journey

A hike among redwoods is fine if you go in for that sort of thing.

But to gaze upon those towering trees from a slow train with a stiff drink in your hand — that’s something else entirely.

And with the latest added offerings from Mendocino County’s historic Skunk Train, slow-rolling drink-sipping is possible on short excursions from the railway’s stations in both Fort Bragg along Highway 1 and Willits along U.S. 101.

Known as the Noyo, this car is a new cocktail car that’s part of the Skunk Train, rolling from Willits, Calif.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

The first part of this expansion happened last year when the Mendocino Railway, better known as the Skunk Train, unveiled the Redwood, a fancy railcar offering cocktails as part of a seven-mile round trip from Fort Bragg. The Willits end of this expansion followed in September, when the railroad introduced another reconditioned traincar, this one known as the Noyo. Formerly a U.S. Army railcar, it’s now been reborn as a rolling cocktail lounge for up to 22 guests, featuring leather chairs, plush couches, a carpeted floor and ‘50s overtones.

On the journey I joined recently, passengers mingled in a spacious, adults-only railcar with vintage jazz on the sound system and servers outfitted in spiffy white jackets. For about $200 each, Willits-based passengers get a 16-mile round trip, charcuterie snacks and two cocktails (or mocktails).

Most popular cocktail so far: the Redwood Martini, made with dry gin, dry vermouth and orange bitters, served with a sprig of redwood.

The journey takes about two hours, passing through an 812-foot-long tunnel (a.k.a. Tunnel No. 2), then pausing to turn around in a clearing known as Crowley.

Passengers relax in the Skunk Train’s “presidential class” railcar, the Noyo, from Willits.

(Mendocino Railway)

Crowley, once a logging camp, can’t be reached by road, but train passengers can wander among picnic tables, fire pits, cornhole games and a massive, gnarled old redwood known as the Wolf Tree. (In September, when the performers of the Flynn Creek Circus were in town, the troupe hauled a big tent out to the clearing and staged two weeks of live performances there.)

Through October and November, the Skunk Train offers “presidential class” cocktail-car trips four to five days per week from Fort Bragg, two to three days per week from Willits. In December, trips from Willits are also offered on most weekdays and service from Fort Bragg drops to two days per week. (Willits-based service shuts down in January and February before resuming in March.)

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1. Passengers in the Skunk Train’s “presidential class” railcar, the Noyo, from Willits get two cocktails (or mocktails) with the price of admission for a two-hour round-trip journey. 2. Besides cocktails or mocktails, service aboard the Skunk Train’s “presidential class” cars from Willits and Fort Bragg includes charcuterie plates. (Mendocino Railway)

These cocktail cars are the latest additions in a decade of Skunk Train team improvisations in the wake of long history and, more recently, trouble on the tracks.

The Fort Bragg Railroad started up in 1885 to haul redwood and fir logs to the coast for shipping south to San Francisco. By 1911 there was steam-driven passenger service between Fort Bragg and Willits, and by 1925, locals had nicknamed it the “skunk train” because of the odor that billowed from the railcars’ recently introduced gasoline-burning engines and oil-burning stoves.

That moniker might have faded, but in May 1959, National Geographic magazine devoted a spread to the train under the headline “The Friendly Train Called Skunk.” In its 40 miles, that article noted, the train climbed more than 1,600 feet, crossed 34 bridges and trestles and rounded some 381 turns, occasionally pausing to deliver groceries to rural neighbors.

A passenger soaks up atmosphere on the two-hour, round-trip Skunk Train journey from Willits in Mendocino County.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

Alas, the timber industry faded, a mail delivery contract was lost and railroad ownership changed hands. On the way, the Skunk Train began to depend mostly on tourists. Then in 2013, the railroad’s Tunnel No. 1 collapsed, blocking the tracks about four miles east of Fort Bragg. Repairs followed, but the same tunnel collapsed again in 2015. There were no injuries in either accident, but it remains impossible for any railcar to make the full 40-mile journey between Fort Bragg and Willits.

“We are committed to reopening the tunnel,” Mendocino Railway president and CEO Robert J. Pinoli has said. But the reopening won’t be quick. Besides the challenge of rebuilding the tunnel, the railroad has been tangled for several years in legal disputes with the city of Fort Bragg and the California Coastal Commission. For now, every trip on the Skunk Train, including traditional railcars and increasingly popular pedal-assisted railbikes, is an out-and-back journey designed to avoid the blocked tunnel.

From Fort Bragg, most train and railbike trips go 3.5 miles east and 3.5 miles back again. From Willits, most trips go eight miles west and turn around, including the fall Pumpkin Express and Christmas Train. The great exception is “Railbikes on the Noyo,” a 25-mile journey that begins near Fort Bragg with a hike to the east end of Tunnel No. 1. From there, guests pedal an eastbound railbike for 12.5 miles through the forest, including a dozen wooden trestle bridges and recurring views of the Noyo River. After a picnic lunch, guests double back to where they started. That adventure usually takes about six hours and starts at $564 (combined) for two people sharing a two-seat railbike.

The new cocktail car excursion, meanwhile, requires less time, less money and less perspiration.

A view of the Skunk Train’s Noyo railcar.

(Mendocino Railway)

After our train reversed direction at its midway stop in Crowley, I could have stayed in my comfortable cocktail-car seat. But I had been tipped to check out the back end of the train. That’s the open observation car (no ceiling) in the back of the train. Skunk Train employees say it was first built for the U.S. Marines to transport Sherman tanks. It works just fine carrying us gawking civilians.

“Ahhh,” said 2-year-old Elle Davis, looking up to the sky and standing by her mother, Kaitlyn Davis of Willits. The observation car is open to all aboard — that is, the Noyo Car passengers and to those Skunk Train passengers who pay standard fares ($81.47 per adult) for less luxe railcars (open to all ages).

As you stand there with the wind in your face and the rails rattling below, the evergreen boughs whoosh past. Depending on the hour and humidity, the sky might be dimming or masked by fog. These days you don’t get that skunky scent of years gone by, but a ride is still a full sensory experience. And even if you have an adult beverage in your hand, you might find yourself with the same sense of rejuvenation that engineer Johnny Galliani described to National Geographic back in 1959.

“Young or old, they’re all kids when they ride with us,” Galliani said. “Nothing like a ride on this train to take the years off your back and make you young again.”

Passengers board the Skunk Train on an excursion from Willits to a forest clearing (once a lumber camp) called Crowley.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

The cause of death for Dennis Haskins, an actor best known for playing Principal Richard Belding across the “Saved by the Bell” franchises, has been revealed.

Haskins’ friend and longtime caretaker, Kimberly Snow, confirmed the actor’s Sept. 27 death and told The Times that Haskins had quietly battled Parkinson’s disease and was candid about other health issues. The actor died at Providence Saint Joseph Medical Center in Burbank.

The Los Angeles County Department of Public Health cited Parkinson’s disease as the actor’s immediate cause of death,
according to his death certificate obtained by TMZ. Irritable bowel syndrome, depression, hypertension and benign prostatic hyperplasia were also listed as health conditions Haskins battled.

Snow, a former manager of Burbank’s since-shuttered Dimples Karaoke, shared the news of the actor’s death on Instagram, writing that Haskins was a staple at the joint, so much so that many of the patrons thought he owned it.

“A lot of people thought he owned it, but he didn’t,” the tribute read. “He just loved the place and its people. He enjoyed singing for people, meeting them, and taking selfies with his fans. Dimples closed down about 11 years ago, and people still associate him with his beloved ‘second home.’ He was known to most as Mr. Belding from Saved by the Bell, but to us, he was much more than that.

“About eight years ago, he became ill,” the post continued. “He had been silent about his fight with Parkinson’s, among other health concerns, because he did not want the attention. He did not want to have to tell people. He would say, ‘What do I even say?’ So I respected his wishes and stayed quiet, and I helped him through his journey into the next chapter of his life.

“Late last night, that journey ended for him.”

The actor played Mr. Belding across seven different series, including “Good Morning, Miss Bliss,” “Saved by the Bell,” “Saved by the Bell: The College Years,” “Saved by the Bell: The New Class,” “The Rerun Show,” “Robot Chicken” and “Victorious.”

This story contains spoilers for Episode 8 of HBO Max’s “Lanterns.”

From the very first time Tom King and DC Studios’ James Gunn ever talked about a Green Lantern show, they envisioned John Stewart as the kind of hero who could generate excitement and change the tide of any battle upon his arrival.

“The idea was to build a character as compelling and impactful as, say, Thor in the Marvel universe,” says King, the “Lanterns” co-creator, during a recent video call. “Someone who arrives in a movie with a thunderclap, and … the audience [just] screams when they arrive because you’re in love with that character … not just [for] the power set they have, but the integrity of that character.”

That hero officially takes flight in Sunday’s “Lanterns” finale.

Episode 8 of the HBO Max superhero crime drama, titled “Dirt and Stars,” sees John Stewart (Aaron Pierre) take up the mantle as Earth’s newest Green Lantern. After solving the mystery of his predecessor Hal Jordan’s (Kyle Chandler) death, Stewart claims Jordan’s power ring as his own, recites his oath and jets off toward his next adventure. (A second season of “Lanterns” has not been announced, but the character will appear in Gunn’s upcoming “Superman” sequel, “Man of Tomorrow.”)

Co-created by King, Damon Lindelof and Chris Mundy, “Lanterns” introduces Jordan as a grizzled, veteran member of the Green Lantern Corps, intergalactic space cops who are armed with a special ring that allows them to manifest objects and manipulate energy.

In the finale, John Stewart, left, claims Hal Jordan’s (Kyle Chandler) ring as his own.

(John Johnson / HBO Max)

Stewart is a new Green Lantern recruit, but when an investigation into the whereabouts of a killer alien robot on the run goes awry, they go their separate ways.

“One of the cool things about the canonical Green Lanterns is that, technically speaking, there’s only one ring delegated to this particular sector in which Earth fell,” says Lindelof of one of the show’s central conflicts.

The creative team knew from the jump that Stewart would be the one to bear that ring at the end of the season, but the idea that Stewart would be a child prodigy whose parents preordained his path to become the next Green Lantern developed over time.

“We [decided] the first part of John’s life is going to be [about] coming to terms with the fact that he doesn’t really want the ring — or he doesn’t want the ring on those terms,” Lindelof says. “Then there would have to be some period of time where he was living his dream. … Then and only then would he be able to wipe the slate clean, as it were, and gravitate back toward a healthy way to want the ring.”

In the comics, Green Lanterns are known for their oaths, which they recite when recharging their rings or to reaffirm their commitment to the group. In “Lanterns,” Stewart creates his own version that acknowledges his journey and perspective on becoming a Green Lantern.

“We talked a lot about it in the room, but the feeling was that he was changing the relationship with the Guardians in that moment,” Mundy says, referring to the immortal aliens that created the Green Lantern Corps.

In the end, Hal, left, is able to impart lessons that nobody else would have been able to teach John.

(John Johnson / HBO Max)

The Guardians had once considered Stewart an ideal replacement for Jordan because he was willing to blindly follow orders, but by the time he claimed Jordan’s ring, it’s clear Stewart has no plans to be affiliated with the Guardians or the Green Lantern Corps in that way, and the writers wanted his oath to reflect that.

“We wanted John to take [the role] on his terms,” Mundy says. “Even though Hal didn’t train him as well as he should have trained him, he taught him lessons that nobody else would have taught him. … [Including] how you need to be your own person even as you’re working for this organization.”

Besides his unconventional path to becoming a Green Lantern, Stewart is in possession of a unique lantern for recharging his ring that was forged by Sinestro, Jordan’s disgraced mentor.

The “Lanterns” showrunner remained coy when asked whether this lantern’s more ominous origins could lead to any unintended consequences for Stewart.

“It’s rife with possibility, is what I will say,” Mundy says.

In separate interviews, Mundy, Lindelof and King discussed the “Lanterns” finale, Stewart and Jordan’s bittersweet reconciliation and the show’s fiercely protective mothers. Their comments have been edited for clarity and length.

Because the “real” Hal is killed in 2026, his relationship with John is left unresolved. John shares a moment with the Halogram, the backup version of 2006 Hal’s consciousness, after working with him and the mystery is solved, but can you address that lack of proper closure for them?

Mundy: We talked about this thing as a love story between these guys in a certain way, but one of them has to die in order for them to truly come together. Even over the course of the Halogram being in the show, he never called John “Junior” ever. He always called him “trainee.” Until the last moment when he says … “I love you, too, Junior.” There’s something very bittersweet about the fact that the two people we spent all that time with don’t fully have their moment together.

King: What I think is hinted at between the Halogram and the final Hal we get is this Sinestro subplot. This is right from the comics, but Hal’s best friend, his mentor, the person who trained him, betrayed everything he trusted and Hal had to put him away. I think the trauma of that moment closed Hal up. It damaged him … so he was unable to see John for what he is and unable to listen to John the way he should. [With the Halogram] John finally encounters a Hal who hasn’t gone through that and they can have conversations they couldn’t have before. John can start to feel the empathy that Hal denied him, and he can see Hal for who Hal really is.

Lindelof: I love the idea that that version of Hal and John are unresolved. There is no apology. There is no forgiveness. The only closure that John can get is from this earlier version of Hal who has a lot of sympathy and empathy, not just for John, but for himself. Obviously, this is a crazy sci-fi superhero show, but that feels more authentic to life. Sort of like when someone that you love is gone, and you find a note that they wrote or an old birthday card and you extrapolate new meaning from it even though it’s from an earlier version of them.

Viewers get some backstory on the romance between Kerry Kane (Kelly Macdonald) and Hal.

(John Johnson / HBO Max)

Why was it important to show more of 2026 Hal Jordan’s life before his death in the finale?

Lindelof: The only flavoring that we get of him directly [before this] is in the diner scene, when John comes for his apology and doesn’t get one. Only toward the very end of that scene after John has hit Hal, and Hal says, “Don’t let anybody know that you were here,” is there a flash that something has changed in this guy. It’s one thing for Kerry to tell us that they were in love, or to hear Hal’s “buttercup” voicemail, but I think that the audience needed to see it and experience it. Hal is not a changed man in 2026, but he’s an evolved man. And there’s real tragedy inherent in all of the decisions that he’s making because we know that all of those decisions basically lead him to be a corpse in the stands at a football game. The subtle differences by which Kyle plays older Hal versus Halogram Hal is really on sharp display in the finale.

With Noah being a Manhunter, it turned out that he and John were dealing with similar questions around lineage and legacy and nature versus nurture. How did the exploration into these themes evolve during the show’s development? Much of it is unpacked in their truck ride together.

King: The basic idea [was] that John had been one of these kids who had been told, “You’re going to be this when you grow up.” Like a Tiger Woods or Michael Jackson-esque child. We started talking about what that’s like — to be a prodigy, to be forced into [something]. The idea that you’re kind of programmed by your parents. And then we were talking about Manhunters. The problem with Manhunters is they’ve been programmed to do this one thing, and they can’t defy their programming [to eradicate mankind]. That’s why they had to eventually be erased. Then we started talking about the parallel of programming and overcoming programming, and what makes you human, what doesn’t, that parallel came first. Those were the very nascent ideas, and we took that to our brilliant writers room, and [Breannah Gibson], Justin [Britt-Gibson] and Vanessa [Baden Kelly] added their own personal experience to that and made it a much richer … and personal story.

Mundy: John still doesn’t know if he’s about to die in this car. Noah is trying to learn about himself and figure out if he wants to kill John or die himself. The important thing was to hold that tension and then kind of step that conversation through chapters. There’s anger about what happened to Zoe. After he understands that a little bit better, he says “these are the different ways my life could go.” And then John can actually bring a piece of himself. We talked all the time about the way John was raised and the programming of the Manhunters and what’s “programming” and what’s “being raised.” Then there’s a confession that ends up being false, but also this request to be killed. There were three distinct sections of that conversation, and we wanted them all to be meaningful and personal.

In the final scenes of the episode, John and Kerry have a conversation about what parents are willing to do for their children.

(John Johnson / HBO Max)

With both Hal and John, so much of their intergenerational trauma is tied to their fathers. But with Noah and John, you also see just how big of a role their mothers have played in shaping them. How did that aspect come about?

Mundy: Once we knew that Noah was a Manhunter, it felt too cheap and too easy for that to be the answer [to the mystery of Hal’s death]. But it felt key to the answer of it, and we were talking so much about parenthood and what you would do for your child and what it means. What’s protecting people and what’s not? It just became a given pretty early on that Kerry would be the answer at the end. It just fit into the same story Bernadette was going through. And [John’s] conversation with Kerry explains so much of that.

Lindelof: I think this all came from Vanessa Baden Kelly. We had written the pilot, where John’s father is shooting the apple off of his head, and then when Vanessa came on shortly thereafter, she’s like, “Where’s mom?” It is one of those moments where you realize it, particularly because we were three men, but also inside of the canon of these superheroes, it’s always a dad. So the idea was having Bernadette really be the mastermind of John’s upbringing as a way to provide a simultaneous salve for her husband’s shame about being afraid about losing out on the opportunity.

I think that Kerry is an equally fierce mother. Obviously, she loves Hal. But when you watch it a second time after you’ve seen the finale, you realize that there’s guilt there as well because of what she did to him, all in the name of her son.

John starts to reframe what Bernadette did as something for him, as opposed to something for her — in a lot of ways, it was a selfless act. She’s doing it knowing that her child will hate her, but that he’ll be the Earth’s Green Lantern, and there’s going to be an aspirational quality to that for generations to follow.

Kyle MacLachlan is living up to his reputation as the Internet’s Dad.

It’s an especially warm day in August, and the bespectacled actor, best known for his many projects with the late auteur David Lynch, is approaching with a coffee (black, naturally) in one hand and a massive cookie in the other. The snack, it turns out, is meant for us to share.

“Whatever it is, it’s very healthy,” he says when I ask what sort of confection he chose. “It’s cranberry, oatmeal and gluten-free. Who knows if there’s any sugar in there?”

At 67, MacLachlan isn’t necessarily a health nut. But he is highly amenable and willing to roll with my vegan cafe selection, which is conveniently located near our photo shoot location. “I come from Eastern Washington state — it’s a desert,” he says assuringly when I offer to move us to an indoor seat with air conditioning. Later, as we prepare to leave for the shoot, he clocks my car, a rare station wagon, and dubs it “spec-TAC-u-lar.”

That’s MacLachlan for you — all it takes is one word (he also drops an “Aces!” during our meeting) or enthusiastic gesture (very likely a swooping thumbs up) to channel the type of eccentric and upbeat characters he’s spent the last 40 years playing. Now, with the release of his thoughtful new memoir, “Fictional Selves,” MacLachlan gives us a much closer look at the man behind the chin-jutting grin, and, in doing so, introduces us to his doppelganger, “Other Kyle,” an image-conscious shadow figure constantly trailing behind, questioning his choices.

“There’s definitely another entity, an observer, the ego, the harder self,” MacLachlan says of how he would describe Other Kyle, whom ghostwriter Jon Sternfeld first identified after noticing the way MacLachlan tended to fall into conversation with himself while recounting his life. “[He’s] the kind of person that I’m not comfortable leading within the world. But he’s definitely in there commenting on the things that I do.”

Other Kyle first began to taunt MacLachlan after he saw himself on a gargantuan billboard for “Dune” in Times Square. (In his early 20s, MacLachlan was famously plucked from obscurity to lead David Lynch’s 1984 adaptation of Frank Herbert’s sci-fi epic.)

Well before his alter ego materialized, and well before Hollywood found him, MacLachlan was prone to anxiety and fears of never fitting in. Born in Yakima, Wash., MacLachlan grew up the oldest of three boys; his parents were solidly middle-class, with his father working as a lawyer, and then stockbroker. His mother was a homemaker known in the community for her civic involvement, particularly in local arts programs. In fact, it was MacLachlan’s mother who first encouraged him to try a “Teen Theater” program, drawing him in with the promise that there might also be girls in attendance.

But it took a minute for MacLachlan to genuinely embrace his calling. As a young adult, his father pushed him to study business, while his mother urged him to try PR or communications. His studies at the University of Washington weren’t going well, so he dropped out and worked at a manufacturing plant back in Yakima. It wasn’t until a girlfriend recommended a summer theater program in North Carolina that MacLachlan leaned back into his first real passion, eventually returned to school with a newfound focus, and was accepted into the University of Washington’s professional acting program.

Kyle MacLachlan at the glass and mirror shop LA Mirror Man on La Cienega Boulevard.

(Christopher Patey / For The Times)

Fast-forward 40 years, it’s impossible to imagine that MacLachlan would have anything else for Other Kyle to latch onto. For one, his acting resume is the stuff of thespian fantasy. Sure, “Dune” infamously flopped hard upon arrival, and all planned sequels were immediately canceled. But it wasn’t long before MacLachlan had teamed back up with his mentor, with whom he had developed an almost telepathic bond on “Dune,” to lead Lynch’s much more kindly received 1986 neo-noir arthouse entry, “Blue Velvet.” A few years later, the overwhelming success of the TV mystery series “Twin Peaks” propelled the actor to the upper stratosphere of celebrity.

“When we were working together creating Jeffrey in ‘Blue Velvet’ or [Coop in] ‘Twin Peaks,’ we would sit and talk or not talk, we melded together in some weird way, we were like one person,” MacLachlan says of his bond with Lynch, who died in early 2025 of cardiac arrest due to chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. “It was this very symbiotic kind of thing in front of the camera,” MacLachlan continues. “It was like this weird circular energy. … He’s the only director I share that with.”

And yet, breaking out of what MacLachlan refers to as “The Black Suit,” worn by his unceasingly chipper “Twin Peaks” character, Special Agent Dale Cooper, proved challenging. By the time “Twin Peaks” left the air in 1991, MacLachlan had grown ambivalent about the job that changed his life, partially because he felt Lynch didn’t fight hard enough to keep artistic control of the show’s second season, which saw the network upping its creative involvement and Lynch distancing himself until the final few episodes.

MacLachlan longed to diversify his output — to show that he was capable of being a mainstream Hollywood leading man, one who could interface with a variety of directors. In the book, he writes about jobs he comes so close to booking — roles in Robert Redford’s “A River Runs Through It” and Francis Ford Coppola’s “Dracula” — but losing out at the last minute.

Kyle MacLachlan explores his alter ego “Other Kyle” in his new memoir.

(Christopher Patey / For The Times)

He took these rejections hard at the time. Many decades later, however, he can see how he was the one holding himself back. “I felt like people were only seeing the black suit,” MacLachlan says. “Now, the truth is, they would probably have been more than happy to see me as somebody else, but I was not able to deliver. … I think there was a lot of insecurity,” he continues. “I was like, ‘Maybe it’s not the suit. Maybe it’s me.’”

As the 1990s played out, MacLachlan fought an on-again, off-again existential crisis regarding the type of actor he was really meant to be. His friend and former “Doors” co-star Val Kilmer urged him to accept a lead role in a BBC adaptation of Kafka’s “The Trial,” which didn’t move the cultural needle in the States, but did put him in the same room as enormously pedigreed actors like Anthony Hopkins and Alfred Molina. He snagged a role in a Paul Verhoeven film about topless dancers — a career risk he hoped would pay off but ultimately felt like “walking into a buzz saw,” as he writes in the book.

Despite the cult reappraisal of “Showgirls,” and the lasting popularity of “Sex and the City,” Other Kyle had a few things to say about both of these roles, but the Kyle sitting across from me has a much more measured approach, particularly to “Showgirls.”

“I think it’s fun that it’s still around,” MacLachlan says. “I’ll still argue with anyone that [says] it’s a good movie. It’s not a good movie, but it’s definitely an appreciated movie, and that is kind of where I leave it.”

In the early 2000s, his wife, Full Picture founder and chief executive Desiree Gruber, pushed him to accept a role in HBO’s “Sex and the City,” playing an Upper East Side doctor with erectile issues.

Portraying Trey MacDougal was a mixed bag for MacLachlan. On one hand, he was thrilled to be part of such a cultural juggernaut, and he delighted in the emphasis the show placed on female friendship and sexual agency.

“I want to keep being challenged,” says Kyle MacLachlan, looking ahead to the next chapter of his 40-year career.

(Christopher Patey / For The Times)

At the same time, he had mixed feelings about playing an old-money mama’s boy with a Freudian Madonna-whore complex. Not to mention the sheer ridiculousness of the things the writers would have him do: One scene had him bent over a bathroom sink, masturbating to a pornographic magazine. A passage of “Fictional Selves” also recalls the cringe-inducing moment when Trey gives his wife, Charlotte (Kristin Davis), a cardboard cutout of a baby in an effort to make light of their struggle to conceive.

In the book, MacLachlan recalls being utterly dumbfounded at having been asked to do something so oblivious at best and cruel at worst. Eventually, however, he writes that he realized the writers just needed a way to foist him off the show. (His and Davis’ characters get divorced soon after the cardboard baby incident.)

“Every time I got a script, I’d be like, ‘Oh boy, OK, what’s going to happen here?’” MacLachlan says. “And then it would be, like, whatever they’ve come up with, ‘how can I shape it? What is it that [Trey’s] wrestling with? What are the issues here? Then, you know, realizing that in some cases it was just going to be a sight gag. Like, the Juggs magazine is going to be a sight gag. And as I said in the book, in my mind, I would sort of float away. I would be like, ‘That’s not really me. I don’t know who that is down there doing that.’”

As MacLachlan moved into middle age, he gradually grew more comfortable with the clean-cut oddball characters he’d so often be asked to play: a refined but possibly murderous dentist on “Desperate Housewives,” an idiosyncratic boat obsessive on “How I Met Your Mother,” an over-the-top civic leader on “Portlandia,” and, once again, Special Agent Dale Cooper (plus his doppelgängers) on “Twin Peaks: The Return.”

The 2017 “Twin Peaks” reboot would be the last big project MacLachlan would work on with Lynch, but MacLachlan would frequently visit the director in their shared Hollywood Hills neighborhood. “It’s many things,” MacLachlan says when I ask what he misses most about his friend and mentor. “The voice on the phone — ‘HEY, KALE! Come on up for coffee!’” he continues in a pitch-perfect Lynch imitation. (“Kale” became Lynch’s nickname for MacLachlan, referencing “Dune” producer Dino De Laurentiis’ Italian pronunciation.)

“Towards the end, I would go to visit him, and I would sometimes take my phone and record things. I still have these stories loaded in my iPhone — about ‘Dune,’ or a story about a moment in ‘Blue Velvet,’ or a story about when he met John Huston, or when he got a kiss from Elizabeth Taylor. … I have these little gems, and I savor those.”

Lately, Other Kyle has been replaced by Online Kyle, a goofy, lighthearted version of MacLachlan who primarily lives on TikTok and Instagram — thus the wholesome, Gen Z title of “Internet’s Dad.” And when he’s not playing a father to Ella Purnell on Prime Video’s hit “Fallout,” or interviewing a younger generation of entertainers on his podcast, “What Are We Even Doing,” MacLachlan is also someone’s real dad. One of the most endearing moments in our afternoon happens when his teenage son, Callum, calls looking for something around the house. “Oh, it’s in the fridge in the gym. In a foil. And there’s chicken in the fridge. Love you too,” MacLachlan tells his son.

There’s certainly no doubt that this Kyle doesn’t get in his head — or in his own way — the way earlier versions did. He’s still eager to test his limits as an actor, but he’s comfortable with the thought that there is no plan. “I want to keep working with interesting people,” he says with his trademark buoyancy. “I want to keep doing fun things. I want to keep being challenged. … I don’t really know where I’m going, but something will excite me, and I’d be like, ‘OK, what the hell?’ And I jump in.”

Brodsky is an L.A. culture and music writer. Her biography of Stevie Nicks “Lessons & Lace” is out now.

They mentioned “The Odyssey,” they talked about “Lord of the Rings,” they referenced “The Hobbit,” they cited the hero’s journey, they predicted a season filled with mythological tales of triumph.

What they didn’t promise was that their Lakers’ team would contend for a championship.

What they couldn’t mention was what will happen to them if they don’t.

The bard Rob Pelinka? Off with your head!

The soothsayer JJ Redick? Drawn and quartered!

In their annual pre-training camp news conference at their practice facility Thursday, Pelinka and Redick talked about fictional characters perhaps because the reality is too grim for words.

Their jobs are on the line with a rebuilding team that might not be good enough to save them, and no amount of cute Gandalf references can change that.

With new ownership, the Lakers’ braintrust no longer has the protection of the benevolent Buss family or the baseball-centric Mark Walter.

Here’s guessing Bob Iger and Joshua Kushner will want any excuse to put their own people in charge of their $12.5-billion investment. And if this clearly rebuilding Lakers team doesn’t quickly measure up to the brand that Iger and Kushner purchased, they’ll have that excuse.

In his nine full seasons as the Lakers’ basketball boss, Pelinka constructed the 2020 bubble championship team, but destroyed it soon thereafter and hasn’t won since.

In his two seasons as Lakers coach, Redick became the first Lakers coach to win 50-plus games in consecutive seasons since Phil Jackson. But Redick was always LeBron James’ choice, and now that James is gone — thank goodness! — Redick will have to prove himself all over again to the new guys.

He’s already off to an awkward start considering his answer to a question about who would join Luka Doncic, Austin Reaves and Walker Kessler in the starting lineup. He referenced the lame internet criticism that the Lakers couldn’t win because they were now led by too many white guys.

“I’m pretty confident in three of the spots,” he said. “The other two spots will not be two white guys.”

Um, OK.

Redick acknowledged that all those new potential starters — Quentin Grimes, Collin Sexton, Kevon Looney, Matisse Thybulle and others — can band together to turn this season into a mythological masterpiece.

“Part of the Hero’s journey is allies and gods,” he said, referring to stories about ordinary folk who are transformed by triumphant adventures. “And so I think if you look at “Lord of the Rings,” right? All the guys from “The Hobbit,” those guys had to be connected. They had to embrace the fact that they were allies, right? … You’re not gonna get through the journey without that. Or the journey’s gonna be even more tumultuous than it is because the reality is there will be ordeals and trials along the way.”

At this point Pelinka jumped in, saying, “So I’m a big Tolkien guy. Are you Samwise or Frodo?”

Answered Redick, “Uh, I’m simultaneously Samwise and Gandalf.”

Replied Pelinka: “Gandalf. That’s even better.”

Rob Pelinka (left), the Lakers general manager/president of basketball operations, speaks to the media with coach JJ Redick on Thursday at the team’s training facility in El Segundo.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

In San Antonio they’re talking about Wemby, in Oklahoma City they’re talking about SGA, and in Los Angeles they’re talking about … Frodo?

Tumultuous indeed. Welcome to life after LeBron, with Pelinka essentially starting the news conference by answering the biggest question of the summer — why did the James and Laker marriage fail?

Except he didn’t answer it.

“I’m so thankful for the partnership that we had that continued up until this summer when a decision was made for him to play for another team,” he said.

A decision was made by whom? James said it was him. It says here it was the Lakers, who needed to move him out if they were going to move ahead.

Pelinka didn’t elaborate, instead focusing on a popular reference that he sort of botched.

“We’ve talked about every season is a little bit like ‘The Odyssey,’ if anyone has seen the movie,” he said before someone corrected him. “Oh, it was actually a poem. Fair enough.”

The poem wasn’t this complicated.

“You launch a season, and there’s things that happen throughout that you can’t predict, but you have to stay together as a group and stay strong,” Pelinka said. “That’s a great theme for us.”

Pelinka will be going through his own Odyssey this season, as evidenced by his defense of his accomplishments.

“If you look at the teams that we’re wanting to go shoulder-to-shoulder with, the Thunder and the Spurs maybe in the West. … They had to lose many seasons to get high picks and we just don’t have the luxury of that here,” he said. “Again, the expectations are every year (to) win, get in the playoffs, make a run, and so we feel like we’ve been able to do that. As I’ve started, since I’ve been here in the leadership position, we’ve been a playoff team and we have to continue to do that.”

Redick was also playing defense, saying, “No one is a championship-level team on September 29. There’s not a team in the league that is a championship-level team. That is an ongoing process throughout the year. Rob talks about his job in that. Well, I have a job in that. Our players have a job in that. I’m confident we’re gonna develop as a team into a championship-level team this year. “

This season will live forever in Lakers folklore if they do.

There could be a medieval bloodbath if they don’t.