thrones”-like willingness to unceremoniously kill them. Viewers will be sharpening their pitchforks when trans commando Hyun-ju (Park Sung-hoon), a.k.a. Player 120, dies ignominiously in Season 3. Hwang is already braced for the backlash.

“It’s not me who did it! It was 333,” he exclaimed, blaming the murderer.

Hwang said when he watched the first assembly edit of that death, “I wrote and directed and everything, I knew it’s coming, but it was still painful. It was like, ‘Oh, come on, come on.’ ”

“For some characters, I would see them go and I’d feel really sad … I would think, ‘Director Hwang is such a cruel man,’” Lee said.

1

2

1. Hyun-ju (Park Sung-hoon) in Season 3 of “Squid Game.” “I wrote and directed and everything, I knew it’s coming, but it was still painful,” Hwang Dong-hyuk said. 2. Jun-hee (Jo Yu-ri), a pregnant contestant in the games, was another casualty. (No Ju-han / Netflix)

When Hwang asks what death in particular made him feel that way, Lee doesn’t hesitate to cite another beloved character, pregnant contestant Jun-hee (Jo Yu-ri), calling that Season 3 death “heartbreaking.”

Lee’s sensitive, evolving turn as Gi-hun — deeply human amid the madness, paranoia and murder set in bright green and pink surroundings — has made the character the ideal litmus test for Hwang’s critique of an economic system designed to produce titanic winners and losers who face annihilation. He’s a living symbol of Hwang’s themes.

“I feel like Director Hwang is truly an artist,” Lee said. “I mean something akin to a concept artist. Because when he creates his visuals, not only are they extremely pleasing to the eye; he focuses on the meaning behind them. He [stacks] images on top of one another, almost as if building a Lego castle. Each little block has meaning: each dialogue, each editing flow and [each use of] the musical score.”

As Season 3 reaches a boil, some of Hwang’s symbolism becomes less subtle. In one game, contestants clutch keys suspiciously resembling crucifixes as one player leads others with fervor, for better or worse. One character’s moment of triumph occurs before a painted rainbow (rainbow flags are also associated with the LGBTQ+ community in Korea). And Hwang’s nuanced critique of democracy comes to the fore.

“I feel like Director Hwang is truly an artist,” said Lee Jung-jae of the show’s creator. “I mean something akin to a concept artist. Because when he creates his visuals, not only are they extremely pleasing to the eye; he focuses on the meaning behind them.

(Justin Jun Lee / For The Times)

Unlike Season 1, in which contestants had one chance to vote to end the games, in Seasons 2 and 3, votes are taken after each contest; as more players die, the pot swells larger and larger. With only a score or so of participants left, a vote to quit means all would leave alive, and with substantial cash. Voting to continue means, explicitly, they will kill to become obscenely wealthy.

“In the past, at the time of elections, despite our differences, we all came together; there was more tolerance through the process of conflict,” Hwang said. “I don’t think that is anymore the case. Rather, elections [have only driven] societies into greater divides. I wanted to explore those themes in Seasons 2 and 3; that’s why I included the voting in each round.”

Hwang loudly calls out the flaw of democracy that allows the barest of majorities to subject all to nightmarish policies — even more nightmarish for those who voted against them. The ruthless winners keep reminding the others in Season 3 it was a “free and democratic vote.”

“That is not to say that I have a different answer,” he said. “I wanted to raise the question because I believe it is time for us to try to find the answer. In Season 1, I looked at the flaws of the economic system that creates so many losers due to this unlimited competition. In Season 2, I depicted the failure of the political system.

“Coming into Season 3, because the economic system has failed us, politics have failed us, it seems like we have no hope,” Hwang added. “What hope do we have as a human race when we can no longer control our own greed? I wanted to explore that. And in particular, I wanted to [pose] that question to myself.”

And what has he found? Does he still believe in humanity?

“Well, I don’t have the answer,” Hwang said. “But I have to admit, honestly, I think I’ve become more cynical, working on ‘Squid Game.’”

FX on Hulu has asked that a spoiler alert head any detailed reviews of the new, fourth season of “The Bear.” And while this review is not really detailed, everyone has their own idea of what constitutes a spoiler. So, read on, if you dare.

Most television series, and not just the best ones, are organic. You can plan in a vague way, but you learn as you go along — what the actors can do, what characters are going to demand more screen time, what unexpected opportunities present themselves, what the series is telling you about itself. This can make a show feel inconsistent across time, but often better in the end, as much as it may irritate viewers who liked how things were back at the beginning.

Early in the fourth season of “The Bear,” premiering Wednesday on FX on Hulu, the staff of the series’ eponymous restaurant finally sees the Chicago Tribune review they were anticipating throughout much of Season 3, and when it comes, it contains words like “confusing,” “show-offy” and “dissonant.” (It’s beautiful to see the review represented in a physical newspaper.) The show’s third season was accused by some fans and critics of similar things, and whether or not creator and showrunner Christopher Storer is drawing a comparison here, it’s true that “The Bear” doesn’t behave like most series — the recent shows it most resembles are “Atlanta” and “Reservation Dogs,” both from FX, and going back a little, HBO’s “Treme,” which, like “The Bear,” are less invested in plot than in character, place and feeling.

For all the series’ specific detail and naturalistic production, the eponymous Bear is a fairy-tale restaurant, staffed by people who not long before were hustling to get beef sandwiches out the door but, encouraged by Jeremy Allen White’s brilliant chef Carmen, have revealed individual superpowers in relatively short time. (Carmy asks Marcus, a genius of dessert played by Lionel Boyce, how he achieved a certain effect in a new sweet; “Legerdemain,” Marcus replies.) If you want to see real restaurants in operation, there are plenty of options, from Netflix’s “Chef’s Table,” to Frederick Wiseman’s “Menus-Plaisirs — Les Troisgros,” a four-hour film about a Michelin three-star restaurant in central France. (It streams from PBS.org; you have until March 2027 to catch it there, and should.) But this invented place, which is real enough for its purposes, is primarily a stage for human striving, failure and success — and love. Come for the food, stay for the people.

After the first two seasons, which involved transforming the Beef, the sandwich shop Carmy inherited from his late brother Mikey, and creating the Bear, the third looked around and over its shoulder, flashing back and stretching out and developing themes that are taken up again in Season 4, which begins so hot on the heels of three they might as well be one. (They were filmed back-to-back.) The chaos and expense created by Carmy’s “nonnegotiable” decision to change the menu every night; the prospect of the Tribune review; and a participation agreement for sous-chef-turned-creative partner Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) are still working their way through the story. It begins more prosaically, certainly when compared with the impressionistic montage that occupied the whole of last season’s opening episode. And, apart from an opening flashback in which Carmy tells Mikey (Jon Bernthal) of his vision for a restaurant (“We could make it calm, we could make it delicious, we could play good music, people would want to come in there and celebrate … we could make people happy”), it stays in the present, facing forward.

Once again, we get a ticking clock to create pressure; installed by the “uncle” they call Computer (Brian Koppelman), it’s timed not as before to the opening of the restaurant but to the point at which backer Uncle Jimmy (Oliver Platt) will pull out and the Bear will “cease operations.” (It’s set to 1,440 hours, or 60 days.) But deadlines come and go on this show, and though we’re treated to repeated shots of the countdown clock, it doesn’t create much actual tension. There is always something more immediately concerning, in the kitchen or out in the world.

Ticking clocks remain a motif in Season 4 of “The Bear.” Ayo Edebiri, left, with Liza Colón-Zayas in a scene from this season.

(FX)

For all his messing with the menu in search of a Michelin star, Carmy is stuck in a rut — cue clip from “Groundhog Day” — and has also become maddeningly inarticulate, almost beyond speech; much of what White does this year is listen and react, doing subtle work with his face and fingers, interjecting an occasional “Yeah,” while family or colleagues unburden themselves or take him to task. “Is this performative?” Richie asks a moping Carmy. “You waiting for me to ask if you’re OK?”

Some of his self-flagellation feels unearned — which I suppose is often the case with self-flagellation. (“You would be just as good … without this need for, like, mess,” says Syd.) Carmy can be a handful, but he’s led his team into this land of milk and honey, and if the Bear is dysfunctional, it nevertheless manages to put food on the table, create delight and pay its people. Still, this is a season of apologies — even Uncle Jimmy is saying he’s sorry, through a closed door, to his teenage son — and reconciliations. (You didn’t suppose you’d seen the last of Claire, Carmy’s on-again, off-again romantic interest, played by Molly Gordon?)

Some developments can seem abrupt, possibly because so many of these characters are bad at communicating or lie about how they’re feeling, saying that everything is OK when everything is not OK. But in the long view, the view that extends even beyond the end of the series, whether it comes sooner or later, everything will be OK. Whatever Emmy nitpickers might have to say about its category, “The Bear” is most definitely a comedy; there’ll be obstacles, but everyone’s on a road to happiness. A double-wide episode, set at the wedding of Richie’s ex-wife, Tiffany (Gillian Jacobs), mirrors the calamitous “Fishes” Christmas-dinner episode from Season 2, with most of that extended cast present again. But here, there is dancing.

Richie, running the front of the house, continues on his journey of self-improvement, crafting inspirational addresses to the staff, meditating on a photo of a Japanese Zen garden and dealing in an adult way with his soon-to-be-remarried ex-wife and daughter; the Bear has become his lifeline. Gary (Corey Hendrix, getting some deserved screen time) is being educated as a sommelier; Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas) is working to put pasta on the plate in under three minutes; Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson) is killing it at the sandwich window and looking to “create opportunity” with a new delivery app, a robot called Chuckie and a business mentor (Rob Reiner). Come for the food, stay for the people.

Above all, this is Syd’s year, which is, of course, also to say Edebiri’s. She’s got decisions to make and has been given long, often intense, two-person scenes, not only with Carmy but with Jimmy and Claire and an 11-year-old girl she suddenly finds herself babysitting, and with whom she spends most of an episode; Syd describes her dilemma in terms an 11-year-old might understand and receives the blunt advice an 11-year-old might give.

Carmy, for his part, thinks he knows how to fix things, which he will finally get around to sharing. Is it a good idea? Will it work? Will we ever know, and do we need to know? Is this the final season? (No one has said.) It closes on what is not quite an end — that not everything ties up feels very on brand for the series, and like life, which doesn’t run on schedule — and a sort of beginning. (I would just point out that R.E.M.’s “Strange Currencies,” or as I have called it, “Love Theme From ‘The Bear,’” playing very quietly in a scene behind Richie and highly evolved Chef Jessica [Sarah Ramos] may be a gentle nod to their unseen future.)

It can be corny, it can be obvious. It indulges in gestures as grand and unlikely as creating snow for a guest, and as small as a sandwich being cut to make it a little more friendly, a little more fancy. Both are moving.

Good restaurants serve a reliable version of familiar food, food anyone can like. Great ones do something peculiar that won’t be to everyone’s taste, won’t even make sense, but might inspire love. So it is with television shows.