ISNT

On the last day of January, hundreds of people filled the pews of Immanuel Presbyterian Church in Koreatown to hear not the word of God but the gospel of the Democratic Socialists of America.

It was the local chapter’s bimonthly meeting and also a kickoff event for a year during which they planned to build on an already impressive foothold in L.A. politics. Four of their own are council members and the two up for reelection — Eunisses Hernandez and Hugo Soto-Martínez — received standing ovations after their impassioned speeches. They implored the faithful to believe that anything is politically possible in a year when President Trump is waging war on Los Angeles and one of their own, Zohran Mamdani, is the mayor of New York.

Among the true believers was someone who arrived late that day: L.A.’s original democratic socialist insurgent, Nithya Raman.

She shocked the city’s political class in 2020 by beating Councilmember David Ryu — the first time in 17 years that an incumbent lost their seat. Her upset blazed the way for Hernandez and Soto-Martínez in 2022 and fellow DSAer Ysabel Jurado in 2024. They’ve created a progressive bloc that has helped Mayor Karen Bass implement her agenda, offering Her Honor cover from critics on the left while also pushing for democratic socialist principles such as less police spending and more intervention programs.

Raman kept a low profile at the DSA-LA event, according to attendees. The 44-year-old listened to her colleagues’ speeches and those of other hopefuls, made small talk with fellow members and then left.

There was no hint that afternoon of the political earthquake she uncorked this Saturday, when Raman announced a mayoral run against longtime ally Bass. The council member described the mayor to The Times as an “icon” who nevertheless needs to be replaced because “Los Angeles is at a breaking point.”

I can only imagine Bass — whom Raman publicly endorsed just a month ago — was surprised.

The mayor seems vulnerable, for sure. From her handling of the Palisades fire to crumbling infrastructure to the economy and so much more, critics maintain Bass spent all of last year living up to the old Johnny Mathis and Deniece Williams duet: She did things too much, too little and too late. This was all before sources told The Times last week that Bass ordered an after-action report on the Palisades fire be — no pun intended — watered down to limit legal liability against the city.

Her supporters point to a drop in homelessness and homicides over the last four years as reason enough for Bass to return — but their hosannas haven’t gotten as much traction as an incumbent should be seeing at this point in a reelection campaign. That’s why the proverbial smart money had someone on the right side of L.A.’s Democratic spectrum mounting a strong challenge this year — Councilmembers Monica Rodriguez or Traci Park, L.A. County Supervisor Lindsey Horvath or even 2022 challenger Rick Caruso.

While Mamdani’s fall win got local progressives dreaming about one day doing the same in Los Angeles, the prospect of a strong challenger from the left in this mayoral cycle was considered so unlikely that DSA-LA didn’t have candidate Rae Huang — a dues-paying member and Presbyterian minister — speak at the Immanuel gathering since she couldn’t gather enough signatures to make her case for an endorsement in the fall.

Raman has proved effective enough as a council member to win her reelection outright two years ago during the primaries despite a well-funded effort to paint her as a limousine leftist. I admire her brio to take on Bass and respect her place in L.A. political history. I’m glad someone is going to make the mayor work hard to get reelected because no incumbent should ever have an automatic reelection.

But Nithya Raman?

Los Angeles City Councilmember Nithya Raman, left, talks with Mayor Karen Bass at Hazeltine Park in Sherman Oaks during a 2024 rally for Raman’s ultimately successful reelection bid. She’s now challenging Bass in the 2026 mayoral election.

(Mel Melcon/Los Angeles Times)

Presbyterians, such as those who pray at the Koreatown church, have historically believed in predestination, the idea that God has determined everyone’s fate and we can’t do a thing about it. Raman doesn’t belong to the denomination, but perhaps its tenets moved her at Immanuel into believing that another unlikely political revival is in her stars. Because that’s the only way to make sense of Raman’s turn and belief that she can pull off the victory.

Raman’s 4th District is one of the wealthier in the city, a mishmash of Encino rich, Silver Lake hipster and the San Fernando Valley lower middle class — relatively sheltered from the day-to-day struggles of many working class and working poor Angelenos living in L.A. While Soto-Martínez and Hernandez draw their perspective and base from the union and activist left, Raman’s loudest supporters have struck me as folks who might have the passion and money to win over her district but don’t have the street-level knowledge and experience to sell their candidate to all corners of the city.

Raman has walked the progressive walk during her two council terms by getting arrested at sit-ins, showing up to protests and through her City Hall work. But the coalition she needs to topple Bass seems exceedingly hard to build.

She’d have to run under the assumption that enough people on the left think the current mayor is a sellout — or at minimum, just not progressive enough. That conservative and centrist voters so loathe Bass that they’ll hold their nose and vote for a democratic socialist. She’d have to win over Latino voters, who went with Caruso four years ago but who represent only 19% of Raman’s district in a city that’s nearly majority Latino.

Raman would have to peel off labor from Bass, who has counted on and rewarded their support from Sacramento to Washington to City Hall for over two decades. Needs to paint Bass as soft on Trump’s deportation deluge despite her consistently calling him out. Appeal to homeowners who won’t like Raman’s ties to YIMBY-minded folks seeking to shove multistory units anywhere and everywhere. Convince Black voters — who already must reckon with the likely reality that the city will not have three Black council members for the first time since 1963 because the leading candidates to replace outgoing Curren Price are Latinos — that dethroning the city’s first Black female mayor is somehow good for the community’s political future.

And then there’s Raman’s fellow DSA members. The rank-and-file are currently furious at her for recently, unsuccessfully trying to tweak L.A.’s so-called mansion tax. Raman can’t run in the primary with DSA’s endorsement because that process ended last fall. Supporters can petition for a vote on the matter, but that opens her anew to critics who engineered a censure of her during her 2024 reelection campaign for accepting an endorsement by a pro-Israel group while the country was bombing Gaza.

Raman — who can keep her council seat if she doesn’t beat Bass — is about to find out that L.A. isn’t as progressive as people make it out to be.

Los Angeles Councilmember Nithya Raman speaks to a crowd as she hosts an election night event in Edendale in March 2024 in Los Angeles.

(Myung Chun/Los Angeles Times)

She might have visions of a populist movement a la what happened in New York ushering her into City Hall — but she’s no Mamdani and Bass is no Eric Adams. Even fans of Raman I talked to over the weekend are upset that the progressive march that DSA-LA has successfully launched in city and county politics this decade now must deal with a curveball from within. It threatens to distract from efforts for other campaigns in a year when the left needs to concentrate on defeating true opponents — not a fellow traveler like Bass.

Raman must figure this disruption is worth the risk for her legacy and will further strengthen L.A.’s left. Let’s see what voters decide.

What’s the difference between Brett Ratner and Leni Riefenstahl? Riefenstahl, for all her many sins, was technically innovative; Ratner (unless you count an almost fetishistic fascination with first lady footwear), not so much.

But in the end, they are both political propagandists, collaborators if you will, with heads of state determined to create a narrative that is, at best, at odds with reality and, at worst, a targeted attempt to distort it.

Am I saying that “Melania” is as horrifically significant as “Triumph of the Will”? No, I am not. But it is motivated by the same base forces, and as fun as it might be to watch Jeff Bezos lose most of the $75 million Amazon paid for the purchase and then marketing of the film, it is important to remember that.

As Melania Trump said herself at the film’s premiere: “Some have called this a documentary. It is not. It is a creative experience that offers perspectives, insights and moments.”

A “creative experience” for which the first lady, who serves as narrator and executive producer, reportedly received about $28 million.

Money she very much does not earn.

Anyone who goes into “Melania” hoping to see even a glimpse of what it is like to be first lady, or indeed Melania Trump, will find instead a super-long version of “we followed [fill in the blank] as they got ready for the Oscars.”

Only in this case, it’s Donald Trump’s second inauguration, which Ratner (given his first big job since being accused by six women of sexual misconduct) frames as the Second Coming, from the lingering shots of the sleek lines of the motorcade to the use of “His truth is marching on” from “Battle Hymn of the Republic” as the first couple takes the stage at one of the inaugural balls.

(And in case you think that’s not obsequious enough, at the end of the inaugural festivities, Ratner, off camera, says, “sweet dreams, Mr. President,” which honestly could have been the title of this film.)

Most of the “action” involves the first lady making entrances: off private jets, out of big black cars and into well-appointed rooms. There, Trump and her designers wax rhapsodic over a gown designed to disguise any seams, admire an inaugural dinner menu that begins with caviar in a big golden egg and discuss the furnishings that will be moved in as soon as the Bidens move out.

These mind-numbing glories are interrupted just long enough for Tham Kannalikham, an interior designer in charge of the White House transition, to talk about how her family immigrated to America from Laos when she was 2 — the opportunity to work in the White House is, for her, the ultimate American dream. Beside her, Trump, also an immigrant, remains silent.

Other things happen. Trump has a video conference with French First Lady Brigitte Macron to discuss initiatives to end cyberbullying, meets with Queen Rania of Jordan to discuss helping foster children and comforts former Hamas hostage Aviva Siegel. Siegel, whose husband, at the time of filming, is still a hostage, provides the film’s one real emotional moment, despite having been clearly included as an opportunity for Trump to reveal a bit of personal kindness (and some political messaging).

We follow Trump as she and her husband attend Jimmy Carter’s funeral, during which her narration describes the pain of her mother’s death the year before, and as she “sneaks” the cameras into a room where her husband is rehearsing his inaugural speech.

There she suggests, with a completely straight face, that he add the word “unifier” to “peacemaker” in his description of what he hopes to be his legacy, a term he then uses in his speech the next day.

Throughout it all, the first lady remains relentlessly poised and personally inaccessible, lending new and literal meaning to the term “statuesque.”

Given the nature of the film’s subject, and the fact that she is the one literally calling the shots, no one with half a brain could expect to see any interesting or authentic “behind-the-scenes” moments (Melania wearing sweats or counting her breakfast almonds or, I don’t know, sneezing). A brief scene in which the remarkably tone-deaf Ratner attempts to get her to sing along to her favorite song, Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean,” elicits (finally!) a genuine laugh from her, and while his decision to repeatedly zoom in on her admittedly well-shod feet becomes increasingly creepy, it at least offers drinking-game potential.

Even so, “Melania” is as cynical a piece of filmmaking as exists since the art form began.

Listening to her describe the seriousness with which she takes her duties; her love, as an immigrant, for this great nation; and her dedication to making life better for all Americans — especially children and families — I was reminded of the climactic scene in “A Wrinkle in Time,” when young Charles Wallace has been ensnared by the soothing rhetoric of the evil brain-washing IT.

The superficial blandness of “Melania” isn’t boring; it’s calculated, infuriating and horrifying.

The first lady is describing an alternative universe of peace, love and unity while her husband has unleashed armed Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents to terrorize and detain children and adults (many of whom are citizens or here in this country legally) and, in at least two cases, kill American citizens who protest their actions. She wants to help children and families while her husband slashes federal assistance programs and holds school funding hostage. She would have us believe she is battling cyberbullies while her husband, the president of these United States, regularly engages in lies, direct threats and character assassination on social media.

President Trump is many things but he is not a unifier — he believes, as he has assured us time and again, in winning, and, as he has also said and shown, he will choose retribution over reconciliation every time.

Melania Trump is, of course, not her husband. But this film is little more than a 90-minute campaign ad. Which, given the fact that Trump cannot legally run for president again, should be cause for much concern.

Many criticized the decision to release “Melania” mere days after federal agents killed Alex Pretti and Renee Good in Minneapolis, and excoriated those notables, including Apple CEO Tim Cook, who chose to attend an early celebratory screening that included “let them eat” cookies with “Melania” scrawled in the icing.

For the kind of person who makes, and buys and distributes, a film that purports to be a “documentary” and is really just old-fashioned, through-the-looking-glass propaganda, however, it’s actually the perfect time.

Why worry about the federal government killing its own citizens when we can all ooh and aah over the fact that the first lady’s inaugural gown is constructed so that none of the seams show? Especially if it makes her husband happy.

KATIE Price’s surprise Dubai wedding to new husband Lee Andrews has been confirmed as non-legally binding.

The former glamour model shocked fans – and family alike – when she said ‘I do’ to the businessman over the weekend after a whirlwind romance.

The nuptials – which took place at the Burj Al Arab hotel in Dubai – were officiated by part-time DJ and celebrant Darryl Rees, who has since broken his silence on his involvement that day.

“What I do is a symbolic wedding,” he told the Daily Mail. “I’m like the showman, and then they get married in the courts with all the paperwork.”

Darryl, who has been operating as a celebrant in Dubai for over five years explained that couples who opt for these style of nuptials have to then have the legalities carried out in a Dubai court or UK registry office either pre or post-ceremony.

Darryl added that the newlyweds “mentioned that they were going to get the wedding legalised the day after on the Monday.”

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It’s currently not known if Katie and Lee have filed to make their marriage official in a court of law.

“From my point of view, they seemed like a lovely couple,” he said of his experience of their wedding.

“They appeared very much smitten by each other. When I was speaking to Lee initially, he was clearly head over heels for Katie and very excited to marry the girl.

“And Katie seemed very taken with him as well. They were both looking into each other’s eyes the whole time when I was doing the reading, never looked away, just transfixed like any couple would be, madly in love.

Darryl revealed that Lee reached out to him on Saturday enquiring into his services, one day after the couple announced their engagement on Instagram.

“When Lee messaged me on the Saturday, he said ‘I want to do a wedding with my fiancée’.

“Then he gave me the names as Lee Andrews and Katie Price, and I was a bit taken aback, so I wasn’t that surprised when I saw it was indeed her the following day.”

Following their big day, Katie and Lee have been sharing several loved-up selfies on social media.

“The happiest Mr and Mrs” read one photo caption, with another photo showing the pair cuddled up together in white dressing gowns.

Now back in the UK – and seemingly apart – Katie took to Instagram to reaffirm her love for Lee amid concern from her family.

“Despite all the noise going on, I miss you Lee,” she said in a video posted on her Stories.

“I love you unconditionally,” she concluded, kissing her huge diamond engagement ring.

The Sun understands Katie’s family, including her children, Princess and Junior Andre, had no idea she was getting married for a fourth time.

A source has exclusively told us that her loved ones are set to take action after growing alarmed by the quick nuptials.

“They’re planning on sitting down with her for a serious talk today,” the insider said.

“Everyone is worried she’s spinning out of control.

“They haven’t even met this man and if she’s only known him a week, he could be anyone.

“Nobody is planning to hold back.”