industry

Democrats gear up for investigations, while Republicans panic

In the wake of President Trump’s historic, humiliating, crushing midterm trouncing, his most loyal followers are doing what could reasonably be expected from such a fine, upstanding bunch — variously jumping ship, backstabbing and doubling down on sycophancy and lies.

With dizzying speed, the Trump era has been upended by this democratic Democratic revolt, and not even the staunchest of MAGA supporters seem to know what to do — not even the president himself.

The big man met his defeat with unusual equanimity on Wednesday, promising to work with Democrats, who most certainly have other ideas in mind. By Thursday, the president was complaining about daylight saving time, and bragging about home improvements, offering media a tour of the ballroom construction, a peek at the emperor’s new granite, if you will. For Trump, at least, it was as if the election never happened.

But with Democrats gearing up an avalanche of investigations, those in Trump’s orbit clearly know it’s going to be a dark winter.

Let’s check in with the jumpers, the stabbers and the bottom kissers to see what they’re up to.

Sinking ship

It’s not unusual for top government officials to skedaddle after a midterm election. The two-year mark offers a somewhat elegant exit for those who have suddenly decided to spend more time with family.

So it was little surprise when Trump’s legal lapdog Harmeet Dhillon announced Thursday that she was resigning from her job as the head of the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice. Someone had to be first, and it doesn’t shock me it was one of the few women left in the administration.

Under her tenure, civil rights were dismantled, which is not historically what the office is for. The agency was hollowed out of the nonpartisan legal experts who made a career serving government — more than 75% of the staff left. Instead, she wielded her power to, as she proudly put it, destroy diversity, equity and inclusion — making observers such as myself wonder whether she actually understood what civil rights are.

“Harmeet Dhillon has been the most destructive, lawless, and hateful head of the Civil Rights Division in DOJ history,” said Stacey Young, founder of Justice Connection, a group that supports current and former civil servants driven to near-insanity by the lawlessness of the Trump era. Young served in the Civil Rights office herself, across the administrations of five presidents.

“After she upended the division’s mission-critical work, the civil servants who dedicated their careers to protecting vulnerable communities were instead told to target them — and more than three-quarters of the division’s lawyers left,” Young continued in a statement. “Dhillon wielded the enormous power of the Justice Department to threaten universities, state and local officials, and election workers in spurious cases that rarely won in court.”

Rarely won in court is the key part there, because for all her vitriol and energy, Dhillon mostly lost when an actual judge was involved. But CBS reported her near-perfect losing streak wasn’t what ultimately drew Trump’s ire — it was her performance on “60 Minutes.”

So we know the ship is sinking — did Dhillon jump or was she pushed? Either way, buh-bye.

The knife-wielder

Leave it to Vice President JD Vance to stab someone in the back the moment it seems convenient. In the run-up to the election, Vance doubled down on every hateful thing he could lay his hands on.

He came out in support of Vivek Ramaswamy’s smarmy ad that used his opponent’s childhood rape as ammunition. He supercharged his racist attacks on Black immigrants, claiming illegal Somali voters were going to “flood” the polls.

Then, when the blue tsunami washed all that garbage away, he posted a long missive on social media explaining how the loss had nothing to do with the economy, or gas prices, or out of control Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents. It was all about Iran.

“The reason we lost is the war,” Vance wrote. “The president himself said so last night.”

That would be Pete Hegseth’s war, you know, the belligerent, pec-flexing Trump sycophant whose name has also been floated as a presidential contender, God help us all. In truth, a Hegseth run is the only possible thing that could make Vance look good at this point.

But snakes gonna slither, so Vance (who, to be fair, was never that into this war) is using the moment to subtly blame the Defense secretary, and the blow seems to have landed, with his party, and with his boss.

Asked about Vance’s take, Trump said he agreed the war caused the midterm loss, but he had “no choice.” Now, there are rumblings that Hegseth’s days are numbered.

Kissy, kissy

Hegseth, meanwhile, doubled down Thursday on his crazy he-man routine. I mean, honestly, it’s alarming that this guy is making decisions about lunch, much less war.

In a five-minute video filmed with some kind of Nixon-era filter, Hegseth rambled between sucking up to Trump, making it seem like the war is going great, personal grievance that he might be held accountable for the war, and just making weird, scary pronouncements.

Here’s three of my top picks:

“Narco-terrorists should die, not be caught and released,” he said, apparently promoting extrajudicial executions.

“This is not about me, but of course the other side, in case you’ve noticed, they’re obsessed,” he said shortly after, referring to his side, in fact, and Republican Rep. Thomas Massie’s (who has long been a thorn in Hegseth’s side) threat to impeach Hegseth if he didn’t resign.

“A disgruntled, defeated congressman, along with all his Democrat allies, has also dropped sham articles of impeachment against yours truly, just like they tried against President Trump twice,” Hegseth complained. “It’s all about the politics of personal destruction. Didn’t work against President Trump, and it won’t work with me.”

Well, we’ll see, Pete.

But what about the Dems?

Meanwhile, literally every Democrat ever was busy working on which investigations they will pursue once the new, blue Congress is sworn in.

Chief among those was California’s own Robert Garcia, the Long Beach congressman who will now be the chair of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform. Garcia has been waiting for this moment for a long time, and he’s ready.

It’s “critical that we take on corruption at the White House, that we take on corruption at places like ICE and DHS,” Garcia told me, referring to the Department of Homeland Security.

And as the Democrats do that, there’s only going to be more scurrying in Trump’s top ranks.

What else you should be reading:

The must-read: A ‘tidal wave’ of severe eye disease is looming. It starts with childhood nearsightedness
The California angle: Nithya Raman defeats Bass to become next L.A. mayor
The L.A. Times Special: Newsom wants to empty death row. Most politicians wouldn’t bother — or dare

Stay Golden,

Anita Chabria

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LA film students are eager to pick up Hollywood’s pieces

Film student Angela Henderson was collecting her thoughts, resting on the patio of USC’s School of Cinematic Arts on a recent sunny afternoon while listening to music on her headphones as she stared into the sky. Henderson was taking a short break after applying for dozens of Hollywood jobs.

The 22-year-old cinema and media studies student graduates in December, and she’s admittedly “a little freaked out” by what awaits her.

“What if one day, I am one of those people that ends up losing a job?” Henderson said.

She isn’t wrong to wonder.

Partly fueled by media consolidation, waves of layoffs have swept across the industry, bringing job cuts to Netflix, Walt Disney and Warner Bros., recently acquired by Paramount-Skydance.

Productions keep leaving the state and artificial intelligence and vertical video are reshaping what gets made and who makes it.

Yet aspiring actors, screenwriters and directors, many of them film school students like Henderson, are still making the pilgrimage to Los Angeles. The Times spoke with some of these students about how they plan to navigate today’s Hollywood. Most are clear-eyed about the odds, and none of them are planning to quit.

“Some of us can see a lot of doom and gloom,” said Miranda Banks, a professor of film, television and media studies at Loyola Marymount University. “But this generation has their eye on the power of human creativity in a way that I’m not sure any of us in other generations have been so attuned to.”

She thinks many of her students have a good chance at making it if they are “savvy and strategic” about where the industry is headed.

“We’ve had a lot of unprecedented years, a lot of years with strange things that have impacted the industry and made things particularly challenging,” Banks added. “That has happened before. It will continue to happen.”

Gianna Jordano, a freshman film and television production major at Loyola Marymount University, is photographed at LMU.

Gianna Jordano, a freshman film and television production major at Loyola Marymount University, is photographed on a film stage inside the Wil and Mary Jane Von der Ahe Communication Arts Building, which houses LMU’s School of Film and Television.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Gianna Jordano, Loyola Marymount University, 19

When Gianna Jordano first applied to film schools, she said she knew the industry was in a bit of a “slump stage.” With fewer movies being made, the impact of AI and an overall lack of jobs, the Huntington Beach native said she was nervous about pursuing a career in the film business.

But after seeing movies like “Primetime,” “The Odyssey” and “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” in theaters this year, Jordano is more inspired than ever.

“My friends and I’ve all been watching all of these new movies, and we’re saying, ‘This is what we want to do. This is what I want to pursue in the future and be able to achieve,’” said the film and TV production major. “I feel less nervous now.”

After graduation, she plans to work her way up to directing — even if that means taking other jobs such as teaching and working in a restaurant to achieve her dream.

“The more open-minded you are, and the more willing you are to work, the easier it is to find a job, even if you’re maybe not always on the best set or doing the job that you want to do,” Jordano said.

Teddy Abularach, left, and Mitch Linebaugh, both 18, visit the Herbert E. Farmer Motion Picture Technology Collection at USC.

Teddy Abularach, left, and Mitch Linebaugh, both 18, visit the Herbert E. Farmer Motion Picture Technology Collection at the USC School of Cinematic Arts.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Teddy Abularach and Mitch Linebaugh, USC, 18

Freshman screenwriting majors Teddy Abularach and Mitch Linebaugh had recently moved to L.A. from New York City and Des Moines, respectively, to pursue careers in screenwriting.

Despite shared concerns about landing jobs after graduation, both are determined to succeed in the business.
.

“We’re just gonna have to work that much harder to get a job. I’m already preparing myself for a brutal postgrad life,” Abularach said. “I wouldn’t be happy if I were in another job. … Even if there’s a small chance for me to succeed and be able to pay the bills and do something that I love, it’s worth it.”

They aren’t blind to the challenges of being a screenwriter.

But Linebaugh said he worries that “everything is just going to become so uniform,” as the industry seems to lean too heavily on algorithms and audiences’ preferences.

“I don’t think people in this industry will let that happen — everyone from the writers to even the executives,” Linebaugh said. “I know the stereotype is that they like to keep their jobs, but I remain hopeful that they want to make good movies too.”

The two 18-year-olds moved to the city with every intention of staying, even as the industry’s local footprint hollows out.

Linebaugh said he’s going to give screenwriting his all, and if it doesn’t work out, he will consider graduate school or entertainment law.

Abularach said there’s no “plan B outside of entertainment.”

He’s already preparing for the life.

“I still can’t get the stereotype out of my head of the L.A. writer who does all the things in L.A., like taking pitch meetings, getting coffee and being in writers’ rooms,” added Abularach.

UCLA film student Tomas Carrasco, center, has makeup applied before performing in his short film, "D-Facer, Reality Break."

UCLA film student Tomas Carrasco, center, has makeup applied by UCLA student Song Diqiong, right, before performing in his short film, “D-Facer, Reality Break,” on the set inside Melnitz Hall on the UCLA campus. He wrote, produced, starred in and directed his short film.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Tomas Carrasco, UCLA, 25

In a hallway lined with movie posters in UCLA’s School of Theater, Film and Television, Tomas Carrasco was in the middle of preparing to shoot his senior capstone film: a surreal horror comedy. The senior, who’s on the director’s track of UCLA’s film and television program, said he isn’t “afraid necessarily about where the industry’s heading because there’s always going to be space for artists.”

Growing up in the San Fernando Valley, Carrasco was always fascinated by moviemaking. His father worked as a soap opera editor and would sometimes bring him to set, where he learned to love the “feeling of being around people making stuff.”

He started his film education at Santa Monica College, where he took every film class offered. Now, he has his sights set on production design.

For all his artistic leanings, he said he’s well aware that movies are products that need to make money. Because of that, he sees more of the industry turning toward technology instead of taking art-centered risks.

“I see the mergers that are happening and all the AI stuff sucks. I don’t like it,” Carrasco said. “But I still have to come into class every day and do my homework. I’m thinking about where the industry is heading, but it takes up as much space as a movie idea.”

As he prepares for an uncertain future, Carrasco plans to keep working at his family’s Northridge cafe, Mate Conmigo, where he can pursue his creative ambitions while maintaining a stable job.

“I do want it as a career path, and I don’t want to be naive,” he said. “But you have to kind of be naive. You have to be delusional about wanting to have a career in the arts.”

USC film student Angela Henderson, 22, stands next to a photo of director Orson Welles at USC.

USC film student Angela Henderson, 22, stands next to a photo of director Orson Welles at the Herbert E. Farmer Motion Picture Technology Collection at the USC School of Cinematic Arts.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Angela Henderson, USC, 22

For Henderson, part of the job-induced anxiety is simple math.

“Unfortunately, it’s so hard to be able to separate myself from it,” she said. “There are hundreds of people in film programs here who all want to have the same jobs and careers.”

Raised in Eagle Rock by two musician parents, Henderson always had the world of entertainment within reach. At 10, she took up acting and started doing theater and commercials. She began college at UC Berkeley, where she realized she didn’t want to be only in front of the camera, but also to study the medium from behind it. She transferred to USC with dreams of following filmmakers like Greta Gerwig, who got their start in writing and directing their own projects.

If it takes a while for Henderson to break into the industry, so be it. She said she’s open to any kind of job, including assistant work and food service.

But Henderson said her generation of filmmakers doesn’t feel discouraged, so much as eager to incite change. They’re largely tired, she said, of watching Hollywood “recycle the same material over and over again,” and want to bring new stories to the table.

“It does feel like we’re on the verge of something new. There’s a breakthrough that’s about to happen,” Henderson said. “With all the verticals happening, and the AI slop stuff happening on social media, there’s also like this huge renaissance in indie movies … there’s still this hope that there’s something new that’s going to come.”

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How Obama rage-baited Trump into a fumble

If you’ve watched anything from “Jesse Watters Primetime” to “The Daily Show” this week, you’re already up to date on the most important issue in America today: the decor of the Cheesecake Factory.

Earlier this week, former President Obama made a quip at a Cleveland rally that President Trump has renovated the White House to look like “Saddam Hussein opened a Cheesecake Factory.”

Trump lost it. If we’ve learned anything about the president in recent years, it’s that he loves gold as much as he hates Obama. Roll them together in one moment, and the leader of the free world can’t help but freak out. He freaked out so badly, in fact, that he sent Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent — a guy worth at least $500 million — to eat a French dip cheeseburger at the chain just to prove how great it was.

Absolutely, positively by random chance, Fox News happened to be outside when Bessent emerged from his everyman munch, just to let us know that “I had a great meal, always have a great meal.” OK, Scott.

But if you think this is all a silly back and forth with an unserious administration, think again. Obama is masterful at political strategy, and this wasn’t just a joke. It was rage-bait, crafted for engagement.

Why Saddam Hussein?

The deeper point of Obama’s remarks seemed entirely buried by media coverage that focused on the Cheesecake part. But why Saddam Hussein?

Trump didn’t seem to take issue with being likened to the brutal dictator responsible for killing and disappearing thousands to maintain power. In fact, in all of the rebuttals from Trump and his minions, the Hussein reference hasn’t been mentioned once.

But don’t think Obama choose that reference carelessly, or just for humor.

Hussein ruled Iraq in no small measure though a cult of personality. Like Trump, he loved showy monuments to his power, including a “Victory Arch” in Baghdad (Trump also wants to build an arch); weird fantasy artwork of muscle-bound men and dragons (similar maybe to Trump’s love of AI-generated images of himself); and of course, gold! There were marble and granite and gilt and gold everywhere in Hussein’s homes, even the infamous gold-plated toilet accessories American and British soldiers found when they made it into his palaces.

That ostentatious excess wasn’t just bad taste. It was a show of power. At the same time that Hussein was amassing his wealth and consolidating that cult of personality, his people were broke. Now, I’m in no way saying that Americans in 2026 are suffering the way Iraqis were under Hussein. But there’s a Marie Antoinette-style similarity between Hussein’s narcissist tendencies and Trump’s obsession with all that glitters — from the water in the reflecting pool to the walls of the Oval Office — even as the economy crashes.

Obama clearly understands that: Maybe you don’t want to cut food stamps to millions while you’re slapping up a new ballroom. Obama, after all, could have said the White House looked like Liberace had opened a Cheesecake Factory, but he didn’t. Instead, he chose to insert Hussein, a man whose ego-driven rule came at the expense of his own people.

Which brings me to the absolute brilliance of the joke. Sure, it was funny. Yes, it was quickly picked up as a viral clip.

But more than anything, it got to Trump in a way that was entirely predictable with his unbridled ego, and a way in which Obama almost certainly knew it would. In a way that links him to a dictator who cared more about gilt than people, but in a way so clever Trump himself grabbed the bait and ran with it.

Trump couldn’t stop himself

Hearing his taste criticized, all his beautiful, shiny gold mocked — by Obama of all people — was rage-bait that Trump could not ignore. Trump could not stop himself from responding, and even more, he couldn’t stop himself from demanding others defend him and his gaudy aesthetics.

And the ever-willing members of his cult of personality across government and right-wing media quickly complied — with an attack that Obama surely knew would be the only possible pushback: That he was elitist for making fun of the decor of a wildly popular average-family spot (Obama quickly hit back that the Factory was “his jam” and he, like many parents of teens, myself included, had eaten there numerous times.)

Dozens and dozens of Trump minions parroted the same line for days — how dare Obama mock such a beloved American eatery? How out of touch. How tan-suit, Martha’s Vineyard of him. Trump brought it up at multiple rallies. The official White House social media account posted about it. It was all over the right-wing ecosphere for days.

Never mind the economy, or the war in Iran, or inflation that makes a meal at the Cheesecake Factory increasingly feel like a caviar-and-Champagne night.

Or even this insane comment from Trump about inviting supporters to Mar-a-Lago, his Florida club that makes the Las Vegas Strip look classy, to spend the money he’s promised to them if Republicans win elections: “You’ll be my guest at Mar-a-Lago,” he promised at an Ohio rally. “The problem is that for $5,000, the most you’ll be able to buy is a hamburger and maybe a small dessert. … I’m not even sure you could buy that. No, don’t go there. That’s not a good place if you’re price conscious.”

And Obama’s elitist? That’s bonkers-level disconnection from the audience, but back to my point.

Suddenly, in the middle of a pivotal election, all Republicans are hearing about is the Cheesecake Factory, and how wonderful it is their president is plastering gold all over everything while they are wondering if they’ll be able to pay the gas bill this month.

Granted, the Republicans don’t have a lot of bright spots to focus on as they give their final message to voters. But I am guessing that even the reddest of ballot-clutchers doesn’t want to hear about the Cheesecake Factory, or how much marble Trump has installed at the entrance to the White House. That seems tone-deaf.

Obama’s purposeful provocation completely derailed Republican messaging for multiple, critical news cycles, all because Trump couldn’t stand to have his taste criticized by a guy who has become a bogeyman in his own brain.

Trump had to defend his excess, he couldn’t resist — and in failing to check his own ego, again, he put into the bright spotlight the truth that his followers are increasingly unable to ignore: The only thing that matters to Trump is Trump. Not the economy. Not the war, and certainly not the concerns of voters in the final days of the election.

Obama’s one-liner wasn’t just a zinger. It was political gold, an artful bit of rage-bait trolling that casually took control of the narrative with a well-aimed poke.

What else you should be reading:

The must-read: How Meta struck a deal to keep Mark Zuckerberg in California despite looming billionaire tax
The California angle: As companies leave California, is the state’s $4.25-trillion economy really in trouble?
The L.A. Times Special: In Trumpworld, dogs who commit voter fraud aren’t as bad as immigrants

Stay Golden,

Anita Chabria

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What to know about all the voting rights cases in California

The U.S. government seems to be coming for California (again). Big surprise.

But scratch the surface of the recent Department of Justice voter fraud blitz and the ugly truth peeks through — this is an attack on immigrants of color, no different than accusing the Haitians of Ohio of eating cats and dogs or the aggressive escalation of detaining and deporting Black and brown people with no criminal record.

It’s meant to excite and appease the Christian nationalist contingent of MAGA voters — including Trump advisor Stephen Miller — who make no secret of their belief that even some naturalized citizens should be forced out of the country if they aren’t white.

Just a few days ago, the White House posted on social media that “If you import the third world, you become the third world.” Not be be outdone, the fine Americans at the Department of Homeland Security responded with what seems to be a problematic mission statement that may wind up in court documents: “Reject the third world. Export the third world.” So far in President Trump’s second term, only 20% of the nearly 1 million people deported had a criminal record, according to the Migration Policy Institute.

Speaking of court documents, wow, do we have a lot to go through. Turns out not a lot of judges are into voter suppression.

After First Assistant U.S. Atty. Bill Essayli, the son of Lebanese immigrants and the first Muslim to serve in the California Legislature, announced charges against 28 Californians — all immigrants — who allegedly registered or voted illegally, the legal battles went into overdrive.

There’s the U.S. Justice Department case claiming California is somehow stopping the feds from enforcing federal voting laws, despite those 28 cases. There’s a ruling in a different case that prevents the Department of Homeland Security from going door-to-door in California and other places checking on immigration status and voter registration — a terrifying overreach of power meant to intimidate legal voters.

And there’s the ongoing lawsuit from the UCLA Voting Rights Project and the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights in a Washington courtroom — a case that could take the lead in protecting the midterms.

Here’s what you need to know about all three, and what comes next.

Stop the knocks

Starting around August, Homeland Security began knocking on the doors of residents in California and eight other states in what it dubbed a “surge” in investigations on voter fraud.

These in-person checks were based on lists of folks the government thought might not be legally allowed to cast a ballot — and focused on naturalized citizens, according to court documents. They were also, according to the court, unreliable and included “instances where DHS simply did not have data to determine that the individual did not engage in voter fraud,” the California judge in the case wrote, meaning it was a giant fishing expedition.

In addition, Homeland Security was apparently investigating nonprofits and other organizations that help get out the vote, including interrogating the staff and covertly infiltrating their operations, according to court documents.

That’s McCarthyism-level scary. The California Nurses Assn. and its parent union, National Nurses United, filed a lawsuit to stop the Homeland Security surge, arguing in part that one of their core missions is political organizing and turning out voters, and that the operation directly harmed them by scaring their members away from that work.

They also have a lot of members who are naturalized citizens. Four union members told the court that they didn’t want to participate in the union’s election work because they were afraid of being targeted by the government, citizens or not.

The court found that fear “objectively reasonable” and ordered Homeland Security to stop the door-knocking until after the election. The judge then stayed that order until Friday to give the government time to appeal. So far, the government hasn’t filed that objection.

“So many people in the United States are suffering under Trump’s corrupt and cruel policies on behalf of the billionaire class that he knows cannot hold onto power in these upcoming elections without illegally suppressing our vote through outright harassment, intimidation, and even detention,” said Puneet Maharaj, executive director of the two nurses groups.

Emergency relief

At the same time, the Department of Justice this week filed a suit against California seeking an emergency order to force the state to segregate 20,000 ballots of folks it claims may not be citizens — an unprecedented ask in furtherance of the long-running conspiracy theory that immigrants who lack legal status are in a scheme with Democrats to vote en masse.

State Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta has asked the court to throw out the case, in part because the federal government can’t prove it’s actually being harmed in any way by state law. The feds have already filed charges in those 28 cases claiming voter fraud, so it’s hard to argue that state law is preventing them from going after illegal voters.

But the feds are arguing that the state is aiding and abetting illegal voting by not segregating those ballots, even though there is no proof they are in the hands of noncitizens. A review by the Los Angeles County registrar’s office found that about 40% of those on the list were born in the United States.

Trump even threatened that election officials could be jailed for not bending to his will.

Attorneys general from other states filed a friend of the court brief siding with California, arguing that the Justice Department is basically trying to create a new law where “the executive branch can invent new election requirements, unmoored from any constitutional or statutory authority, and demand that States enforce them in the middle of an election.”

The court will rule on that next week.

Beyond Nov. 3

Our final case takes us to Washington, where the UCLA Voting Rights Project and the Coalition for Human Immigrant Rights, or CHIRLA, are asking for their own temporary restraining order — this one stopping the government from carrying out its ballot segregation scheme and from using its flawed, janky methods for supposedly identifying noncitizen voters.

I’ve written about this lawsuit before, and how the Voting Rights Project beat back Riverside County Sheriff Chad Bianco’s attempt to snatch ballots. The court will probably make a ruling in that one next week as well.

But election day is less than two weeks away, and many have already voted. So what does it all mean?

It means we’re in for a rough ride. The Trump administration is not dumb. Midterms might not go the way Republicans would like, potentially even giving control of both the House and Senate to Democrats. Some experts and legislators are concerned that all these ballot drama is posturing for that midterm loss — creating a reason to potentially question results or even refuse to seat newly elected Democrats when the time comes.

That would be unthinkable, unprecedented, a constitutional crisis. But impossible? Nope.

And almost certainly, no matter what voters decide, Trump will spin it back to that white nationalism — the idea that “true” Americans are being replaced through fraud, violence and vote stealing, a trio of conspiracies glued together by the sticky, tricky manipulations of a man who will do anything for power.

What else you should be reading:

The must-read: How Meta struck a deal to keep Mark Zuckerberg in California despite looming billionaire tax
The California angle: As companies leave California, is the state’s $4.25-trillion economy really in trouble?
The L.A. Times Special: In Trumpworld, dogs who commit voter fraud aren’t as bad as immigrants

Stay Golden,

Anita Chabria

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San Pedro fish market gets boost from social media

On the balcony of a pink dockside building in San Pedro, a neon sign reading “Saturday Morning Fish Market” glows in the darkness. There’s a quiet stillness in the harbor — the only sounds are of the occasional gull and car whirring by. That is, until 1 a.m. rolls around.

Doors open at 1:30 a.m. at the Saturday Morning Fish Market.

Doors open at 1:30 a.m. at the Saturday Morning Fish Market.

This is when people begin to gather outside the roll-up door, some carrying backpacks ready to be filled.

At 1:30 a.m., a man in an orange apron lifts the door, releasing rays of white light onto the customers. They file inside, stepping onto the wet floor, eager to see the night’s beauties: freshly caught fish, filleted, deboned, washed and thrown onto thick mountains of crushed ice.

Shellfish, sardines, squid, mackerel and a market favorite, glowing salmon filets, sit on display. One employee pulls out crabs with a small net before letting a customer take their pick of the lot. Machines whir in an adjacent room, where fish are processed. Out back, sea lions bark, hoping for scraps.

The Saturday Morning Fish Market, more formally known as J Deluca Fish Co., has existed for some time — owner John DeLuca claims a variation of the business began operating as early as the late ‘60s. As a child, DeLuca would greet his grandfather when he’d return to the San Pedro port with his catch, perhaps a fresh tuna or a bass to sell. For decades, the wholesale seafood distributor would open its market to the public just once a week — from 1:30 to 7:30 a.m. on Saturdays — usually seeing a smattering of mostly locals, the seafaring type, who might be shopping around after a late-night shift.

1

Harikrishnan Babuchandran holds up his fresh fish.

2

Customers can watch their fish be processed.

3

The fish that's for sale changes from week to week.

1. Harikrishnan Babuchandran holds up his fresh fish. 2. Customers can watch their fish be processed. 3. The fish that’s for sale changes from week to week. (Linnea Stephan / For The Times)

Inside the Saturday Morning Fish Market

The Saturday Morning Fish Market in San Pedro has existed in some form since the late ‘60s but thanks to social media, flocks of new customers are wanting in on the late-night seafood-buying adventure.

Neither DeLuca nor his son and co-owner, Chris, could have predicted the San Pedro institution would experience the boom in popularity it’s seeing now, especially in an industry that’s struggled over the past two decades.

Thanks to social media, the market is witnessing an unprecedented revival. At its pre-pandemic peak, it would get around 800 to 1,000 customers on a typical Saturday morning. Nowadays, up to 2,000 people walk through the doors, according to Chris, many of whom are visiting for the first time.

An older man in a black sweatershirt poses alongside his son, a younger man in a white polo shirt.

Owners John and Chris DeLuca.

Regarding Instagram and TikTok, where posts giving a glimpse of the late-night fish market have gone viral, John, 73, says, “I know absolutely zero.”

To his credit, he does exhibit some understanding of its effect. And he’s glad for it. “People that live within walking distance never knew we existed. Now they do, and it’s got nothing to do with me,” he says, grinning.

What’s most notable is the number of young people roaming around the market well before the crack of dawn, Chris says. The business has changed a lot since his “father’s generation,” and social media unlocked access to a new audience.

“I think people like those hidden gems and people like that fresh seafood experience,” he says.

Between rows of sea bass and salmon, the energy is buzzing. Abdul Fahwami, dressed in jeans and flip-flops, visits the fish market at least once or twice a month, depending on how many people he‘s having over at his house that week.

“Every time we come here, we buy a minimum of between 100 and 200 pounds,” he says. “Red snapper is one of the best fish.”

Employees in orange aprons and wearing orange gloves clean fish on a table.

Branzino is a favorite among customers and employees.

He smiles as he watches employees process his fish on a long table. First, blades run against the fish scales, removing them in quick fashion. Then, there’s a swift slice across its belly, starting at a hole near the tail and ending up near the gill plate. Finally, the guts are removed and filets are cut, skin optional.

Prices change week in and week out, and depend on supply. While prices are typically 10% to 40% less than at stores, market representative Joe Castelao says the team values the “quality of our products” over “trying to cater to bargain finders.” Another advantage for customers is the ability to buy seafood in bulk, which often isn’t possible at your standard, local grocer.

On this day, there wasn’t much branzino, the fish Fahwami came early to look for. “I found only 11 pieces,” he says. “I took all of it!”

Not far away, a man named Terry Jackson waits in line; he’s wearing black overalls and swaying side to side, eager to advance.

Customer Terry Jackson at the Saturday Morning Fish Market.

Customer Terry Jackson at the Saturday Morning Fish Market.

“It’s definitely worth waking up a little late — or a little early, you could say,” he says. “The quality of the fish is good, plus the pricing.”

His fish of choice? “Tuna, my new favorite is tuna!” he says, proudly raising a plastic bag full of bright red filets.

Briskly pacing across the market floor are team members Mike and George Stahl, a father-son duo both wearing orange aprons and gloves.

Mike got into the seafood business about two decades ago. At the time, he lived in Florida and often purchased products from J Deluca Fish Co. By 2018, he’d moved his family out to California and started working at the market.

He says his favorite part is the variety of duties. “No two days are the same,” he says. “One day I could be selling a couple containers of squid, the next day I could be meeting face to face with someone at a conference on the other side of the country.”

Staff member George Stahl helps a patron.

Staff member George Stahl helps a patron.

He brought in his son George during the pandemic. As George explains, “We were bored and didn’t have anything to do at home so my dad said, ‘Why don’t you come down and put some boots on and start working?’”

George has become somewhat of a micro-celebrity around the market, frequently appearing in its Instagram posts. However, his time with the company might be temporary — he’s currently in school and plans to be a physical therapist at some point.

While the market is riding a wave of success, John doesn’t gloss over the grim outlook of the fishing and seafood industry as a whole. He says the industry has taken a hit over the years, between restrictions, overfishing and changing regulations.

Inside the Saturday Morning Fish Market.

“It’s a dying business,” John says, bleakly. “There’s very few seiners down here because it’s very difficult to make a living [fishing].

But for now, they’re able to survive. They watch as customers walk out of the market into the wee hours of the morning, proudly grasping their bags of the day’s freshest catch.

“A lot of things have gone the opposite direction,” John says. “But we’re still here.”

A blue neon sign that reads "Saturday Morning Fish Market" sits atop a small, lit opening.

The fish market’s blue neon sign shines through the night.



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Netflix film chief Dan Lin is out as streamer shuffles executive ranks

Management upheaval at Netflix continued Monday as the streamer’s head of films Dan Lin exited, according to two people familiar with the matter who declined to be named.

Lin was appointed to the position in February 2024 and was tasked with making fewer, better and bigger movies. During his tenure, Netflix rolled out movies including crime thriller “The Rip,” starring Ben Affleck and Matt Damon and animated hit “KPop Demon Hunters.” His exit arrives as Netflix is going to release highly anticipated movies in theaters in the coming months including David Fincher-directed “The Mis-Adventures of Cliff Booth” starring Brad Pitt in November and Greta Gerwig-directed “Narnia: The Magician’s Nephew next year.

Netflix did not have an immediate response to a request for comment.

Lin’s exit followed massive layoffs at Netflix that began last week, trimming 6% of staff or roughly 1,000 people. Netflix last Thursday announced the company’s Chief Content Officer Bela Bajaria was no longer at the streamer and named her replacement, Peter Rice, a former chairman of Walt Disney Television and chairman of general entertainment for The Walt Disney Co.

After Bajaria was pushed out, many people in the industry expected Lin would be next, according to sources who declined to be named.

Rice will also oversee the film team until a new film head is announced.

Analysts and investors have raised concerns about Netflix’s growth. In the first half of 2026, hours watched on Netflix increased 2% compared to a year earlier, according to the streamer. Investors had hoped for more robust growth, given that the streamer increased its content budget 11% to $20 billion.

Netflix is profitable and continues to grow its revenue. But analysts say the streamer hasn’t had enough big hits recently and are skeptical about Netflix‘s ability to increase prices and grow its subscriber base if it doesn’t have enough popular content.

Netflix stock has dropped 42% compared to a year ago. By mid-morning on Monday, shares were trading at $69.53, down 1%.

In a note to staff about Bajaria’s exit, Netflix Co-CEO Ted Sarandos wrote that he saw an opportunity to take the streamer’s slate to the “next level” especially in the United States and Canada market, “where we have an outsize impact in creating big, buzzy hits that our members love and drive conversation around the world.”

Lin’s role was controversial in Hollywood, as he was named to the role after former Netflix film chief Scott Stuber left. Under Stuber’s leadership, Netflix ramped up its movie production and produced big budget films including 2022‘s “The Gray Man” starring Ryan Gosling but is not ranked in Netflix’s top 10 films of all time. “The Gray Man” cost nearly $200 million to make and at the time was Netflix’s most expensive movie, according to the New York Times.

Lin’s directive to be more budget conscious also irked some people in the industry.

While films released during his tenure including the animated film “Swapped,” as well as action films “Carry-On” and “Back in Action” made Netflix’s top 10 most-watched films list, based on views at the time of their debut, some of his other films were not as successful, analysts said.

Brandon Katz, director of insights and content strategy at Greenlight Analytics, said Netflix’s five most-watched English-language scripted summer movie releases in their first eight weeks posted the lowest average hours watched compared with the streamer’s top five summer releases in 2025, 2024 and 2023, citing Nielsen data.

Analysts and investors are eagerly anticipating Netflix’s third quarter earnings results Tuesday, as executives are expected to address how they plan to move the company forward.

This is a developing story.

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Could California be the solution to Trump’s diesel woes?

Gas prices are high. Diesel prices are higher — about $8 a gallon in California, $2 more than the national average.

For truckers, that’s a crisis. Their big rigs get about a paltry six miles to the gallon and filling their tanks in the Golden State now costs up to $2,500 a pop. For the guys who own a single truck or the small companies (which is the majority of trucking businesses), it can be hard to pass along those extra fuel costs to customers — which, as my colleague Nilesh Christoper wrote about, is causing a lot of pain in the industry.

Truckers everywhere are stomping mad, and it’s a problem for President Trump and Republicans heading into the midterms. Eventually, higher diesel prices are going to mean higher prices on the goods those trucks are transporting, and that’s an even bigger problem.

Trump has been throwing spaghetti at the wall trying out one limp solution after another to bring prices down — cutting taxes, brokering deals with Russia, telling us it’s just not a problem. But of course, it is.

Truck drivers fill they diesel tanks at United Oil in Long Beach on Wednesday, Oct. 7, 2026.

Truck drivers fill they diesel tanks at United Oil in Long Beach on Wednesday, Oct. 7, 2026.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

One Southern California energy expert has spent recent days in Washington, D.C., trying to convince the administration that the solution lies in California, in the vast oil reserves under our cities and farms that we largely leave untapped for environmental reasons. Environment aside, it’s a long-running and compelling (to some, anyway) argument that may have found its moment, meaning California might become Trump’s next solution — or at least scapegoat — to a costly problem.

More on that, but first, a recap of where we are.

The red dye ploy

Three thousand years ago in Trump time, but which I mean earlier this month, the president signed an executive order that allowed truckers to use red dye diesel as a way to lower costs.

Red dye diesel is, you guessed it, my genius readers, diesel that has been dyed red — to differentiate it from the stuff at truck stops. Farmers and other agricultural types are allowed to buy red dye diesel without certain taxes to use in tractors and other equipment that doesn’t run on our roads.

The Trump order allows truckers to buy red dye and defer paying the roughly 25-cent-per-gallon federal tax on it. So it’s not really saving them money, just delaying payment.

“It’s a small step, but nonetheless, it’s a positive step,” said Michael Mische, a professor at the USC Marshall School of Business whose conservative-leaning take on energy policy has often raised the ire of the Newsom administration.

President Trump signs an executive order to lower the cost of diesel fuel during a campaign rally

President Trump signs an executive order to lower the cost of diesel fuel during a campaign rally on Oct. 5, 2026, in Grand Island, Neb.

(Win McNamee / Getty Images)

But there’s a problem with Trump’s red dye plan. States have their own laws about red dye diesel, and the feds can’t change them. So even if truckers could find a place to buy red dye diesel (again, not sold at regular gas stations), and even if the incentive of paying taxes later made the search seem worthwhile, they would often be breaking state laws.

Eric Sauer, chief executive of the California Trucking Assn., a trade group that advocates for the industry, said his group has been advising members not to use the crimson fuel until it’s clear that states are going to change their rules. Some, like Missouri, have. California has not.

Either way, Sauer said, allowing truckers to use diesel dyed red really doesn’t increase the overall supply, just shifts it around — which is unlikely to bring prices down.

“It’s still the same supply of diesel fuel out there,” Sauer said.

Global supply

The global supply of crude oil, has been, shall we say, negatively affected by our war with Iran. Despite Trump’s assurances that the conflict is winding down, two container ships in the Strait of Hormuz were attacked this week, highlighting that perhaps Iran is unaware the war is over. Fears of that conflict and others sent energy prices soaring even higher.

Faced with that unpleasant reality, Trump this week also announced he was lifting sanctions on diesel exports from Russia, a move that shocked his own party and most of the world.

In this aerial view the PCK petroleum refinery stands illuminated at twilight

The PCK petroleum refinery stands illuminated at twilight on April 28, 2026, in Schwedt, Germany. The refinery, which produces gasoline, diesel, kerosene and bitumen, receives 20% of its oil from Kazakhstan through the Russian Druzhba pipeline.

(Sean Gallup / Getty Images)

That deal could bring 36 million barrels of Russian diesel, at most, to American shores, which sounds like a lot until you realize we use about 4 million barrels of the stuff every day. So Trump essentially sold out Ukraine and demolished what was left of our European standing for nine days of diesel — an amount unlikely to lower prices.

In California, that’s especially true because, as UC Berkeley professor Aaron Smith points out, about 70% of our diesel “is actually not made from crude oil and coming from oil refineries. It’s made from vegetable oils and animal fats.”

Yes, the Golden State relies heavily on so-called renewable diesel that, Smith says, “introduces, I think, another wrinkle” when trying to lower costs.

California’s fault

But let’s get back to Mische, the USC professor. For years, he’s been arguing that California’s refusal to pump more oil should be viewed as a national security concern.

California actually imports the majority of its crude oil, more than 60% from other countries, and our refineries for a number of debated reasons have been closing. Our imports have been growing in recent years. We also have no pipelines connecting us to the rest of the U.S., unlike many other states. That means we can’t easily get oil except what’s shipped in through our ports.

At the same time, the West Coast with its many military installations is undeniably pivotal to national security. Mische argues that without adequate fuel reserves for a shortage — like during a war — our military readiness could be jeopardized. He wants to see California not only pump more, but for the federal government to store more of that California crude.

A train of tank cars enters the Chevron EL Segundo refinery

A train of tank cars enters the Chevron EL Segundo refinery, one of the largest petroleum processing facilities in California, on April 8, 2026. California imports approximately 75% of its crude oil, with nearly one-third of the crude supplied from the Middle East. Prices at the pump in the state are averaging $5.93 per gallon today amid the war in Iran.

(Mario Tama / Getty Images)

These arguments haven’t gained much traction in our heavily Democratic state, which has moved forcefully away from fossil fuels and toward renewable sources in recent years and which has little interest in increasing drilling. But Mische and his colleagues may have found their moment.

Earlier this year, they wrote draft executive orders about California’s oil industry that he says the Trump administration is considering — one would attempt to force California to pump more oil using the authority of the Defense Production Act of 1950.

Trump has used that wartime act several times in the last few months, and Tuesday, Vice President JD Vance announced it would be used to expand production at a Texas oil refinery.

Mische said he spent last week in conversations with the administration on the proposed orders and is “confident” Trump will “issue additional executive orders under the Defense Production Act for California” by the end of the year.

Beyond the national security argument, such orders could please Trump because they do two things. First, if California pumps its own oil, it could free up some imported oil for other states, which could lower prices — though it would certainly take time and require more refinery capacity.

Second, and likely of more interest to the White House, it makes California — and Newsom — the villain for this sticky Republican problem. California will sue, of course, which would just help the Trump political narrative.

Kevin de León, a California Senate president emeritus and author of SB 100, California’s landmark 100% clean energy law, said he can easily envision Trump claiming that “we have lots of cheap oil in the United States that can lower your gas prices — but crazy lefty California is blocking us.”

Actually, it’s hard to imagine Trump not grabbing the chance to blame gas prices on the Golden State — or Newsom.

What else you should be reading:

The must-read: ‘Very few people out in the streets’: ICE surge rattles California’s Central Valley

The California angle: Justice Dept. demands California prove citizenship for lists of voters or withhold ballots

The L.A. Times Special: The U.S is in the death business. Newsom can change that, and win votes
Stay Golden,

Anita Chabria

—

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Josh Hartnett and Charlie Heaton on creating a father-son bond in ‘Below’

Josh Hartnett and Charlie Heaton know how to brood.

The actors both found fame in their early 20s playing characters prone to pining and sulking: Hartnett became a heartthrob in the late ’90s and early 2000s with mellow roles in films including “The Virgin Suicides,” “Pearl Harbor” and “Black Hawk Down.” Heaton, meanwhile, spent most of the last decade embodying the introverted Jonathan Byers on “Stranger Things.”

But now, the duo are wearing their hearts on their sleeves in “Below,” a six-episode Netflix miniseries now streaming, in which they play a father and son living in a misty Newfoundland fishing village that is increasingly terrorized by something mysterious in the iceberg-filled waters.

As Calvin and Wade Penney in “Below,” the actors are passionate and emotional. They get into animated family arguments and gleefully celebrate when things (occasionally) go their way.

“It’s all on the page,” Hartnett said. “All I had to do was show up and feel those things toward Charlie.”

Filmed on location in Newfoundland, Canada, “Below” is the latest unexpected project for Hartnett, 48, who has been cultivating a career renaissance in recent years with roles in “Black Mirror,” “Oppenheimer,” “Trap” and this month’s “Verity.”

A pair of men stand together on a dock looking toward the water as a big group of people takes photos beside them.

Charlie Heaton as Wade, left, and Josh Hartnett as Calvin in Netflix’s “Below.”

(Netflix)

Heaton, 32, has likewise been diversifying his post- “Stranger Things” portfolio. He played an ill-fated financial journalist in the fourth season of “Industry” and will next star in a “Peaky Blinders” sequel series.

“I like trying to surprise people, and maybe surprise myself too,” Heaton said.

When they convened for a joint video interview in late September, Heaton had recently returned to his London home from a music video shoot. Hartnett had just finished putting his four children (with wife, the actor Tamsin Egerton) to bed at their countryside home in Hampshire, England. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

What attracted you both to this project?

Hartnett: I was in “Black Mirror” a couple of years ago, and Jessica Rhoades, who produced “Black Mirror,” sent me the [“Below”] script probably about two months before production was supposed to start. I loved the script but I had some questions, so I had to speak to [creator] Jesse [McKeown] and a couple of the other EPs, just to get the lay of the land. After that conversation, I was like, this sounds really fresh and nuanced and organic.

Heaton: It seemed to have so much warmth and mystery. I do remember having a conversation with my agent because, obviously, I’d come off “Stranger Things,” and there was a little concern of, “Is it too similar?” But Wade is such a fun character. I’m from a working-class fishing town [Bridlington, England]. He’s also working class. Everyone knows somebody like Wade.

Hartnett: Willow Kean, who plays my sister, his aunt, saw Charlie on set when he first arrived. He was in his outfit and smoking a cigarette, and she was like, “I think somebody’s on set who shouldn’t be” — because he looked like a local. He fully embodied the mood of this character immediately.

How did the two of you meet? Had you crossed paths in the industry before?

Hartnett: We hadn’t. We met on Zoom. We did a bunch of stuff with the full cast, and it was more to learn the accent than anything else. Once we started to get into the accent work together, just shooting the s— online, it was great.

Heaton: We wanted the family to all sound like they were from the same place. But the accent is so hard to hear in the beginning. So, we were all getting it wrong together.

A man in a green tie, white shirt and khakis grins at a man sitting on a stool in a khaki jacket and pants.

Heaton and Hartnett hadn’t crossed paths before being cast in “Below,” but they created a rapport by trying to learn the show’s Newfoundland accent together.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

What was the biggest obstacle with the Newfoundland accent?

Heaton: I’ve done a fair amount of accents, but it’s hard to understand the rules of this one. It’s like, well, that word’s Irish, that word’s kind of American. It took me a while to be able to hear it. We had Ali [Alison Kelly], who was our voice coach, and a lot of the extras that we had on set also were local artists, so you could really lean on them.

Hartnett: Everybody was so welcoming. The most difficult part for me was hearing the rhythm of it. So, I listened to this thing called “The Broadcast,” which used to be called “The Fisheries Broadcast.” It’s a radio show that’s been on since 1951. Every day they’re talking to someone about something that’s happening on the island, so you’re getting all these different versions of the accent, but you’re also getting an overall perspective of how people speak in Newfoundland. It was really revealing.

How familiar were you with Newfoundland before doing “Below”?

Hartnett: I knew very little. I knew the “Come From Away” story about all the people stranded in Gander after 9/11. I knew that it was where Leif Erikson landed a long time ago. I knew that it was the closest place in North America to Europe, so when people would do transatlantic flights up until relatively recently, they would stop in Newfoundland. I knew there were puffins.

Heaton: I’m going to be very honest. I hadn’t even ever heard of it. But I learned a lot. We were there for a long time, and Newfoundlanders are extremely proud of their history and their culture, and they love talking.

What was it like shooting on location and out in nature?

Heaton: It was powerful and beautiful. Where we shot, Snook’s Arm, was this bay called Brigus South. You’d come down in the morning, and just that sheer amount of nature every day I found really moving.

Hartnett: One of the first days we were there, they took me out on a whale-watching tour. I was like, “Oh, cool. That sounds touristy but fun.” It was a spiritual experience. I’ve never been anywhere where I felt so small and insignificant next to another animal. These humpback whales, they’re right underneath these tiny little boats, and if they wanted to, they could just flick their tail, and you’d be off in the sea. I had never experienced nature in the sea the way that I experienced it there.

You play father and son, but you’re not that far apart in age.

Hartnett: Fifteen-and-a-half years! I did the math.

A man in a green hoodie and overalls stands on a boat, with the ocean seen behind him.
A man in a black beanie and green vest on a boat.

Heaton and Hartnett play father and son in “Below,” but in reality they’re just shy of 16 years apart. (Netflix)

How did you develop your onscreen dynamic?

Hartnett: Charlie was so in character as Wade, it was very easy to feel a real sense of protectiveness and an incredible amount of love.

Heaton: What I really admired about working with Josh [is] he is such a leader. You really care, and you’re so generous with everyone, and I got to see your family, and I got to see how you are as a dad. So, those projections weren’t that difficult to come up with in my head, honestly. It’s cool that I get to be your son.

Hartnett: So sweet, man. Thank you.

Charlie, do you remember any of Josh’s past work that stood out to you?

Hartnett: [Pretends to cover his camera] I’m just going to turn this off.

Heaton: One of my favorite films for a while was “Lucky Number Slevin.” When I was younger, I used to watch that quite a lot. I might rewatch that, Josh. It’s been a while.

Hartnett: Well, tell me if it holds up.

Josh, were you familiar with Charlie’s work?

Hartnett: I was a big fan of “Stranger Things,” and I saw “Industry.” Then, when he came on the first Zoom as Wade and was so already intact as a character, I was like, “He’s a star, man. This guy’s a star.”

A man in a cardigan and T-shirt stands behind an overhead projector.

Charlie Heaton as Jonathan Byers in “Stranger Things.” Hartnett says he was a fan of his work.

(Netflix)

You both found fame in your early 20s, but at very different points in the industry. What are your memories of first realizing, “Oh, people know who I am offscreen and something has shifted?”

Heaton: I remember the exact moment. I was shooting a movie in a small town in Asturias in the north of Spain. “Stranger Things” had been out for only a couple of days. I was in this little town, and a family came up to me that could barely speak English, but they recognized me. Then, I walked down the street a little further and another kid came running up to me.

The show blew up overnight, and before you knew it, you’re going to the Emmys and the BAFTAs with all these people who you have admired. I think we all felt impostor syndrome. Like, what am I doing on a carpet where Bryan Cranston and Helen Mirren are? If I think back to it now, it’s very overwhelming. I don’t really know if I processed how that changed so fast and how you are expected to know how to deal with it.

Hartnett: It was a long time ago for me. There was no social media, obviously, but we did have a pretty intense paparazzi problem. So, the initial success of films like “The Faculty,” “Halloween: H20” and “The Virgin Suicides” was a nice level of, like, people knew who I was and I was able to get more work, but there wasn’t a crush of paparazzi waiting outside the hotel.

When “Pearl Harbor” came out, that changed. I was in Morocco shooting “Black Hawk Down,” and I had to come back to do press for “Pearl Harbor.” Suddenly, that’s when I couldn’t go anywhere. That was an odd thing to encounter because I was 22, and I was not ready for it. Right after I finished “Black Hawk Down,” I decided to get back to Minnesota, where I grew up … There’s no paparazzi in Minnesota. That’s where I stayed for about two years.

Heaton: Those seismic changes are such a strange thing to go through. I always felt like, I haven’t changed but everyone else around me has changed — and that’s a weird thing to get used to. But there are great opportunities and great things that come out of it.

Hartnett: One hundred percent. My life is so much better now than it probably would have been had all that not happened.

Josh, you’ve said that you felt celebrity culture was “vacuous” and that you didn’t want to do things like “Cribs” or “Punk’d.” Did you feel like you were being pushed to fit a certain mold as a teen heartthrob?

Hartnett: That stuff wasn’t for me. Being a young celebrity, you’re always going to be pushed toward the cusp of insanity, the stuff that people are going to look back on and cringe not too far into the future. I was lucky enough to avoid that side of it.

In our business, it’s about surviving your 20s to get to the place where you have the respect of the people on set that you’re working with, and they allow you the leeway to create characters the way that you want to create them.

Charlie, how are you approaching your post-“Stranger Things” career?

Heaton: After wrapping the final season, I wanted to do “Industry,” which felt extremely different to me. I got to use my own accent. It’s a much more adult show than I’ve ever been in. And playing a man was important. I’d been playing a perpetually 21-year-old for like 10 years. I keep getting older. [Jonathan] stays the same. He gets further away from me. But I just want to do things that hopefully allow me to show range.

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