life

Tom Stoppard, dead?

Surely, someone has made a hash of the plot. Yes, he was 88, but the Czech-born, British playwright, the true 20th century heir to Oscar Wilde, would never have arranged things so banally.

“A severe blow to Logic” is how a character describes the death of a philosophy professor in Stoppard’s 1972 play “Jumpers.” But then, as this polymath wag continues, “The truth to us philosophers, Mr. Crouch, is always an interim judgment … Unlike mystery novels, life does not guarantee a denouement; and if it came, how would one know whether to believe it?”

Few people were more agnostically alive than Stoppard, who loved the finer things in life and handsomely earned them with his inexhaustible wit. A man of consummate urbanity who lived like a country squire, he was a sportsman (cricket was his game) and a connoisseur of ideas, which he treated with a cricketer’s agility and vigor.

Stoppard announced himself with “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead,” an absurdist lark that views “Hamlet” from the keyhole perspective of two courtiers jockeying for position in the new regime. The influence of Samuel Beckett was unmistakable in the combination of music hall zaniness and existential ruthlessness that characterized the succession of early plays that merged the Theatre of the Absurd with a souped-up version of Shavian farce.

Simple wasn’t Stoppard‘s style. The Fellini-esque profusion of “Jumpers” includes warring philosophy professors, a retired chanteuse and a chorus of acrobats, set within the frame of murder mystery that owes a debt to the gimlet-eyed social satire of Joe Orton. “Travesties,” Stoppard’s 1974 play, is built on the coincidence that James Joyce, Dadaist Tristan Tzara, and Vladimir Lenin all happened to be in Zurich during World War I — a cultural happenstance that paved the way for a dizzying alternative history, in which art faces off against politics. (Art, no surprise, wins.)

Wordplay, aphorisms and bon mots were Stoppard’s signature. Not since “The Importance of Being Earnest,” a play that Stoppard revered the way a mathematician would regard the world’s most elegant proof, has the English stage experienced such high-flying chat. Yet he acquired a reputation as a dandy, a clever humorist and an intellectual showman, distinctly apolitical and seemingly a man of no convictions.

The latter charge he no doubt would have taken as a compliment. He prided himself on having a mind unstained by certainties. But he was aware of the criticism of his work as intellectually brilliant but emotionally brittle. Virtuosity, in language and dramatic structure, was his great strength. But also perhaps his weakness — a weakness for which many lesser writers would no doubt sell their souls.

“Rosencrantz and Guildenstern” and “Travesties were indeed master manipulations of plot and language. They were also breaths of fresh air that won Tony Awards for best play and established Stoppard as a transatlantic force. It would have been perfectly natural for him to continue in this vein, but his writing took a more personal turn in “The Real Thing,” a play about a playwright learning both to write about love and to take in and appreciate its complex reality.

New York Times theater critic Frank Rich called “The Real Thing” “not only Mr. Stoppard’s most moving play, but also the most bracing play that anyone has written about love and marriage in years.” The 1984 Broadway premiere, starring Jeremy Irons and Glenn Close under the direction of Mike Nichols, won Tony Awards for its leads, Nichols’ direction, Christine Baranski’s featured performance and best play. It was Stoppard’s third such honor, and it would not be his last.

But the criticism didn’t end there. (Is it any surprise that in “The Real Inspector Hound,” his 1968 one-act, Stoppard imagined a scenario in which a critic is killed by the play he’s reviewing?) Stoppard’s cleverness, while the source of his fame and prestige, was intimidating to some and off-putting to others. Not everyone goes to the theater to be wowed by verbal pyrotechnics or daredevil plot high jinks. The blinding brilliance of his plays left theatergoers still squinting to see whether his work had much of a heart.

Stoppard ranged freely over a variety of dramatic modes. (It was this ability that made him such a valuable screenwriter and script doctor, earning him not only wealth but also a shared Oscar for the screenplay “Shakespeare in Love.”) But he had no interest in writing character studies. Domestic drama, with its psychological epiphanies and sentimental resolutions, repelled him. But neither was he drawn to the issue-laden work of his more politically minded postwar British playwriting peers, that new breed of dramatist unleashed by John Osborne’s “Look Back in Anger.”

A born entertainer who had no ideology to sell or bourgeois morality to promote, he gravitated to theater as the most exhilarating form of debate. What he called “the felicitous expression of ideas” mattered more to him than academic point-scoring. Language was a theatrical resource that could do more than win arguments.

The comedy of ideas had become self-serious over time. Stoppard was determined to restore its fun without diminishing its substance.

His astonishing erudition encouraged him to tread where few playwrights before him had dared to go. But he was too much of a sensualist to cloister himself in the archives of the British Museum.

When I interviewed Stoppard at San Francisco’s American Conservatory Theater during rehearsals for his play “The Hard Problem,” he told me that he didn’t think he ever spent more than half an hour on research. He did concede, however, “I’ve spent many, many days of my life reading for pleasure in order to inform myself about something.

How else could he have pulled off “The Coast of Utopia,” a three-play creation centered on 19th century Russian intellectuals, romantics and revolutionaries against decades of geopolitical tumult? This marathon epic earned Stoppard his fourth Tony Award for best play.

“Arcadia,” perhaps his crowning achievement, may not be as sprawling but it’s just as intellectually ambitious. It’s also perhaps his most lyrically affecting.

A literary and biographical mystery play set in an English country estate in two different time zones (one in the age of Lord Byron, the other in the era of contemporary academic sleuths), “Arcadia” owes a debt to A.S. Byatt’s “Possession.” (In her mammoth biography “Tom Stoppard: A Life,” Hermione Lee reports that “Byatt has said that Stoppard told her he ‘pinched’ the plot from her.”) But the way Stoppard incorporates mathematical concepts as rarefied as fractal geometry to explore concepts of order and chaos as the characters hypothesize on the patterns of time is Stoppardian through and through.

Stoppard’s late works are his most personal. “Rock ’N’ Roll,” which he dedicated to Vaclav Havel, explores the rebellious, Dionysian force of popular music, an eternal source of inspiration for him, in a play set partly in Prague during the Communist era. “Leopoldstadt,” which won Stoppard his fifth and last Tony for best play, is the work in which the playwright grapples, from an artistic remove, with the history he was late to discover about what happened to his Jewish family during and after the rise of Hitler.

“The Invention of Love” is one of those Stoppard plays that leaves a critic feeling both rapturous and unsatisfied, a paradoxical state but then what can anyone expect from a play that makes the poet, classicist and closet homosexual A.E. Housman a theatrical protagonist?

No play by Stoppard can be fully appreciated in a single theatrical outing. The dramaturgy is too complex, the intelligence too quick-footed and the language too dazzling for instant assessment. My fear is that the plays are too expansive for the diminished scale of dramatic production today. But Stoppard has left theatrical riches that will entice audiences for generations through their intellectual exuberance, preternatural eloquence and omnivorous delight.

When photographer Peter Turnley was just 20 years old, an acquaintance from the California Office of Economic Opportunity reached out to him with a question. Would he be interested in taking four months off from school in Michigan to come out west, drive around, and take pictures of the state’s poor and working-class populations? An eager Turnley jumped at the chance and ended up spending the summer of 1975 traversing California in his tiny white Volkswagen, doing everything from spending time with migrant farmworkers in the San Joaquin valley to hopping trains with travelers looking for work to chatting up Oaklanders about how they were making ends meet.

But then his OEO contact left mid-project and, while Turnley says he submitted a set of prints to the department, they never ended up seeing the light of day. That will all change Dec. 4, when the pictures — along with others the news photographer has taken in his current hometown, Paris — will go on display at the Leica Gallery in L.A.

Why did California’s OEO think of you for this project back in 1975?

When I was a freshman in college at the University of Michigan, during the winter break, I went back to Fort Wayne, Indiana, which is where I’m from. There was a very progressive mayor in power at that point and he assembled a really interesting group of people in his city government.

When I began photography at the age of 16, I decided to use it to try to change the world, and I particularly admired photographers that had used photography to affect public policy, like the Farm Security Administration photographers in the 1930s, which included people like Dorothea Lange. So I convinced this mayor to hire me to shoot pictures for the city of Fort Wayne on the themes that the city was making policy around.

During that time, I met a woman who was the public affairs officer for the city of Fort Wayne. Unbeknownst to me, two years later she moved out to California and that’s how I got a letter at the end of my sophomore year of college asking me if I would be willing to come out to California to do a four-month road trip to document the lives of the working class and the poor of California. She explained to me that the Office of Economic Opportunity needed to make a report that underlined its efforts in trying to help the the poor of California, and that they they wanted to use these photographs as a way to illustrate that report.

I was given some very basic statistics of pockets of poverty around the state of California, but no other specific direction, and I was promised just enough money to cover fleabag hotels and diner food and gasoline. I was given access to a government darkroom in Sacramento, where occasionally I would go to develop film and make contact sheets and prints, but otherwise, I was out, driving to every corner of the state.

What were your impressions of the state before you came, as someone originally from the Midwest?

I didn’t grow up on a farm [in Indiana] but I knew a little bit about farming and what really struck me when I went out to California was what I think most of the world doesn’t really realize, and that is that [much] of the state is agricultural and rural. In many ways, the San Joaquin Valley felt a whole lot more like Indiana than almost any other place I could imagine.

What did you take away from the project as a whole?

One of the aspects of this body of work that fascinates me and that I guess in some ways I’m very proud of is that one feels in the photography and in the connection with people an almost innocent and authentic view. The pictures are very direct. They’re very human and they really deal with the lives of people, because you’re looking into their eyes and getting close to them.

Another thing that struck me was that because I was dealing particularly with people that were working class or often very poor, that there was something very similar in terms of people’s plight, whether they were living in urban areas or in the countryside. Everyone I met seemed like really decent, good, hard-working people that just wanted a better life for themselves and their family. They wanted to survive with dignity, and I felt that we all owe these people a great sense of debt.

I also remember that when I spent some time with hobos — and I’m not sure if that’s a pejorative word today, but they’re a little different category of people than simply those who are homeless. Hobos were most often men that chose this lifestyle to ride the trains and stop and work in various places. But I remember being in a boxcar with four men and all four were pretty much like everyone else. It was just that their lives had kind of crossed over a line into the margins, just by a thread. And I remember realizing at this young age just how fragile life is, or how close we can be to that line at almost any time.

Something I found striking in these pictures is how little has changed, in some ways. There have always been people working in California’s fields that are underpaid and underappreciated, and in some ways, things have only gotten worse for a lot of that population.

During COVID, I lived in New York City and every day for three months from the very first day of the lockdown, I went out and I walked. I would meet people and I would ask them three questions: What was their name, their age, and how were they making it? And then after three months, I went back to Paris, and I walked the streets there and did the same thing, ultimately making a book of the pictures I took from that time called “A New York-Paris Visual Diary: The Human Face Of Covid-19.”

But the thing that struck me during COVID was that it was the working class of New York that saved all of our lives. There were whole walls of buildings on the Upper West Side that were dark at night because everyone had gone to the Hamptons or left New York, but the people that saved our lives were cashiers, postal workers, FedEx workers, nurses, doctors, medics, ambulance drivers and mostly working-class people. And looking back, I had this hope that maybe when the COVID crisis was over, that we would rectify in a general way how we looked at our society and how we value the people that are actually doing the work in our society, but in actuality, once the lockdown was over, we just went back to being ruled and led by people that have a lot of money. And, really, the well-to-do of California and the rest of the world would never go and pick their own strawberries.

Have you kept in touch with anyone whose picture you took in 1975, or heard from anyone after the fact?

I’ve for sure wondered what happened to all the people in the pictures, but unfortunately over all these years, I’ve never had contact with anyone. It would be absolutely amazing if somebody from that time would come out of the woodwork.

You’ve been a working photographer for over 50 years now, having worked in 90 countries, taking 40 covers for Newsweek, and shooting many of the last century’s most important geopolitical events. Are there moments you still can’t believe you saw, or pictures you can’t believe you took?

Well, just this morning, I signed the prints that will be in this exhibit and they’re really beautiful. They’re made in Paris and they’re traditional silver gelatin prints, beautiful quality. But I held up one of the images from The Other California – 1975, and it was this Okie, a guy that was born during the Dust Bowl in Oklahoma and moved out to California. Looking at that image today, looking in the eyes and the face of this man, I really had the impression that — even though it’s my own photograph — that I was looking at one of Dorothea Lange’s photographs. I’m very proud of the fact that there’s a continuity of that kind of attention to the heart of people’s lives in my work.

In this modern era of digital photography, on the one hand I think it’s wonderful that everyone is making photographs now more than ever before. On the other hand, I think that the world of photography has moved away from real powerful, direct human connection. And to me, that’s what’s most important. I’m a lot more interested in life than I am in photography. I mean, I care a lot about photography. I love beautiful photographs, and I try to take them as well as possible, but what’s most important to me are the themes of life that I photograph and at the center of all that is emotion.

The Trump administration is promising an even tougher anti-immigration agenda after an Afghan national was charged this week in the shooting of two National Guard members, with new restrictions targeting the tens of thousands of Afghans resettled in the U.S. and those seeking to come, many of whom served alongside American soldiers in the two-decade war.

But those still waiting to come were already facing stricter measures as part of President Trump’s sweeping crackdown on legal and illegal migration that began when he started his second term in January. And the Afghan immigrants living in the U.S. and now in the administration’s crosshairs were among the most extensively vetted, often undergoing years of security screening, experts and advocates say.

In its latest move, the Trump administration announced Friday that it will pause issuing visas for anyone traveling on an Afghan passport.

The suspected shooter, who worked with the CIA during the Afghanistan war, “was vetted both before he landed, probably once he landed, once he applied for asylum,” said Andrew Selee, president of the Migration Policy Institute. “But more importantly, he was almost certainly vetted extensively and much more by the CIA.”

Haris Tarin, a former U.S. official who worked on the Biden-era program that resettled Afghans, predicted that “as the investigation unfolds, you will see that this is not a failure of screening. This is a failure of us not being able to integrate — not just foreign intelligence and military personnel — but our own veterans, over the past 25 years.”

The program, Operations Allies Welcome, initially brought about 76,000 Afghans to the United States, many of whom had worked alongside American troops and diplomats as interpreters and translators. The initiative was in place for around a year before shifting to a longer-term program called Operation Enduring Welcome. Almost 200,000 Afghans have been resettled in the U.S. under the programs.

Among those brought to the U.S. under the program was the suspected shooter, 29-year-old Rahmanullah Lakanwal, who now faces a first-degree murder charge in the death of 20-year-old Army Spc. Sarah Beckstrom. The other National Guard member who was shot, 24-year-old Air Force Staff Sgt. Andrew Wolfe, remains in critical condition.

Those resettlements are now on hold. The State Department has temporarily stopped issuing visas for all people traveling on Afghan passports, Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced late Friday on X.

Anti-immigrant rhetoric

Trump and his allies have seized on the shooting to criticize gaps in the U.S. vetting process and the speed of admissions, even though some Republicans spent the months and years after the 2021 withdrawal criticizing the Biden administration for not moving fast enough to approve some applications from Afghan allies.

CIA Director John Ratcliffe said Lakanwal “should have never been allowed to come here.” Trump called lax migration policies “the single greatest national security threat facing our nation,” and Vice President JD Vance said Biden’s policy was “opening the floodgate to unvetted Afghan refugees.”

That rhetoric quickly turned into policy announcements, with Trump saying he would “permanently pause all migration” from a list of nearly 20 countries, “terminate all of the millions of Biden illegal admissions,” and “remove anyone who is not a net asset to the United States.” Many of these changes had already been set in motion through a series of executive orders over the last 10 months, including most recently in June.

“They are highlighting practices that were already going into place,” said Andrea Flores, a lawyer who was an immigration policy advisor in the Obama and Biden administrations.

Lakanwal applied for asylum during the Biden administration, but his request was approved in April of this year — under the Trump administration — after undergoing a thorough vetting, according to #AfghanEvac, a group that helps resettle Afghans who assisted the U.S. during the war.

Flores said the system has worked across administrations: “You may hear people say, ‘Well, he was granted asylum under Trump. This is Trump’s problem.’ That’s not how our immigration system works. It relies on the same bedding. No asylum laws have really been changed by Congress.”

Afghans in the U.S. fearful for their status

Trump and other U.S. officials have used the attack to demand a reexamination of everyone who came to the U.S. from Afghanistan, a country he called “a hellhole on Earth” on Thursday.

“These policies were already creating widespread disruption and fear among lawfully admitted families. What’s new and deeply troubling is the attempt to retroactively tie all of this to one act of violence in a way that casts suspicion on entire nationalities, including Afghan allies who risked their lives to protect our troops,” Krish O’Mara Vignarajah, president and CEO of Global Refuge, said in a statement Friday.

This has left the nearly 200,000 Afghans living across the U.S. in deep fear and shame over actions attributed to one person. Those in the U.S. are now worrying about their legal status being revoked, while others in the immigration pipeline here and abroad are waiting in limbo.

Nesar, a 22-year-old Afghan who arrived in the U.S. weeks after the fall of Kabul, said he had just begun to assimilate into life in the U.S. when the attack happened Wednesday. He agreed to speak to the Associated Press on condition that only his first name be used for fear of reprisals or targeting by immigration officials.

“Life was finally getting easier for me. I’ve learned to speak English. I found a better job,” he said. “But after this happened two days ago, I honestly went to the grocery store this morning, and I was feeling so uncomfortable among all of those people. I was like, maybe they’re now looking at me the same way as the shooter.”

Two days before the shooting, Nesar and his father, who worked for the Afghan president during the war, had received an interview date of Dec. 13 for their green card application, a moment he said they had been working toward for four years. He says it is now unclear if their application will move forward or whether their interview will take place.

Another Afghan national, who also spoke to the AP on condition of anonymity out of fear of reprisal, said that after fearing for his life under Taliban rule, he felt a sense of peace and hope when he finally received a special immigrant visa to come to the U.S. two years ago.

He said he thought he could use his experience working as a defense attorney in Afghanistan to contribute to American society. But now, he said, he and other Afghans will once again face scrutiny because of the actions of an “extremist who, despite benefiting from the safety and livelihood provided by this country, ungratefully attacked two American soldiers.”

“It seems that whenever a terrorist commits a crime, its shadow falls upon me simply because I am from Afghanistan,” he added.

Cappelletti and Amiri write for the Associated Press. AP writer Renata Brito contributed to this report.

Hello! I’m Mark Olsen. Welcome to another edition of your regular field guide to a world of Only Good Movies.

This week I spoke to James L. Brooks, whose legendary career includes “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “Terms of Endearment,” “Broadcast News” and “The Simpsons,” about his new film “Ella McCay,” which opens in theaters Dec. 12.

The film stars Emma Mackey as a classic Brooksian heroine: a lieutenant governor of a small, unnamed state with a genuine desire to make other people’s lives better who unexpectedly finds herself thrust into the job of governor.

Albert Brooks and Emma Mackey in the movie “Ella McCay.”

(Claire Folger / 20th Century Studios)

Warm and affectionate toward its characters while also clear-eyed about their all-too-human imperfections, the film is the kind of made-for-adults dramedy that is currently out-of-favor with Hollywood.

“I don’t believe people don’t want comedy,” Brooks said. “Obviously, I hope that you have meat on the bone and that doesn’t mean you can’t do a real scene about real difficulty, especially with this picture.”

Matt Brennan spoke to Renate Reinsve, star of Joachim Trier’s “Sentimental Value,” while the two of them toured Frank Lloyd Wright’s Hollyhock House. Carlos Aguilar spent time with Amy Madigan, the veteran actor enjoying renewed career energy thanks to her role as Aunt Gladys in “Weapons.”

Among the movies’ new releases, Amy Nicholson reviewed Rian Johnson’s latest Benoit Blanc story, “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery,” calling it the “darkest, funniest and best installment yet.”

Mila Kunis, Daniel Craig and Josh O’Connor in the movie “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery.”

(Netflix)

Amy also reviewed Chloé Zhao’s “Hamnet,” an adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s novel about William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal) and his wife Agnes (Jessie Buckley) as they grapple with the death of their young son Hamnet, a grief that results in the play “Hamlet.”

If you are really looking to get away from family this week, consider Julia Loktev’s five-and-a-half-hour documentary “My Undesirable Friends: Part I — Last Air in Moscow,” which chronicles the fall of one of the last independent news channels in Russia, largely run by women, during the country’s invasion of Ukraine. Loktev and one of the film’s subjects, Ksenia Mironova, will be at the Laemmle Royal for Q&As after certain shows on the 28th and 29th.

As Tim Grierson put it in his review, “During a year in which the worst-case scenarios of a second Trump presidency have come to fruition, ‘My Undesirable Friends’ contains plenty of echoes with our national news. The canceling of comedy shows, the baseless imprisonment of innocent people, the rampant transphobia: The Putin playbook is now this country’s day-to-day. Some may wish to avoid Loktev’s film because of those despairing parallels. But that’s only more reason to embrace ‘My Undesirable Friends.’ Loktev didn’t set out to be a witness to history, but what she’s emerged with is an indispensable record and a rallying cry.”

Also opening this week is another of the year’s most boldly unconventional films, Kahlil Joseph’s “BLKNWS: Terms and Conditions,” a dense, collage-like exploration of Black identity and history, playing at the Lumiere Music Hall. Anyone who saw the recent blockbuster exhibition of artworks by Joseph’s brother, the late Noah Davis, at the Hammer Museum will also find “BLKNWS” a worthwhile experience.

Cinematographer Roger Deakins on the future of the Coen brothers

Cinematographer Roger Deakins photographed at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2019.

(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)

Roger Deakins is among the most celebrated and best-known cinematographers of his era. A two-time Oscar winner, he has worked with filmmakers such as Joel and Ethan Coen, Sam Mandes, Denis Villeneuve and many more, on films including “No Country for Old Men,” “The Big Lebowski,” “Skyfall,” “Sicario,” “Blade Runner 2049” and “1917.”

Deakins, 76, who often works in collaboration with his wife James Ellis Deakins, has for the past few years been hosting a podcast, “Team Deakins,” interviewing filmmakers. He has recently published “Reflections: On Cinematography,” which is part memoir and part how-to, drawing from his personal archives to explore his work on so many contemporary classics.

On Sunday, the American Cinematheque will screen director Andrew Dominik’s 2007 “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford” at the Aero Theatre with both Roger and James present for a Q&A and book signing.

They recently got on a video call from their home in Santa Monica to talk about the book, their relationship and whether to expect another movie from the Coen brothers.

Javier Bardem in Joel and Ethan Coen’s 2007 movie “No Country for Old Men.”

(Miramax Films)

One of the things that’s so striking about the book is that it is very much a memoir, the story of your life, but it is told through these movies and an exploration of your artistic practice.

Roger Deakins: Well, that was the balance. We didn’t want it to be a technical manual and we didn’t want it to be a sort of tell-all or just recounting old stories.

James Deakins: When you work in the film business, it’s so intense. Your work is your life.

Roger Deakins: Especially when I started out, shooting in documentaries for a few years, that was the life experience that opened the world to me. I didn’t see the world other than my experiences shooting films, whether it was documentaries or later fiction films, like going together to Morocco to shoot “Kundun.” The life experience actually has always been as important to me as the actual work.

Can you tell me a little bit more about just the relationship between the two of you, traveling together, working on all these different movies? What has that meant to you?

Roger Deakins: It’s all very weird. That is so not me.

James Deakins: The reason why we work so well together is Roger’s very intent on what he is doing and doesn’t particularly want to talk to other people during that time period. And I do — I love to talk to people. I love to solve problems. I love to do all that. So together we kind of make this whole. But we also have a lot of people come up to us and ask us for relationship advice.

Roger Deakins: When we met, I think I was 41 or something. We were both fairly kind of, not lonely, but we were loners, both of us. And we connected on a film. We met on a film together. James was script supervisor on a film that I was shooting. And after that film, it just seemed obvious to me that we should be together. And it’s been wonderful. We’ve just shared these life experiences together. I couldn’t really understand other relationships, which seemed to work well, where one person goes away and works on a movie for like six months and then comes back home and tries to step back into a relationship like nothing had happened. I don’t see that. So we’ve always shared things together. Doing the podcast was very much James’ idea, but I’ve kind of warmed to it.

James Ellis Deakins, left, and Roger Deakins at the 95th Academy Awards at the Dolby Theatre in 2023.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

When people ask for relationship advice, what do they want to know?

James Deakins: They’re saying, “I’ve got to travel so much. How do I keep it together?” Or: How do we work together? Just, will this work? Is it possible? It’s very strange, because we’ve just done a very technical Q&A and my head’s there, and then someone comes up to me — and I can always kind of tell because they’re bearing down on me — and they go, “I just want to ask you…”

Roger, in the book you talk about how, when you were starting out and in film school, you thought of yourself as a director. As you started shooting more for other people, did that create a sense of a path not taken?

Roger Deakins: I would be lying if I was saying there wasn’t a little bit way down deep inside of me that was saying: What if I had tried to become a director instead? But on the other hand, I’ve been part of so many movies with so many really nice, intelligent people. And I really do have a confidence problem. We did try and get together a couple of projects a number of years ago and I just don’t have the confidence. I’m terrible going into a studio and pitching a project.

I’m just not that political person. I love nothing more than being on a set with a whole group of people. I love just working with the camera crew and electricians and the grips and the painters and everybody else. I love that collaboration. And often a director is in a much more lonely place.

Do you feel like you have a signature? What is it that you bring to a project?

Roger Deakins: I hope I don’t have a signature. I hope I just have a way of relating to a story and something in front of me. Maybe there’s some sort of personal perspective.

James Deakins: Well, I think you bring a commitment to the project. And you also are so committed to creating the director’s vision as opposed to you coming in and saying, “Well, let’s make it the way that I always do it.” And so I think you allow what the director has in his head to come out.

Roger Deakins: It’s also really important that you’re not just there to create pretty pictures. Oh, that’s a great sunset, but what the hell does it have to do with this story? Or: Let’s put up five cameras and get a lot of material and we’ll cut something out of it later. That’s the extreme version of something that’s anathema to me.

You say that people confuse pretty cinematography with good cinematography. How do you define good cinematography?

Roger Deakins: Cinematography that’s not noticed. Not noticed because people are too absorbed in the story. When you go to a premiere or any screening and you come out and somebody comes out and says, “Oh, I love that shot where such and such” — that was a mistake because not one shot should stand out. Somebody said, “Oh, wasn’t that a lovely sunset?” Then you’ve taken the audience out of the film. You’ve just drawn attention to the image.

Ryan Gosling in the movie “Blade Runner 2049.”

(Stephen Vaughan / Warner Bros. Pictures)

So even for all the astonishing images you’ve created, you still think that they shouldn’t be noticed?

Roger Deakins: In a way. I mean, obviously on some films you’ve got more license than others. Obviously I could have more fun on “Skyfall” in certain instances, or “Blade Runner,” more than I could on “No Country for Old Men.” “Blade Runner,” I could do these kind of lighting things in the Wallace building because that was part of the character, that was part of his creation, not mine. So it kind of felt integral to the character. But in another situation, I’m never going to do that kind of lighting.

You haven’t shot anything for a few years now. Are you hoping to find something?

Roger Deakins: Kind of. It depends which day you ask me, really.

James Deakins: Really depends on the project. And we haven’t seen anything, really.

A lot of people are very eager for Joel and Ethan Coen to work together again. Have you had any conversations with them?

Roger Deakins: Well, Joel’s just been directing a film in Scotland, his own film. I’ve talked to Joel on and off lately and, well, actually Ethan not that long ago, but I’m not sure what their plans are now. So that’s all talk. That’s like talking about my football team, Manchester United. What’s the next player they’re going to buy? Who knows?

Points of interest

‘Coming Home’

Jane Fonda and Jon Voight in the movie “Coming Home.”

(Herbert Dorfman / Corbis via Getty Images)

On Monday, the Frida Cinema will show Hal Ashby’s 1978 “Coming Home,” starring Jane Fonda, Jon Voight and Bruce Dern. Fonda and Voight both won Academy Awards for their performances and the film was named best picture by the Los Angeles Film Critics Assn.

“Coming Home” is an exploration of the costs of war at home and also about learning to live with disability. Voight plays a Vietnam veteran who returns a paraplegic, struggling to adjust to his new life. Fonda is a woman whose husband (Dern) is deployed to Vietnam. When she begins to volunteer at the local VA hospital, she reconnects with Voight’s Luke, a friend from high school. As the two begin an affair, all three of their lives are upended.

Critic Kristen Lopez will be there to introduce the screening, as well as sign copies of her new book, “Popcorn Disabilities: The Highs and Lows of Disabled Representation in the Movies.”

Via email, Lopez explained her selection of “Coming Home,” saying “it’s one of the few movies that, I think, even though it’s not cast authentically, does illustrate the disabled experience in an authentic way. Director Hal Ashby, producer Jane Fonda and star Jon Voight did deep research into disabled veterans, specifically wheelchair users, and it’s the first movie I remember seeing that got the little bits of disabled business correct. It’s also a movie that, even today, is remarkably progressive in how it portrays disability. Luke Martin has a home and a car, he’s self-sufficient, and too often we don’t see how disabled people live.”

‘Putney Swope’

An image from “Putney Swope,” directed by Robert Downey Sr.

(Cinema 5 / Photofest)

Opening the series “Present Past 2025: A Celebration of Film Preservation” at the Academy Museum will be the world premiere of a new 35mm print of Robert Downey Sr.’s 1969 “Putney Swope.” A biting satire of how corporate culture handles race, the film stars Arnold Johnson as the title character, who is unexpectedly made president of a major advertising firm and proceeds to upend all of its messaging. Paul Thomas Anderson has often spoken of Downey as an influence — an influence that can be clearly seen in the anti-authoritarian “One Battle After Another.”

In his original January 1970 review, Charles Champlin wrote, “‘Putney Swope’ is not so much a movie as a cartoon with real people. … ‘Putney Swope’ is not for anyone who demands good taste in movies, or restraint, or a presumption of dignity in the human character. But in its youthful, irreverent and uninhibited but medicinal way, ‘Putney Swope’ is shocking good fun.”

Also playing as part of the Academy’s preservation series, which runs through Dec. 22, will be world premiere restorations of William Wyler’s 1934 “Glamour,” John M. Stahl’s 1933 “Only Yesterday,” Lloyd Corrigan’s 1931 “Daughter of the Dragon” and George Marshall’s 1945 “Incendiary Blonde.” Other titles in the series include North American restoration premieres of Konrad Wolf’s 1980 “Solo Sunny” and Mikio Naruse’s 1955 “Floating Clouds,” plus the U.S. restoration premieres of Howard Hughes’ 1930 “Hell’s Angels” and Pedro Almodóvar’s 1986 “Matador.”

‘While You Were Sleeping’

Peter Gallagher and Sandra Bullock in the romantic comedy “While You Were Sleeping.”

(Michael P. Weinstein / Hollywood Pictures)

On Dec. 5, the New Beverly will screen a matinee of John Turteltaub’s 1995 “While You Were Sleeping.” (Take that extra long lunch or just knock off work early. It’s the holidays.) This winsome, utterly charming romantic comedy really helped cement Sandra Bullock’s screen persona and stardom, and deservedly so. A lonely woman (Bullock) who works in a ticket booth for the Chicago Transit Authority quietly pines for a handsome man (Peter Gallagher) she sees every day. After she helps save him from an accident, a misunderstanding at the hospital leads his family to believe she is his fiancée while he is in a coma. Then she meets his brother (Bill Pullman) and the complications really ensue.

In his original review of the film, Peter Rainer wrote, “Bullock is a genuinely engaging performer, which at least gives the treacle some minty freshness. Her scenes with Pullman are amiable approach-avoidance duets that really convince you something is going on between them. Like Marisa Tomei, Bullock has a sky-high likability factor with audiences. She can draw us into her spunky loneliness — you want to see her smile.”

The social media star slams reports of her six-figure fee and reveals the wet, sleep-deprived reality of life in the jungle a year on from when she took part in I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here!

For years, fans of ITV’s I’m A Celeb have speculated about the ‘astronomical’ fees commanded by the stars who brave the Australian bush. But according to former campmate GK Barry, also known as Grace Keeling, the reality of the pay packet is far less glamorous than the headlines suggest.

The social media sensation, who won over the nation during her stint in the jungle last year, has hit out at reports claiming she walked away with a massive fortune, branding the rumours “a load of s***.” Amidst the trials and tribulations of camp life, reports circulated that Grace had secured a fee of £150,000 for her appearance. However, the podcast host insists that figures reported in the press are vastly inflated.

“The Daily Mail like to release what we’re all being paid for it, it’s a load of s***,” she said in a TikTok video. To illustrate just how wide of the mark the rumours were, she joked that a fee of that magnitude would have fundamentally changed her behaviour in the trials.

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“They said I got £150,000,” she said. “If I got paid 150 [thousand] Great British pounds to go in that jungle, I wouldn’t have even screamed once during a trial. They always overdo it, we don’t get paid that much.”

Beyond the pay dispute, Grace was keen to dispel the long-standing conspiracy theory that the camp is a sound stage or that celebrities retreat to luxury hotels once the cameras stop rolling. She described the living conditions as genuinely miserable, particularly when the weather turns.

“The camp is covered but it’s covered by a flimsy bit of material that opens up and shuts so when it rains, you still get rained on,” she revealed. “Our camp got so flooded last year, everything was wet, our sleeping bags, the fire kept going out…”

She added: “Everyone thinks the jungle isn’t a real jungle, but the place is giving jungle. There are animals, you could not find your way through there easily, and we do stay there, we do sleep there… We don’t go off to the hotel at night, I wish we did.”

While they don’t get hotels, the celebrities do get one small mercy: they aren’t allowed to poison themselves. Grace revealed a behind-the-scenes secret about how the campmates manage to cook obscure jungle rations like eel without making themselves ill.

It involves a producer known as the “Voice of God” who speaks over a tannoy system.

“You cook it until you think it’s done,” she explained. “And if you go to take it off and it’s not done, the voice of God will be like, ‘that could probably do with 10 more minutes’. So you’re never at risk of eating something raw.”

Perhaps the most gruelling aspect of the show isn’t the creepy crawlies, but the schedule. Grace painted a picture of a routine designed to keep the stars exhausted.

The day begins when the hosts arrive live on air. “We hear Ant and Dec do I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here so we know it’s 7.30 in the morning,” she said.

However, the days are long. Dinner often doesn’t arrive until 8pm or 9pm, followed by washing up and mandatory diary room sessions.

“Before you’re allowed to go to bed, you all have to do your bush telegraph things,” she recalled. “So I genuinely think we were going to bed at midnight and up again at 6.30am.”

GK Barry placed fifth in the 2024 series, being the eight contestant eliminated from the jungle.

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Margam Country Park in Wales transforms into a magical winter wonderland in December, with a miniature fairy village, elf workshop and Santa feeding the deer

A magical fairy village is hidden in the picturesque Margam Country Park, a sweeping gothic estate nestled in the old coal lands of Wales.

The park, near Port Talbot, is surrounded by stunning purple rhododendrons during the summer months and transforms into a winter wonderland in December with its enchanting miniature fairy village. This Welsh estate boasts a grand gothic country house, nestled within a vast expanse of land. The 19th-century mansion was crafted by architect Thomas Hopper for Christopher Rice Mansel Talbot in 1830, using sandstone sourced from the nearby Pyle quarry, according to Margam Country Park. The impressive staircase hall and octagonal tower offer panoramic views over the park, which offers a plethora of activities for the whole family, particularly during the festive season, reports Wales Online.

The Elf workshop provides children with a unique glimpse into Santa’s workshop, where they can participate in craft activities under the guidance of the head elf. Meanwhile, visitors can enjoy a festive winter walk in the gardens and watch Santa feed the deer. The fairy village consists of charming storybook-like buildings, including miniature houses all themed around fairytales, a willow cathedral, and a giant chess and draughts board. The fairy village is encircled by beautiful, award-winning Grade I listed gardens, complete with their own orangery. The Orangery is home to several large Tulip Trees, a Cork Oak and a very large cut-leaved Beech.

Margam Country Park, recognised for having the 2020 tree of the year – a historic fern-leaved beech with an impressive canopy surrounding the remains of one of the country’s first Cistercian abbeys, is also home to around 500 deer and other thriving wildlife hubs.

The park, built on former coal lands, witnessed extensive deforestation as allied forces scrambled for timber during the war. Now, the grass and scrubland is home to foxes, badgers, hares, grey squirrels, voles, moles and shrews, while woodland birds like the nuthatch, jay, blue tit, stonechat and reed bunting also inhabit the park.

Just two miles south of Port Talbot, Margram is easily accessible via the M4 motorway at Junction 38. Most attractions within the park open at 10am and close at 3.30pm, with fishing hours starting from 9.15am and Charlottes Pantry Café opening from 10.30am.

Car parking charges apply and can be paid using the on-site pay and display machines or with MiPermit, costing £8.50 per car, with an option to purchase an annual season parking ticket. Disabled parking is available at the rear of the estate, with additional disabled parking in the Orangery car park.

Welcome to Screen Gab, the newsletter for everyone who needs zone-out time while spending the holiday with family.

Whether you’re planning to get lazy on the couch together to alleviate your food coma, need to escape the latest round of anxiety-inducing conversation at the dinner table, or just want a streaming companion while feasting on leftovers in the days that follow the holiday, this special Thanksgiving edition of The Times’ weekly guide to at-home viewing has you covered. Just be warned: You must provide your own stretchy waistbands.

Below, find 12ish films and TV shows released this year that our pop culture experts at The Times are looking forward to catching up on this weekend. Gobble, gobble.

“Being Eddie” (Netflix)

A still of Eddie Murphy with his brothers, Vernon Lynch Jr. and Charlie Murphy, in Netflix’s “Being Eddie.”

(Eddie Murphy / Netflix)

For anyone who came of age in the ’80s inhaling comedy, Netflix’s new Eddie Murphy documentary hits a very particular nostalgia vein. Murphy wasn’t just another comedian; he was part of the glue that held Gen X together, the soundtrack to sleepovers, school hallways, summer camps and every half-rewound tape in the house. You passed around VHS copies of “Delirious” and “Raw,” their very pre-PC bits the kind of thing you quoted under your breath in class. You watched “48 Hrs.,” “Trading Places,” “Beverly Hills Cop” and “Coming to America” on a loop, and you mimicked his “Saturday Night Live” creations — Gumby, Mr. Robinson, Buckwheat — on playgrounds, at bus stops, anywhere kids gathered long enough to goof off. Murphy’s magnetism, timing and swagger helped turn him into a new kind of Black Hollywood superstar, and even with the inevitable peaks (“Shrek,” “The Nutty Professor,” “Bowfinger,” “Dreamgirls”) and valleys (“The Adventures of Pluto Nash,” “Norbit”), he carried that stardom across decades. This is more of a victory-lap retrospective than a warts-and-all documentary, and now 64, the famously private Murphy has never been one to reveal much anyway. But when I spoke with him nearly a decade ago while he was promoting the drama “Mr. Church” — candid, funny and strikingly self-aware about fame and longevity — it was a reminder that when he does open the door a bit, he can be as compelling offstage as on. If even a bit of that Murphy turns up here, “Being Eddie” might give us something we rarely get: Eddie talking like Eddie. — Josh Rottenberg

“Eddington” (HBO Max)

Joaquin Phoenix and Pedro Pascal in a scene from “Eddington.”

(A24)

Few films are as purpose-built to start arguments within a family as Ari Aster’s “Eddington.” (And even if you already saw the movie when it was released earlier in the year, it bears repeat viewing, especially in the context of the holidays.) Part contemporary Western, part social satire, the film will bring out PTSD vibes for its heightened, tense reenactment of the very specific mania of the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic. The mayor (Pedro Pascal) and sheriff (Joaquin Phoenix) of a small New Mexico town find themselves at odds over a variety of issues, as a tech company’s push to build a data center in the area looms over everything. If you think your weird relative has some strange ideas about the way the world works, fire up “Eddington” to really put them through their paces, as the film’s “everybody’s wrong” mindset is designed to expose the madness within us all. — Mark Olsen

“Nouvelle Vague” (Netflix), Directed by Jacques Rozier collection (The Criterion Channel)

Zoey Deutch as actress Jean Seberg in “Nouvelle Vague.”

(Photo from Netflix)

I’m not one for biopics, but as a person who owns “Slacker” on Blu-ray and has worn out a 1998 special issue of Cahiers du Cinéma focusing on the French New Wave, I was excited by the notion of Richard Linklater, the most European of American directors, re-creating the creation of Jean-Luc Godard’s 1960 breakthrough film “Breathless.” Appropriately presented in French, in period black-and-white and in the 4:3 aspect ratio, with look-alike stand-ins for Godard (Guillaume Marbeck) and stars Jean Seberg (Zoey Deutch) and Jean-Paul Belmondo (Aubry Dullin), “Nouvelle Vague” looks like a cinephile’s dream. I’ll watch it as a curtain raiser for my continuing exploration of the Criterion Channel’s celebration of director Jacques Rozier, whose long-form fictional films feel like cinéma vérité and whose 1963 “Paparazzi” documents the making of Godard’s “Contempt” and the news photographers fighting to get a shot of Brigitte Bardot. — Robert Lloyd

“KPop Demon Hunters” (Netflix)

Netflix and Sony Pictures Animation’s hit movie “KPop Demon Hunters” has gained a massive following since it was released in June.

(Netflix)

Is this the weekend I finally watch? That would be smart. I’ve already been berated by several scowling tweens, not to mention a few Oscar prognosticators, serene in their conviction that Netflix’s massive viral hit will leave the ceremony golden. Four of the animated movie’s earworms have cracked the Billboard Top 10 at the same time, a feat that could make a Gibb brother green with envy. In preparation for voting in some critics’ organizations, I’ll stream the movie at home, though I’m already wishing I’d gone to one of the film’s many sing-along screenings, just to feel the phenomenon firsthand. If you no longer recognize me on the other side, call it an occupational hazard. I’m done hiding, now I’m shining, like I’m born to be. — Joshua Rothkopf

“Billy Joel: And So It Goes” (HBO Max)

Billy Joel in concert circa 1977 as seen in “Billy Joel: And So It Goes.”

(HBO)

I have caught a few bits and pieces of this documentary while flipping channels, and always quickly switch it off. I’ve been a huge Billy Joel fan since “The Stranger” album and have seen him in concert a few times, including the show when he ripped up the Los Angeles Times’ review by music critic Robert Hilburn. The documentary is two parts and nearly five hours long, so I was determined to give it my full attention. Billy Joel is one of pop music’s treasures, and the ups and downs of his personal life should make for fascinating viewing. The bonus will be diving into the 155-track (!!!) playlist on Spotify that is a companion to the documentary. (HBO Max) — Greg Braxton

“Pluribus” (Apple TV)

Rhea Seehorn in “Pluribus.”

(Apple TV+)

Rhea Seehorn as a cranky, cynical, misanthropic writer who remains mysteriously immune, and super-angry, when an alien-generated RNA virus turns the world into one huge seemingly calm and helpful collective consciousness? Sign me right up. As Robert Lloyd points out in his excellent review, the hive mind is the most terrifying of all the sci-fi premises. The universal niceness that results here also seems very much at odds with it being a melting pot of all human experience so I can’t wait to see what creator Vince Gilligan (“Breaking Bad”) is going to do with that. But early glimpses of Seehorn’s Carol fighting for her, and humanity’s, right to be prickly and pissed off promises all kinds of insights into the difference between empathy and sedation, not to mention a fabulous chance to watch Seehorn shine as one of many women on TV today who are willing to state the obvious even when it appears no one is listening. — Mary McNamara

“Paradise” (Hulu, Disney +)

James Marsden and Sterling K. Brown in a scene from “Paradise.”

(Brian Roedel / Disney)

This Hulu drama caught my attention when it hit the streamer early this year, but at the time, I was already knee-deep in theories about Lumon as I dove into the second season of “Severance.” I couldn’t handle a political conspiracy thriller on top of that. Created by Dan Fogelman (“This Is Us,” “Crazy, Stupid, Love”), the series stars Sterling K. Brown as Xavier Collins, a secret service agent accused of killing the president, Cal Bradford (James Marsden). The murder and the search for the true killer unfold inside an underground community after a massive catastrophe threatens the extinction of the human race. So, that’s obviously a lot. But I’m never one to turn down a series that keeps you guessing — and my colleague Robert Lloyd confirmed in his review that this one does just that. I’ve also had enough people whose taste I trust recommend “Paradise” to me that I think it’s time to tune in. And it’s getting a second season that’s expected to arrive sometime in 2026. If anything, I’m just curious to see Fogelman’s take on this genre. Plus, I’ll watch anything Marsden or Brown are in. — Kaitlyn Huamani

“Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake” (HBO Max)

A still from Season 2 of “Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake.”

(HBO)

What’s Friendsgiving if not a time to reconnect with longtime pals who you might not get to see as often as you like? That’s why I’ll be spending my long weekend catching up on Season 2 of “Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake.” This spinoff of the acclaimed Cartoon Network series features gender-swapped versions of beloved “Adventure Time” characters — Finn and Jake — who are endearing in their own right. The first season of the show involved Fionna, a young woman with an unfulfilling job living paycheck to paycheck along with her pet cat, Cake, discovering that her world was an unauthorized creation of a cosmic entity. The pair then set off on a magical, multiversal journey to save it. There’s admittedly quite a bit of “Adventure Time” lore involved, but yearning for a fantastic escape from the daily stresses of a fairly mundane life is pretty relatable even if you aren’t personally acquainted with recovering ice wizards. The show is charming and weird and all about friendship — a cozy comfort I am definitely looking forward to getting wrapped up in again. — Tracy Brown

“Companion” (HBO Max, Prime Video)

Sophie Thatcher in the sci-fi thriller “Companion.”

(Warner Bros. Pictures)

The poster for “Companion” put me off due to a personal jinx: I don’t trust horror movies where the heroine has perfect hair. Usually, I dodge some dreck. But all year long, people have elbowed me to catch up with Drew Hancock’s debut about a nervous beauty (“Yellowjackets’” Sophie Thatcher) stuck in a vacation house with her newish boyfriend (Jack Quaid) and his cruel and snobby best pals. Produced by Zach Cregger of “Barbarian” and “Weapons,” it’s apparently an energetic, empathetic thriller packed with twists. If you like watching movies blank (as I do), don’t Google it. Spoilers abound. But “Companion” is streaming, and has been on every in-flight entertainment system I’ve come across since May. Assuming it lives up to the buzz, I may have to rewire my own codes. — Amy Nicholson

“All Her Fault” (Peacock)

In the series, Dakota Fanning and Sarah Snook play working mothers Jenny and Marissa.

(Peacock)

Upper-class mess is my favorite genre of TV. So I’ve been desperate to dig into this series that people in my orbit promise is one of this year’s most addicting shows. Based on a novel by Andrea Mara, the psychological thriller stars Sarah Snook as a mom who goes to pick up her son from a play date, only to be greeted by a stranger who claims there is no one there by that name. Uh, what? Twists and turns ensue from there in this deep dive of what it’s like being a working mother. Spoiler alert: It apparently gives a striking portrayal of male ego and incompetence, and how that shapes the lives of women around them. Gee, wonder what that’s like. The series also stars Dakota Fanning, Jake Lacy and Jay Ellis. — Yvonne Villarreal

“The Chair Company” (HBO Max)

Tim Robinson stars in HBO’s “The Chair Company.”

(Sarah Shatz / HBO)

Have you ever been slighted at work? Did you ever think it was part of a conspiracy to take you down? If the answer is no, you might be a normal person and this show may not be for you. But if you’ve ever wondered if something small could be much bigger, and if you get some sick satisfaction from going down rabbit holes on the internet to find answers to your questions, then this show is for you. “The Chair Company” is the latest series to come from comedic writers Zach Kanin and Tim Robinson, who stars as Ron, a man who becomes obsessed with reaching the manufacturer of the office chair he unexpectedly broke, leading him down a bizarre path involving an empty warehouse, a giant red ball and Jeeps. With the finale airing Sunday, it’s the perfect time to catch up on the show (episodes are only a half hour each). It’s already been renewed for a second season, which makes me wonder if we’ll get to the bottom of Ron’s mystery or if the chair will be pulled out from under us. — Maira Garcia

WILLOWS — As hospital staff carted away medical equipment from abandoned patient rooms, Theresa McNabb, 74, roused herself and painstakingly applied make-up for the first time in weeks, finishing with a mauve lipstick that made her eyes pop.

“I feel a little anxiety,” McNabb said. She was still taking multiple intravenous antibiotics for the massive infection that had almost killed her, was unsteady on her feet and was unsure how she was going to manage shopping and cooking food for herself once she returned to her apartment after six weeks in the hospital.

But she couldn’t stay at Glenn Medical Center. It was closing.

The hospital — which for more than seven decades has treated residents of its small farm town about 75 miles north of Sacramento, along with countless victims of car crashes on nearby Interstate 5 and a surprising number of crop-duster pilots wounded in accidents — shut its doors on October 21.

McNabb was the last patient.

Registered nurse Ronald Loewen, 74, checks on one of the last few patients. Loewen, a resident of Glenn County and a former Mennonite school teacher, said the hospital closing is “a piece of our history gone.”

Nurses and other hospital workers gathered at her room to ceremonially push her wheelchair outside and into the doors of a medical transport van. Then they stood on the lawn, looking bereft.

They had all just lost their jobs. Their town had just lost one of its largest employers. And the residents — many of whom are poor— had lost their access to emergency medical care. What would happen to all of them now? Would local residents’ health grow worse? Would some of them die preventable deaths?

These are questions that elected officials and policymakers may soon be confronting in rural communities across California and the nation. Cuts to Medicaid funding and the Affordable Care Act are likely rolling down from Washington D.C. and hitting small hospitals already teetering at the brink of financial collapse. Even before these cuts hit, a 2022 study found that half of the hospitals in California were operating in the red. Already this fall: Palo Verde Hospital in Blythe filed for bankruptcy and Southern Inyo Hospital in Lone Pine sought emergency funds.

But things could get far worse: A June analysis released by four Democrats in the U.S. Senate found that many more hospitals in California could be at risk of closure in the face of federal healthcare cuts.

“It’s like the beginning of a tidal wave,” said Peggy Wheeler, vice president of policy of the California Hospital Association. “I’m concerned we will lose a number of rural hospitals, and then the whole system may be at risk.”

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1. Medical assistant Kylee Lutz, 26, right, hugs activities coordinator Rita Robledo on closing day. Lutz, who will continue to work in the clinic that remains open, said through tears, “It’s not going to be the same without you ladies.” 2. Rose Mary Wampler, 88, sees physician assistant Chris Pilaczynski at the clinic. Wampler, who lives alone across the street from Glenn Medical Center, said, “Old people can’t drive far away. I’m all by myself, I would just dial 9-1-1.”

Glenn Medical’s financing did not collapse because of the new federal cuts. Rather, the hospital was done in by a federal decision this year to strip the hospital’s “Critical Access” designation, which enabled it to receive increased federal reimbursement. The hospital, though it is the only one in Glenn County, is just 32 miles from the nearest neighboring hospital under a route mapped by federal officials — less than the 35 miles required under the law. Though that distance hasn’t changed, the federal government has now decided to enforce its rules.

Local elected officials and hospital administrators fought for months to convince the federal government to grant them an exception. Now, with the doors closed, policy experts and residents of Willows said they are terrified by the potential consequences.

“People are going to die,” predicted Glenn County Supervisor Monica Rossman. She said she feared that older people in her community without access to transportation will put off seeking care until it is too late, while people of all ages facing emergency situations won’t be able to get help in time.

Kellie Amaru, a licensed vocational nurse who has worked at Glenn Medical Center for four years, reacts after watching a co-worker leave after working their final shift at the hospital.

But even for people who don’t face a life or death consequence, the hospital’s closure is still a body blow, said Willows Vice Mayor Rick Thomas. He and others predicted many people will put off routine medical care, worsening their health. And then there’s the economic health of the town.

Willows, which sits just east of I-5 in the center of the Sacramento Valley, has a proud history stretching back nearly 150 years in a farm region that now grows rice, almonds and walnuts. About 6,000 people live in the town, which has an economic development webpage featuring images of a tractor, a duck and a pair of hunters standing in the tall grass.

“We’ve lost 150 jobs already from the hospital [closing],” Thomas said. “I’m very worried about what it means. A hospital is good for new business. And it’s been hard enough to attract new business to the town.”

Dismantling ‘a legacy of rural healthcare’

From the day it started taking patients on Nov. 21,1950, Glenn General Hospital (as it was then called) was celebrated not just for its role in bringing medical care to the little farm town, but also for its role in helping Willows grow and prosper.

“It was quite state-of-the-art back in 1950,” said Lauren Still, the hospital’s chief administrative officer.

When the hospital’s first baby was born a few days later — little Glenda May Nieheus clocked in at a robust 8 pounds, 11 ounces — the arrival was celebrated on the front page of the Willows Daily Journal.

But as a small hospital in a small town, the institution struggled almost immediately. Within a few years, according to a 1957 story in the local newspaper, the hospital was already grappling with the problem of nurses leaving in droves for higher-paying positions elsewhere. A story the following year revealed that hospital administrators were forcing a maintenance worker to step in as an ambulance driver on weekends — without the requisite chauffeur’s license — to save money.

In a sign of how small the town is, that driver was Still’s boyfriend’s grandfather.

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1. A customer walks into Willows Hardware store. 2. Cheerleaders perform during Willows High School’s Homecoming JV football game against Durham at Willows High School. 3. The press box at Willows High School’s football field is decorated with previous Northern Section CIF Championship wins.

Still, the institution endured, its grassy campus and low-slung wings perched proudly on the east end of town. Generations of the town’s babies were born there. As they grew up, they went into the emergency room for X-rays, stitches and treatment for fevers and infections. Their parents and grandparents convalesced there and sometimes died there, cared for by nurses who were part of the community.

“They saved my brother’s life. They saved my dad’s life,” said Keith Long, 34, who works at Red 88, an Asian fusion restaurant in downtown Willows that is a popular lunch spot for hospital staff.

Glenn Medical’s finances, however, often faltered. Experts in healthcare economics say rural hospitals like Glenn Medical generally have fewer patients than suburban and urban communities, and those patients tend to be older and sicker, meaning they are more expensive to treat. What’s more, a higher share of those patients are low-income and enrolled in Medi-Cal and Medicare, which generally has lower reimbursement rates than private insurance. Smaller hospitals also cannot take advantage of economies of scale the way bigger institutions can, nor can they bring the same muscle to negotiations for higher rates with private insurance companies.

Across California, in the first decades of the 20th century, rural hospitals were running out of money and closing their doors.

T-Ann Pearce, who has worked at Glenn Medical Center for six years, sits in the medical surgical unit during one of her last shifts with only a few remaining patients left to care.

In 2000, Glenn Medical went bankrupt, but was saved when it was awarded the “Critical Access” designation by the federal government that allowed it to receive higher reimbursement rates, Still said.

But by late 2017, the hospital was in trouble again.

A private for-profit company, American Advanced Management, swooped to the rescue of Glenn Medical and a nearby hospital in Colusa County, buying them and keeping them open. The Modesto-based company specializes in buying distressed rural hospitals and now operates 14 hospitals in California, Utah and Texas.

The hospital set about building back its staff and improving its reputation for patient care in the community, which had been tarnished in part by the 2013 death of a young mother and her unborn baby.

“We’ve been on an upswing,” Still said, noting that indicators of quality of care and patient satisfaction have risen dramatically in recent years.

Then came the letter from the federal Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services. On April 23, the federal agency wrote Glenn Medical’s management company with bad news: A recent review had found that Glenn Medical was “in noncompliance” with “distance requirements.” In plain English, federal officials had looked at a map and determined that Glenn Medical was not 35 miles from the nearest hospital by so-called main roads as required by law — it was just 32. Nor was it 15 miles by secondary roads. The hospital was going to lose its Critical Access designation. The hit to the hospital’s budget would be about 40% of its $28 million in net revenue. It could not survive that cut.

At first, hospital officials said they weren’t too worried.

“We thought, there’s no way they’re going to close down hospitals” over a few miles of road, Still, the hospital’s chief executive, said.

Especially, Still said, because it appeared there were numerous California hospitals in the same pickle. A 2013 federal Inspector General Report found that a majority of the 1,300 Critical Access hospitals in the country do not meet the distance requirement. That includes dozens in California.

Still and other hospital officials flew to Washington D.C. to make their case, sure that when they explained that one of the so-called main roads that connects Glenn Medical to its nearest hospital wasn’t actually one at all, and often flooded in the winter, the problem would be solved. The route everyone actually used, she said, was 35.7 miles.

“No roads have changed. No facilities have moved,” administrators wrote to federal officials. “And yet this CMS decision now threatens to dismantle a legacy of rural health care stability.”

Without it, the administrator wrote, “lives will be lost for certain.”

But, Still said, their protestations fell on deaf ears.

In August came the final blow: Glenn Medical would lose its Critical Access funding by April 2026.

The news set off a panic not just in Glenn County but at hospitals around the state.

1

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1. A bicyclist passes by Glenn Medical Center. First opened to patients on November 21, 1950, the center was called Glenn General Hospital then. 2. A member of the staff signs a farewell board on closing day at Glenn Medical Center on October 21, 2025.

At least three other hospitals got letters from the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid saying their Critical Access status was under review, Wheeler said: Bear Valley Community Hospital in Big Bear Lake, George L. Mee Memorial in Monterey County and Santa Ynez Valley Cottage Hospital in Solvang. The hospitals in Monterey and Big Bear Lake provided data demonstrating they met the requirements for the status.

Cottage Hospital, however, did not, despite showing that access in and out of the area where the hospital is located was sometimes blocked by wildfires or rockslides.

Cottage Hospital officials did not respond to questions about what that might mean for their facility.

Asked about these situations, officials at the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid said the law does not give the agency flexibility to consider factors such as weather, for example, in designating a critical assess hospital. They added the hospital must demonstrate there is no driving route that would make it ineligible based on driving distances included in the statute.

Jeff Griffiths, a county supervisor in Inyo County who is also the president of the California Assn. of Counties, said he has been following the grim hospital financing news around the state with mounting worry.

The hospital in his county, Southern Inyo, came close to running out of money earlier this year, he said, and with more federal cuts looming, “I don’t know how you can expect these hospitals to survive.”

“It’s terrifying for our area,” Griffiths said, noting that Inyo County, which sits on the eastern side of the Sierra, has no easy access to any medical care on the other side of the giant mountain peaks.

‘This is the final call’

In Willows, once word got out that the hospital would lose its funding, nurses began looking for new jobs.

By late summer, so many people had left that administrators realized they had no choice but to shutter the emergency room, which closed Sept. 30.

Helena Griffith, 62, one of the last patients, waves goodbye as patient transport Jolene Guerra pushes her wheelchair down the hallway on October 20, 2025.

Through it all, McNabb, the 74-year-old patient receiving intravenous antibiotics, remained in her bed, getting to know the nurses who buzzed around her.

She became aware that when they weren’t caring for her, many of them were trying to figure out what they would do with their lives once they lost their jobs.

On the hospital’s last day, nurse Amanda Shelton gifted McNabb a new sweater to wear home.

When McNabb gushed over the sweetness of the gesture, Shelton teared up. “It’s not every day that it will be the last patient I’ll ever have,” she told her.

As McNabb continued to gather her things, Shelton retreated to the hospital’s recreation room, where patients used to gather for games or conversation.

With all the patients save McNabb gone, Shelton and some other hospital staff took up a game of dominoes, the trash talk of the game peppered with bittersweet remembrances of their time working in the creaky old building.

Registered nurse Ronald Loewen, 74, looks out the window on closing day at Glenn Medical Center on October 21, 2025. Loewen, who grew up and attended school in Willows, had four children delivered at Glenn Medical, two of them survived, and took care of former classmates at this hospital, says the hospital closing is, “a piece of our history gone.”

Shelton said she is not sure what is next for her. She loved Glenn Medical, she said, because of its community feel. Many people came for long stays or were frequent patients, and the staff was able to get to know them — and to feel like they were healing them.

“You got to know people. You got to know their family, or if they didn’t have any family,” you knew that too, she said. She added that in many hospitals, being a nurse can feel like being an extension of a computer. But at Glenn Medical, she said, “you actually got to look in someone’s eyes.”

The building itself was in dire shape, she noted. Nothing was up to modern code. It didn’t have central air conditioning, and it was heated by an old-fashioned boiler. “I mean, I have never even heard of a boiler room” before coming to work there, she said.

And yet within the walls, she said, “It’s community.”

Bradley Ford, the emergency room manager, said he felt the same way and was determined to pay tribute to all the people who had made it so.

At 7 p.m. on the emergency room’s last night of service, Ford picked up his microphone and beamed his voice out to the hospital and to all the ambulances, fire trucks and others tuned to the signal.

He had practiced his speech enough times that he thought he could get through it without crying — although during his rehearsals he had never yet managed it.

“This is the final call,” Ford said. “‘After 76 years of dedicated service, the doors are closing. Service is ending. On behalf of all the physicians, nurses and staff who have walked these halls, it is with heavy hearts that we mark the end of this chapter.”

Nurses and other staff members recorded a video of Ford making his announcement, and passed it among themselves, tearing up every time they listened to it.

In an interview after the hospital had closed, Ford said he was one of the lucky ones: He had found a new job.

It was close enough to his home in Willows that he could commute — although Ford said he wasn’t sure how long he would remain in his beloved little town without access to emergency medical care there.

Rose Mary Wampler, 88, waits to have blood drawn at the lab beside a cordoning off, signaling the closure of the hospital side of Glenn Medical Center, on October 22, 2025. Wampler lives alone across the street from the hospital.

Rose Mary Wampler, 88, has lived in Willows since 1954 and now resides in a little house across the street from the hospital. Her three children were born at Glenn Medical, and Wampler herself was a patient there for two months last year, when she was stricken with pneumonia and internal bleeding. She said she was fearful of the idea of driving more than 30 miles for healthcare elsewhere.

She looked out her window on a recent afternoon at the now-shuttered hospital.

“It looks like somebody just shut off the whole city, there’s nowhere to go get help,” she said.

Glenn Medical Center patient Richard Putnam, 86, closes the window in his hospital room. A month shy of it’s 75th year, the hospital closed on Oct 21, 2025.

(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)

Times photographer Christina House contributed to this report.

For Marina Lacerda, the upcoming publication of U.S. government files on Jeffrey Epstein represents more than an opportunity for justice.

She says she was just 14 when Epstein started sexually abusing her at his New York mansion, but she struggles to recall much of what happened because it is such a dark period in her life.

Now, she’s hoping that the files will reveal more about the trauma that distorted so much of her adolescence.

“I feel that the government and the FBI knows more than I do, and that scares me, because it’s my life, it’s my past,” she told the Associated Press.

President Trump signed legislation last week that will force the Justice Department to release documents from its voluminous files on Epstein.

“We have waited long enough. We’ve fought long enough,” Lacerda said.

It isn’t clear yet how much new information will be in the files, gathered over two decades of investigations into Epstein’s alleged sexual abuse of many girls and women.

Some of his accusers expect the files to provide a level of transparency they had hardly allowed themselves to believe would materialize, but the release of the documents will be a more complicated moment for others.

Two federal investigations cut short

The FBI and police in Palm Beach, Fla., began investigating Epstein in the mid-2000s after several underage girls said he had paid them for sex acts. He pleaded guilty in 2008 to charges including procuring a minor for prostitution, but a secret deal with the U.S. attorney in Florida — future Trump Cabinet member Alex Acosta — allowed him to avoid a federal prosecution. He served little more than a year in custody.

Jena-Lisa Jones says she was abused by Epstein in Palm Beach in 2002, when she was 14. She did not report the abuse to the police at the time, but she later became one of many accusers to sue the multimillionaire.

The Miami Herald published a series of articles about Epstein in 2018 that exposed new details about how the federal prosecution was shelved. A year later, federal prosecutors in New York, where Epstein owned a mansion, revived the case and charged him with sex trafficking.

Jones said she was interviewed during that federal investigation and was prepared to testify in court.

“It was very important for me to have my moment, for him to see my face and hear my words, and me have that control and power back,” Jones said.

But that day never came.

Epstein killed himself in a federal jail cell in New York City in August 2019.

In lieu of her day in court, Jones and others are hoping for a public reckoning with the publication of the government files on Epstein.

While the government only ever charged two people in connection with the abuse case — Epstein and his longtime confidant Ghislaine Maxwell, who is in prison for her related crimes — at least one of Epstein’s accusers has claimed she was instructed to have sex with other rich and powerful men.

Jones didn’t make similar claims, but said she believes the documents could map out a “broad scheme” involving others.

“I’m hoping they’re shaking a little bit and that they have what’s coming for them,” Jones said.

Filling in the gaps

Lacerda, now 37, is also hoping the files will clarify her own personal experience, which is muddled by the pain she said she endured at that time in her life.

“I was just a child and it’s just trauma. That’s what trauma does to your brain,” Lacerda said.

An immigrant from Brazil, Lacerda said she was working three jobs to support herself and her family the summer before 9th grade when a friend said she could make $300 if she gave Epstein massages.

The first time she massaged Epstein, he told her to remove her shirt, she said.

Lacerda said she was soon spending so much time working for Epstein that she dropped out of school. The sexual abuse persisted until she turned 17, when Epstein informed her that she was “too old,” she said.

Lacerda wondered whether the files might include videos and photographs of her and other victims at Epstein’s properties.

“I need to know — for my healing process and for the adult in me — what I did as a child,” Lacerda said. “It will be re-traumatizing, but it’s transparency — and I need it,” she said.

Accusers wonder, why now?

For Lacerda, the elation around the upcoming release of the files gave way to familiar feelings for many women who survive abuse: fear and paranoia.

“In the heat of the moment, we were like, ‘Wow, this is like, everything that we’ve been fighting for.’ And then we had to take a moment and be like, ‘Wait a minute. Why is he releasing the files all of a sudden?’ ” Lacerda said.

The abrupt change in the political momentum made her uneasy. She wondered whether the documents would be doctored or redacted to protect people connected to Epstein.

Others echoed her concerns, and wondered if the government would sufficiently protect victims who have remained anonymous, who fear scrutiny and harassment if their names were to become public.

“For the rest of my life, I will never truly trust the government because of what they’ve done to us,” Jones said.

Haley Robson, who says she was abused by Epstein when she was 16, has the same concerns.

Robson was a leading voice in advocating for the Florida legislation signed in 2024 that unsealed the grand jury transcripts from the 2006 state case against Epstein.

She said the political maneuvering in recent months about the files led to nonstop anxiety, reminiscent of how she felt when she was abused as a teenager.

“I guess it really comes from the trauma I’ve endured, because this is kind of what Jeffrey Epstein did to us. You know, he wasn’t transparent. He played these manipulation tactics,” she said. “It’s triggering for anybody who’s been in that situation.”

Still, Robson said she is trying to savor the victory while she can.

“This is the first time since 2006 where I don’t feel like the underdog,” she said.

Riddle writes for the Associated Press.

Canadian officials are investigating the death of actor Spencer Lofranco, who died Monday.

The British Columbia Coroners Service confirmed its investigation on Friday, days after the “Gotti” and “Unbroken” actor’s brother announced his death on social media. Lofranco died Tuesday at age 33.

“My brother. You lived a life only some could dream of. You changed people[‘s] lives, and now you are with God,” Santino Lofranco wrote in a Facebook statement shared Thursday morning. “I will always love you and miss you BEAR. RIP.”

The statement did not include a cause of death. A spokesperson for the British Columbia Coroners Service did not share additional details, pending the ongoing investigation.

Spencer Lofranco most notably shared the screen with John Travolta in the critically-panned John Gotti biopic “Gotti” and appeared in Angelina Jolie’s Oscar-nominated World War II-set drama “Unbroken.” His credits also include films “At Middleton,” “Jamesy Boy,” “Dixieland” and “King Cobra” and the 2015 short film “Home,” according to IMDb.

In his “Jamesy Boy” review for The Times, critic Martin Tsai wrote, “newcomer Lofranco deserves credit for carrying the film.” Starring as ex-convict-turned-filmmaker James Burns, Lofranco “holds his own against vets” Ving Rhames, Mary-Louise Parker and James Woods, Tsai added.

Lofranco, born Oct. 18, 1992, told Interview in 2014 that he became interested in acting at age 17 despite his father’s wishes for him to be a hockey player or lawyer. His mother was a dancer, musician and actor and would often take him along to auditions, he said.

Amid his brief acting career, Lofranco faced legal trouble for running over a cyclist with his SUV in Hollywood in 2013. The cyclist suffered severe injuries, including a broken hip and several fractures, according to CBS News. Officials said Lofranco got out of his vehicle after the accident to apologize to his victim before leaving the scene.

A judge, after his victim’s urging for a harsher sentence, sentenced Lofranco in 2015 to 50 days of community service, two years of probation and $161,000 in restitution.

Over the last year, Lofranco often posted to Instagram, sharing photos of his outfits, tattoos and graffiti art. In his final Instagram post, a black-and-white selfie, Lofranco seemingly wrote about starting a new chapter of his life.

“Period the best is yet to come,” he said, after encouraging fans to follow his OnlyFans account. “The hair is on it way it’s got held up customs. Crazy.”

When he spoke to Interview more than a decade ago, Lofranco said his future path included doing “real-life, candid films.”

“I don’t want to be thrown into anything that could jeopardize my career. I want to be wise about what I choose,” he said. “Actors whose choices I’ve liked are Sean Penn, Leonardo DiCaprio, River Phoenix.”

In his riveting book “The Insider: Malcolm Cowley and the Triumph of American Literature,” veteran book editor Gerald Howard makes a strong claim for Cowley as a crucial catalyst for the efflorescence of American fiction in the years following World War I. He’s not wrong: Working as a critic, author, essayist and editor, Cowley often provided a lone voice in the wilderness for neglected masters.

As consulting editor for publishing house Viking Press in the ‘40s, Cowley resuscitated William Faulkner’s career at a time when most of his books were out of print. Cowley also ushered in Jack Kerouac’s seminal novel of the Beat Generation, “On the Road,” working for seven years to get it published and finally succeeding in doing so in 1957.

For this week’s newsletter, I spoke with Howard about Faulkner, Kerouac and the death of criticism.

✍️ Author Chat

Your book details Cowley’s seven–year odyssey to get Kerouac’s “On the Road” published in 1957 and point out that, contrary to Kerouac’s criticisms regarding the editing, Cowley, in fact, had nothing to do with changes that straightened out his prose.

Cowley took a lot of crap from the Kerouac crowd because Kerouac, in a drunken moment, blamed all his troubles with Viking on Cowley when Cowley was innocent. The Kerouac scholars and biographers don’t quite grasp that a good part of the editing job was assigned to other folks at Viking. They added all those commas in the manuscript that Kerouac was so upset about. Cowley was not an advocate of making big changes to the book; he thought Kerouac’s voice was so vital, so fresh.

Perhaps Cowley’s greatest contribution to 20th century American literature is his rehabilitation of Faulkner’s career at a time when all of his books were out of print. In 1944, he was down and out; six years later, he won the Nobel Prize. Cowley had a lot to do with that.

There was something going on in Europe at the time that was somewhat disconnected from what was going on in the United States. Faulkner’s reputation in France in particular was very high; Andre Gide and Sartre were admirers. But in the United States, Faulkner didn’t sell, he had a very mixed reputation, and he was not well understood. Cowley’s first intention was to write a very long essay about Faulkner’s work, which was serialized in various publications, and then to assemble “The Portable Faulkner” for Viking, which sold well. So the ground was prepared by Cowley.

Critics are “so central to a useful, fruitful culture. I myself don’t particularly care to live in a culture that doesn’t have them,” veteran editor Gerald Howard tells The Times.

(Penguin Random House)

What’s remarkable is the catholicity of Cowley’s taste. He studied Racine at Harvard, but then recognizes the greatness of a disparate group of writers: Faulkner, John Cheever, Kerouac, Ken Kesey, all of whom he shepherds into print.

He didn’t have a program or a thesis. He had taste. He was just a pure creature of literature, immensely versatile and conversant with everything that seemed to matter in the literary universe. Up until the ‘60s, he had his radar up and running. He didn’t believe in a fixed canon.

Cowley was an editor of the New Republic from 1929 to 1944, a small-circulation magazine with outsized influence, featuring critics like Edmund Wilson that generated the cultural conversation. Critics have no such sway anymore. Do you feel there has been something lost from that diminishment of the individual critical voice?

We can let all the online measurements determine the things that people like and allow those things to rise to the surface. But I think the role of the critic is to sort through a vast amount of material to find the things that are really valuable, really interesting. Not just books, of course — also movies, art, music. They’re so central to a useful, fruitful culture. I myself don’t particularly care to live in a culture that doesn’t have them.

Is a maverick editor like Malcolm Cowley possible now?

Probably not. The world that he moved in was a closed world. There wasn’t a lot of room for people who were not white, male and heterosexual. It’s disappointing that he was not more interested in African American literature. He should have been. There are plenty of those people around that he knew. And just appreciating Ralph Ellison was not enough.

(This Q&A was edited for length and clarity.)

📰 The Week(s) in Books

(Los Angeles Times photo illustration; Cover by Macmillan)

Robert Allen Papinchak was enthralled by Margaret Atwood’s memoir, “Book of Lives,” in which the author of “A Handmaid’s Tale” unpacks “the challenging symbiotic relationship between life and art.”

You may have seen the Netflix series about the “OneTaste” sex cult, but that’s not even the half of it, according to Ellen Huet’s book “Empire of Orgasm,” which Julia M. Klein calls a “deeply troubling” narrative of coercion and financial ruin.

Bad Religion guitarist and overall punk legend Brian Baker has a new book of photographs called “The Road,” and Josh Chesler chatted with him about it: “I think I have a knack for being at the right place at the right time.”

Photographer Annie Leibowitz has dropped a “stunning” new book of pictures called “Annie Leibowitz: Women,” according to Meredith Maran.

📖 Bookstore Faves

Arcana has served the L.A. market for over 40 years, currently occupying space in the Helms Bakery building in Culver City.

(Joshua White)

Given the vicissitudes of the retail book market, it’s a minor miracle that Arcana: Books on the Arts has survived 41 years. Arcana, which since 2012 has occupied space in the Helms Bakery building in Culver City after a long run at the Third Street Promenade, is the best art bookstore in L.A., offering a vast selection spanning photography, painting, fashion, graphic design and much more. I spoke with owner Lee Kaplan about what is hot in his store right now.

What books are selling right now?

We are closing in on the Holidays, so lots of great new titles are showing up daily. A small selection of those which are selling well include “Bruce Weber. My Education,” “Kerry James Marshall: The Histories,” “William Eggleston: The Last Dyes” and “Jane Birkin: Icon of Style.”

Is there any particular kind of book that tends to do well for you?

Perennials tend to be more comprehensive, hardbound volumes of well-known artists such as Edward Ruscha, Andy Warhol, John Baldessari and Jean-Michel Basquiat; photographers Robert Frank, Todd Hido, William Eggleston, Ed Templeton; architects Frank Gehry, Herzog & De Meuron, Johnston Marklee, and Fashion brands like Comme des Garcons, Supreme, Dior, etc. That noted, we sell a lot of inexpensive zines by creators few have heard of, yet.

Arcana has survived a lot of the ups and downs of the retail book business. What do you think is the secret to your longevity?

Moving to a large, beautifully designed space in Culver City’s Helms Bakery in 2012 (after decades on Santa Monica’s Third Street Promenade) turned out to be a fortunate decision. We have room for scores of thousands of books that we have amassed over the years situated in a lively, artistic and design-conscious neighborhood.

Given the internet, why do people still value looking at art in books?

These are two vastly different experiences, and for me, there is no substitute for holding a book as a tangible, tactile object. Thankfully, there are still many, many visitors daily that seem to feel the same.

Arcana: Books on the Arts is at 8675 Washington Blvd. in Culver City.

(Please note: The Times may earn a commission through links to Bookshop.org, whose fees support independent bookstores.)

The ongoing US actions are ‘suffocating the social fabric of Cuban society’, according to the expert.

The United States must lift unilateral sanctions imposed on Cuba as they are “causing significant effects across all aspects of life” more than six decades after they were imposed during the early part of Fidel Castro’s leadership, according to a senior United Nations expert.

The “extensive regime of economic, trade and financial restrictions” against the island nation marks the longest-running unilateral sanctions policy in US history, said Alena Douhan, special rapporteur on the negative impact of unilateral coercive measures on human rights.

Only the US Congress can lift the Cold War-era embargo on communist-run Cuba, whose government has maintained that the country “will not surrender” to Washington’s “policy of collective punishment”.

“As a result, generations of Cubans have lived under unilateral coercive measures, which has shaped the country’s economic and social landscape,” Douhan said in a statement released on Friday.

The UN official cited reports that Washington’s imposed measures have progressively tightened since 2018, with further sanctions imposed on the already existing ones and a significant intensification in 2021 following Cuba’s re-designation as a so-called “state sponsor of terrorism”.

Other countries and international companies also over-comply with the embargoes in an effort to steer clear of being targeted with secondary sanctions, which Douhan said affects the government and the people’s ability for long-term planning, “suffocating the social fabric of Cuban society”.

US governments have for decades ignored international calls to remove the sanctions on Cuba, including the overwhelming UN General Assembly vote at the end of October that showed global support for an end to the embargo for a 33rd year.

According to the UN rapporteur, there are shortages of food, medicine, electricity, water, essential machinery and spare parts in Cuba, while a growing emigration of skilled workers, including medical staff, engineers and teachers, is further straining the country.

The accumulative effect has “severe consequences for the enjoyment of human rights, including the rights to life, food, health and development”, Douhan said.

Cuba has suffered a series of electricity blackouts, grid collapses that have rocked the island of 10 million over the past year.

Even when the US issues very limited licences and exemptions, the UN expert said investors remain wary of committing to long-term projects since there could be a policy shift in Washington.

“I urge all states to adhere to international law principles and norms and ensure that humanitarian concerns are fully respected, grounded in principles of mutual respect, solidarity, cooperation and multilateralism,” she said.

Douhan will present a thorough report to the UN Human Rights Council on the effect of the US sanctions in September 2026, following meetings with government officials, international agencies, church representatives, members of academia, medical personnel and the private sector.

Life has a way of taking things from us that we think we can’t do without. Often that means the death of a loved one, but sometimes it can be home — and with it, our grounding in the world. When we meet Dusty, the laconic protagonist of “Rebuilding,” he has already lost so much. His marriage is over. His parents have been dead and buried for quite a while. But as this modest drama begins, Dusty is grappling with the most crushing of blows: His cherished 200-acre family ranch in Colorado has burned down in a devastating wildfire. He survived but he might as well be a ghost.

Dusty is played by Josh O’Connor, who lately has cornered the market on sensitive, passive outsiders. With his wiry frame and shy eyes, the British actor has demonstrated in films such as “La Chimera” and “The Mastermind” an appetite for soft-spoken characters who exude a gentle masculinity. We don’t know if Dusty’s voice is noticeably hushed because of his recent tragedy, but as he tries to pick up the pieces, this lonesome cowboy drifts through his days, doing his best to pretend he’s holding up OK.

Writer-director Max Walker-Silverman’s second feature shares with his first a sympathy for strong, silent types. His flinty 2022 debut “A Love Song” was drenched in melancholy, casting Dale Dickey and Wes Studi as aging childhood friends reunited, a tentative romance faintly sparking. Similarly, “Rebuilding” is a tale of grief and what-ifs populated by everyday folks who speak in terse tones. The movie radiates the spare, rugged poetry of a short story or a John Prine song. (Fittingly, the musician appears on the soundtrack.)

O’Connor keeps Dusty’s inner life a mystery as he reluctantly moves into a beat-up trailer at a temporary FEMA camp, struggling to make it hospitable for his grade-school daughter Callie-Rose (Lily LaTorre), who primarily lives with Dusty’s ex-wife Ruby (Meghann Fahy) and Ruby’s boyfriend, Robbie (Sam Engbring). Dusty is not a bad father or a snide former spouse — everybody in his orbit likes him, including Ruby’s ailing mother Bess (Amy Madigan). But when Callie-Rose informs Dusty that Ruby said he underachieved in school, we believe her. “Rebuilding” doesn’t reveal much about Dusty before the ranch was incinerated, but what eventually becomes clear is that he’s always been something of a disappointment.

It’s a performance that requires O’Connor to hint at an ineffable void. The character operates at a remove from even those closest to him — he has a kindly spirit, but he can’t quite connect. Dusty and Ruby were adolescent sweethearts, but the audience doesn’t need to know the whole backstory to guess why they broke up. He’s the kind of guy weighed down by an internal inertia, asleep while standing up, stuck in a rut. At least he had his ranch. But after the wildfire, Dusty’s omnipresent cowboy hat is all that remains from the only life he’s ever known.

In keeping with Walker-Silverman’s naturalistic approach, “Rebuilding” eschews a conventional plot, instead observing Dusty’s negotiation of an outside world he’s tried to avoid. He gingerly makes friends at the FEMA camp, most memorably with Mila, depicted with gruff authenticity by Kali Reis. This de facto support group has no big inspirational speeches to offer Dusty, just a weary resilience to keep going because, really, what else can they do? Some of the film’s finest moments involve O’Connor ceding the spotlight to his co-stars, each of them so offhandedly genuine one might assume Walker-Silverman gathered actual wildfire survivors.

The movie’s verisimilitude may trigger some Los Angeles viewers who know all too well the pain of recovering from a natural disaster. When “Rebuilding” premiered at Sundance in January, Southern California festivalgoers couldn’t help but feel a queasy déjà vu: The Eaton and Palisades fires were still raging, destroying communities and displacing so many. That horror and sorrow loomed heavy over those initial screenings, and no doubt for many in our city, 10 months will hardly be enough time to enter the proper headspace to appreciate Dusty’s processing of his disorienting new normal.

But while Walker-Silverman couldn’t have imagined his movie’s jarring real-world parallels, “Rebuilding” is as much a character study as it is a warning about our increasingly fragile planet and the beloved places we call home. The story’s studied minor-key tone can occasionally come across as mannered, yet “Rebuilding” possesses its own delicate grace, especially once Dusty endures other losses — some personal, others more existential. Walker-Silverman introduces a minor twist near the end that comes across as a little too narratively convenient, but one can hardly begrudge him seeking a sliver of hope for those whose sense of place has been obliterated. As Dusty learns, when you’ve lost nearly everything, all you’ve got is whatever’s left behind.

The former head of UCLA’s football name, image and likeness collective on Thursday denied any impropriety related to a report that revealed efforts by the school’s athletic department to funnel NIL donations through his non-profit charity.

The story published by the muckraking college football website foiaball.com showed email communications from UCLA athletic department officials directing payments intended for Bruins for Life, the onetime NIL collective of the school’s football program, through Shelter 37 Inc., a tax-exempt charity that purports to empower home ownership and help local youth through a variety of activities.

Donating through Shelter 37 would provide a tax deduction not available to those giving directly to Bruins for Life — a standard practice in the NIL sphere — but it also raised questions about a potential conflict of interest and the control of funds given James Washington ran Bruins for Life until recently and remains the president of Shelter 37.

The story also questioned Shelter 37’s charitable endeavors and suggested that UCLA athletic department officials encouraged the evasion of Internal Revenue Service guidance regarding so-called donor-advised funds, directing money to Shelter 37 that couldn’t go to other firms taking a more conservative approach with regard to NIL rules.

Emails obtained by foiaball.com through a public records request showed nearly a half million dollars of donations intended for Bruins for Life going through Shelter 37, with school officials requesting that anyone who sent their money through the latter organization to specify that it be earmarked for football NIL.

Washington said there was nothing untoward about an arrangement that was approved by UCLA and involved full transparency.

“There’s nothing that’s happening between Shelter 37 and UCLA and Bruins for Life that’s in the closet,” Washington, a former UCLA safety who went on to win two Super Bowls with the Dallas Cowboys, told The Times. “Everything has been discussed, every move, every act that I’ve taken toward the NIL, every step — bookkeeping and everything — has been handled and handed over to UCLA.”

In a statement, a UCLA athletic department spokesperson said that “UCLA athletics operates with integrity and transparency, in a manner that is consistent with industry best practices. Our development team educates potential donors on a range of giving opportunities, including avenues to support our student-athletes.”

In what Washington described as an unrelated move confirmed by an athletic department official, UCLA recently shifted its football NIL operations to new leadership, allowing Bruins for Life to pivot into an alumni club for football. Washington said the Bruins for Life website was temporarily inactive as part of that transition and that it would still have an NIL component providing community outreach opportunities for football players.

Alongside longtime UCLA donor John Manuck, James had spearheaded the fundraising efforts of Bruins for Life when it debuted in October 2024 as the new NIL arm of UCLA football.

“It’s really exciting,” UCLA athletic director Martin Jarmond said at the time, “because it’s going to support our football student-athletes in a real positive way.”

The foiaball.com story contended that the Bruins for Life website stated that it was not a 501(c)(3) organization, meaning that any donations it accepted were not tax deductible. The website directed those wishing to donate to Shelter 37, a 501(c)(3) organization that said it could receive tax-deductible contributions.

The story reported that Shelter 37’s 2024 IRS 990 tax form, published by ProPublica, showed a revenue jump to $4.8 million in 2024, up from $800,000 the previous year. The document stated that $3.6 million had been raised for the Bruins for Life NIL program but only $200 for scholarships for at-risk youth.

Washington said that latter number was misleading because Shelter 37 was not a scholarship-based organization, even though it assisted at-risk children through a variety of community services. The Times reviewed one Shelter 37 tax document reporting nearly a combined seven figures spent on scholarships, education programs and housing.

“This is when people are not fact-checking,” Washington said, “and they’re just putting stuff out there and they’re just trying to make the story bigger than what it needs to be.”

Over the years, Washington said, Shelter 37 has held many community-based events such as turkey drives, football camps for inner-city kids and “I’m going to college” days in which the organization paid for buses to transport students to football games at the Rose Bowl.

The foiaball.com story contended that Shelter 37 was used as a workaround for donor-advised funds that were in limbo. One UCLA athletic department employee, informed of a denial of one donor-advised fund, forwarded the message to other internal fundraisers, along with a message saying, “Just as an FYI. Here is info for Shelter 37 for DAF gifts.”

A new home for donor-advised funds was needed after another NIL firm, Blue Print Sports, ceased its charitable operations in the wake of the IRS recommendation, its legal counsel citing “no path forward.” According to the documents reviewed by foiaball.com, a UCLA athletic department official sent an email to Washington not long after the IRS guidance was issued, informing him of a $15,000 donation through Bank of America that should be directed to Bruins for Life.

Washington said there was nothing illegal about accepting donor-advised funds and that every move made by his organizations was within the rules.

“Any dollar that was given to me, there’s a track record and we have a communication document that shows what came out and how it was received,” Washington said. “They [UCLA athletic officials] know exactly what came into accounts, they know exactly what came out because everything was disclosed and we were communicating and I was acting as a vessel during the time of the Wild, Wild West to try to help UCLA’s football program succeed in this new era of what we call the NIL.”

Nov. 20 (UPI) — A Philippine judge on Thursday sentenced a former mayor convicted of human trafficking in connection with an illegal offshore gambling operation in her town, according to local reports.

Alice Guo, the disgraced 35-year-old former mayor of Bamban, Tarlac, located about 62 miles northeast of the capital Manila, was sentenced by the Pasig Regional Trial Court to life in prison, Rappler reported.

She was convicted along with seven co-defendants, while five others were acquitted. The case remains open.

“This eagerly awaited ruling is not only a legal victory but also a moral one,” the Presidential Anti-Organized Crime Commission said in a statement.

“It delivers justice to victims, reaffirms the government’s united stance against organized crime and marks a defining moment in the country’s fight against large-scale trafficking and online scam syndicates.”

Guo was charged following a March 2024 raid on a Bamban casino operated by Chinese-owned Zun Yuan Technology Inc., rescuing nearly 800 people, more than half of them foreigners. Authorities alleged human trafficking was being perpetrated by the offshore gaming operator.

Prosecutors said the company that had leased the 7.9-hectare compound to Zun Yuan Technology was Baofu, which was incorporated by Guo. Rappler reported that her business partner in Baofu was Huang Zhiyan, a notorious Chinese gang leader wanted in China.

Guo said she had divested from Baofu before running for mayor, but it was proven in court that she did not do so. Guo was elected mayor of Bamban in 2022, but was removed from office after it was ruled that she was a Chinese citizen, born Guo Hua Ping.

She was arrested in September 2024 in Indonesia after fleeing the Philippines.

According to the Presidential Anti-Organized Crime Commission, the court ordered the criminal forfeiture of the 7.9-hectare compound of the illegal offshore gambling operation that contains 36 buildings worth about $66 million.

The government continues to seek the civil forfeiture of additional assets linked to Guo, including 27 bank accounts holding $1.23 million as well as 18 vehicles and 14 properties, it said.

“The Alice Guo case is a story of a nation that refused to be deceived, of institutions that stood firm and of victims whose voices now echo through every courtroom decision,” PAOCC Executive Director Undersecretary Benjamin Acorda Jr. said in a statement.

“It is proof that no matter how elaborate the scheme, how powerful the mastermind or how long the deception, justice will find its way.”

Hugh Jackman never thought he’d be a karaoke guy. But then Neil Diamond happened.

Starring opposite Kate Hudson in the Christmas Day release “Song Sung Blue,” the 57-year-old Australian actor portrays not the legendary Grammy winner and shaggy-haired sex symbol, but rather a Neil Diamond “interpreter,” the real-life Mike Sardina, who, with his wife and stage partner, Claire (Hudson), found unexpected success with a tribute band in mid-1990s Milwaukee.

It was this film that recently brought the “Greatest Showman” star to Diamond’s Colorado ranch, where the two participated in a singing session that convinced Jackman to buy his own karaoke machine.

The only guide you need for holiday entertainment.

“Normally, I’m like, ‘I don’t want to do that,’” says Jackman, over Zoom from a New York hotel room, as if he’s confessing a mortal sin. “But I did karaoke with Neil, and I’m like, ‘All right, now I’m in.’”

What did they sing? Diamond soloed on “I Dreamed a Dream” from “Les Misérables,” paying tribute to Jackman’s musical theater bona fides, before the two duetted on Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and, of course, Diamond’s own “Sweet Caroline.” The good times never seemed so good.

It was a hang session so epic that Hudson, joining the call, seems green with an envy that matches her sweater. “I can’t believe I missed this karaoke party,” she says. “I have a whole karaoke setup at my house with a microphone and everything. I feel very left out.”

Thankfully, when it came to making “Song Sung Blue,” it didn’t seem so lonely for her. Based on Greg Kohs’ 2008 documentary of the same name, the film is as much Claire’s tale as it is Mike’s, following the real couple’s love story set to the tune of Diamond’s extensive songbook. At the height of their success, which included playing with Pearl Jam at Eddie Vedder’s request, the Sardinas became local celebrities, billed as the duo “Lightning & Thunder.”

Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson in the movie “Song Sung Blue.”

(Focus Features)

A Vietnam vet and mechanic with a dream of entertaining, Sardina seems a role tailor-made for Jackman, who can go from Wolverine to Broadway in a single season. “Song Sung Blue” writer-director Craig Brewer, who first saw the documentary at a small film festival in Memphis, Tenn., never envisioned anyone but Jackman as the insatiable Wisconsinite.

“It was always Hugh because there’s not anybody else out there who could understand the wild showmanship that Mike Sardina had,” says Brewer, calling from his Memphis home. “He’s doing two layers of a character. He’s playing this working-class guy that loves to entertain any way he can. If he’s got to wear sequined shirts, he’s going to. He’s going to give you everything he has.”

The role presented a puzzle for Jackman, despite having played career impresarios like pop idol Peter Allen and P.T. Barnum. “I had to lose Hugh Jackman to be Mike,” says the actor, relaxed in an umber-colored button-down shirt. “How does Mike find himself within his love of Neil? It took me a second to find him and lose my shtick, because I’m a performer too.”

Ultimately, the solution wasn’t his Neil Diamond impersonation, though Brewer encouraged Jackman to make a meal of that. “You can lay a little bit more butter on it,” the director remembers telling him.

Instead, Jackman’s breakthrough came via deep self-identification.

“His dream was always huge but this was not how he thought it was going to go,” Jackman says. “It was that ‘one plus one equals three’ thing where, all of a sudden, they found themselves being the next big thing.” Similarly, Jackman never intended to become a movie star synonymous with musical theater. He’d never even sung before a post-university audition changed the course of his life.

“One of the hardest things to do is fake chemistry,” Kate Hudson says. “You can’t do that. You have to actually fall in love with each other and find the chemical connection.”

(Victoria Will / For The Times)

Hudson is a less-obvious casting choice. Though she’s made a career playing rom-com heroines, with “Song Sung Blue,” she’s already generating awards buzz for her turn as a guileless Midwestern mom miles away from the glittering women Hudson typically portrays, and one with her fair share of trauma. She has to go to some dark places, channeling Claire’s depression, addiction to painkillers and more — but despite her penchant for playing more carefree women, Hudson says she wasn’t intimidated by the role’s meatier aspects.

“When you grow up with storytellers,” she says, referencing her actor parents Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, “you forget the camera’s there. You’re not thinking about anything glamorous. You’re looking at the role and what it needs. It’s what you long for as a performer. It allows you to almost leave your body.”

For Hudson, the opportunity also dovetailed with a new act in her own life as a recording artist. Even though she released her debut album “Glorious” only last year, Hudson has long identified as a singer-songwriter. “I was always so scared of it,” she confesses of her fear of going public about her songwriting. “But the studio is where I’m very happy. I’ve been in the studio since I was 19, but I just never shared my music because I was too scared to put it out.”

It was a discovery Jackman made while they were recording their vocal tracks for the film. “I said, ‘You’re a musician,’” he recalls, Hudson beaming at him. “You were so relaxed and in your home.”

“I’ve always had a lot of cheerleaders for me to do music,” Hudson replies, sheepishly.

Some might see it as a full circle moment for Hudson, who received an Oscar nomination for her performance as the groupie Penny Lane in Cameron Crowe’s 2000 rock memoir “Almost Famous.” It was such a formative experience that Hudson still remains close with Crowe. She tells me she’s reading his new book, “The Uncool,” to prepare to interview him on his tour.

But no matter how much Penny Lane has shaped her life, Hudson doesn’t see a through line from her to Claire. Instead, she draws a line between fandom and musicianship, specifically the distinction between those who chase the high of being in the room or backstage living the lifestyle, and those who have a song they have a visceral need to share.

“With Claire, it needs to come out,” she continues. “It doesn’t matter where or what we’re doing or how we’re doing it — we just need to do it. That is also how I feel about music.”

The real-life Claire Sardina and her two children (played by Ella Anderson and Hudson Hensley on-screen) threw their full support behind “Song Sung Blue.” But Hudson’s instinct was to build her own version of Claire without too much outside influence. “You want to make a choice in a film because it’s the right choice for the character, not because you’re trying to mimic something,” says Hudson.

Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson in the movie “Song Sung Blue.”

(Focus Features)

That need to avoid mimicry and feel the moment was particularly crucial for the film’s heartbreaking second act, in which Claire is hit by a car in her front yard and loses a leg, plunging into self-loathing, depression, body dysmorphia and addiction. Hudson had to do extensive physical work to prepare to authentically represent Claire’s lived experience. “Movement is a huge part of what actors do,” she says. “There’s the emotional part but the physicality is like rebalancing your brain.”

In addition to watching YouTube videos of amputees and speaking with those in the disabled community, Hudson got useful advice from another screen legend — her dad.

“Kurt said that Claire is like Rocky,” she says, referring to the iconic character’s grit and determination to go the distance. “The part that really got my dad emotional was that she just wanted to figure out how to get on her feet.”

Jackman marvels at the bravery and skill of Hudson’s performance, noting that she even captured something the real Claire told him off-camera.

“Claire said, ‘The thing is Mike was a leg guy,’” he remembers. “Kate played that so well. That feeling of shame about: Is my partner attracted to me anymore? I found that incredibly moving.”

Hudson welcomed the challenge, but she did worry about one thing outside her control. For “Song Sung Blue” to work, the actors playing Claire and Mike need to be in perfect alignment: one the words, the other the tune.

“One of the hardest things to do is fake chemistry,” Hudson says. “You can’t do that. You have to actually fall in love with each other and find the chemical connection. That was my biggest anxiety.”

Jackman shared this concern. “I remember the first day after our table reading, you said, ‘This movie works if we work,’” he reminds her.

They needn’t have worried. “They were a net for each other as the other one was up on a tightrope,” Brewer says. “It was incredibly inspiring for the crew to see that kinship and respect.”

Their mutual generosity is evident in the way Jackman checks in with Hudson after each anecdote during our interview, confirming she has nothing to add or correct. Though this is their first film together, their repartee is so easy and warm it’s hard to believe they haven’t co-starred in at least a dozen movies.

“It felt easy to just inhabit these characters,” Jackman says. “The word that comes to me is trust. All of the scenes, particularly in that darker period, we could just live in that — the frustration, the paranoia, the anger, the loss, the fear. Every take felt really very different. I felt very free.”

Hudson agrees, adding with a giggle, “I told Hugh, ‘I’m really tactile. Just tell me if I make you uncomfortable. I’m going to kiss you all the time.’”

It helps that Hudson and Jackman are naturally sunny, curious people, celebrities who’ve never cared for the sound of being alone. “We like to connect with people,” Hudson says. “There’s no internal process that removes us. We’re both community people. We like to be in the circus. When we’re on set, we sit on set. There’s no separation of crew and cast. It’s very rare that you work with someone who is like that.”

Ultimately, that openness allowed Hudson and Jackman to approach Claire and Mike with honesty, essential for a film that’s a fullhearted paean to dreamers at their highest and lowest.

“Eddie Vedder told me something that moved me so much,” Jackman says, a note of emotion in his voice. “He goes, ‘Some might say these people led small lives. Their dreams were so huge and perhaps, naive. But dreams are so powerful that 30 years later, it’s come true.’”

From playing Milwaukee dive bars to becoming the subjects of a major motion picture, the Sardinas have far exceeded even their own expectations. To quote another beloved Diamond tune, it’s enough to make anyone a believer.

A strange world is taking to the streets of Melrose Avenue this Sunday, Nov. 23, as CicLAvia touches down in partnership with the Netflix series “Stranger Things” in promotion of the show’s upcoming final season.

From 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., the car-free event will stretch from Vermont to Fairfax, with a reimagined street that brings the fictional town of Hawkins, Ind., to life. Fans are also encouraged to embrace an ’80s theme, so break out the neon, leg warmers and windbreakers.

With no starting point or finish line, participants are invited to go at their own pace and patron local businesses along the way. Take a break with over-the-top lattes, French baguettes, Filipino barbecue, an iconic hot dog stand, vegan ice cream, Uzbek cuisine and more. Here are 15 food and drink stops along the Melrose Avenue CicLAvia route.

They performed together with Frank Sinatra. With Harry Belafonte. With Fred Astaire. And on Monday, Germany’s Kessler twins — Alice and Ellen — ended their lives together at age 89.

Police confirmed the death to the Associated Press, stating in an email that it was a “joint suicide.” The women shared a house in the suburb of Grünwald, just south of Munich,

The sisters, who were born in the town of Nechau on Aug. 20, 1936, “no longer wanted to live” and “had chosen to end their lives together,” the German outlet Bild reported Monday, according to an automated translation. Medically assisted dying is allowed in Germany under certain conditions, the outlet said, for people who are legally capable and acting of their own free will.

The women were inseparable in life as well as death, learning to dance when they were children and applying their skills with the Leipzig Opera children’s ballet, the AP said. In 1952, after World War II ended and the family found itself living in the newly created German Democratic Republic, East Germany, they all fled to West Germany.

The tall twosome — reportedly 5-foot-10 — was discovered three years later while dancing in Düsseldorf in 1955, by the director of Paris’ Lido cabaret, according to German news agency DPA International. That launched an international career for the Kesslers, who moved to Rome, toured the world and performed with luminaries, DPA said.

They refused an offer to appear in “Viva Las Vegas” with Elvis Presley, the AP said, not wanting to get pigeon-holed in American musical films. But according to IMDb, they had a decent career in film and TV, which included mostly Italian and German projects. They sang on “The Ed Sullivan Show” three times in the early 1960s and on “The Red Skelton Show” in 1963.

The Kesslers worked well into their 80s, telling DPA at one point, “Being on the road as a duo only has advantages. You’re stronger together.”

The women told Bild in 2024 that they had “stipulated in [their] wills” that they wanted to be buried in the same urn, alongside their mother and a beloved dog. They never married.

On Monday, Radio Monte Carlo posted a tribute to Ellen and Alice Kessler on social media.

“Alice and Ellen Kessler left together, just as they lived: inseparable,” the radio station, which broadcasts out of Monaco and Milan, said in Italian on Instagram. “Born in 1936, they were an absolute symbol of European spectacle, including music, dance and television. In Italy, they became celebrities as the ‘legs of the nation,’ icon[s] of elegance and stage presence since the Fifties.

“A unique artistic couple, capable of leaving an indelible imprint on the collective imagination.”

Movies can become forever memorable through the magic of a singular image, that celebrated “one perfect shot” that illuminates everything before and after it. The Envelope asked directors of five awards-contending documentaries to talk about the shot their film couldn’t live without.

‘Apocalypse in the Tropics’

Director Petra Costa’s sequel to “The Edge of Democracy” (a 2020 Oscar nominee) examines the powerful role played by evangelical Christianity in Brazilian politics and the rise of far-right former President Jair Bolsonaro.

“I chose the shot of the Statue of Justice, decapitated and upside down,” says Costa, describing a scene in front of the Supreme Federal Court in Brasilia after Bolsonaro’s supporters sacked the nation’s seat of government on Jan. 8, 2023. “[It] symbolizes much of this story on many levels. This film is ultimately using Brazil as a metaphor for the current crises of our democracies worldwide. This picture symbolizes how violent speech is, not just violent speech. It produces violent action, and that was what brought Bolsonaro to power.”

‘Folktales’

Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing’s “Folktales”

(Magnolia Pictures)

Directors Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady (2007 Academy Award nominees for “Jesus Camp”) follow a group of adolescents through a year at a traditional Norwegian folk high school.

“The first time you see the Tree of Life in the movie,” says Ewing, describing a powerfully symbolic image in the story, “it’s shot from below. It’s a wide angle and it’s almost like a creature. I call it Guillermo del Toro’s tree, because it’s knotty and dead, but it’s everything. It’s breathtaking and there was no other tree like it in the forest. It inspired the whole layer in the film that became the myth of Odin and using Norse mythology as a metaphor for growing up, and we use the tree as our centerpiece.”

‘Predators’

Director David Osit (“Mayor”) unpacks the complex and disturbing legacy of the TV exposé “To Catch a Predator,” which became a pop-culture phenomenon during its run in the mid-aughts.

“So much of my film is about looking at images, and part of it was me looking at images … and really just thinking: The only way I know how to make this movie is I’ve got to give someone the experience I’m having, making the film and looking at material. So there was an image that I filmed, but it didn’t mean anything to me until I saw it. And that’s the image that I chose. There’s this moment in the film where I’m interviewing Dan Schrack, who is one of the decoys who … was involved in what happened in Texas. [The subject of the show’s sting operation took his own life, which led to the show’s cancellation.] I’m having him look at some pictures, and I get a shot from behind him. What I didn’t notice during the filming … was my reflection, perfectly placed in a small mirror. Only for a split second did I think to myself, ‘Oh no, I ruined the shot.’ Immediately afterwards, I felt a deeper understanding … that I couldn’t take myself out of this movie. It wasn’t my intent to be in it, but more often than not, documentaries neuter and make invisible the acts of their creation. And every single time I tried to film this movie, the opposite was happening. My identity, my motivations, my interests kept asserting themselves, and that shot was it. That was the shot where I realized what the film was.”

‘Seeds’

Carlie Williams in “Seeds.”

(Brittany Shyne)

Shot in black and white, Brittany Shyne’s debut feature explores the lives and challenges of Black farmers in south Georgia.

“The scene that I always go back to is with Carlie Williams, the 89-year-old farmer,” Shyne says. “It’s a moment when we’re in his house, and he gets up from his chair, and he goes over to tend to his daughter, Lois. I really like that moment, because we could see a father who’s utterly devoted to his child, making sure that her health is OK. I love that moment of tenderness, because that is something I try to view throughout the whole film, this kind of familial care that we see between generations.”

‘The Tale of Silyan’

(National Geographic Documentary Films)

The Macedonian film, from 2020 Oscar nominee Tamara Kotevska (“Honeyland”), is the story of Nicola, who rescues an injured stork from a landfill after the collapse of his family farm.

“The moment when Nicola captures the stork,” Kotevska says. “It completely changed the course of the film and the story itself. We thought that it was going to be more of a sad story, but it ended up being more of a hopeful story — not a happy one, but a hopeful one. It eventually became a story of a man saving a stork and a stork saving a man.”