A lawsuit filed in federal court on Friday accuses writer and director Taylor Sheridan of stealing the idea for his powerhouse success “Yellowstone” from Lauren J. Salkin, a Virginia-based journalist and screenwriter.
Requests for comment from representatives for Sheridan, Paramount and NBCUniversal, all among those named as defendants in the lawsuit, were not immediately returned on Saturday.
The lawsuit says that Salkin spent more than 10 years developing a series to be called “Sovereign Nation,” which is described as “a dramatic television series centered on tribal governance, casino-driven economic power, and a modern war over land and development” with the overall project copyrighted beginning in 2010 and a specific pilot script copyrighted in 2016.
Having submitted the project to Sheridan’s management company, Elevate Entertainment, in February 2017, according to the filing, Salkin later received an email message that included the statement, “Taylor thanks you very much for your interest. Unfortunately, he’s unavailable for TV projects.”
Soon after, Paramount greenlit Sheridan’s “Yellowstone” project, with the first episode airing on June 20, 2018.
The lawsuit goes on to catalog a list of similarities between “Sovereign Nation” and “Yellowstone,” stating, “What then appeared in ‘Yellowstone’ was not merely another Western about land or family. It included specific expressive choices already embodied in Salkin’s materials.”
Kevin Costner in “Yellowstone.”
(Paramount)
Actors Gil Birmingham and Danny Huston were mentioned in Salkin’s original pitch deck as potential casting ideas for her show. Both would later appear on “Yellowstone.” The lawsuit goes on to say that the subsequent “Yellowstone” spinoffs “1883,” “1923,” “Marshalls” and “Dutton Ranch” are therefore also based on Salkin’s work.
The lawsuit states, “Copyright law does not protect the abstract idea of a Western, a land dispute, an Indian casino, or a powerful family — and that is not Plaintiff’s claim. The infringement alleged here lies in the copying of Salkin’s particular expressive choices and their coordinated selection and arrangement.”
The lawsuit asks for a jury trial, an injunction against ongoing and future copyright infringement and unspecified damages.
“Yellowstone” ran for five seasons from 2018-2024. Sheridan, who is also behind shows such as “Tulsa King,” “Landman” and “Mayor of Kingston,” is set to move his production company from Paramount to NBCUniversal in 2029. Sheridan was also nominated for an Academy Award in 2017 for best original screenplay for the neo-western “Hell or High Water.”
Heading into the final weekend of this summer’s World Cup, The Guardian reported that support for FIFA president Gianni Infantino had climbed to record levels. More than 200 of FIFA’s 211 member associations formally endorsed Infantino’s bid for a fourth term as head of world soccer’s governing body, the paper reported, making next March’s vote more of a coronation than an election.
Two weeks later, that support disappeared. Not only is Infantino’s reelection campaign in tatters, but there’s a chance he won’t survive until the spring, with British Prime Minister Andy Burnham and Javier Tebas, president of Spain’s soccer association, calling for his resignation and close confidants such as Carlos Cordeiro, the former president of U.S. Soccer, and Kevin Lamour, FIFA’s chief operating officer, publicly breaking with their boss.
At the center of that reversal was a closely guarded scheme to raise $4.2 billion by selling a 20% stake in the World Cup to private investors, who would be given influence in planning and executing future events, including broadcasting and commercial deals tied to the tournament.
In short, Infantino was planning, in secret, to sell shares in the World Cup. And once details began leaking in the media, he was forced Friday to scrap the whole thing, an embarrassing retreat that has left him vulnerable just two weeks after he had seemingly reached the heights of his third term as FIFA president.
Infantino’s idea, called the FIFA Forward Enterprise, was intended to turn the World Cup, FIFA’s milk cow, into a golden calf. But to do so, he needed the approval of at least 106 of FIFA’s 211 member countries, so he promised countries that backed him that they would receive $20 million each by mid-September. Those who declined would get just a fraction of that.
Infantino was certain the piles of cash would buy the acquiescence — or at least the silence — of enough members for the plan to go through. Instead, the bribe blew up in his face and FIFA issued a statement late Friday, under Infantino’s name, that basically said “never mind.”
“Having listened carefully to all the views, it has become clear that the project has created divisions of a nature that, regardless of the level of support, are no longer in the interest of the objective set out in the first place,” the statement read.
The question now becomes whether Infantino’s presidency will proceed.
He wouldn’t be the first FIFA president to be grievously wounded by unbridled ambition, but the speed and depth of his fall is staggering. The 2026 World Cup was, by nearly every measure, wildly successful. The largest and most complex sporting event in history the tournament, hosted by the U.S., Mexico and Canada, exceeded expectations, drawing more than 6.8 million live fans and a global TV audience of more than six billion. The four-year World Cup cycle brought FIFA revenues of about $15 billion, making it the first sporting event in history to earn more than $10 billion.
Infantino has never been shy about pushing boundaries despite heading a Swiss-based organization that, its wealth notwithstanding, is officially a nonprofit. Nor was this the first time he tried to bring private equity into the World Cup: In 2018, two years into his first term as FIFA president, he considered a plan to raise $25 billion to fund tournaments, only to cave in the face of massive opposition.
He didn’t give up the idea of squeezing more money out of the World Cup, though.
This summer, he introduced three-minute hydration breaks in the middle of each half — ostentatiously a nod to the heat and humidity, but in reality a ruse that allowed broadcasters to generate millions in additional revenue through TV commercials. FIFA also staged a halftime show for the first time ever during the final, sold VIP tickets priced at more than $1 million each and introduced dynamic pricing for the tournament’s 104 games, driving prices for some seats to four times what fans paid four years ago in Qatar.
That pushed the tournament beyond the reach of many of the sport’s most loyal supporters — and soccer, more than any other sport, belongs to the fans. It’s why teams are called clubs and fans are called supporters.
The World Cup, then, wasn’t Infantino’s to sell. So the pushback to his latest idea was immediate and unsparing.
“Football does not belong to investors,” Burnham said in an Instagram post. “Once you have sold a piece, you have sold out. Football belongs to the fans. It always has, and it always will.”
What really angered stakeholders, however, was Infantino’s brazen move to develop the FFE in secret, only to have its details leak out.
Bernd Neuendorf, president of the German soccer association and a member of the FIFA Council, the group’s most influential body, said he first learned of the FFE by reading about it.
“I was very surprised, and also annoyed, that we had to find out about something like this from the press,” he told a German news outlet last week.
Another self-inflicted wound was Infantino’s decision to launch the project with Thrive Eternal, a venture capital firm founded by Joshua Kushner, the 41-year-old brother of Jared Kushner, President Trump’s son-in-law and a kind of all-purpose White House advisor and negotiator. Thrive Eternal focuses on long-term investments in scarce cultural institutions that technology cannot replace, but it has little relevant experience in managing something as large and complicated as a World Cup.
FIFA president Gianni Infantino, left, and President Trump wave during an award ceremony following Spain’s win over Argentina in the World Cup final July 19.
(David Ramos / Getty Images)
Moreover, the partnership would draw Infantino further into the orbit of Trump, whom the FIFA president has openly courted for years. Infantino, who has been a frequent visitor to the Oval Office and Trump’s Mar-a-Lago estate in Florida, attended the president’s inauguration and accompanied him on visits around the world.
Trump’s relationship to Infantino was questioned when Infantino presented him with the first FIFA Peace Prize last December, then became even more controversial when Trump phoned Infantino three times to lobby to have the red-card suspension of U.S. forward Folarin Balogun overturned ahead of a World Cup elimination game last month.
FIFA eventually cleared Balogun to play, marking just the second time in tournament history a red card ban has been lifted. For some, Infantino’s decision to partner with someone close to Trump on his latest venture was a bridge too far.
“It’s a really bad look for Infantino given the concerns about political interference that were already there after Balogun,” said Steven A. Bank, a professor of business law at UCLA who has written and lectured extensively on the economics of soccer. “Especially with the fund led by Jared Kushner’s brother.”
Once details of Infantino’s secret plan began to leak, UEFA, the confederation that governs European soccer, held an emergency meeting during which all 55 members — including Spain, the reigning men’s and women’s World Cup champion — voted to boycott all FIFA competitions.
“Some things are simply too important to sell. The FIFA World Cup belongs to football. It always will,” UEFA, the largest and most powerful of FIFA’s six continental confederations, said in a statement.
CONCACAF, which oversees soccer in North America, Central America and the Caribbean, said its 41 countries also rejected the plan, an opinion the U.S. Soccer Federation backed in a sparse post on X.
“U.S. Soccer stands with CONCACAF and its members,” it wrote.
The Asian Football Confederation joined in, saying in a statement its 47 members stand “in solidarity with UEFA and CONCACAF in expressing serious concerns over FIFA’s proposal to introduce private investment into FIFA’s flagship competitions.”
When it became obvious Infantino would not get the votes he needed to go forward, he pulled the plug on his plan. But it may not have been so much that the idea was bad as it was the execution.
Soccer is awash with private investors. The biggest clubs are owned by billionaires or sovereign wealth funds and many leagues — including Spain’s La Liga, which Tebas oversees — have sold commercial stakes to private equity firms in much the same way FIFA proposed.
Alan Rothenberg, a former U.S. Soccer president and the driving force behind the 1994 men’s World Cup and 1999 women’s World Cup, among the most successful tournaments in history, said the idea of selling a private equity stake in the World Cup isn’t a bad idea. But the way Infantino tried to implement his plan led it to failure.
“What is proposed is not that revolutionary,” Rothenberg said. “There have been private equity investors in MLS, in one of the subsidiaries of the NFL, in F1.
“But I think the combination of everything has doomed it. It does raise the possibility that Infantino, he’s finally become Icarus and gotten too close to the sun. It actually may doom him politically.”
Others including Cordeiro, a former vice chairman at Goldman Sachs, questioned the need to bring in outside investors.
“FIFA already has access to extraordinary financial resources. The organization sits on billions of dollars in reserves and no debt,” Cordeiro pointed out in his resignation letter. “If member associations believe additional investment is needed to develop the game, FIFA already has the financial capacity to provide that support from its existing resources.”
Infantino has flaunted consensus before without significant consequence, cozying up to autocrats while overseeing the 2018 World Cup in Vladimir Putin’s Russia and the 2022 tournament in Qatar before being accused of awarding the 2034 tournament to Saudi Arabia in a rigged vote.
This time, however, the stakeholders within FIFA were pushed too far by Infantino’s penchant for wielding unilateral power, so they pushed back and the president blinked. Hours before he backed down, an ally of Infantino’s told the Financial Times that he would not bend, seeing the standoff as “a fight to the death.”
Infantino’s presidency might not be dead, but it is surely in critical condition.
George and Amal Clooney evacuated their 425-acre Provence wine estate in southeastern France amid the wildfires spreading across Europe.
The “Jay Kelly” star revealed the news in a letter to Didier Bremond, the mayor of the town of Brignoles, east of Marseille.
“Dear Didier, [a]t this point we have no idea whether our beautiful home makes it through this terrible moment,” the letter read.
“As we evacuate Brignoles we want to emphasise 2 things, first we hope you and the people of our city are safe and second that Amal and [I] are committed to making sure that whatever happens to our village, we are part of this community and we’ll be part of making it whole.
“We love Brignoles and our friends who live there.”
The fire near Brignoles sparked on Wednesday and burned about 250 acres. The Brignoles fire was significantly smaller than the massive wildfire that recently ravaged southwestern France near Bordeaux, where 84,000 evacuees were allowed to return home Thursday as firefighters gained control over flames that had burned an area four times the size of Paris.
In December, the French government announced that the Clooneys, including their 9-year-old twins, Ella and Alexander, were awarded citizenship.
The Clooneys bought property in France — a farm, he recently told Esquire — in August 2021 for $8.3 million, when their twins were 4. He said it was a “much better life” there for the children.
“Yeah, we’re very lucky. … A good portion of my life growing up was on a farm, and as a kid I hated the whole idea of it. But now, for them, it’s like — they’re not on their iPads, you know?” he said in the interview, published in the magazine’s October/November issue.
“I was worried about raising our kids in L.A., in the culture of Hollywood. I felt like they were never going to get a fair shake at life. France — they kind of don’t give a s— about fame. I don’t want them to be walking around worried about paparazzi. I don’t want them being compared to somebody else’s famous kids.”
George Clooney and Amal Alamuddin, a human-rights lawyer, tied the knot in September 2014 in Venice, Italy.
The Associated Press and former Times staff writer Christie D’Zurilla contributed to this report.
He said the quiet part out loud. As the artistic director of New York’s Public Theater and one of the art form’s most prominent leaders, Oskar Eustis is known to do that. And as always, he got the art world talking.
When Eustis, 67, announced Wednesday that he would step down from his role at the Public in 2028 — after 23 years — he said in a New York Times interview that “the American nonprofit theater movement is over.” This has been whispered about and lamented since the COVID-19 pandemic led to temporary theater closures across the country that have since become permanent, but it is rare to hear it expressed so candidly.
Did Eustis, one of the key players in that vaunted movement — the man who helped foster “Hamilton” — really mean what he said? And if so, how does theater move on in the face of obstacles that at times feel as though they are scattered across an increasingly difficult course? In a wide-ranging follow-up interview with the Los Angeles Times, Eustis addressed the path forward.
Lin-Manuel Miranda and Phillipa Soo portray Alexander and Eliza Hamilton in “Hamilton.” The megahit premiered off-Broadway at the Public Theater under Oskar Eustis in 2015.
(Disney+)
It’s not an easy one, but Los Angeles theater leaders working in the trenches, including Tarell Alvin McCraney at Geffen Playhouse, Danny Feldman at Pasadena Playhouse and Snehal Desai at Center Theatre Group, already knew that. They talked with the Los Angeles Times about their plans at the crossroads reached by American theater in light of Eustis’ imminent exit.
Eustis traces the rise of the American nonprofit theater movement to the late 1950s when W. McNeil “Mac” Lowry, director of the arts and humanities program at the Ford Foundation in New York, began organizing existing regional theaters into a national movement.
“What happened during that period was that a consensus emerged,” Eustis said, noting that it was expressed in the form of national endowments, state arts agencies, public policy institutes and corporate philanthropic departments. “An idea of the common good was held throughout the country, and there were many stakeholders. And part of that idea of the common good was a broadly held belief that Americans deserved serious, non-market-driven performing arts.”
With no feudal background, America lacked a capital city like London or Paris designed to showcase the arts, so the idea spread across all 50 states. This led to the proliferation of the regional theater movement, said Eustis, as well as that of symphony orchestras and ballet companies.
“The explosion of the regional theater movement is actually, in retrospect, astonishing,” Eustis said. “From a few scattered theaters in the 1950s, by the early ‘70s, there were over 400 professional nonprofit theaters in every state of the union. Tens of thousands of people were employed. Millions and millions of audience members every year. That’s the field that I walked into in the early ‘70s.”
Fifty years later, those stakeholders have “absolutely zero consensus on whether theater should exist as a nonprofit performing arts field or whether we should exist at all,” Eustis said. “It’s gone.”
“We’ve kind of been living, in a way, off inertia of this old idea,” he added.
The great pandemic pause, along with the racial reckoning in the wake of George Floyd’s murder and the continued fracturing of a shared reality under President Trump, served to reveal how fragile that consensus was, Eustis said, and, “It’s not coming back.”
Where does that leave American theater in 2026?
“We’re faced with the need to prove to the people in our individual communities that we matter enough to them that they should support us,” Eustis said. “Now, that’s not a very bad demand to put on an art form.”
Except, as every theater that has lately dared put on a show created by new, experimental or unknown artists knows, it can feel like an insurmountable task.
Danny Feldman, artistic director of Pasadena Playhouse, said that the days of theaters underpaying talent are over.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Smaller theaters across the country, including many in L.A., have shuttered with staggering regularity in the last six years, which puts even greater pressure on the city’s most prominent nonprofits to shine a light on a sustainable model moving forward.
Feldman, Pasadena Playhouse’s artistic director, noted that Eustis represents the second generation of leaders of the “first chapter” of the nonprofit regional theater movement. “And that to me is what is now undeniably at the end.”
He said he and Eustis have discussed the subject at length. “We are now in a very different era. And the things that got us to this point are not the things that are going to get us to the next chapter.”
McCraney, Geffen Playhouse’s artistic director, said forging a path forward in nonprofit theater without succumbing to commercial pressure to produce only guaranteed hits requires the delicate balance of surfing.
“And there’s no better place to surf than in L.A.,” McCraney said over the phone from the Public, where he was meeting with Eustis and other theater leaders to share ideas. “I feel very connected to a bunch of folks who recognize that the regional theater model has always had to have radical vision, and that those radical visions need revision, because our most practical job is to make sure that communities have stories.”
Tarell Alvin McCraney, artistic director of Geffen Playhouse, compared the balancing act theater leaders must perform to surfing.
(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
It’s not just the way theater tells — and funds — stories that must evolve. It’s the entire business model, the leaders note.
The beauty and the founding of the original regional movement, said Feldman, was artists saying, “New York is not just where it’s at. We’re going to go to our communities. We’re going to make things with and for them, and really build these ecosystems that are deeply entrenched in these local communities around the country. … And I think the underbelly of that — that maybe has not been discussed as much — was always an element of subsidized labor involved.”
In L.A. and elsewhere that meant a lot of artists in the front and back of the house working for incredibly low wages. The pandemic effectively put an end to that, and as workers demanded fair compensation, the cost of producing shows skyrocketed. Most theater leaders agree that part is as it should be. Eustis points to the recent unionization of the Public’s production department as a case in point.
“For the first time in history, everybody who’s swinging a hammer on our productions has health insurance,” he said. “They have it through the union. That’s a good thing. And it’s put a shock wave through the whole industry, but you know what? We figured out how to pay development directors. We should figure out how to pay carpenters. That’s part of growing up.”
Center Theatre Group Artistic Director Snehal Desai said Oskar Eustis’ departure from New York’s Public Theater represents a “pass the mantle” moment.
(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)
Desai, CTG’s artistic director, said he views Eustis’ decision to step down as a “pass the mantle moment.”
“Oskar has been a huge mentor to so many of us,” Desai said. “It’s up to us, the next generation of leaders, to figure it out, just as his generation did in the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s when they built these institutions for us.”
At CTG that means exploring a new way of doing things including touring shows, intensive work in various communities and site-specific productions, all of which “can change the financials and the model of how we’re doing business.”
As for Eustis? He plans to leave the Public in the best possible shape for the next generation of artists, and never wavers from its core mission. “This is a theater of democracy that believes that the culture belongs to everybody,” he said.
For a long time, the lifestyles and foibles of the modest bourgeoisie were a mainstay of art-house cinema, with urbane, upscale audiences happy to turn out to see versions of their own lives depicted on the screen. But more recently, as ideas about what middle age looks like have shifted, along with the changing demographics of viewers, these films have largely disappeared. Which is what makes the seriocomic “The Invite” feel both fresh and something of a throwback — a movie for those who worry about losing their edge.
Directed by Olivia Wilde, “The Invite” was a clear standout when it premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in January and now arrives in theaters as one of the best dramas of the year so far. It feels daring for how it wants to actually examine the emotional costs of contemporary grown-up life, bringing wincing laughs of recognition.
The film begins with married couple Angela and Joe, played by Wilde and Seth Rogen, checking back in at their home in San Francisco at the end of the day. He has been at the teaching job he resents and she has been frantically preparing for the dinner party she may not have told him about. Their daughter is away at a sleepover for the evening and it seems they no longer fully know how to relate to each other. As they bicker and jab, their quiet dissatisfaction with their lives stops being so quiet.
Angela has invited over their neighbors from the apartment upstairs, who they do not know well and who often have loud sex. That couple, Piña and Hawk, played by Penélope Cruz and Edward Norton, seems more assured, self-possessed and adventurous, the kind of people you can absent-mindedly invent stories about, assuming their lives are much cooler than your own.
Things go in ways both expected and unexpected, the two couples warily feeling each other out as they wait to spring their own private agendas. Over the course of the evening, things will be alternately tense, flirty, vulnerable and revelatory as surprisingly little food is eaten. (Other substances get ingested instead.)
An adaptation of Cesc Gay’s 2020 Spanish film “Sentimental,” the screenplay is credited to Rashida Jones and Will McCormack. In an unusual step, the script was further workshopped and developed with the cast during rehearsals. Rogen came up with some of the biggest laugh lines and Norton wrote the deeply earnest monologue he delivers late in the film. (The popular Belgian psychotherapist Esther Perel is also credited as a consultant.)
This American version expands upon the characters more than Gay’s original film while consistently returning to the disappointment of Angela and Joe’s lives in terms both big and small. Neither of them are the people they once thought they might become. Whether two people who are each unhappy can make it as a couple becomes the overriding theme of the film.
This is Wilde’s third movie as a director and it is, by far, her most cohesive and accomplished, both contained and expansive. Her debut, 2019’s charming end-of-high-school tale “Booksmart,” had a throw-everything-at-the-wall quality, as if she wanted to get out every idea and try every trick in case she never got another chance to direct. Wilde’s follow-up, the 2022 psychodrama “Don’t Worry Darling,” became mired in behind-the-scenes gossip and tabloid speculation that overshadowed what was intended as a stylized portrait of female rage and discontent.
Her latest fulfills and exceeds the promise of those earlier movies. Shot on 35mm film by cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra, the action of “The Invite” is almost entirely confined to Angela and Joe’s apartment, which thanks to a recent renovation has plenty of rooms to explore. All four players are exceptional in their roles, playing smartly off their screen personas while exploring the nuances of the characters and their intersecting dynamics.
Wilde’s Angela is expressive and antic; Rogen’s Joe is sullen and snarky. Cruz is alluring and watchful, while Norton turns out to be the film’s secret weapon. He has a low-key comic energy and helps guide the story through a few of its trickier emotional turns. At one point he simply rises from behind a couch and it plays like a punchline.
Skip the next two paragraphs if you want to hold onto the film’s purest pleasures. Those noises from upstairs have been Piña and Hawk hosting group sex parties and they are now cruising Angela and Joe for some extramarital couples’ fun. Here, the movie pivots from passive-aggressive party conversation into farce, as Angela and Joe try to process the idea anyone else might find them desirable, as they have long since given up on seeing themselves in that way.
Wilde in particular lights up during this section, Angela’s mind racing at possibilities she never considered for herself while fumbling over the practicalities of protocols and just how this would work. Before pushing the film into its final forlorn section, the excitement that something sexy might happen charges the actors. It is very likely that streams of Sade’s seductive “By Your Side” will skyrocket.
But the focus stays very much on the struggles of married life. One of the biggest strengths of “The Invite” is the way it keeps evolving as the night progresses so it never feels claustrophobic or repetitive. There is a sense of visual invention and imagination to the film that continues all the way through, such as a moment when Wilde crouches down to check on a doomed soufflé in the oven and addresses the camera directly, looking up as if talking to Rogen. The viewer is frequently placed in an adjacent POV to the different characters, as if you are there in the room too.
The film has a propulsive rhythm to it, a relentlessness, even as Wilde and editors Yorgos Mavropsaridis and Anthony Boys know when to ease off the throttle and take it easy for a bit. The film breathes in a dynamic way, the last few beats taking a startling turn toward a somber wistfulness. The ending is just enigmatic enough to have audiences talking it through as they make their way out of the theater.
The end credits include a handwritten dedication, “For Diane,” a nod to Diane Keaton. The live-wire wit and idiosyncratic verve that she embodied in “Reds” and “Something’s Gotta Give” are very much on display here. Early in the story, Norton dryly notes, “We love a contentious environment.” Thanks to Wilde’s confident direction and the ensemble’s unpredictable performances, audiences will too.
‘The Invite’
Rated: R, for sexual material, language throughout, and drug use
Just past noon, a young man appeared on the north side of San Vicente Boulevard, a block west of Hauser, and eyeballed the flow of westbound traffic.
When he saw an opening, he slid across to the median strip, where he waited for eastbound traffic to let up before crossing over to the south side of San Vicente to pick up some takeout food. And then he retraced his steps across the 150-foot wide thoroughfare that knifes through the heart of the city along what once was the Red Car line of the Pacific Electric Railway.
He should have used the nearby crosswalk, but there aren’t enough of those on the boulevard, so pedestrians routinely skitter and scoot across the street like they’re in a game of Frogger.
I watched this drama the other day from Dam Good Coffee, where I met with two guys who live in the neighborhood and, in their spare time, have been doing a lot of thinking. They’re fine-tuning a pitch to reengineer the boulevard, reduce traffic, improve access to two new transit lines and transform the Mid-City portion of San Vicente Boulevard — from the Beverly Center on the west to just past La Brea on the east — into a 3-mile, 30-acre linear park.
Ambitious. Outlandish. Insane.
From left, Catherine Geanacouras, Oren Hadar and Michael Wacht of the San Vicente Park Foundation have a plan to turn a stretch of San Vicente Boulevard into a greenway.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
It’s all of that and a longshot undertaking, given the countless obstacles that can derail their dream. But Oren Hadar, a sound engineer, and Michael Wacht, an architect, are serious, along with a small coalition of neighborhood believers.
“One of the things I always say is L.A. needs to get back into the business of taking big swings,” Hadar said. He is motivated in part by the fact that his two young kids don’t have a nearby park to play in.
The big swing comes at a time when Los Angeles has just fallen from 90th to 93rd in terms of park acreage, investment and accessibility in the annual Trust for Public Lands ranking of the 100 largest cities in the U.S. You’d think a city with great weather and thousands of apartment dwellers with little or no outdoor space would fight its way into the top 10 rather than settle for sinking to the bottom of the heap.
“What if L.A.’s next great park was already here, hiding in plain sight?” a narrator asks in a video that appears on the group’s San Vicente Park website.
Local resident Jo and her dog Elle carefully cross San Vicente Boulevard in Los Angeles on Wednesday, June 17, 2026.
(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)
Sun-baked asphalt would give way to turf. Pedestrians and cyclists would have more breathing room. There’d be far less traffic.
“You can put in micro forests,” Wacht said. “You can do farmers markets. You can do growing areas. You can do fountains. Playgrounds.”
Catherine Geanuracos, a CicLAvia board member who was an advocate for turning the Silver Lake Reservoir into an aquatic park, joined our conversation and called the idea “eminently feasible.”
“I think this is what makes L.A. great,” Geanuracos said. She’s lived in New York City and San Francisco and thinks there’s greater opportunity here for engaged residents to advance their civic improvement ideas.
The advocates said they’d gotten some encouragement from Councilmembers Heather Hutt and Katy Yaroslavsky, whose districts include the area of the proposed park. Hutt’s office sent me a statement saying she supports “effrorts to create more walkable, green communities.” She said she has encouraged the group to keep exploring the vision, and she looks forward to hearing input from various other neighborhood groups.
Hadar writes a blog called The Future Is L.A., which is part love letter to Los Angeles and part lament on unmet potential.
“Just about every other major American city has a policy and research think tank dedicated to pursuing ideas that could make the city better,” Hadar recently wrote, calling for L.A. to have its own.
I don’t want to say the park idea’s chances are slim, but let’s look at a few hurdles.
Traffic passes through the intersection of San Vicente Boulevard and La Brea in Los Angeles on.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
L.A. city government has trouble managing existing parks and even the open spaces around City Hall, so how can it build and care for another 30 acres of greenery?
The cost would be in the millions, and the cup does not runneth over.
And then there’s the biggest pothole of all on the road to pastoral wonder:
Creating the park would mean squeezing off one or two lanes of traffic in each direction of San Vicente. That would dump more cars onto surrounding streets and set up another road diet clash that pits car culture against growing demand for a city that is safer and more inviting for those who walk, bike and use transit.
All of this would be examined in a feasibility study the advocates are raising money for. But the supporters claim San Vicente is lightly traveled compared to Wilshire, Pico and Olympic, so stealing traffic lanes wouldn’t be catastrophic.
I mentioned that I’d think twice about sending kids to play in a median strip park. But the supporters said San Vicente would become more of a neighborhood service street than a thruway, with safer crossings into the new park, which by the way already has plenty of full-grown trees.
When I took a walk and polled people on the park idea, I got mixed reactions.
“That’s a bad idea,” said a man who was walking along the median strip. He said he thought that after the addition of bike lanes a few years ago squeezed vehicular traffic, San Vicente became more dangerous, and the idea of a park between lanes of traffic sounded disastrous to him.
Miguel Lopez looked like he was trying to bring the park vision to life. He sat on the median strip reading a book and smiled when he was shown a rendering of San Vicente Park.
Blanca Vanburian practices tai chi in her yard along San Vicente Boulevard on Wednesday.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Blanca Vanburian, who was doing a variation of Tai Chi on the lawn outside her apartment building, had several good questions, including one about whether the city could be trusted to maintain a new park. She said a lot of residents would be concerned about new traffic flows through side streets, and she wondered if the park would attract more homeless people.
Hadar told her the feasibility study would probe all of that, and the more she heard, the more Vanburian came around to the idea of the park.
“It’s up to us how we use public space,” Wacht said, looking out on a particularly unattractive stretch of roadway that generates so much exhaust and serves as a barrier, dividing two neighborhoods. “I get disappointed when I see so much of it devoted to this, and it’s keeping us from being more of a cohesive neighborhood.”
Margaret Free walks three basset hounds, named Bob, Doris and Ruth, along San Vicente Boulevard in Los Angeles on Wednesday.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Margaret Free was walking three Basset hounds — Bob, Doris and Ruth. She said she and the dogs could be counted as four votes in favor of the park.
A woman named Jo safely managed a Frogger crossing with her dog, Elle. Jo said she was absolutely in favor of a park and doesn’t think losing lanes of vehicle traffic is a bad thing, but she feared backlash from drivers who disagree and asked me to withhold her last name.
Joshua Mock, owner of Dam Good Coffee, said everyone would benefit from the park, especially neighborhood children. “It’d be dope,” he said, “and good for business.”
In this week’s episode of The Envelope podcast, Riz Ahmed talks about drawing on his own experience for “Bait,” his Prime Video series about a British Muslim actor whose life is upended when he’s rumored to be the next James Bond.
Kelvin Washington: Hello, everyone, and welcome to the next episode of The Envelope. Kelvin Washington, Yvonne Villarreal, we have Mark Olsen. And Mark, I’ll stay with you for a second. You had a chance to speak with Riz Ahmed, who is the creator and the star of “Bait,” which centers around the idea of who could be the next James Bond. So then, dang it, I’m asking you two the same question: Who could be, should be the next James Bond? Is there somebody or somebodies that you’ve thought about for a while and said, “Well, that would fit, that could work”?
Mark Olsen: It was recently announced that they have begun the casting process to replace Daniel Craig in the beloved and long-running James Bond franchise. And there have already been at least one sort of confirmed person, the actor Tom Francis, auditioned. But then there’s a lot of other names being thrown around, like Callum Turner, Jacob Elordi, Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Kind of everybody about that age bracket you could think of. You know, it’s funny, in the last movie, “No Time to Die,” Lashana Lynch was given the number 007, so she was not James Bond, but she was 007. And I always thought, actually, in the last couple of movies, that Léa Seydoux would make a perfect [00 agent] — she’s cool, she feels kind of dangerous. She would have seemed to me like a great person for that kind of role. But then also, that’s obviously not James Bond. So who knows who it could be. Yvonne, what do you think? Do you have anybody in mind?
Yvonne Villarreal: Can it be a toss-up between you two? How would you fare?
Olsen: I don’t know if I’d pass basic training.
Washington: They have doubles, OK? They got stunt doubles and CGI and AI for all of that and for you, OK.
Villarreal: It’d be like the Leslie Nielsen version.
Washington So it’d be like 007 with a question mark: 007?
Villarreal: More seriously — not that I don’t take you two seriously as candidates — I would throw my enthusiasm around Jonathan Bailey or Damson Idris.
Washington: I’m gonna one-up your Idris and just go [with] the obvious, Idris Elba. It’s been sitting there for the last 15 years or so.
Villarreal: That’s why I didn’t [say that], because I’m like, “It’s been sitting there and they still haven’t.”
Washington: But sometimes it just makes sense. Sometimes it’s just sitting smacking you in the face, or shooting you with a silent 9mm — whatever he uses, James Bond. It just makes sense, and to be honest, it’s one of those, he’s probably passing [on the role] because you wanna have a franchise you can hold on to for 20 years with a particular actor, give or take, and he seems like he’d be probably too senior for that at a certain point. The podcast, the conversation behind what really happened there is going to be fascinating because, to your point, it just seems like the momentum was building for it and it didn’t happen. So it would be interesting to hear what actually comes out of that. But those are my are my guesses right there.
All right, Mark, you had a chance to speak with Riz Ahmed, obviously the creator and the star of “Bait.” Fascinating to me, just the concept of the show as a whole.
Olsen: Riz Ahmed is someone who, he’s so thoughtful about his own career, but also his place in the world. And so he does such a great job with this show and taking this idea of like, “Could an actor like Riz Ahmed, could he be James Bond? Should he be James Bond? Why not?” And so the show is just so thoughtful and finds all these really inventive ways of exploring that idea. He’s playing a little-known actor who it becomes public that he’s auditioned for the role and that throws his whole life into tumult both within the industry, with sort of like online hate towards him, but then also with his own family. And the show is also meant to be kind of a real love letter to the South Asian communities of London. Riz in the conversation talks about how they went out of their way to shoot in parts of London that you don’t normally see. So the show, it’s just so inventive and fun in a lot of really terrific ways.
Washington: Well, let’s hear more of your conversation with Riz now.
Riz Ahmed.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Mark Olsen: On the show, you play an actor who auditions for the part of James Bond. It leaks to the press, and then his whole world turns upside down. For you, is the premise of the show predicated on the idea that someone like you would never get that part, or is it that, of course you should get that? Which end of the telescope are you looking at it from?
Riz Ahmed: Kind of neither, really. The premise of the show was something a bit more emotional than that. The James Bond thing came right at the end, to be honest, of the creative process. Really, the heart of the show is the idea of auditioning. James Bond really serves as a symbol in the show, a symbol of aspiration, pinnacle of achievement in this industry and also of alpha masculinity and all this kind of stuff. And so it’s really the idea of trying to be that guy, which on some level, we’re all trying to be this kind of preferred version of ourselves, right? We’re all performing. We’re actually all always auditioning. So it’s about that feeling, [which] I think extends outside this industry. We’re doing that on LinkedIn or social media, on this podcast right now. We’re performing a version of ourselves. When actually the true version of ourselves is kind of messy, chaotic and vulnerable. So it’s that distance between the public and private self that I was really interested in, and James Bond just served as an aspirational symbol of that public way that you would love to be seen.
Olsen: But Bond, because of the specific cultural baggage that comes with that franchise, did you feel like it fit thematically with what you were trying to do?
Ahmed: Oh, perfectly. It was a godsend. It was like one of those moments where it’s like, “OK, so we want to do something about, like, aspiring to be anything but yourself. We want to do something about feeling like life is one big audition, but we need something that encapsulates success and cultural acceptance.” And it was like … Of course: Bond. And because the process of making this show was one of pulling so much from my own personal life, there was a moment or two when my name was mentioned in that conversation. I mean, along with, you know, everyone and their dog. But it was an interesting kind of thought experiment, it was an interesting, as I said, kind of vessel to place all of the themes into. And so when that idea came about, it was like, “This is perfect. We can talk about everything we want to talk about using this symbol.” We’re like, “OK, now how are we gonna get it?” And everyone told us Barbara Broccoli would never let us use it. Rightly so, she was very protective of this IP. But I wrote her a letter, sat down with her, showed her the scripts and she understood. She understood that it’s not really about Bond. It’s a show about self-love, and she really kind of vibed with that. Shout out Barbara Broccoli, thank you for letting us use Bond exactly how we wanted to.
Olsen: You recently hosted the new “SNL UK” and in your monologue, you made this joke that you don’t just play intense roles, that there’s this image of you that it’s all that you do. Did you purposely want to make “Bait” as a way to break you out of that perception?
Ahmed: It wasn’t that careerist and calculating, to be honest. I was just trying to make something that was authentically me. And I think the people who know me know that I’m a lover of comedy. My first rap song was a comedy rap song. I got banned on British radio back in the day because it was a quite an acerbic kind of satire. And actually it’s funny because I think that’s an American perception of me. In the UK, nine times out of 10, when I get stopped is for a British comedy I did called “Four Lions.” Which is like a kind of cult classic British movie. It’s a very British comedy. That’s like me, that’s like how I am in real life. And so when I wanted to make my own show, it just stands to reason it would be a reflection of my taste. So the overall frame was comedy, but I kind of have quite a maximalist sensibility. I want to have my cake and eat it. So I also wanted it to be a spy thriller and a family drama and quite surreal and psychological thriller and all of these elements kind of put together, but the frame of it all, I would say, is comedy. And yet it was really actually important to us that we tried to defy genre and defy categorization in that way.
Olsen: Did you feel like this was a role that, like, nobody was going to give you, like you had to write this for yourself?
Ahmed: It wasn’t so much out of a kind of frustration or a desire to create work for myself or break out of a pigeonhole or anything like that. Honestly, I just tried to make something as honest and authentic and vulnerable as possible, if that doesn’t sound too eye-rolly. I guess I reached a point in my life as a creative where I realized, actually, performance isn’t about putting on the mask, it’s about taking it off. It’s about sharing with the world who you are, sharing your privacy and your insanity. And if you do that, people will connect with it because it’s honest. And if you name your pain and your craziness, there’s something healing in that for yourself and others. I had kind of gotten to that place in my life. And so I wanted to kind of follow that through to a place that felt quite scary and pull on the most personal aspects of my own neuroses and my life and my neighborhood that I grew up in — so many locations are literally where I’ve grown up. So many moments in the show I pulled very directly from my life experience. My character has a panic attack at the end of Episode 1 at this particular music venue in North London. I had a panic attack in that venue in North London when I was supporting Wu-Tang Clan. My character is approached by MI5 and MI6. They say, “Hey, you’re a rising actor, do you wanna work with us, help with messaging?” That happened to me specifically once I started to become a bit more well known. There’s just so many things that kind of came from that place, and it was all based on this idea of like, “If I wanna make a show about a character who needs to learn how to take off the mask, then I need to do that as well.” And we kind of had a mantra in the room, which was like, “If it feels scary and it’s true, do it.” And there were times when I didn’t want to do it, definitely times when I wanted to kind of hide, but I just increasingly have this feeling that if you can offer up a part of yourself, then that’s one of the most liberating things you can do as an artist. And also for an audience, it just feels honest. That’s where you can connect most with people, if you’re willing to share that vulnerability.
Olsen: What was the writing process of the show like for you? Was there a moment where you had like a whiteboard with a list of awkward things that had happened to you?
Ahmed: That whiteboard would be very, very big, very, very large. Let’s say we’ve got a lot left in the tank if we ever do another season. The writing process was a learning curve for me, never having been in an American writers’ room system before. Hugely grateful to my co-showrunner, Ben Karlin, who’s got himself a really eclectic background. He’s one of the founding writers of the Onion, the satirical website. He has this track record, “The Daily Show With Jon Stewart” and “The Colbert Report,” but also “Modern Family.” And so I wanted someone who had that eclectic background, and we had a writers’ room that was similarly very eclectic. We had stand-up comedians. We had novelists. We had playwrights. We had experienced TV writers. We had U.S. [people], we had UK people. I just knew that I wanted this to feel quite eclectic, and as I say, kind of genre-bending. And so I wanted that breadth. So actually the writing process for this was like, “How do we make this feel as chaotic and messy and unpredictable as possible?” That requires a crazy amount of craft. And there were a lot of late nights, there was a lot of hair being pulled out. And it was, I think, one of the most intense periods, more so than the shoot, even. It was just trying to figure out what this show was. And I came to this realization, which is, Shah Latif, my character, is having an identity crisis. He’s trying to work out who he is. So it stands to reason the show should also be trying to work out what it is. The show needs to be having an identity crisis. So then we gave up on this mission of trying to make it feel coherent and consistent. And we said, “Of course, he’s an actor trying to work out who he is. Every episode should be a different genre. We should have our James Bond-goes-to-the-gala-in-a-tux episode. We should to have our Bollywood-proper episode. We should have our Linklater walk and talk. We should have our Greengrass does a spy thriller.” So we really deliberately and really defiantly tried to embrace the identity crisis of the character in how we told the story. And when we did that, everything fell into place. We would stop trying to straitjacket this into something more predictable.
Olsen: And what was it like for you to be filling this role of not just actor but also writer, producer, showrunner? How did you feel about taking on all those roles?
Ahmed: I felt scared. I felt out of my depth. I felt like I needed the help of people much smarter than me. Luckily, I had that help. And more than that help, their patience. I continually said, “No, we’ve got to go back and do it again. We’ve got to rewrite that episode. We’ve gotta redo this whole section,” as it felt so personal to me. Not just because it’s my personal experiences, but because there’s a world that hasn’t quite been put on screen before in this show, and I felt a tremendous sense of responsibility and emotional connection to that world and these characters. So at times it felt overwhelming. ButI’m of this philosophy that usually when you’re making something, you kind of end up feeling how the character is feeling. The character feels out of his depth, feels overwhelmed, feels like he does not quite know what he’s doing, it stands to reason I should feel like that. If I really feel like I’ve got it all worked out and I’m in control, we’re doing something wrong. So as far as possible, I tried to remind myself that that was a sign of almost being in touch with the material. At least that’s how I tried to talk myself off the ledge, man.
Olsen: Can you just talk to me a little bit about the title? As I understand it, “Bait” is UK slang?
Ahmed: The title actually has many different layers to it. I always say this is a show that’s hard to sum up in a sentence, but it’s really easy to sum up in one word, and that word is bait, because it has like five or six different meanings. So one key meaning is British slang. It means really blatant and in your face. So if you’re blowing up someone’s spot, you’re baiting them up. You’re being really kind of, “Look at me, look at me,” you’re being bait. So that speaks to Shah Latif, the character, and his attention seeking. But bait also means, online, trolling. It also means, in Urdu, your loyalty or your allegiance. It also mean in Arabic, in Hebrew, home. And it also, in literal meaning, it’s something used as part of a trap, which speaks to the spy thriller element to the show. So all these different layers to the word bait correspond to a different layer of show, correspond to each different episode. That’s exploring that meaning. And I wish I could tell you we had this all worked out upfront, but we struggled with the title for so long and it kind of like hiccuped itself up into the ether in a late-night kind of hair-pulling session. We realized, “Oh, my God, that’s it. That’s exactly what it should be.” So yeah, the title I think encapsulates how we’re trying to explore these different genres and all the different narrative threads in the show.
Olsen: All the things that your character of Shah Latif is going through trying to move forward in his career as an actor, remaining true to his community and his sense of self, how much of those are your own issues? Are there things that you feel like you’re on the other side of now? Are those things that you’re sort of constantly trying to figure out for yourself?
Ahmed: Of course, like this idea of searching for your identity in a world that either commodifies it or punishes it, that’s something I relate to. But I also kind of feel like that’s something we all relate to. There’s a lot of me in Shah Latif, but I actually think there’s a lot of Shah Latif in all of us. This idea of feeling as though you’re not enough. This idea of trying to cultivate a public version of yourself because you’re ashamed of the private version of your self. I think that’s such a universal feeling right now in this performative culture that we live in. We all wanna be looked at, but we don’t wanna be seen. And somebody once told me that the distance between your public and private self is the amount of shame that you carry. I think it’s true, more or less. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a private life and some things shouldn’t be kept private. It probably should. But in a kind of deeper sense, I think there’s a truth in that. So I wanted to make a comedy in this playground of shame because it’s something that I can relate to, but I just had a sense that this is a very universal feeling.
Olsen: How much of these are issues or things you were going through in your career maybe five years ago, 10 years ago? What are the the sort of top-line things that you feel like you’re struggling with now?
Ahmed: This is where it becomes a full-blown therapy session. I would say that there was a period of time when I was just really desperate to be in the room. And now I’m in a place where I’m really excited to try and build my own room. And that, in a way, is a journey that the character goes on. I think it’s a journey that I’ve gone on, and the show, in a way, is a culmination of that journey. You know, it was just such a privilege to be able to create a playground and bring together this kind of ensemble. I don’t think there’s ever quite been a brown ensemble like this on screen before and [to] showcase all that talent and create that sense of family and specificity. And yeah, as I said, kind of build my own room rather than asking for a seat at someone else’s table. So I think that journey is one that I’ve been on and one that, I think, the show is exploring.
Olsen: There are these title cards throughout the series that give you these neighborhoods and locations, and I don’t know London super well, but like, it feels like it’s a very specific version of London. What was the importance of those locations for you?
Ahmed: The shows that I really adore and the ones that really inspired me on this journey are ones that are unapologetically specific. The Holy Trinity in my mind was “Atlanta,” “I May Destroy You” and “Fleabag.” These half-hour shows that are super personal, but also super specific in the world they’re exploring, whether they’re a city like Atlanta or a certain kind of Black London, or a very particular kind of white, middle-class British family in “Fleabag.” And so I wanted that unapologetic specificity. I wanted it to be a love letter to my London. And so I wanted to shout out these neighborhoods that really mean something to me. But more than that, I wanted to give a nod to the spy genre with those title cards. You know, in a Bond movie it says like, “Somewhere in the Caribbean,” you know, “Mexico City.” I wanted do that with Kentish Town, with Brick Lane, with Wembley. I wanted to elevate our daily experience and those neighborhoods to that kind of grand stage and those epic stakes and say, “Actually, this is as magical, as important, as exotic, as thrilling as any of those locations within that kind of genre.” Jordan Peele, when he made “Get Out,” said, “Being Black in America is like living in a horror movie. That’s why I made ‘Get Out.’” I can add this thesis that being brown in the West is like being in a spy thriller. And that’s why we made this. So I wanted those neighborhoods to feel like those chyrons you have in a spy thriller.
Olsen: You’ve often mentioned in the past, it’s a phrase I’m very taken with, “stretching culture,” expanding the idea of what’s possible. And I’m just curious, like, how is that going for you?
Ahmed: There’s the idea that the universe is expanding in all directions at the same time. I feel like that with culture. I feel like things are getting crazier and better at the same time simultaneously at an accelerating pace. You know, that’s kind of how I feel about it. And it’s like our consciousness, right? You get a little bit crazier, even as you get smarter. It’s that kind of feeling. For whatever it’s worth, it may sound pretentious, but I kind of feel it’s important to try and anchor myself in some sense of purpose. And I think that’s the purpose of storytelling, is to kind of constantly expand horizons of who is considered human and what is considered human. And I think for me, at least in this moment in my journey, I want that to be about telling stories that haven’t been told before, portraying worlds and communities and characters that maybe we haven’t been that familiar with.
Olsen: You’ve expressed some frustration recently with the phrase “representation” — that it’s become kind of a hollow gesture. What would you like to see happen moving forward?
Ahmed: Well, I was really proud to be part of the conversation, when we were kind of collectively coining that term, right, going from diversity to representation. But I do think it’s not an end in itself. Like I said, being in the room doesn’t necessarily change anything. It’s what are you allowed to do in that room? Does the room change you, or do you change it? It’s what the show’s exploring. And so at least for me right now, the kind of representation I’m interested in is how authentically we can represent ourselves. Do you know what I mean? Like, do I have to code switch? Do I have put on a mask or do I get to take it off? That to me is, I think, the most exciting kind of knot to unpick right now. And as I said, that’s kind of at the heart of the show.
Olsen: I want to be sure to ask you about some of the other cast on the show, specifically Guz Khan. I feel like I could watch the two of you just driving around in a car together for hours.
Ahmed: I’ll send you the rushes.
Olsen: Did you two have an immediate chemistry?
Ahmed: Can I tell you, the story of me and Guz is its own bizarre bromance. Here’s how I thought I knew Guz. Guz went viral in the UK because he did a joke, kind of like [a] shout-out against Steven Spielberg, right? Because there’s a kind of dinosaur in his “Jurassic Park” reboot that sounds like a racial slur in the UK. I’m just gonna let people check it out for themselves. I’m not gonna say more than that. This is like 10 years ago, something like that. He goes viral, he starts blowing up, people start offering him his own TV show. He DMs me on Twitter and he’s like, “Bro, like, what’s the industry like? Is it like crazy Illuminati vibes?” I was like, “Yes, but the Illuminatis are actually very fun, come and join us.” And just started this banter with him, and he goes on his journey, becomes one of the most beloved comedians. I’m on set with him, shooting “Bait.” And he goes, “You don’t remember the first time we met and we spoke, do you?” I said, “I remember, you DM’d me like a crazy guy.” And he was like, “No, no. We met 20 years ago.” I was like, “What are you talking about?” I was doing a spoken-word performance in the Midlands in the UK. No one was coming to see it. It was a completely empty club. So I take it upon myself to go outside and start flyering passers-by. Down a dark alley, I see guys with some of his friends engaged in a business of some sort. His legal team have asked me to refer to it as “selling tulips.” They were selling tulips, OK? I go down to this alleyway, I hand him flyers, him and his friends. I’m like, “How are you doing there, gentlemen? Would you like to come and see me do some spoken word?” They’re like, “What the hell? We’re in their mid-tulip transaction.” He decides out of the kindness of his heart with his boys to come and watch me do spoken word at Coventry Student Union. And he said it was the first time he saw someone that looked like him doing something like that in a space like that. … Twenty years later, we’re on set together. We met when we were like 20 years old and I’d completely forgotten him, but he remembered. We have like a brotherhood and a friendship in real life. I wrote that role for him. He is someone who constantly reminds me that as an artist, your art can only be as expansive as your heart is. He’s just that guy on set you want to be around. He brings the positive energy, he reminds you this is meant to be fun. And actually, when you’re having fun, you’re feeling relaxed and loose, you do great work. He’s evidence of that. And so I just have so much love for him, but I would only say that because he’s not here. If he was here, I would be making fun of him aggressively.
Olsen: Now that to me seems like this notion of stretching culture, where you’ve had this influence on him that you kind of didn’t even know.
Ahmed: I would love it if he would say that publicly, rather than me having to tell the world that I’m responsible for his career. Thank you for saying it. If we can clip that bit, that would be great. Send it to Guz, yeah? Email that to him. I don’t know, man. I kind of feel like we’re all in this relay race, right, and we’re just fumbling the ball to one another and trying to move forward. And one of the great things about this show was being in community in that way. I think for some people, particularly in the UK, they’re familiar with the world that’s portrayed here. I think, for a lot of Americans, they’re really not. Interestingly, I’ve had a lot of Latin viewers and Latina viewers approach me saying, “That’s my family, I get that, I know what that is.” And so I don’t know, I just think it’s kind of exciting. One of the things I love most about storytelling on screen is we can bring people into worlds they haven’t been to before. That’s what I remember falling in love with when I watched “Goodfellas” and “Mean Streets” in that world that Scorsese creates. So yeah, I think as long as we’re all leaning into this specificity, doing so in community, maybe that’s how we get to stretch culture.
Olsen: In a recent profile on you, the actor Sandra Hüller, who you work with on the upcoming movie “Digger,” she said that one of the things she most admires about you is that you take yourself and your work seriously. And I think I feel the same way, like there’s an intentionality to what you do, there’s a sense of purpose to what do.
Ahmed: It sounds so boring, though, when you put it like that. Doesn’t it? I hope I don’t take myself too seriously. I guess I take it seriously that I’ve got this opportunity to try and tell stories, and I believe that they matter. But I actually hope I don’t take myself seriously, very seriously. I hope this show in a way is evidence of that. That’s Exhibit A. Yeah, you got Hüller’s testimony here and then you got “Bait” over here. Who do you believe?
Olsen: Is there anything you can tell me about “Digger”? It’s a new film from Alejandro González Iñárritu, it stars Tom Cruise, and it has quickly become, I think, one of the most anticipated movies of the year. People are very excited about it. And there’s very little known about it, is there anything you can say about it?
Ahmed: It’s funny you should say that because I spoke to Alejandro today and he gave me permission to reveal something exclusively to you on this podcast. No, not really. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. I actually might get assassinated for just saying that even.
Olsen: And have you seen it?
Ahmed: I feel like anything I say, there’s like a bomb on my leg that might go off. I’ll say this, it was a really unique and incredible experience. Alejandro is this crazy genius and being around that level of — Tom Cruise as well — they’re all obsessive perfectionists that have just like endless rocket fuel in them. It’s just inspiring to be around, honestly. Really, really unique. I don’t know if I’ll ever have an experience like that again.
Olsen: And then you were nominated for an Academy Award for acting for “Sound of Metal,” but you won an Academy Award for the short film “The Long Goodbye” that was based on an album that you put out. As you’ve become busier in your acting career, has it become difficult for you to still make time for your music?
Ahmed: The projects that I have out right now with “Hamlet” and “Bait” are things that I’ve built. I’m not saying this is the way, necessarily, it’ll always be, but at least over the last several years, acting is like this cherry on the cake. I’m spending all this time building these other things and writing these things and producing these things. And in a way making music is part of that. It’s like being in a writers’ room, with musicians in a studio. And one of the things that I’ve enjoyed most is bringing the development of stories together with the development of albums. “The Long Goodbye” short film is an example of that. But I mean, I joke about this to my friends, one of the main reasons I made “Bait” as a TV show is so that I could make a soundtrack. You know, I grew up on Bollywood where, in a way, the movie was just an excuse for the music. I partly almost feel the same way here. We’ve got a soundtrack for “Bait,” which I’m very, very proud of. And it’s a reflection, I think again, of that eclectic, multicultural London that I know and love. It pulls together artists from across the diaspora, from the Bay Area and the U.S. through to India and Pakistan, from Trinidad and Bangladesh and Karachi and London. And it’s something that I think kind of speaks to the genre-bendiness of the show as well. So in a weird way, as I’m developing more of my own stories, I’m able to incorporate music into that process more.
Olsen: But are you making music of your own?
Ahmed: Yeah, I’ve got two tracks on that soundtrack, for example. Yeah, one of them with a rapper who I’ve been a huge fan of for many, many years. So that was a lovely moment. His name is Casisdead, makes very kind of cinematic UK hip-hop. So I’ve got two tracks on that and yeah, I mean, watch this space. Hopefully I’ll have some more time.
Olsen: And then, this is a moment in the show, and I know it’s something that’s happened in the past, but are you still ever mistaken for Dev Patel?
Ahmed: Honestly, every time I’m mistaken for Dev Patel, I’ll take the flowers. I’m such a fan of his, personally, and he’s actually also from that very particular pocket of Northwest London where I’m from, that this show is almost a love letter to. That pocket of London has produced, if I may humbly put myself in that bracket, myself, but also Dev Patel, Jay Paul, Jay Sean and Jay Shetty. All the Jays. All of them. So I’m very proud of Dev and everything he’s doing, and he’s telling his own stories as well in a way that I find really inspiring.
