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As the noise-rap-electro act Jane Remover shrieked and pleaded through a 90-minute marathon set at the Fonda on Thursday night, one very young couple dressed right out of a conservative‘s nightmare — gender-ambiguous, purple hair, facial piercings — tapped me on the shoulder. They politely asked if I could mind their newly bought vinyl for a bit as they thrashed in the heaving crowd. Of course, this unc obliged them.

Anyone who laments that L.A. crowds don’t dance should go to one of the last sets of Jane Remover’s three-night stand at the Fonda this weekend. It had the most genuinely raucous pit I’ve seen in 2026, made all the more feral for how sweet and earnest it was. After a hotly tipped Coachella set, this Live Exhibit tour affirmed that the subculture Jane Remover built may or may not have wider pop potential, but it’s getting big enough to count for stardom in the fractured music world of today.

Jane Remover is a trans polymath producer and singer-songwriter with influences across rave, shoegaze, trap and beyond. They’ve built up a ferocious elaboration on the hyperpop of predecessors like Sophie, who similarly packed so many good ideas into songs they became talismanic to fans, a tonic to reinvent yourself (new Charli XCX opener Underscores is another fellow traveler).

The music itself sounds like reverse-engineering the moment in the 2000s when metalcore kids discovered EDM. Only now it’s Discord-disaffected youth ramping up hardstyle techno, autotuned girlypop ballads and rage-rap to an explosive fusion point. “Census Designated,” Jane’s brash and dramatic 2023 coming-out LP, tipped them as a force beyond the underground. But they soon eclipsed it with 2025’s “Revengeseekerz,” a deliriously overheated mix of romantic yearning, internet score-settling and virtuosic production prowess.

Backed by just a DJ (Dazedgxd, who opened the set) and a retina-scorching light rig up front, Jane acknowledged on Thursday that the stakes were getting much higher. They joked that they’d played the El Rey like three times before this tour, and to judge by the wild-eyed passions out in the audience, the Fonda will probably be the smallest venue they’ll play for some time. “It gets so cold this high up,” Jane sang on “Turn Up or Die.” “Can’t go to hell but I can drop you off.”

The sentiments driving the music are ultramodern: self-aware, vicious and desperately vulnerable. The hilariously zesty “Angels in Camo” (home to the all-time banger of a line: “Jesus never had it with a freak b—”) wrapped up with a bloodletting plea that “I can’t let you b— win.” Jane wields that word like the flaming sword on the “Revengeseekerz” album cover, with all the casual lustiness of Future but also the wrath of a reclaimed slur.

On “Professional Vengeance,” they grappled with the weird lures of celebrity and intimacy, where no one really knows anyone but desire still courses; “Experimental Skin” found them craving and fighting off God and nihilism and technology and addiction all at once.

The tension in these tracks are the binding agent for Jane’s fan base — the music is full of contradictions and incompatibilities smashing together that just feel like being young right now. Other than a quick affirmation that fans of all identities and backgrounds will always be welcome at their shows, they let the contorting, violent music speak for itself about the way queer fans are feeling about life under siege in the United States.

If the set was a bit too long for the limited setup onstage, it was because Jane simply had that much music to let out — that caliber of emotion to unburden, that much want to acknowledge. It seemed like the set was closing with “In the Dark,” an aching ballad from their Venturing side project, plainly declaring “I still dream of us” through a fog of effects. But instead they ramped it back up for one last cathartic blast to close, sending their faithful out onto Hollywood Boulevard, sweaty and filthy and fundamentally known.

SEATTLE — Growing up the son of an NFL wide receiver, Alex Freeman said he felt a lot of pressure to play the American version of football, not the one the rest of the world plays.

“I always got asked if football was the path,” he said last summer. “But I always had a secret love for soccer.”

And he had to keep it a secret because he wasn’t sure his father Antonio, a Super Bowl winner with the Green Bay Packers, would understand.

But his stepfather did. Jake Hinkle introduced Alex to the sport and served as his first coach while his mother Rochelle urged him on.

Now his biological father, who last played in 2004, the year his son was born, has joined the cheering section as well.

“I was with him at the hotel,” Freeman said, “and he was just giving me those kinds of speeches that you hear from a dad. He’s just telling me to be myself. I think he knows that being myself has gotten me to this point. So why change that, right?”

Instead he put a massive exclamation mark on what has been a breakout 13 months by setting up Gio Reyna for the final goal of a 4-1 win for the U.S. in its World Cup opener against Paraguay. The U.S. returns to group play Friday in Seattle where it will face Australia, with the winner of the match taking the inside track toward advancing to the knockout rounds as the group champion.

Much of that still sounds like a dream to Freeman, who was playing for Orlando City’s reserve team in MLS Next Pro during the last World Cup. He wasn’t in the national team’s plans this time around either until coach Mauricio Pochettino called him in for an audition last year, something Freeman called a big surprise.

But Freeman earned his first international start less than three weeks later, then played all but three minutes of the Americans’ six-game run through the Gold Cup, the team’s last competitive tournament before the World Cup.

Since joining the national team, Freeman has appeared in 17 consecutive matches and has become the ninth-youngest American to start a World Cup game.

Freeman, 21, is the youngest player on a young team, the second-youngest roster the U.S. has sent to a World Cup in more than three decades. That just doesn’t bode well for the future — it’s paying off in the present, too.

Reyna is on his second World Cup team at 23. Folarin Balogun, 24, had two goals in the U.S. opener, becoming the first American to score multiple times in a World Cup game in 96 years. And Chris Richards, 26, completed all 83 of his passes in the opener, the most without a miss by a World Cup player since 1966.

With an average age of 26.8 years, the U.S. is the fifth-youngest team in the World Cup. Leave captain Tim Ream, 38, out of the equation and only Ivory Coast and Ecuador have younger rosters.

Pochettino is being rewarded for giving those young players a chance, with five players making their World Cup debuts against Paraguay.

“He has this ability to find the potential [of] the young players and he is not scared to give them the responsibility to put them on the field,” LAFC goalkeeper Hugo Lloris, who played for Pochettino at Tottenham, told CBS Sports. “I can see a lot of coaches protecting themselves and try[ing] to not take that risk with the young players. But he’s not this kind of coach. If the young player deserve[s], he will be on the field.”

With Freeman, Pochettino broke with tradition in another way. Many national team coaches won’t call up players who aren’t starting for their club team, but Freeman has played more games and minutes with the U.S. this year than he has with Villarreal, the Spanish team he joined in January after appearing in only 32 MLS games with Orlando City.

The coach explained himself by saying he was choosing the “right 26” players for the World Cup, not the best 26. And Freeman fits Pochettino’s need for a defender who can transition seamlessly between a back three and back four, allowing the U.S. to play the kind of dynamic style the coach prefers.

If questions about his presence on the team have left him feeling slighted, Freeman says he’s fueled more by the adversity he has faced than by his recent success.

“Knowing that I’ve been in different environments, different situations, it’s how can I be consistently good, consistently solid, consistently making a difference?” he said. “Especially now in the World Cup, in another different environment. It’s how can I consistently help my team?”

A decade after making a clean break from football to play fútbol, Freeman says he has no regrets.

“I had to pick,” he said. “And soccer was the clear choice by far.”

Even his father, with whom he remains close, recently admitted as much, telling his son that playing in a World Cup beats winning a Super Bowl.

“Absolutely,” the younger Freeman said. “Seeing it now, especially throughout the last year I’ve been with the national team, knowing that it’s a different type of competition, it’s a different type of atmosphere? For sure.”

Buckle in because the training wheels are OFF for this improv drop-in. So Much Improv, created and led by comic Joe Fahey, focuses on getting in your reps by doing back-to-back improvised scenes. Classes are held at Kingsley Studios, which can be difficult to spot. The two-level complex is located right in front of a liquor store, and the studio is on the second floor behind gated doors. The studio looks like a cute living room, with a couch against one wall and plants across another.

The class size tends to be small (my class included five people), but that allows more time to improvise per person. The class is mostly regulars, so there is already a good rapport between Fahey and the students. That means he can give more specific feedback. After completing other beginner courses, this one felt the scariest, but I leaned in. After a few reps, I felt more confident in my ability to improvise and develop tactics to work with my scene partner. By implementing his feedback, I was able to fine-tune my improv skills.

This class is perfect for those who want more practice. The type of reps can differ each class, but the week I went centered on UCB auditions (it was that time of year). Since the class is small, you get a more catered experience.

Best for: Back-to-back practice on intermediate or advanced drills
Cost: $20
Time commitment: Two hours
Parking: Street parking
Pro tip: Bring water because you will be talking a lot, and something caffeinated to beat the late-night crash for this evening class that requires your full attention.

LONDON isn’t necessarily known for its gardens – but it does have some spectacular green spaces.

In fact Syon Park in Hounslow has just been named the ‘best public garden in London‘.

The gardens at Syon Park were named the best in London by White Stores, experts of outdoor living.

They looked at 240 gardens in total, totting up the best from factors like on-site attractions to Google ratings, reviews – even average amount of rainfall and sunshine.

Topping the table was Syon Park in Hounslow, West London.

The entire estate is one of the Duke of Northumberland‘s homes – its been owned by the family for over 400 years.

While it is still a family home, the house, along with the award-winning gardens are open to the public on certain days during the week.

Of course the Bath stone manor is impressive, but it’s the grounds that you have to check out this summer.

There’s 100 acres of parkland on the estate with trees, grassland, wildflower meadows and an ornamental lake.

One called it a “hidden gem” which “exceeded expectations.”

While you’re having a stroll around the gardens, it will be hard to miss the enormous glasshouse.

The conservatory has an enormous dome-shaped roof and was once used to grow exotic plants from countries like South Africa and Australia.

The building was neglected during World War One, but was restored in the late 1980s.

Fans of Netflix‘s Bridgerton might recognise Syon Park; the glasshouse conservatory was used as a venue for Lady Danbury’s ball in series two.

Kylie Minogue and Little Mix even filmed music videos in there.

If you want to visit the estate, Syon Park is open on Mondays, Tuesdays and Sundays between 10.30AM and 3.30PM.

Tickets to the gardens and conservatory start from £7 for adults, £5.50 for concessions and £3.50 for children (between 5-16).

If tickets are bought on the door it’s £1 more expensive.

While it’s a private home, some state rooms at Syon Park are open to explore.

It has a huge Great Hall with patterned tiled floor and Greek-style columns.

The Ante Room (essentially a waiting room) has gold detailing with paintings of Greek and Roman gods on the walls.

Others that visitors can see are the state dining room, drawing room, gallery, print room and Princess Victoria’s bedroom.

You can get a glimpse of the inner courtyard too which has a pretty fountain and neat hedges.

If you want to visit the whole estate, including the house, it’s a little more expensive – with an advance ticket, it costs £16.50 for adults.

For concessions it’s £15, children between 5-16 it’s £9.50 – children under five go free.

Again, entry on the door is an extra £1 on top of the online ticket price.

In this week’s episode of The Envelope podcast, Riz Ahmed talks about drawing on his own experience for “Bait,” his Prime Video series about a British Muslim actor whose life is upended when he’s rumored to be the next James Bond.

Kelvin Washington: Hello, everyone, and welcome to the next episode of The Envelope. Kelvin Washington, Yvonne Villarreal, we have Mark Olsen. And Mark, I’ll stay with you for a second. You had a chance to speak with Riz Ahmed, who is the creator and the star of “Bait,” which centers around the idea of who could be the next James Bond. So then, dang it, I’m asking you two the same question: Who could be, should be the next James Bond? Is there somebody or somebodies that you’ve thought about for a while and said, “Well, that would fit, that could work”?

Mark Olsen: It was recently announced that they have begun the casting process to replace Daniel Craig in the beloved and long-running James Bond franchise. And there have already been at least one sort of confirmed person, the actor Tom Francis, auditioned. But then there’s a lot of other names being thrown around, like Callum Turner, Jacob Elordi, Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Kind of everybody about that age bracket you could think of. You know, it’s funny, in the last movie, “No Time to Die,” Lashana Lynch was given the number 007, so she was not James Bond, but she was 007. And I always thought, actually, in the last couple of movies, that Léa Seydoux would make a perfect [00 agent] — she’s cool, she feels kind of dangerous. She would have seemed to me like a great person for that kind of role. But then also, that’s obviously not James Bond. So who knows who it could be. Yvonne, what do you think? Do you have anybody in mind?

Yvonne Villarreal: Can it be a toss-up between you two? How would you fare?

Olsen: I don’t know if I’d pass basic training.

Washington: They have doubles, OK? They got stunt doubles and CGI and AI for all of that and for you, OK.

Villarreal: It’d be like the Leslie Nielsen version.

Washington So it’d be like 007 with a question mark: 007?

Villarreal: More seriously — not that I don’t take you two seriously as candidates — I would throw my enthusiasm around Jonathan Bailey or Damson Idris.

Washington: I’m gonna one-up your Idris and just go [with] the obvious, Idris Elba. It’s been sitting there for the last 15 years or so.

Villarreal: That’s why I didn’t [say that], because I’m like, “It’s been sitting there and they still haven’t.”

Washington: But sometimes it just makes sense. Sometimes it’s just sitting smacking you in the face, or shooting you with a silent 9mm — whatever he uses, James Bond. It just makes sense, and to be honest, it’s one of those, he’s probably passing [on the role] because you wanna have a franchise you can hold on to for 20 years with a particular actor, give or take, and he seems like he’d be probably too senior for that at a certain point. The podcast, the conversation behind what really happened there is going to be fascinating because, to your point, it just seems like the momentum was building for it and it didn’t happen. So it would be interesting to hear what actually comes out of that. But those are my are my guesses right there.

All right, Mark, you had a chance to speak with Riz Ahmed, obviously the creator and the star of “Bait.” Fascinating to me, just the concept of the show as a whole.

Olsen: Riz Ahmed is someone who, he’s so thoughtful about his own career, but also his place in the world. And so he does such a great job with this show and taking this idea of like, “Could an actor like Riz Ahmed, could he be James Bond? Should he be James Bond? Why not?” And so the show is just so thoughtful and finds all these really inventive ways of exploring that idea. He’s playing a little-known actor who it becomes public that he’s auditioned for the role and that throws his whole life into tumult both within the industry, with sort of like online hate towards him, but then also with his own family. And the show is also meant to be kind of a real love letter to the South Asian communities of London. Riz in the conversation talks about how they went out of their way to shoot in parts of London that you don’t normally see. So the show, it’s just so inventive and fun in a lot of really terrific ways.

Washington: Well, let’s hear more of your conversation with Riz now.

Mark Olsen: On the show, you play an actor who auditions for the part of James Bond. It leaks to the press, and then his whole world turns upside down. For you, is the premise of the show predicated on the idea that someone like you would never get that part, or is it that, of course you should get that? Which end of the telescope are you looking at it from?

Riz Ahmed: Kind of neither, really. The premise of the show was something a bit more emotional than that. The James Bond thing came right at the end, to be honest, of the creative process. Really, the heart of the show is the idea of auditioning. James Bond really serves as a symbol in the show, a symbol of aspiration, pinnacle of achievement in this industry and also of alpha masculinity and all this kind of stuff. And so it’s really the idea of trying to be that guy, which on some level, we’re all trying to be this kind of preferred version of ourselves, right? We’re all performing. We’re actually all always auditioning. So it’s about that feeling, [which] I think extends outside this industry. We’re doing that on LinkedIn or social media, on this podcast right now. We’re performing a version of ourselves. When actually the true version of ourselves is kind of messy, chaotic and vulnerable. So it’s that distance between the public and private self that I was really interested in, and James Bond just served as an aspirational symbol of that public way that you would love to be seen.

Olsen: But Bond, because of the specific cultural baggage that comes with that franchise, did you feel like it fit thematically with what you were trying to do?

Ahmed: Oh, perfectly. It was a godsend. It was like one of those moments where it’s like, “OK, so we want to do something about, like, aspiring to be anything but yourself. We want to do something about feeling like life is one big audition, but we need something that encapsulates success and cultural acceptance.” And it was like … Of course: Bond. And because the process of making this show was one of pulling so much from my own personal life, there was a moment or two when my name was mentioned in that conversation. I mean, along with, you know, everyone and their dog. But it was an interesting kind of thought experiment, it was an interesting, as I said, kind of vessel to place all of the themes into. And so when that idea came about, it was like, “This is perfect. We can talk about everything we want to talk about using this symbol.” We’re like, “OK, now how are we gonna get it?” And everyone told us Barbara Broccoli would never let us use it. Rightly so, she was very protective of this IP. But I wrote her a letter, sat down with her, showed her the scripts and she understood. She understood that it’s not really about Bond. It’s a show about self-love, and she really kind of vibed with that. Shout out Barbara Broccoli, thank you for letting us use Bond exactly how we wanted to.

Olsen: You recently hosted the new “SNL UK” and in your monologue, you made this joke that you don’t just play intense roles, that there’s this image of you that it’s all that you do. Did you purposely want to make “Bait” as a way to break you out of that perception?

Ahmed: It wasn’t that careerist and calculating, to be honest. I was just trying to make something that was authentically me. And I think the people who know me know that I’m a lover of comedy. My first rap song was a comedy rap song. I got banned on British radio back in the day because it was a quite an acerbic kind of satire. And actually it’s funny because I think that’s an American perception of me. In the UK, nine times out of 10, when I get stopped is for a British comedy I did called “Four Lions.” Which is like a kind of cult classic British movie. It’s a very British comedy. That’s like me, that’s like how I am in real life. And so when I wanted to make my own show, it just stands to reason it would be a reflection of my taste. So the overall frame was comedy, but I kind of have quite a maximalist sensibility. I want to have my cake and eat it. So I also wanted it to be a spy thriller and a family drama and quite surreal and psychological thriller and all of these elements kind of put together, but the frame of it all, I would say, is comedy. And yet it was really actually important to us that we tried to defy genre and defy categorization in that way.

Olsen: Did you feel like this was a role that, like, nobody was going to give you, like you had to write this for yourself?

Ahmed: It wasn’t so much out of a kind of frustration or a desire to create work for myself or break out of a pigeonhole or anything like that. Honestly, I just tried to make something as honest and authentic and vulnerable as possible, if that doesn’t sound too eye-rolly. I guess I reached a point in my life as a creative where I realized, actually, performance isn’t about putting on the mask, it’s about taking it off. It’s about sharing with the world who you are, sharing your privacy and your insanity. And if you do that, people will connect with it because it’s honest. And if you name your pain and your craziness, there’s something healing in that for yourself and others. I had kind of gotten to that place in my life. And so I wanted to kind of follow that through to a place that felt quite scary and pull on the most personal aspects of my own neuroses and my life and my neighborhood that I grew up in — so many locations are literally where I’ve grown up. So many moments in the show I pulled very directly from my life experience. My character has a panic attack at the end of Episode 1 at this particular music venue in North London. I had a panic attack in that venue in North London when I was supporting Wu-Tang Clan. My character is approached by MI5 and MI6. They say, “Hey, you’re a rising actor, do you wanna work with us, help with messaging?” That happened to me specifically once I started to become a bit more well known. There’s just so many things that kind of came from that place, and it was all based on this idea of like, “If I wanna make a show about a character who needs to learn how to take off the mask, then I need to do that as well.” And we kind of had a mantra in the room, which was like, “If it feels scary and it’s true, do it.” And there were times when I didn’t want to do it, definitely times when I wanted to kind of hide, but I just increasingly have this feeling that if you can offer up a part of yourself, then that’s one of the most liberating things you can do as an artist. And also for an audience, it just feels honest. That’s where you can connect most with people, if you’re willing to share that vulnerability.

Olsen: What was the writing process of the show like for you? Was there a moment where you had like a whiteboard with a list of awkward things that had happened to you?

Ahmed: That whiteboard would be very, very big, very, very large. Let’s say we’ve got a lot left in the tank if we ever do another season. The writing process was a learning curve for me, never having been in an American writers’ room system before. Hugely grateful to my co-showrunner, Ben Karlin, who’s got himself a really eclectic background. He’s one of the founding writers of the Onion, the satirical website. He has this track record, “The Daily Show With Jon Stewart” and “The Colbert Report,” but also “Modern Family.” And so I wanted someone who had that eclectic background, and we had a writers’ room that was similarly very eclectic. We had stand-up comedians. We had novelists. We had playwrights. We had experienced TV writers. We had U.S. [people], we had UK people. I just knew that I wanted this to feel quite eclectic, and as I say, kind of genre-bending. And so I wanted that breadth. So actually the writing process for this was like, “How do we make this feel as chaotic and messy and unpredictable as possible?” That requires a crazy amount of craft. And there were a lot of late nights, there was a lot of hair being pulled out. And it was, I think, one of the most intense periods, more so than the shoot, even. It was just trying to figure out what this show was. And I came to this realization, which is, Shah Latif, my character, is having an identity crisis. He’s trying to work out who he is. So it stands to reason the show should also be trying to work out what it is. The show needs to be having an identity crisis. So then we gave up on this mission of trying to make it feel coherent and consistent. And we said, “Of course, he’s an actor trying to work out who he is. Every episode should be a different genre. We should have our James Bond-goes-to-the-gala-in-a-tux episode. We should to have our Bollywood-proper episode. We should have our Linklater walk and talk. We should have our Greengrass does a spy thriller.” So we really deliberately and really defiantly tried to embrace the identity crisis of the character in how we told the story. And when we did that, everything fell into place. We would stop trying to straitjacket this into something more predictable.

Olsen: And what was it like for you to be filling this role of not just actor but also writer, producer, showrunner? How did you feel about taking on all those roles?

Ahmed: I felt scared. I felt out of my depth. I felt like I needed the help of people much smarter than me. Luckily, I had that help. And more than that help, their patience. I continually said, “No, we’ve got to go back and do it again. We’ve got to rewrite that episode. We’ve gotta redo this whole section,” as it felt so personal to me. Not just because it’s my personal experiences, but because there’s a world that hasn’t quite been put on screen before in this show, and I felt a tremendous sense of responsibility and emotional connection to that world and these characters. So at times it felt overwhelming. ButI’m of this philosophy that usually when you’re making something, you kind of end up feeling how the character is feeling. The character feels out of his depth, feels overwhelmed, feels like he does not quite know what he’s doing, it stands to reason I should feel like that. If I really feel like I’ve got it all worked out and I’m in control, we’re doing something wrong. So as far as possible, I tried to remind myself that that was a sign of almost being in touch with the material. At least that’s how I tried to talk myself off the ledge, man.

Olsen: Can you just talk to me a little bit about the title? As I understand it, “Bait” is UK slang?

Ahmed: The title actually has many different layers to it. I always say this is a show that’s hard to sum up in a sentence, but it’s really easy to sum up in one word, and that word is bait, because it has like five or six different meanings. So one key meaning is British slang. It means really blatant and in your face. So if you’re blowing up someone’s spot, you’re baiting them up. You’re being really kind of, “Look at me, look at me,” you’re being bait. So that speaks to Shah Latif, the character, and his attention seeking. But bait also means, online, trolling. It also means, in Urdu, your loyalty or your allegiance. It also mean in Arabic, in Hebrew, home. And it also, in literal meaning, it’s something used as part of a trap, which speaks to the spy thriller element to the show. So all these different layers to the word bait correspond to a different layer of show, correspond to each different episode. That’s exploring that meaning. And I wish I could tell you we had this all worked out upfront, but we struggled with the title for so long and it kind of like hiccuped itself up into the ether in a late-night kind of hair-pulling session. We realized, “Oh, my God, that’s it. That’s exactly what it should be.” So yeah, the title I think encapsulates how we’re trying to explore these different genres and all the different narrative threads in the show.

Olsen: All the things that your character of Shah Latif is going through trying to move forward in his career as an actor, remaining true to his community and his sense of self, how much of those are your own issues? Are there things that you feel like you’re on the other side of now? Are those things that you’re sort of constantly trying to figure out for yourself?

Ahmed: Of course, like this idea of searching for your identity in a world that either commodifies it or punishes it, that’s something I relate to. But I also kind of feel like that’s something we all relate to. There’s a lot of me in Shah Latif, but I actually think there’s a lot of Shah Latif in all of us. This idea of feeling as though you’re not enough. This idea of trying to cultivate a public version of yourself because you’re ashamed of the private version of your self. I think that’s such a universal feeling right now in this performative culture that we live in. We all wanna be looked at, but we don’t wanna be seen. And somebody once told me that the distance between your public and private self is the amount of shame that you carry. I think it’s true, more or less. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a private life and some things shouldn’t be kept private. It probably should. But in a kind of deeper sense, I think there’s a truth in that. So I wanted to make a comedy in this playground of shame because it’s something that I can relate to, but I just had a sense that this is a very universal feeling.

Olsen: How much of these are issues or things you were going through in your career maybe five years ago, 10 years ago? What are the the sort of top-line things that you feel like you’re struggling with now?

Ahmed: This is where it becomes a full-blown therapy session. I would say that there was a period of time when I was just really desperate to be in the room. And now I’m in a place where I’m really excited to try and build my own room. And that, in a way, is a journey that the character goes on. I think it’s a journey that I’ve gone on, and the show, in a way, is a culmination of that journey. You know, it was just such a privilege to be able to create a playground and bring together this kind of ensemble. I don’t think there’s ever quite been a brown ensemble like this on screen before and [to] showcase all that talent and create that sense of family and specificity. And yeah, as I said, kind of build my own room rather than asking for a seat at someone else’s table. So I think that journey is one that I’ve been on and one that, I think, the show is exploring.

Olsen: There are these title cards throughout the series that give you these neighborhoods and locations, and I don’t know London super well, but like, it feels like it’s a very specific version of London. What was the importance of those locations for you?

Ahmed: The shows that I really adore and the ones that really inspired me on this journey are ones that are unapologetically specific. The Holy Trinity in my mind was “Atlanta,” “I May Destroy You” and “Fleabag.” These half-hour shows that are super personal, but also super specific in the world they’re exploring, whether they’re a city like Atlanta or a certain kind of Black London, or a very particular kind of white, middle-class British family in “Fleabag.” And so I wanted that unapologetic specificity. I wanted it to be a love letter to my London. And so I wanted to shout out these neighborhoods that really mean something to me. But more than that, I wanted to give a nod to the spy genre with those title cards. You know, in a Bond movie it says like, “Somewhere in the Caribbean,” you know, “Mexico City.” I wanted do that with Kentish Town, with Brick Lane, with Wembley. I wanted to elevate our daily experience and those neighborhoods to that kind of grand stage and those epic stakes and say, “Actually, this is as magical, as important, as exotic, as thrilling as any of those locations within that kind of genre.” Jordan Peele, when he made “Get Out,” said, “Being Black in America is like living in a horror movie. That’s why I made ‘Get Out.’” I can add this thesis that being brown in the West is like being in a spy thriller. And that’s why we made this. So I wanted those neighborhoods to feel like those chyrons you have in a spy thriller.

Olsen: You’ve often mentioned in the past, it’s a phrase I’m very taken with, “stretching culture,” expanding the idea of what’s possible. And I’m just curious, like, how is that going for you?

Ahmed: There’s the idea that the universe is expanding in all directions at the same time. I feel like that with culture. I feel like things are getting crazier and better at the same time simultaneously at an accelerating pace. You know, that’s kind of how I feel about it. And it’s like our consciousness, right? You get a little bit crazier, even as you get smarter. It’s that kind of feeling. For whatever it’s worth, it may sound pretentious, but I kind of feel it’s important to try and anchor myself in some sense of purpose. And I think that’s the purpose of storytelling, is to kind of constantly expand horizons of who is considered human and what is considered human. And I think for me, at least in this moment in my journey, I want that to be about telling stories that haven’t been told before, portraying worlds and communities and characters that maybe we haven’t been that familiar with.

Olsen: You’ve expressed some frustration recently with the phrase “representation” — that it’s become kind of a hollow gesture. What would you like to see happen moving forward?

Ahmed: Well, I was really proud to be part of the conversation, when we were kind of collectively coining that term, right, going from diversity to representation. But I do think it’s not an end in itself. Like I said, being in the room doesn’t necessarily change anything. It’s what are you allowed to do in that room? Does the room change you, or do you change it? It’s what the show’s exploring. And so at least for me right now, the kind of representation I’m interested in is how authentically we can represent ourselves. Do you know what I mean? Like, do I have to code switch? Do I have put on a mask or do I get to take it off? That to me is, I think, the most exciting kind of knot to unpick right now. And as I said, that’s kind of at the heart of the show.

Olsen: I want to be sure to ask you about some of the other cast on the show, specifically Guz Khan. I feel like I could watch the two of you just driving around in a car together for hours.

Ahmed: I’ll send you the rushes.

Olsen: Did you two have an immediate chemistry?

Ahmed: Can I tell you, the story of me and Guz is its own bizarre bromance. Here’s how I thought I knew Guz. Guz went viral in the UK because he did a joke, kind of like [a] shout-out against Steven Spielberg, right? Because there’s a kind of dinosaur in his “Jurassic Park” reboot that sounds like a racial slur in the UK. I’m just gonna let people check it out for themselves. I’m not gonna say more than that. This is like 10 years ago, something like that. He goes viral, he starts blowing up, people start offering him his own TV show. He DMs me on Twitter and he’s like, “Bro, like, what’s the industry like? Is it like crazy Illuminati vibes?” I was like, “Yes, but the Illuminatis are actually very fun, come and join us.” And just started this banter with him, and he goes on his journey, becomes one of the most beloved comedians. I’m on set with him, shooting “Bait.” And he goes, “You don’t remember the first time we met and we spoke, do you?” I said, “I remember, you DM’d me like a crazy guy.” And he was like, “No, no. We met 20 years ago.” I was like, “What are you talking about?” I was doing a spoken-word performance in the Midlands in the UK. No one was coming to see it. It was a completely empty club. So I take it upon myself to go outside and start flyering passers-by. Down a dark alley, I see guys with some of his friends engaged in a business of some sort. His legal team have asked me to refer to it as “selling tulips.” They were selling tulips, OK? I go down to this alleyway, I hand him flyers, him and his friends. I’m like, “How are you doing there, gentlemen? Would you like to come and see me do some spoken word?” They’re like, “What the hell? We’re in their mid-tulip transaction.” He decides out of the kindness of his heart with his boys to come and watch me do spoken word at Coventry Student Union. And he said it was the first time he saw someone that looked like him doing something like that in a space like that. … Twenty years later, we’re on set together. We met when we were like 20 years old and I’d completely forgotten him, but he remembered. We have like a brotherhood and a friendship in real life. I wrote that role for him. He is someone who constantly reminds me that as an artist, your art can only be as expansive as your heart is. He’s just that guy on set you want to be around. He brings the positive energy, he reminds you this is meant to be fun. And actually, when you’re having fun, you’re feeling relaxed and loose, you do great work. He’s evidence of that. And so I just have so much love for him, but I would only say that because he’s not here. If he was here, I would be making fun of him aggressively.

Olsen: Now that to me seems like this notion of stretching culture, where you’ve had this influence on him that you kind of didn’t even know.

Ahmed: I would love it if he would say that publicly, rather than me having to tell the world that I’m responsible for his career. Thank you for saying it. If we can clip that bit, that would be great. Send it to Guz, yeah? Email that to him. I don’t know, man. I kind of feel like we’re all in this relay race, right, and we’re just fumbling the ball to one another and trying to move forward. And one of the great things about this show was being in community in that way. I think for some people, particularly in the UK, they’re familiar with the world that’s portrayed here. I think, for a lot of Americans, they’re really not. Interestingly, I’ve had a lot of Latin viewers and Latina viewers approach me saying, “That’s my family, I get that, I know what that is.” And so I don’t know, I just think it’s kind of exciting. One of the things I love most about storytelling on screen is we can bring people into worlds they haven’t been to before. That’s what I remember falling in love with when I watched “Goodfellas” and “Mean Streets” in that world that Scorsese creates. So yeah, I think as long as we’re all leaning into this specificity, doing so in community, maybe that’s how we get to stretch culture.

Olsen: In a recent profile on you, the actor Sandra Hüller, who you work with on the upcoming movie “Digger,” she said that one of the things she most admires about you is that you take yourself and your work seriously. And I think I feel the same way, like there’s an intentionality to what you do, there’s a sense of purpose to what do.

Ahmed: It sounds so boring, though, when you put it like that. Doesn’t it? I hope I don’t take myself too seriously. I guess I take it seriously that I’ve got this opportunity to try and tell stories, and I believe that they matter. But I actually hope I don’t take myself seriously, very seriously. I hope this show in a way is evidence of that. That’s Exhibit A. Yeah, you got Hüller’s testimony here and then you got “Bait” over here. Who do you believe?

Olsen: Is there anything you can tell me about “Digger”? It’s a new film from Alejandro González Iñárritu, it stars Tom Cruise, and it has quickly become, I think, one of the most anticipated movies of the year. People are very excited about it. And there’s very little known about it, is there anything you can say about it?

Ahmed: It’s funny you should say that because I spoke to Alejandro today and he gave me permission to reveal something exclusively to you on this podcast. No, not really. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. I actually might get assassinated for just saying that even.

Olsen: And have you seen it?

Ahmed: I feel like anything I say, there’s like a bomb on my leg that might go off. I’ll say this, it was a really unique and incredible experience. Alejandro is this crazy genius and being around that level of — Tom Cruise as well — they’re all obsessive perfectionists that have just like endless rocket fuel in them. It’s just inspiring to be around, honestly. Really, really unique. I don’t know if I’ll ever have an experience like that again.

Olsen: And then you were nominated for an Academy Award for acting for “Sound of Metal,” but you won an Academy Award for the short film “The Long Goodbye” that was based on an album that you put out. As you’ve become busier in your acting career, has it become difficult for you to still make time for your music?

Ahmed: The projects that I have out right now with “Hamlet” and “Bait” are things that I’ve built. I’m not saying this is the way, necessarily, it’ll always be, but at least over the last several years, acting is like this cherry on the cake. I’m spending all this time building these other things and writing these things and producing these things. And in a way making music is part of that. It’s like being in a writers’ room, with musicians in a studio. And one of the things that I’ve enjoyed most is bringing the development of stories together with the development of albums. “The Long Goodbye” short film is an example of that. But I mean, I joke about this to my friends, one of the main reasons I made “Bait” as a TV show is so that I could make a soundtrack. You know, I grew up on Bollywood where, in a way, the movie was just an excuse for the music. I partly almost feel the same way here. We’ve got a soundtrack for “Bait,” which I’m very, very proud of. And it’s a reflection, I think again, of that eclectic, multicultural London that I know and love. It pulls together artists from across the diaspora, from the Bay Area and the U.S. through to India and Pakistan, from Trinidad and Bangladesh and Karachi and London. And it’s something that I think kind of speaks to the genre-bendiness of the show as well. So in a weird way, as I’m developing more of my own stories, I’m able to incorporate music into that process more.

Olsen: But are you making music of your own?

Ahmed: Yeah, I’ve got two tracks on that soundtrack, for example. Yeah, one of them with a rapper who I’ve been a huge fan of for many, many years. So that was a lovely moment. His name is Casisdead, makes very kind of cinematic UK hip-hop. So I’ve got two tracks on that and yeah, I mean, watch this space. Hopefully I’ll have some more time.

Olsen: And then, this is a moment in the show, and I know it’s something that’s happened in the past, but are you still ever mistaken for Dev Patel?

Ahmed: Honestly, every time I’m mistaken for Dev Patel, I’ll take the flowers. I’m such a fan of his, personally, and he’s actually also from that very particular pocket of Northwest London where I’m from, that this show is almost a love letter to. That pocket of London has produced, if I may humbly put myself in that bracket, myself, but also Dev Patel, Jay Paul, Jay Sean and Jay Shetty. All the Jays. All of them. So I’m very proud of Dev and everything he’s doing, and he’s telling his own stories as well in a way that I find really inspiring.

A few hours after Lionel Messi and the Argentine World Cup team checked into their training base in Kansas City, a series of thunderstorms pounded the area, knocking out power, felling trees and bringing flood and tornado warnings.

Hardly ideal conditions for the world’s biggest soccer tournament. Yet that’s likely just the opening salvo of a disruptive weather system that could affect the 38-day competition, which kicks off next week with games in Mexico, Canada and the U.S.

“It’s pretty safe to say climate change is going to have a mark on this World Cup,” said Kaitlyn Trudeau, a senior research associate of climate science for Sacramento-based Climate Central. “With climate change we know it’s not just going to be hotter, but it’s also going to increase the humidity as well.”

And that could make this summer’s World Cup one of the last of its kind. Tournament soccer in June and July has been a tradition dating to the first World Cup in 1930, but since then global temperatures in June have warmed by 1.89 degrees, according to the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. That may not sound like a lot, but it takes many days and nights of extreme heat to move the needle that much.

“It can be a very dangerous situation,” Trudeau said.

As a result, FIFA President Gianni Infantino has already begun discussions on moving the start of the tournament from June to March or October after 2030. In the meantime, early kickoffs, cooling breaks, air-conditioned stadiums and regular weather-related delays will necessarily become common features of the tournament, according to “Pitches in Peril,” a detailed report on the impact of climate change on global soccer, released in the run-up to the World Cup.

“Football’s all of a sudden starting to reckon with the new climate realities,” said Elliot Arthur-Worsop, founding director of Football For Future, a pioneering U.K. nonprofit and co-publisher of “Pitches in Peril.”

“Extreme weather events are becoming more unpredictable,” he said. “The players, the spectators and the officials, they’re all at risk here, especially when it comes to extreme heat. How can we future-proof the game?

“Adaptation looks like moving the entire tournament to another time of year to deal with the extreme weather. Short term it could be moving the kickoff times, it could be introducing more drink breaks, having more heat protocols and safety regulations.”

Some climatologists fear summer events like the World Cup and Olympic Games are just one heatwave away from a major weather-related tragedy. In fact, Arthur-Worsop said his group’s study found that this men’s World Cup, the first held in North America in 32 years, will likely be the last played here.

“By the time the cycle of awarding the hosting rights would possibly come back, our climate projections show that the tournament in its current form would be unplayable due to extreme weather events,” he said. “Not only heat, but other compounding threats such as extreme wind and flooding and wildfires.”

Trudeau worries that whatever adaptations are eventually adopted won’t keep pace with a rapidly warming planet.

“We are basically pushing ourselves to a limit,” she said. “I’m not saying we’re going to absolutely lose the World Cup. But we are making it so much harder to find time to safely enjoy these kinds of events.

“This is not a safe environment and we should not be putting people’s lives at risk just to watch a game.”

FIFA did move the 2022 World Cup, pushing the start of the tournament in Qatar from June to November. Even then the games had to be played in air-conditioned stadiums, though. Three of the 16 venues to be used this summer — in Atlanta, Houston and Arlington, Texas — are domed and climate-controlled.

But the next World Cup, to be held in 2030, will be played mostly in Spain, Portugal and Morocco, where June and July temperatures frequently top 95 degrees. And just one of the likely venues is climate-controlled.

As for this summer’s tournament, a 2025 study published in the International Journal of Biometeorology found that conditions in 14 of the 16 World Cup host cities are likely to exceed the extreme Wet Bulb Globe Temperature (WBGT) threshold, an advanced index used to measure how the human body experiences heat stress.

But you don’t have to do complicated math to know it’s hot because there’s also the “feels like” index, which registers how your body feels the heat. That can be vastly different from the reading on a thermometer. In Miami, for example, where seven World Cup games will be played, humidity will make an air temperature of 90 degrees “feel like” 109 degrees.

Under those conditions, it becomes more difficult for the body to cool itself.

“We talk about temperatures all the time, but that is only one part of the equation. It’s not including the amount of heat that you might feel from humidity,” Trudeau said. “It’s so important because once it gets too humid, then our body’s main cooling mechanism, sweating, is no longer possible.

“These are the kinds of situations where you have to be really careful. Not just players, but also people who maybe work at the stadiums, people who are watching the matches. It can be a very dangerous situation.”

Playing games in the cooler evening hours could alleviate that but FIFA, in a nod to TV viewers in Europe, scheduled 40 of the tournament’s 104 games, including the majority of games in the knockout rounds, to kick off at 3 p.m. or earlier local time. And though mandatory three-minute hydration breaks midway through each half have been added, Trudeau questions their impact.

“That’s kind of silly to be like, ‘Oh, we’re going to give an extra water break. But we’re going to be doing it at the hottest time of the day,’” she said. “It kind of sends mixed messages, right? What is the main priority of FIFA here? Is it to get the most views and the most revenue and the most whatever? Or is it to actually protect these players?

“We should not be having these in the hottest parts of the world at the hottest times of day,” she continued. “It’s just common sense.”

FIFA defended the schedule, saying in a statement that climate-related risks are assessed as part of overall tournament planning and managed in close coordination with the host cities, stadium authorities and national agencies.

“Building on experience from recent tournaments, a tiered heat-mitigation model will apply,” the statement continued. “When forecasts indicate elevated temperatures, venues will activate additional cooling capacity, including shaded areas, misting systems, cooling buses and expanded water distribution. Work-rest cycles for staff and volunteers are adapted accordingly, and first-aid readiness is reinforced with clear triage and escalation pathways for suspected heat illness. These measures scale dynamically based on real-time conditions before and during each event.”

Last summer’s FIFA Club World Cup, a 63-game tournament played in the U.S. as a kind of dress rehearsal for this year’s event, gives an indication of the problems ahead. That tournament was plagued not just by high heat and humidity, but also by thunderstorms and lightning that paused or delayed a half-dozen matches in Orlando, Fla.; Nashville; Cincinnati; Charlotte, N.C.; and East Rutherford, N.J.

“The heat is incredible,” said Argentine midfielder Enzo Fernandez, who played in last summer’s tournament with Chelsea. “I got a bit dizzy during a play. I had to lie down on the ground because I was really dizzy.

“Playing in this temperature is very dangerous.”

But if health risks are the primary concern of summer sporting events on a warming planet, they aren’t the only ones. The weather also affects the quality of play, said Norwegian defender Julian Ryerson, who played for Borussia Dortmund in last summer’s club tournament.

“Football is different when you play in this humidity and heat,” he said. “It is really tough. You take some precautions. That’s the only way to go about it.”

As the planet continues to bake, there are also increasingly fewer ways of going about staging a World Cup. You can play it nontraditional times and in nontraditional places. You can play it indoors in air-conditioned stadiums.

Or you can not play it at all.

“We’re running out of options,” Trudeau said. “We have to understand that unless we are going to address human-caused climate change, you’re going to start losing these things that are culturally important to us or economically important.

“We cannot keep doing these things at the rate we’re doing them and the times that we’re doing them in the ways that we’re doing them while we also continue to warm the planet.”

THERE’S a landmark right by one of the UK’s biggest airports and we bet you don’t know about it.

Think about the last time you flew from Gatwick Airport in London – you would have been right next to a huge part of the UK’s aviation history.

Gatwick’s original terminal still stands today but it isn’t like any other terminal you will have seen before.

Instead, the terminal was Art Deco and the first circular airport terminal in the world, leading it to be nicknamed The Beehive.

The circular terminal was four floors in total with the main floor having three layers.

The outer part was home to customs as well as storage and toilets, and in the centre of the circle, was the main concourse along with three shops and a post office.

Between these two layers was another layer that was mainly used as office space, but did include a bar and lounge.

The terminal had a control tower in the centre as well, with 360-degree views.

Outside of the terminal, there were four grass landing strips.

Morris Jackaman bought the site back in 1933 for £13,500 – which is around £1.25million now.

According to the BBC, the circular design came about by accident after Morris’ father warned him if he wasn’t careful, “he’d be thinking around in circles” about the design.

The terminal was built between 1935 and 1936 and operated its first flight – which was to Paris – in 1936.

It was also the first airport to link train and air travel into one place – before, travellers would usually have to head to the closest town and then hop on a bus or in a taxi to the airport.

The airport linked the two via underground tunnels and pull-out canopies which meant passengers could walk direct from the train to their plane completely undercover, even if it rained.

Today, the 130metre tunnel still stands but is sectioned off and mainly used as storage.

When you emerged from the tunnel, you would be in the atrium of the terminal, with three check-in desks in front of you – all of which still stand today.

What are now the fire exit doors, used to be where passengers would step out of the terminal and head to their plane.

When World War II broke out in 1939, operations at the airport stopped as it was then used as a base for the Royal Air Force.

And by the time the war was over, commercial flights had increased in popularity and so the terminal was retired.

It wasn’t until 1958 when it was decided that Gatwick would be London’s second airport, with a much larger building replacing the former terminal, nearby.

In 1996, The Beehive was then Grade II listed and today is used as office spaces – and is sadly closed to the general public.

However, inside the modern terminal you will find The Beehive Wetherspoons pub named after the terminal.

Decor in the pub nods to the old terminal with honeycomb patterns and a curved bar.

A FAMILY attraction said to be “one of the best attractions in Scotland” is getting a major upgrade.

Landmark Forest Adventure Park in Carrbridge, Scotland is to open a new toboggan-style ride in time for summer.

The ride will be in the Forest Adventure Zone at the amusement park and feature six lanes ideal for family races.

The first of its kind experience will weave through the ancient pinewood forest, with both open-air and undercover sections.

And it won’t be the only new arrival at the ‘all inclusive’ amusement park, where all attractions both indoors and outdoors are included in the ticket price.

Kids eager to let off steam will be able to jump on new bouncing pillows and tackle an obstacle course.

There will also be a new hexagonal swing, climbing frame and an accessibility roundabout.

For little kids, there will be musical instruments and a sand pit too.

Landmark Forest Adventure Park opened back in 1970 and has over 22 indoor and outdoor attractions including Wild Water Coasters, a Butterfly House and Dinosaur Kingdom.

There have been several new additions over the past five years as well, including an aerial net adventure and treetop trail.

One recent visitor said: “An absolute must for anyone visiting anywhere around Carrbridge.

“There is something for all ages to enjoy and everything is the very best quality.

“Landmark is easily one of the best attractions in Scotland and it never ever disappoints.

“Rain or shine, this is the place to be for wholesome family fun.”

Tickets cost from £34 per adult and £32 per child over three-years-old.

I come from a family of priests and devoted Catholics. Catholicism is the blood in my veins. My father was not a disciplinarian, but if you lived under his roof you went to church. Saturday evening or Sunday morning, didn’t matter, you went. My four siblings and I were not miscreants, but we drank beer and sneaked out, and I was once cited for stealing liquor. I can’t recall my father ever yelling at me for anything other than missing Mass.

My great-uncle Dan was a diocesan priest at St. Charles Borromeo in Drexel Hill, Pa. Dan was a fire-and-brimstone hard-liner. Every Thursday we’d gather as a family for a roast beef dinner at my grandmother’s house. Dan would drink Manhattans — plenty — and if someone expressed a view of God contrary to his own, he’d say, “It’s awfully hot down there.” “There” meant hell. My uncle Ed, my mother’s eldest brother, was an Augustinian. Patient, compassionate, inclusive, Ed’s God was very different from Dan’s. While discussing God, Ed would quote Michael Himes, “There is nothing we can do to make God not love us,” and the Trappist monk Thomas Merton, “Mercy, within Mercy, within Mercy.”

Sports was in my family too — basketball, specifically — and I came to view Dan and Ed as head and assistant coach, respectively. The head coach shouting harsh critiques from the sideline, the assistant coach there to put his arm around you when you made it, crestfallen and ashamed, back to the bench. I loved them both, but I aligned with Ed’s view of God. Dan passed away a decade ago. Ed has since left the priesthood and married a kind and patient woman named Kathy. Over the years, Ed’s views on God have changed drastically. We meet for dinner once a month to talk about life and faith, and it was during one of our conversations that “Task” was born.

Tom Brandis, played by the singular Mark Ruffalo, is a former priest-turned-FBI agent who has lost his faith. Everything he held as truth in his life has come crashing down in the wake of a family tragedy. Tom believes he was called by God to adopt two children, Emily and Ethan. Adopting these children has resulted in the death of his wife, Susan. Matricide. What kind of God allows that? I have struggled with my Catholic faith over the years, but nothing has perplexed me more than the idea of suffering. The poet Archibald MacLeish wrote, “If God is God, He is not good / If God is good, He is not God.” The message is clear: If God is God, the author of everything, then He created evil and suffering and therefore cannot be good.

In “Task,” I wanted to explore a crisis of faith with honesty and without easy answers, because that is exactly how I have found my own faith journey — arduous and circuitous. I believe in God, but I find that belief tested daily. Faith and religion are separable. Tom’s journey in “Task” is a journey of faith. In the fifth episode, Tom is kidnapped by the criminal Robbie Prendergast, played by the brilliant Tom Pelphrey. During a long and tense car ride to the Poconos, Robbie tells Tom that he doesn’t believe in God. Never has. God is an idea conjured to make life bearable. “There’s nothing after this life,” Robbie says. Tom doesn’t argue. His own beliefs have veered in that direction. The car pulls into a secluded, wooded area. Facing death, Tom suddenly wants to call his son, Ethan, and forgive him. Robbie doesn’t allow it. Instead, he walks Tom to the edge of the woods, tells him he’s a decent man, and sets him free. Because Robbie has his own plan: to sacrifice his life in the hopes of providing a better one for his family. It’s through Robbie’s act of mercy that Tom regains faith. He believes in goodness again.

In the final episode, Tom finds himself taking care of a young and suddenly parentless boy, Sam. Sam reminds him of his own son, Ethan. Sam wants to live with Tom. And Tom desperately wants Sam to stay with him. But Tom also recognizes that Sam would be better served in the care of a young family capable of meeting his needs. Sam shouldn’t be stuck with an old man like him. Tom lets Sam go; he believes the boy will be taken care of. That is Tom’s act of faith.

When Ed and I met for dinner last month, we talked about how his idea of God has changed over the years. He no longer sees God as a bearded white man tallying our sins and waiting to judge us in heaven. He thought God was everywhere, all the time. The love that exists between people. He thought he could feel God right then, among us at the table as we laughed. We talked about Camp Mystic. The young girls swept away. Why, God? They were there to serve You. We didn’t have any answers. We never do. But the food and wine were good, and we talked about great-uncle Dan, about how he was so different from us but how much we loved him anyway, and how, when he drank Manhattans — plenty — he could turn harsh and opinionated, but it didn’t matter because he loved God. He loved Him with his whole heart, and we thought about the unimpeachable dignity of that and what an amazing gift it would be — to believe and never doubt.

When Craig Ferguson left CBS’ “The Late Late Show” in December 2014, fulfilling a pledge made public the previous April, it was assumed by some that it had something to do with not being offered the chair being vacated by his illustrious lead-in, David Letterman. (Stephen Colbert, you may be aware, was named the new “Late Show” host.) Others simply couldn’t believe anyone would just walk away from such a job, which Ferguson had held for two weeks shy of 10 years, because, even in the less prestigious 12:30 time slot it seemed like a prize — but mostly because he was so good at it.

“That’s one of the odd things about that particular genre of television,” he told me in 2016. “The minute I started at 12:30, the question became when and do you want and how are you going to get 11:30? But I never wanted 12:30, never mind 11:30. Why is that a thing?”

Ferguson went on to other things. He’s hosted game shows (currently the CW’s “Scrabble,” with puckish energy); toured as a stand-up (he’s on the road into June); hosted a history-themed panel show, “Craig Ferguson: Join or Die”; launched “Joy, a Podcast,” which is as close as he’s come to the confessional freestyling of “The Late Late Show”; and published “Riding the Elephant: A Memoir of Altercations, Humiliations, Hallucinations & Observations.”

His latest show, premiering Saturday on CNN, is “American on Purpose,” which shares a title with his first memoir, a reference to the Scottish-born Ferguson becoming an American citizen. Timed generally to the 250th anniversary of the United States, it finds Ferguson in a five-episode crazy quilt of observations, interviews, inquiries, stunts, games and documentary vignettes forming a comical, but not unserious, somewhat wayward look at American ideas and ideals — freedom of speech, capitalism, patriotism, individualism and immigration. It’s a vision wide enough to include monster trucks, lowriders, underground comedy, Miami street art, Texas barbecue and haggis tacos, dreamed up by Ferguson and executed by celebrity chef Marcus Samuelsson.

“You know me,” Ferguson said when we spoke over video call recently. “Less format is better for me always.”

His caveat to the producers was that he wouldn’t “make an anti-American show. I wouldn’t make a show pointing out everything that’s wrong. I feel that’s a market that’s heavily catered to. I’m not a f—ing idiot, I’m not making propaganda, I won’t make a jingoistic show. But I want to make a show which is celebratory,” Ferguson says. “And I want to be clear that the show I make for CNN will be the same as if I was making it for Fox News. It has to be my point of view, which is upbeat without being dumb — I hope. I feel like we got pretty close.” This conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity.

A good friend of mine, an Englishman, recently became an American citizen and had only wonderful things to say about the naturalization ceremony, the diversity of his fellow new Americans, and the graciousness of the people conducting it. What was your experience?

My ceremony was in Pomona fairgrounds in 2008. And I think it was 2,000 of us; I think it was 1,999 new Mexican Americans and one new Scottish American. And it was f—ing wonderful. And it is moving. I kind of wish it for my friends who are born here, American citizens, because you have to remove your everyday, “Oh my God, did you see the news today” cynicism, and remember what this place is about — freedom, second chances, third chances, escape, representation, individualism, different ideas coexisting in one country, wildly different points of view somehow managing to get along. That is f—ing beautiful. What I still feel as an immigrant American is a certain gratitude that doesn’t leave you. I’m not blind to the faults of the United States. Show me a country that doesn’t have faults. We talk about the bloody past. Show me a country that doesn’t have a bloody past. Humans have a bloody past. I’m not saying there’s nothing wrong, but I’m not looking at that in this show. I’m looking at what makes me feel great about this place, and it is a great place, an aspirational place. To my mind, we are still the big foam finger number one. I don’t think there’s anyone can touch us for … unusualness. We’re really unusual.

It’s a very optimistic show. Is that how you feel personally about the future of the country, and humanity?

Like most people, I have my moods. I got a real boost of optimism [hanging out] with very clever academics who kind of guard the Declaration of Independence in Philadelphia. And you say to them, “People say the country’s never been this divided.” They always laugh. They laugh at the idea it’s never been as bad as this, the rhetoric has never been this hateful. They’re like, “It’s always been like this. It’s always been an argument. The whole point of this place is that it is an argument.” The guys who started this country, some of them hated each other with just as much venom and outrage and indignance as political players hate each other today. I find that quite encouraging. Like I said, I’m not blind to the fact that there are issues and faults and deep things to worry about. But that’s not what this show’s about. It’s as if I was a musician, and I decided to write a happy song. People say, “Why aren’t you sad?” I’m like, “Well, I get that sometimes, but this song is a happy song, this is a rock song. I’ll do a power ballad later on.” It’s not terrible to to do something upbeat every now and again.

What did you discover in the course of making the show?

There were many things, actually. In L.A., I did a kind of run around with the guys who make the lowrider cars, and the community and the story of how that came about are really fascinating, a kind of parallel run of the rise of the automobile in America, but how it was taken on by the Mexican culture. Another that really stuck with me was in the Everglades, when I was with the Gladesman there, finding out that a large percentage of them [were descended from] displaced Scottish peasants, cleared out of the Highlands to make room for sheep for the landowners; they went to Canada, and they drifted all the way down to the southern tip of the United States. These guys there could trace their ancestry back to 100 miles from where I grew up. Americans would be kicked out of most of the countries of the world. So it makes us awesome. I mean, 40% of this country can trace themselves through Ellis Island, through that administration building in New York. That’s insane.

When did you get interested in history?

In Scotland, we’re surrounded by it all the time. There’s a lot of stuff still lying around from a long time ago. American history became interesting to me because it was so attached to Scotland. The Scottish Enlightenment is really kind of the origin story of the Declaration of Independence. Knowing that the philosophy that was coming out of Edinburgh in the 1700s was directly feeding into what these guys were doing, it felt like the continuation of a certain strain of Scottish history. It didn’t end with “Highlander” or “Shrek.”

There’s a road movie element to the series. Do you take trips around the country on your own time?

All the time. I don’t think you can know the United States unless you’ve driven across it at least a couple of times. If you can take a car from New Orleans to Northeastern Maine, Florida to Washington state, it’s worth doing. One of the things that was in the engine for me when I started this [series] was, I’ve seen over the years a lot of — probably more in Britain than in America — lazy kind of pseudo-intellectual documentaries where somebody will say, “Well, you know, the thing about America is…” Well, which America are you talking about? And they will go and get some guy that lives on his boat in Fort Lauderdale with a hat that’s got “Who Farted?” written on it and tell you that’s America. That guy’s there and he’s awesome, but it’s not the whole story. You know what I mean? It’s like saying “Well, you know, Hitler was a vegetarian.” That’s true, he was. But it’s not really the whole f—ing story, is it?

“Pressure,” the new World War II movie from director Anthony Maras and writer David Haig, is a hyperfocused look at the days leading up to D-day with a special focus on the weather. It’s a one-setting thriller that unspools in the pressure-cooker environment of General Dwight D. Eisenhower’s war room at an English country estate. The movie works backward from a famous 1961 Eisenhower quip to JFK that attributed his success in Normandy, France, to the Allies having “better meteorologists than the Germans.”

If you’re skeptical about how exciting a movie about the weather on D-day might be, “Pressure” takes that as a creative challenge, an argumentative stance from which to start. For the next hour and 40 minutes, Maras and co-writer Haig, who also wrote the 2014 play from which the film is adapted, explain to us exactly how important the meteorologists of D-day were, beginning with the disastrous D-day rehearsal Exercise Tiger.

With the weather app at our fingertips these days, it can be hard to imagine just how difficult it was to forecast the weather in the 1940s, especially in Northern Europe. That was the predicament facing Eisenhower (Brendan Fraser) just 72 hours before the planned D-day launch of June 5, 1944. But we know that D-day happened on June 6, so the arrival at that date is part of the film’s narrative intrigue.

After a devastating glimpse of Exercise Tiger, red blood mixing with blue ocean waves and white sandy beaches, we’re quickly introduced to our protagonist, Group Capt. Chief Meteorologist James Stagg (Andrew Scott), in his cozy home with his pregnant wife before he’s swept into critical war planning.

He’s stern, terse and no-nonsense. Stagg is the kind of person who wants to be correct more than he wants to be liked and he insists on a careful collection of live data, using weather balloons, phone calls and mathematical charting. His foil is Col. Irving Krick (Chris Messina), a charming American meteorologist and Eisenhower’s chosen weather guru, a yes man who relies on selective historical data and a persuasive speaker whose approach rankles the fastidious Stagg. Eisenhower instructs the two men to come to an agreement and “Pressure” follows the ups and downs of their working relationship over the course of several days.

The movie becomes a two-hander between Scott’s Stagg and Fraser’s Eisenhower, the former convinced that a storm on June 5 will make conditions less than ideal, the latter raging at the uncertainty while simultaneously attempting to placate a phalanx of military personnel. The troops are requisitioned, the destroyers in place, the full moon just right, the secrecy of the invasion delicate. Fraser’s explosive performance underlines the immensity of the stakes, balancing every precarious element of this enormous mission.

Maras, who is known for another terrific one-setting thriller based on a true story, 2018’s “Hotel Mumbai,” both directs and edits and his films are put together like precision clockwork: propulsive and relentless, the pace italicized by Volker Bertelmann’s scores. “Pressure” is skillfully directed, sweeping us into this world with a kind of addictive immediacy, and is also beautifully lensed by cinematographer Jamie Ramsay. Maras and Ramsay make the wise choice to shoot the film with richly saturated color instead of the usual grayish, desaturated look often assigned to period pieces set in this era. It’s not gritty and harsh, but rather stunning and lovely — an eerie contrast to the terror and bloodshed of the day itself.

While Fraser delivers an external performance as the tough American general, Scott offers a restrained, mostly tamped-down depiction of the repressed and methodical Stagg. But when he finally bursts with a cathartic eleventh-hour speech about the inaccuracy of Krick’s historical forecast, Eisenhower listens. Scott, as seen in “All of Us Strangers” and “Blue Moon,” is so good at this kind of acting, processing every emotion internally but allowing just enough to show to let the audience into his character’s emotional state. It’s wildly compelling to watch.

In a quiet conversation with Eisenhower’s close confidant and aide, Kay Summersby (Kerry Condon), she jokes that weathermen are boring. Stagg reminds her that the weather itself isn’t. Weather feeds us, it can destroy us — it rules our existence, he says. “People ask, ‘When will the wind stop blowing?’ No one ever asks, ‘Why does the wind blow? What is the wind?,’ ” revealing himself as a sort of philosophical poet of the weather. His forecast was the crucial edge in D-day and the volatility of the weather is increasingly relevant in our lives, especially with our changing climate.

Boring? Never. Thrilling and history-making? Indeed.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

What do we have here? Some of my very favorite actors — Alfred Molina, Alfre Woodard, Clarke Peters and Geena Davis — starring in an eight-episode, B-grade sci-fi comedy-drama, “The Boroughs,” now streaming on Netflix.

Molina plays Sam Cooper, a retired engineer — that will be important — being brought grumbling to the Boroughs, a posh, city-sized retirement community plopped down in the middle of the Southwestern desert. Sam’s late wife, Lily (Jane Kaczmarek, in flashbacks and dreams), had planned the move, but she died suddenly, while they were dancing to Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road,” which will become a kind of trigger and motif going forth. Still, fate — in the form of daughter Claire (Jena Malone) and son-in-law Neil (Rafael Casal) — has pushed him solo to the Boroughs and a house on a cul-de-sac. (Seen from above, the town is laid out in a series of concentric circles, as EPCOT was meant to be when Walt Disney was alive and it stood for Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow. That has no relation to this show; I’m just throwing it out to the fans.)

Before this happens, however, we get a preamble. Is that Dee Wallace, the mother from “E.T.: The Extraterrestrial,” as Grace, a former occupant of Sam’s new home? (Why, yes it is.) Grabbed one night by something clearly not human, she’ll leave the show before the first credit rolls; but we’ll know from the start that there’s a monster on the loose. And even before Sam has settled in, he’ll be attacked by her now-widowed husband, Edward (Ed Begley Jr.), who has escaped to his old house from the Manor — a memory care unit more reminiscent of something out of “Squid Game” than anywhere you’d want to park a beloved fading parent — muttering “The key is in the light, the owl is in the wall,” and thereby turning Sam detective.

The joint is run by young Blaine Shaw (Seth Numrich), who supposedly took it over from his father, who took it over from his father before him, with Hollywood-blond wife Anneliese (Alice Kremelberg) by his side. (It is perhaps no accident that we’re also served a background clip from “Double Indemnity,” featuring a blond Barbara Stanwyck.) They radiate a kind of vampiric smoothness, and it will take you no longer to realize that something’s up with these two than it takes to say “Something’s up with these two.”

Mired in grief, Sam is initially reluctant to interact with his new neighbors, until former weatherman Jack (Bill Pullman) breaks down his defenses. Judy Daniels (Woodard) used to be a reporter, her husband Art (Peters) is a pot-smoking old hippie who pretends to go golfing but heads off to a ghost town where he grows mushrooms, “searching for proof that there’s more to life than just knockin’ about and hangin’ out.” Wally Baker (Denis O’Hare) used to be a doctor, but now needs one. (It’s cancer, and terminal, though it doesn’t show.) They have complicated relationships, but there’s nothing better for ironing things out than creeping together through dark tunnels by flashlight, hoping that nothing jumps out at you, engaging in weightless banter as you go.

Davis plays Renee Joyce, a former music manager who came to the Boroughs to stay with her mother after Renee’s husband stole her money, and stuck around; I think she’s meant to be younger than the rest, but if you want to look up Davis’ age, I will wait here while you gasp in astonishment. She’ll hook up with friendly young security guard Paz Navarro (Carlos Miranda); he played drums in a band once, and they were both at Glastonbury in 2010 and love Barbra Streisand. (What are the odds?) He’ll have a lot to do when a Scooby Gang — that old, invaluable, incredibly satisfying trope — finally comes together.

The series was created by Jeffrey Addiss and Will Matthews, who were co-writers on the 2018 Henson Co. puppet epic “The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance,” from which they have imported a central plot device regarding vital essences and a magical matriarchal figure. (Called “Mother” there and here.) Their 2020 dying girlfriend film “Life in a Year,” directed by Mitja Okorn, has some thematic mirroring here, as well — death hovers over the story — and it seems probable that somewhere in the series’ gestation, they discussed Ron Howard’s 1985 science-fiction flick “Cocoon,” with its retirement home setting and senior-citizen heroes.

Sewn together from these and other scraps of previous paranormal adventure stories, “The Boroughs” is almost entirely predictable — not a criticism, in this context, since surprises in such a story are liable to bring bad news, and our affection for its heroes ought not to be sacrificed in the name of dramatic effect. That is not the kind of sacrifice the age needs, and this is not that kind of series. Nor is B-grade a pejorative, but rather an honorable tradition, especially when it comes to sci-fi and horror. (We’ll get a glimpse of Roger Corman’s original “Little Shop of Horrors” playing on a TV — cathode ray, of course.) Once you get on its wavering wavelength — sentimental, sincere, sweet, a little silly, not overly concerned with making perfect sense — and realize the show is not out to hurt you, it’s a very enjoyable watch.

SAN DIEGO — The Dodgers entered the late innings Monday in an unenviable position: trailing the Padres, whose biggest strength is their bullpen.

“When they have a lead they don’t relinquish it too often,” manager Dave Roberts said after the Dodgers’ 1-0 loss Monday. “You know the numbers — when they’re ahead in the seventh inning they don’t lose. You do have to be a little more aggressive and capitalize when you do get those chances.”

Including Monday, the Padres are 20-2 when leading after six innings, 21-1 when leading after seven, and they have a perfect 22-0 record when leading after eight.

Even when Padres closer Mason Miller got off to an uncharacteristically wild start in the ninth inning Monday, the Dodgers failed to capitalize.

He walked Freddie Freeman and Kyle Tucker on nine pitches. And the next three batters — Will Smith, Max Muncy and Andy Pages — all have proven their ability to do damage in clutch moments.

But it was Miller on the mound, a rare reliever who could actually challenge for the Cy Young Award.

“In this kind of series, you know you’re going to have close games,” Freeman said after the game. “And we just couldn’t get it done.”

Miller got out of the jam with a fly out, strikeout and ground ball, and notched his league-leading 15th save.

“We still had really good at-bats,” Freeman said. “There’s a silver lining to it. Scoring off Mason is going to be really hard to do. It’s going to take one of those kinds of innings where you can maybe walk a couple of guys and get a bloop. Not much squaring up going on against him.

“But we had an opportunity, maybe with him throwing a lot of pitches might make him be down next game. You just try to have little wins.”

The Dodgers could also avoid him by claiming a lead. On Monday, Dodgers starter Yoshinobu Yamamoto held the Padres to three hits and one run — Miguel Andujar’s first-inning homer.

But the Dodgers’ offense, which scored 31 runs in a three-game series against the Angels, only managed four hits off Padres starting pitcher Michael King, and only one in the first five innings.

“You’re trying to cover realistically 30 inches,” Freeman said. “Because you have ball-to-strike pitches — you’ve got backdoor sliders that are starting as balls coming back, you’ve got front-door sinkers for lefties. So it’s not just the whole plate you’re worried about; you’re going to worry about a whole lot of different things. … He had all of it working tonight.”

The Dodgers finally strung some hits together in the sixth. With two outs and Hyeseong Kim on first, Shohei Ohtani beat out a swinging bunt, and the throw from Padres catcher Rodolfo Duran zipped past first base.

Kim, who took off from first on contact, rounded third hard but slammed on the brakes when third base coach Dino Ebel held up the stop sign.

“It’s kind of the timing of it, where [Fernando] Tatis [Jr.] came up with the ball, and Dino’s got to make the decision,” Roberts said. “You don’t know that he’s not going to come up with it clean. At that point in time, to be quite honest, Dino had the best view of the runner coming in, Kim, and where they were at on the field. So it’s one of those things, I’m definitely not going to second guess it.”

Kim was stranded there.

Then in the eighth, he again made it to third on a single from Ohtani with two outs. And again, he got stuck 90 feet away from tying the score.

Dishing about what you’re reading is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Even better if your audience has read the same book. Reading with others also provides space to deepen community, ignite conversations and share moments of joy. Los Angeles needs that more than ever right now as we continue to shoulder a heavy 2025 marked by fires and ICE raids. But how to choose a book to get started? The best books to read in groups inspire a dialogue. They have sparkling prose and unshakable narratives. These were the guiding factors for compiling our recommendations for all kinds of readers.

We surveyed 200-plus luminaries in the book and journalism worlds to make this in-depth list. The voters included prizewinning authors, indie bookstore owners, a Man Booker Prize judge, Ivy League professors, literary agents, lauded journalists and several zealous book club members. To ensure an especially varied selection, the editors gave a final curatorial pass.

The list includes 10 categories for every type of reader, whether you reach for literary fiction or romance. We also crowned an “Ultimate Book Club Pick,” which is the title that received the most votes out of all the books by a landslide, and happens to be eerily prophetic (find it among the “Make-Believers” selections). Of course, we couldn’t include every worthy book. Let us know your picks and pull up a chair next to us. Why not read together?
— Sophia Kercher

If you buy books linked on our site, The Times may earn a commission from Bookshop.org, whose fees support independent bookstores.

Families, in their various flavors, have been essential to television since that light first flickered on. They may be ideal or nightmarish, or both, or in between, and we take to them — be they Waltons or Addamses or Simpsons — according to our own experience or desires, having known families of our own or wanted something other than what we had.

In “Schitt’s Creek,” Dan Levy co-created — with his father, Eugene, yet — one of the medium’s greatest family comedies. It was a show that grew over time from a basic premise about rich people who lose their money and are forced to live at close quarters in adjoining motel rooms to a paean to love, understanding and acceptance. It swept the comedy categories at the 2020 Emmys, including acting awards for both Levys, Catherine O’Hara and Annie Murphy and writing and directing trophies for Dan.

“To family” are in fact the last words spoken in the first season of “Bad Mistakes,” Levy’s noisy, funny new show, co-created with Rachel Sennott and now streaming on Netflix — though given what precedes it, it’s less a blessing than a curse. Levy plays Nicky, a pastor at a sparsely attended suburban New Jersey church of no evident denomination. He’s out as gay, but supposedly celibate; that he has a boyfriend, Tareq (Jacob Gutierrez), is known only to Tareq; this, of course, creates a secret, which will create pressure, which will create comedy.

Sister Morgan (Taylor Ortega) is an elementary school teacher, a job that doesn’t quite jibe with everything else we see about her — it’s barely represented, anyway, summer having come — and a very longtime boyfriend, Max (Jack Innanen), who has decided that now is the moment to propose. She had once tried acting in New York, which means that she lived a wilder life once and is something of an improviser. Their mother, Linda (Laurie Metcalf), who owns a hardware store, is running for mayor and the campaign is being managed by extra daughter Natalie (Abby Quinn).

The series begins as their grandmother is dying, and at Linda’s command, they rush out to buy her a present — Linda is trying to squeeze in an “early birthday” before her mother passes. And because she is that sort of person, Morgan shoplifts what she imagines is a cheap necklace from a convenience store. (Attendant Yusuf, played by Boran Kuzum, will have much to do.) The necklace isn’t cheap, it turns out, for no particularly good reason, and the convenience store isn’t just a convenience store, but a kind of waystation for stolen goods run by local Russian mobsters. As a result, Morgan and Nicky find themselves forced to run errands for them, under threat of death, or worse.

The show gets very complicated on its way to a circular semi-conclusion; there is a lot going on, with Linda’s mayoral ambitions and various relationship issues. (Elizabeth Perkins plays Max’s mother, bridging storylines.) But it’s a good ride, and classic in its way; searching the phrase “get mixed up with gangsters” brings forth a host of old comedies. Through the dodgiest situations, brother and sister do not hesitate to argue. Nicky would love to be anywhere else, while Morgan finds it invigorating. Though it is all improbable, the parts do mesh neatly; they make television sense.

Finally, the series rests on the shoulders of the three principal players, who are just a pleasure to watch; the camera obliges by moving in close. Levy brings a soft-spoken breathlessness you may recognize from his David Rose on “Schitt’s”; his softly muttered “OK,” which might just mean “stop talking,” is almost a trademark. Ortega brings a kind of poignance to her reborn wild child, while Metcalf plays Linda with a kind of small-town operatic intensity, eyes popped and pronunciation precise — she’s like a country cousin to O’Hara’s Moira Rose — as if she were onstage pitching to the back row of the theater.

In “Margo’s Got Money Problems, premiering Wednesday on Apple TV, Elle Fanning plays the title character, a college student flattered into bed by her married-with-children writing professor, Mark (Michael Angarano), despite my shouting at the screen for her not to do it. Soon she is pregnant, and soon after that the essentially single mother of baby Bodhi, unable to find work or the time to write. (As the heroine, we assume her talent.)

Presumably in search of some normalcy, Margo’s mother, Shyanne (Michelle Pfeiffer), a former good time girl — but still sparkly — has become engaged to Kenny (Greg Kinnear), Christian, square and sincere; the Ralph Bellamy of the piece, you are not asked to take him quite seriously (though Kinnear plays him straight). Shyanne’s ex-husband is Jinx, a former professional wrestler, played by Nick Offerman with the low-key affect of Ron Swanson, dialed down even further; depression and drug addiction will do that to you. Fresh out of rehab, he trades a championship belt for a motorcycle and joins the household; though he left Margo early, and unlike Shyanne, he proves to have a marvelous, easy way with Bodhi. (The baby himself, or babies — they use twins for this job — are themselves marvelous.)

Also in residence is roommate Susie (Thaddea Graham), a chirpy cosplayer — and coincidentally Jinx’s biggest fan — whose skills will become valuable as Margo, needing cash, sets off into the world of OnlyFans. First picking up tips describing followers’ penises in terms of Pokémon (no explanation has been thought necessary), she pivots to video, mounting increasingly elaborate sexy sci-fi productions alongside Susie (sets and costumes), Jinx (narrative advice, stunt coordinator) and OnlyFans veterans KC (Rico Nasty) and Rose (Lindsey Normington), a fabulous tag team to whom Margo turns for advice. (Margo does seem to take things over, but it’s her name in the title, so there you go.) This introduces an element of Mickey and Judy, my uncle’s got a barn, let’s put on a show comedy. More important, it creates a team, melding the family you make with the family you have.

It’s as sweet as can be. Apart from sleeping with one’s professor — students, do not do this! — the show is positive about just about everything: motherhood, daughterhood, professional wrestling, second chances, sex work, cosplaying and the way art shows up in strange places. Only Marcia Gay Harden, as Mark’s mother, Elizabeth, is an outright villain, and you will hate her.

The series was created by David E. Kelley (Mr. Michelle Pfeiffer), from Rufi Thorpe’s 2024 novel, once again under the umbrella of Nicole Kidman’s Blossom Films (following their collaborations on “Big Little Lies,” “Nine Perfect Strangers” and “Love & Death”), with its house style of well-upholstered capital-Q Quality (as distinct, in its pop-cult, way, from prestige). (Kidman has a small role as a wrestler-turned-lawyer and it’s been a while since I’ve seen her this well used.) “Margo’s Got Money Problems” can be terribly sentimental, almost corny — the climax is pure Hollywood — but undeniably effective. And if its mix of comedy and drama can be a little destabilizing, you won’t need to worry about where it ends up.