life

AFTER quitting smoking years ago, Rachel Stevens was spotted in a rare relapse as she puffed on a cigarette on a recent trip to London.

While many a celeb has been caught giving in to their smoking urges, the image is a far cry from her “clean girl” Instagram aesthetic and carefully curated social media, and Insiders tell The Sun that the cheeky cig-break is only a glimpse of the real Rachel, who has hidden behind her S Club 7 persona for years.

One source close to the singer says: “People have always had this perception of Rachel as the ultimate girl-next-door. She’s sweet, wholesome, polite and completely drama-free, but the truth is she’s always been far more complex than that.”

“Rachel has spent years carrying the weight of an image that was created when she joined the band aged just 19, and while she appreciated the love from fans, there were times when she felt trapped by the expectations.”

Even now, at 48, Rachel’s online world remains extremely polished.

Just days ago, she was posting perfectly styled outfits, wellness content and carefully framed snapshots of her life.

Scroll through Rachel’s social media, and you’ll find plenty of evidence of the lifestyle she has built her brand around. One day she’s sharing a Pilates session, the next she’s posting from the gym lifting weights or promoting healthy meals and wellness products. Yoghurt bowls, workout routines and clean living have become as much a part of her image as the pop career that made her famous.

What she wasn’t posting about was arguably one of the biggest professional moments she has had in years.

This summer, S Club reunited to support Boyzone on the first night of their Final Farewell tour at London’s Emirates Stadium.

It marked one of the band’s most significant performances since October 2023.

Yet while many artists would have flooded their feeds with backstage snaps and promotional content, Rachel largely stayed quiet. There were a handful of Stories and a Reel, but little fanfare.

Though some fans were left questioning her excitement, for those close to Rachel, it’s entirely typical.

Our source said: “Rachel has always separated the public version of herself from her private life. She doesn’t feel the need to broadcast everything she’s doing. People assume they know her because she’s been famous for so long, but actually she’s one of the more private people in show business.”

That privacy perhaps explains why so much of Rachel’s personal life has unfolded away from public view.

For years, she was considered to be in one of show business’s most stable relationships. Her marriage to childhood sweetheart Alex Bourne appeared rock solid.

The couple had first met as teenagers before reconnecting later in life, eventually marrying and having two daughters together. Which is why their split in 2022 sent shockwaves through fans.

Following the breakdown of her marriage, Rachel began dating Dancing On Ice professional Brendyn Hatfield. They were together for three years, before calling it quits last summer.

The relationship attracted huge attention, with speculation swirling about timelines and cheating rumours that Rachel was ultimately forced to deny. According to those close to her, the experience was deeply uncomfortable.

A pal said: “Having private matters become public talking points was incredibly difficult for Rachel.

“She’s always preferred to keep her personal life out of the spotlight. The divorce came as a shock not just to fans but to people around her too because they genuinely thought the marriage would last forever.”

Yet relationship drama is far from the only challenge Rachel has faced.

Perhaps the most startling chapter of her life came years earlier when she found herself caught up in two terrifying incidents within weeks of each other. In 2009, Rachel was violently attacked during a robbery at her North London home.

The singer later recalled being ambushed by a man who grabbed her around the neck and covered her mouth.

Speaking in court years later, she admitted she was left “absolutely terrified”. Just weeks after that ordeal, she found herself caught up in another traumatic incident while having dinner with family in St John’s Wood when a gunman opened fire nearby during a gangland shooting.

The experiences left a lasting mark – Rachel later revealed she suffered PTSD, anxiety and fears around travelling alone with strangers.

The star admitted: “The two incidents that happened so close together definitely caused a lot of post-traumatic stress. After that, I felt scared to even leave my house, get out of my car, and I was just very fearful.”

It was a side of the pop star the public rarely saw. After all, while Rachel was being voted one of the sexiest women in Britain and appearing on magazine covers, privately she was battling fears few fans knew existed.

The source adds: “Everyone assumed she was confident because she was on TV and branded one of the sexiest celebrities in the world every week. But privately she could be incredibly anxious and hard on herself.”

Even Rachel’s driving ban became a talking point because it didn’t fit the image many people had of her.

The singer appeared in court after accumulating 21 penalty points from five speeding offences and attempted to avoid a ban by explaining how it would affect work commitments and family life.

Again, it surprised many because it felt so at odds with the Rachel the public thought they knew. But insiders insist that’s precisely the point.

Our source explained: “She’s made mistakes, faced challenges and dealt with consequences when things have gone wrong. The idea that she’s some squeaky-clean pop robot isn’t accurate. But neither is the suggestion that there’s some secret wild side waiting to be exposed.”

Indeed, those closest to Rachel say these photos will reveal a whole new authentic side to the pop star.

An insider added: “What people are seeing now is a woman who’s much more comfortable being herself. The smoking pictures might surprise some fans, but those who know Rachel aren’t shocked.

“She’s never claimed to be perfect, and she’s certainly never lived her life trying to be a saint.”

For years, Rachel Stevens was boxed into a role she never quite chose: the impossibly perfect girl next door. But behind the green juices has always been somebody far more human.

As one insider puts it: “The real Rachel sits somewhere in the middle. Warm, emotional, resilient, occasionally rebellious and a lot more human than the image people have projected onto her for the last 25 years.”

And if a cigarette outside a venue is finally enough to remind people of that, Rachel probably won’t lose too much sleep over it.

A VHS tape of 1993’s “The Nightmare Before Christmas” introduced brothers Roy and Arturo Ambriz to the tactile whimsy of stop-motion, an animation technique where physical objects are manipulated and photographed frame by frame to achieve the illusion of life.

Realizing that the characters on screen were figures in real sets shocked the Mexican filmmakers’ young minds and set them on an arduous path to craft their own worlds.

“If there’s something we’ve loved our whole lives it’s toys: collecting them, modifying them, playing with them, creating dioramas for them,” said Roy, 36, from under his dark shades during a recent interview at Netflix Animation Studios in Burbank.

“And for us, the most sublime moments in life are when we’re doing something artistic, whether that’s painting, drawing or sculpting. And stop-motion animation combines all of that.”

The culmination of years of tireless work and financial stress for the Ambriz siblings is the breathtaking period fantasy “I Am Frankelda,” Mexico’s first-ever stop-motion feature, which is now streaming on Netflix.

“Thankfully, no one put it into our heads that it was impossible to do this,” said Arturo, 38. “That’s why we don’t like going around saying that this is extremely difficult, because maybe if young people hear that, they might not want to do stop-motion. Don’t tell them!”

A lavish musical, “I Am Frankelda” follows Francisca Imelda (voiced by Mireya Mendoza), a young aspiring writer living in 19th century Mexico and struggling to publish her stories. Meanwhile, in the Realm of Spooks, an alternative reality that’s home to all of the fictional characters Francisca has written, Herneval (Juan Pablo Monterrubio), a winged prince, must save his parents and his kingdom. The creatures in this world live off of human fear, so they create our nightmares.

Herneval crosses into the human world to bring Francisca with him to the Realm of Spooks, so that she can write new nightmares that actually scare people. Humans have become difficult to terrify. By this point, a frustrated Francisca has decided to change her name to Frankelda (a reference to “Frankenstein” author Mary Shelley, who inspired the character). Frankelda and Herneval sing of the relationship between fiction and reality. One can’t exist without the other.

Frankelda was first introduced as part of the 2021 series “Frankelda’s Book of Spooks,” which HBO Max commissioned. In the show, the heroine shares nightmarish tales alongside Herneval, who appears not as a prince but a sentient book. The film “I Am Frankelda” is a prequel that explains the relationship between these characters.

Last month, “I Am Frankelda” screened at the Los Angeles Latino International Film Festival, where Guillermo del Toro moderated the post-screening Q&A. A longtime mentor of the Ambriz brothers, Del Toro first supported them by donating to a Kickstarter campaign to finance their ambitious 2016 short film inspired by cubist art, “Revoltoso,” about a one-eyed boar living during the Mexican Revolution.

“In that moment, it was incredibly validating to realize that if Guillermo liked what we were doing, then it made sense to keep on doing it,” Roy said.

Two years apart in age, Roy and Arturo both studied filmmaking at the Centro, a university in Mexico City. Yet directing together wasn’t always the plan.

“I said, ‘We have to co-direct,’ because the situation naturally lent itself for me, being the older one, to take on the role of director while Roy would serve as production designer. But at a certain point, I realized that the hierarchy was wrong, and that if we wanted something sustainable for the rest of our lives, it had to be a 50/50 split between us. And I mean, 50/50, Roy!” said Arturo, playfully chastising his younger brother.

“It’s more like 60/40, with me having 60% of the power,” Roy added laughing.

In 2011, not long after graduating, Arturo found himself ridden with anxiety. Over the course of his education, he’d focused on artistic excellence but hadn’t much thought about how to actually make a living out of his and his brother’s shared passion. That’s when he decided they should create their own studio, Cinema Fantasma, so as to have control of the projects they took on. Their productions for hire include the Adult Swim show “Women Wearing Shoulder Pads,” which was produced entirely at their company in Mexico City.

“It’s been very difficult because we are filmmakers by vocation, but we are businesspeople by necessity,” said Arturo. “Developing that side of things has been the hardest part, but both are indispensable.”

To wrap up the “Frankelda” series, HBO Max requested a 30-minute special. Instead of accepting that offer, Roy suggested they use the proposed budget allocated to partially fund a full-length feature film. HBO Max agreed with the caveat that the brothers would have to come up with the rest of the money needed on their own.

To finance “I Am Frankelda,” Roy and Arturo mortgaged two homes. They are losing one of them to pay off their debts, so it helps that their dream of animation is a family affair. Their parents are executive producers on “Frankelda”; Roy’s wife, Ana Coronilla, worked as production designer; and Arturo’s spouse, Irene Melis, as a director of photography.

That “I Am Frankelda” is a musical is due in great part to Roy’s love of musical theater.

“At first, Arturo wasn’t sure, but using my 60% share of the power, I convinced him that it should be a musical,” Roy said. Yet it’s Arturo who wrote the lyrics to musical numbers. Each track starts as a poem that composer Kevin Smithers transformed into songs.

A fantastical stop-motion musical period piece, “I Am Frankelda” is far from an easy sell, and that’s what makes its existence all the more astonishing. The Ambriz brothers’ creative pursuit of the unpopular and the unfeasible has bonded them with Del Toro.

Mexican filmmaker Guillermo del Toro, pictured, interviewed “I Am Frankelda” directors Roy and Arturo Ambriz on May 30 during the film’s screening at the TCL Chinese Theatre as part of the Los Angeles Latino International Film Festival.

(Jill Connelly / For De Los)

“He is our most important mentor and the person we admire most in the world, and we also share many of the same interests,” Arturo explained. “That’s why when we saw ‘Pan’s Labyrinth,’ it was like when the glass slipper fits Cinderella. It was exactly what we loved: monsters, war, the cruelty of the human spirit, fairies and period settings.”

“Did you just call yourself Cinderella?” Roy interjected with the mischievous smirk typical of a younger brother trying to ruffle some feathers.

“Yes!” Arturo said quietly but without hesitation.

Every time they hear Del Toro speak about his interests, the Ambriz brothers discover a new well of references and “cultural protein,” from authors to painters.

“Guillermo is someone who actively champions the work of others, which I believe is the right way for an artist to be,” Arturo said.

When they finished “I Am Frankelda,” the brothers sent it to Del Toro, eager to hear his thoughts. As soon as he watched it, Del Toro called them.

“We spoke with him for hours, and he told us everything he saw, obviously with great tact, sharing both the good and the not-so-good,” Roy recalled. “But most importantly, he kept telling us that we had created something unprecedented. He insisted that we would pull through, even though we had ended up with a lot of debt.”

The version of “I Am Frankelda” that premiered at film festivals in 2025 is not the same one that will be available on Netflix. Based on Del Toro’s thorough feedback, the filmmakers recut the film and even animated new scenes. They playfully refer to this new cut that audiences will see globally as “The Grandfather Cut,” to honor Del Toro’s influence.

That “I Am Frankelda” was picked for distribution by Netflix is also Del Toro’s doing, the brothers said. It was the veteran director who suggested the film to the streaming company.

“I Am Frankelda” debuted in Mexico last October to an incredible reception, in part thanks to the fandom the characters had amassed via the episodic series.

“We receive fan art and fan fiction every day. People send us photos cosplaying the characters or of their ‘Frankelda’-themed quinceañeras. We’ve even bought bootleg merch at Mexican markets and on Temu or AliExpress too,” Roy said.

“We’ve bought ‘Frankelda’ socks from there that are of terrible quality, but all the more beautiful because of their bad quality,” he added.

“Of course, there are haters, too, but a large segment of the audience really identified with Frankelda as someone who perseveres, as someone who refuses to let her detractors hold her back. It’s been really beautiful watching that fandom grow,” Arturo said.

Another conviction where they align with Del Toro is their disinterest in engaging with artificial intelligence.

“AI is the antithesis of stop-motion. We’re not even remotely interested in it, because we do stop-motion to enjoy the artistic processes,” Roy said. “We created the studio for painting, drawing, sculpting and writing. Whatever happens with AI doesn’t really matter to us.”

Their second feature, “The Ballad of the Phoenix,” a medieval fantasy, is already in the works.

Israeli journalist Gideon Levy says the US-Iran announcement represents a personal defeat for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his ambitions against Iran and Lebanon. His relationship with US President Donald Trump could also be at risk if Israel jeopardises the deal.

What does it mean to lack ambition in a country that worships wealth? It means you are a capitalist wallflower, a laggard with a serious character flaw. No field of endeavor is immune from this attitude, the art world least of all. But artists with a desire for riches and fame must not declare their intentions so brazenly. At a time when the plastic arts are about as marginalized as they ever have been, and media buzz is generated by dead painters whose works sell for enormous sums at auction, creation in and of itself has little value unless it is lashed to something marketable.

With his new novel “Contrapposto,” Dave Eggers has written a big-hearted, deeply moving story about the choices artists make, or don’t make, to square up their own notions of success and happiness. The book is dual bildungsroman, following two friends across the long span of their lives from adolescence to their 70s, as they fall in and out of each other’s lives, make their way in the world, and fumble around for meaning and purpose in their art.

The protagonist in “Contrapposto” is Rob “Cricket” Dibb, an underclass Midwestern kid, raised by a single mother in a North Indiana suburb that’s about as nowheresville as it gets for budding artists with dreams of glory. Cricket doesn’t dream big. He’s just trying to endure without bodily harm, seeking refuge from his mother’s abusive boyfriend in the basement with his grandfather Silas, who teaches him about jazz and the beauty of a glorious sunset. He draws so he doesn’t have to think. Immersion in art is his escape hatch from the dreariness of his pinched world: “The drawing meant nothing, would never mean anything to anyone, but it was true to how he saw it. His hand had recorded what he saw and felt about this thing. He was an ugly, common creature who could occasionally freeze time. That was enough.”

Cricket’s apprenticeship is decidedly informal. No full scholarship rides to Bard or Pratt for him; instead he saves up to enroll himself in a life drawing class in Chicago, where he discovers the beauty of applying rigor and rules to his work, how to break down pictures into the geometry of circles and squares, planes and angles. “He measured proportions and improved,” writes Eggers. “He grew more confident with each pass on his drawing, and realized … that much of the rightness of the drawing, of any drawing, came through time and diligence and discernment.”

He meets his slightly older schoolmate Olympia, one of Eggers’ most beguiling creations, when she implores him to scrawl scatological bathroom graffiti on a playground structure in Old-English typography. Unlike Cricket, Olympia is earnest and sincere about her art in the way that only a young person untainted by cynicism can be. She claims to inhabit the soul of Albert Camus, and flings around aphorisms about art that fly over Cricket’s head. She is an aesthete, someone who likes to go to the race track just to revel in the colors on display there. She wants to create an art scene in their little world. “You know all the great art movements have friends at their core, right?,” she tells Cricket. “A lot of time they’re jammed together by some critics and the artists reject the name and the association. But think about Patti Smith and Sam Shepard. Did you know they dated for a while?”

Cricket is beguiled by her, and Olympia in turn is taken in by Cricket’s talent. When the local library pulls a few of Cricket’s semi-nude life drawing portraits down for fear of offending their patrons, Olympia becomes his advocate and champion. In contrast to Cricket, who skates along with no end plan, Olympia is a committed careerist, an artist who insists on a captive audience to justify her work. She wants to earn money as an artist; Cricket just wants to be left alone. This push and pull between the two frame Eggers’ novel across the six decades of his narrative.

One of many joys of “Contrapposto” is observing Cricket’s artistic awakening via the mentors who guide him into his artistic consciousness. Marcus Carpenter, a wizened sage in battered work boots (one imagines him as the art world analogue to the late novelist Jim Harrison), is the moral conscience of the novel, fighting the good fight for personal expression and railing against the “new, paradoxical tyranny wherein those without technical skill terrorize those who possess it.” Carpenter plucks Cricket from arts college and its meaningless pontificating to his “atelier in the corn,” a ramshackle Victorian where Cricket learns how to transmute what he sees with color and light. “The talented have talent,” Carpenter tells Cricket during one of his endearing rants. “The untalented have theories.”

From there, Cicket’s life is a crooked line. He doesn’t abandon art, but he can’t summon the urge to sell himself or his work, to graft his joy in making things onto the caprices of the marketplace. As Eggers jumps through time, we find Cricket working as an intern in an art gallery, an arid, lifeless space where nothing inspiring can possibly exist. As a young man he works as a ship-breaker in Turkey; in middle-age, we find him in a coastal town in Cambodia, making replicas of great paintings for tourists. Olympia, his elusive love and sporadic muse, flits in and out of his life as she works her way up the tiers of the art world’s ziggurat. She gently berates him for his timidity: “This is how artists have power. We sell work. You’re implying there’s nobility in powerlessness. That’s been an idiotic trope for too long — that participating in the business side of it taints you. Do you know how dumb that is? That artists have to be these fragile little wood nymphs that are too precious to touch the money?”

As “Contrapposto” arrives at its beautiful, life-affirming conclusion, we are left pondering the significance of artistic endeavor in a world that commodifies everything, including our bodies and brains. At a time when even the greatest achievements are debased in a culture that gives equal weight to meretricious novelty, is it even worth the trouble? Eggers’ brilliant novel has the answer: Follow your bliss. In the final analysis, it is all that matters.

Weingarten is the author of “Thirsty: William Mulholland, California Water, and the Real Chinatown.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riz Ahmed.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahmed: I’ll send you the rushes.

Olsen: Did you two have an immediate chemistry?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olsen: And have you seen it?

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

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

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

Olsen: But are you making music of your own?

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

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

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

There’s a good reason why David Sedaris is the most beloved humorist in America. He has an unerring ability to tap into the absurdity and petty annoyances of American culture more cogently than any other writer of his generation. He is also funny as hell.

Sedaris’ latest collection, “The Land and Its People,” finds the author grappling with the seductions and consolations of technology, creeping mortality, unwanted sexual advances and feral dogs, for starters. I recently chatted with Sedaris about books, nannies and iPhones.

✍️ Author Chat

Your first book was a collection of short stories. Was it always the intent to move into writing essays, or did you have designs on being a novelist?

It never occurred to me that I would write essays about my life. I started off writing fiction, and then I started doing these readings in Chicago. Then I was to read at this variety show at this place called Park West. I was limited to about five minutes, and so I just plucked something from my diary. And it worked. I would walk onstage wearing a tie with a stack of diaries in my hand. Then I started doing these radio shows, and I thought I could read my fiction, but it had to be nonfiction. So a lot of the earliest pieces that I ever read were just things plucked from my diary.

What actually happened was that after this piece I wrote called “The Santaland Diaries” had been on the radio, I had this other book that I had already written, and I was just kind of waiting for someone to call and ask if they could publish it. But it couldn’t be published unless “Santaland” was included.

That book was “Barrel Fever” in 1994 which was a big hit. Now you were that rare creature: a bestselling essayist.

With essays, there’s a kind of shorthand to it. If you’re writing fiction, you have to world-build with every story, whereas with an essay I can just get up on stage and say “my sister and I went shipping” and people know who my sister is, and I can just get right into it. My fiction is always way, way over the top. I can’t write any story where people are reasonable.

What makes you unique is that you are onstage in front of an audience more often than 99% of authors. You can workshop material to see if it lands, much like a comic.

Yes, and I don’t ever want to waste an opportunity to do that. The frustrating thing about being on a book tour is that I can no longer make any changes to the book. So I’ve been bringing out some little, short things I’ve been working on to get it on its feet.

Much of your writing is observational. Do you find, given your public profile, that it becomes harder to do that?

It depends on where I am. If I’m hanging out in places where people don’t read, or in another country, then it doesn’t make any difference. The bigger problem is that when you’re spying on the world now, the world is just looking at their phones.

“The Land and Its People” is the new collection of essays by David Sedaris.

(Little, Brown and Company)

I know you aren’t big on the phone, or at least taking pictures with your phone. In one of your essays in the new book, you are on a Kenyan safari with your partner Hugh and you adamantly refuse to snap a single photo.

If you’re at a book signing, you meet someone and then stand up and someone takes a picture with their phone. I’d rather talk to that person, you know? The picture thing, it just doesn’t make any sense to me. It doesn’t mean anything. I was invited to the Academy Awards because I wrote something about a movie, which was crazy. But it never for one moment occurred to me to go up to anybody to take a selfie. All that means is that I bothered this person. By the way, I have never once asked Hugh to send me his safari pictures.

What books make you laugh out loud?

I’m always happy to find a funny book, but they are hard to find. Did you read “Rejection” by Tony Tulathimutte?

It’s on my nightstand.

Oh my God, I laughed out loud so many times at that book. And he’s not a humorist. I’m not even sure if he thinks the book is funny. There’s a short story in there, about a guy who’s just a complete a— and his girlfriend moves in with him and he makes her put all of her stuff in the oven.

I like things that are funny that aren’t supposed to be funny. Somebody said to me a few weeks ago, “How can we laugh with the world in such terrible shape?” I said, it’s easy. Just get rid of any sense of empathy or compassion! If you’re writing satire, you have to go big. You can’t tone it down. Then it’s not satire anymore, it’s just cereal milk.

You do write in the new book about this kind of language policing that is prevalent now.

I hate it. I mean, the New Yorker is pretty good to me. I can’t complain. But I turned something in to them, and they told me I couldn’t use the word “nanny” in the piece. I mean, a nanny is a real profession, like a pharmacist. I told them I wouldn’t cut it. It just makes me think about young people who are starting out, who can’t say no because they need the money.

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

📰 The Week(s) in Books

(Illustration by Jim Cooke / Los Angeles Times; Photo via Getty Images)

Leigh Haber is blown away by Anne Patchett’s 10th novel, “Whistler.” “This exquisite writer has once again delivered an incandescent work of fiction — sweet, but never sentimental, infinitely wise and suffused with love,” Haber writes.

Songwriter and Sheryl Crow collaborator David Baerwald has written a novel called “The Fire Agent,” about his grandfather Ernest, a musician and a prisoner of war in a Japanese internment camp during World War I. “One of my characters tells Ernst that he has ‘yuyo,’ which might best be described as grace,” Baerwald tells Bethanne Patrick. “Its Japanese meaning is closer to the state of a river rock that has been washed over and tumbled thousands of times, so that it’s both distinct, and a meaningful part of its environment.”

Rasheed Newson, a showrunner for “The Chi” and “Bel-Air,” has written “There’s Only One Sin in Hollywood,” a novel about an often-neglected chapter of Hollywood’s Golden Age. “I wanted to do a deep dive into Black queer history during the Golden Age of cinema,” Newson tells Meredith Maran. “The first thing that came to me was Xavier’s character. I decided to make him the 10-years-younger, queer rival of Sidney Poitier, to highlight the acceptable versus unacceptable — meaning, straight versus gay — 1950s Black movie star.”

Finally, Adam Messinger, a staffer at West Hollywood’s Book Soup, attempts to answer the question: Why are books shrinking? One possible culprit may be social media. “Holding the book up to take a photo of it is easier,” writer and social media influencer Caroline Mason tells Messinger. “Although I do sometimes still drop it.”

📖 Bookstore Faves

Lost Books in Montrose looks and feels unlike any other bookstore in L.A. — a verdant terrarium filled with new and used books and vinyl. Created by Last Bookstore co-owners Jenna and Josh Spencer, Lost Books also sells plants. Moss has colonized the ceiling, and tall trees keep sentry over the store’s diverse and eclectic inventory. I asked Josh Spencer about how Lost came about.

What was the thinking behind opening Lost?

It was spontaneous. My wife and I were eating dinner in the very charming neighborhood of Montrose, and saw a very cool vacant storefront. It also happened to be on Honolulu Avenue, and with both of us being from Hawaii, we took it as a sign. We did not want to franchise the Last Bookstore at the time, and wanted the new store to have its own name and unique vibe.

You also sell plants. Where did that idea come from?

My wife grew up in a rain forest on Maui. She loves plants, and we thought that a pairing of nature with literature was exciting and not done before.

Who are your customers?

Mostly locals in Montrose, La Cañada, La Crescenta, Glendale. But we get a fair number of tourists and also people from other parts of L.A. People who love beauty, nature and books. And vinyl!

Are you seeing that big vinyl resurgence we’ve been hearing about?

Absolutely! Our vinyl does very well for us.

What genres or types of books do well for you there?

Classics, kids books, mysteries, graphic novels, art, self-help, memoirs, cookbooks and gardening of course!

Lost Books is located at 2233 Honolulu Ave., Montrose.

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

By June 2026, the cracks inside the GOP weren’t hidden anymore. On May 19, the Senate voted 50–47 to push forward a bipartisan war powers resolution that would limit President Donald Trump’s ability to keep military ops going against Iran. Four Republican senators crossed the aisle and voted with Democrats. Then on June 3, the House went even further with a 215–208 vote—four House Republicans joined Democrats in a pretty blunt pushback against Trump’s leadership.

At first it looked like just another fight over war powers and Congress doing its job. But it feels like something bigger: the start of a real tug-of-war over what the Republican Party is going to be once Trump isn’t the center of everything.

For almost ten years now, Republican politics has been all about Trump. You rose if you stood with him, and you got sidelined if you didn’t. Loyalty often counted more than old-school conservative ideas, passing bills, or sticking to principles. But every party eventually has to answer the tough question that personality-driven movements hate: what happens when the big guy starts looking more like a problem than a winner? That question is getting harder for Republicans to dodge.

Trump didn’t just take over the party in 2016 — he remade it. The old Republican worldview of strong alliances, free trade, and steady leadership shifted toward a more populist, Trump-centered style.

It worked for a while. He won elections, fired up voters who felt ignored, and built a super-loyal base. As long as the wins kept coming, most Republicans went along. Parties get tested in the tough times, though — not the good ones. And the Iran conflict is turning into exactly that kind of test.

A lot of Republicans who backed Trump’s rise never thought they’d end up defending another big Middle East war. Trump made “no more endless wars” one of his best lines—slamming both parties for the messes in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Now the fighting with Iran has dragged on for months. Costs are adding up, gas prices sting at the pump, and nobody’s really clear on what “winning” would even mean. That’s created real quiet discomfort inside the party. The senators and reps who voted to rein in Trump’s war powers weren’t just talking procedure. They were signaling that blind loyalty isn’t automatic anymore.

Parties talk a lot about ideology, but when things get serious, survival often wins out. Some Republicans are starting to put distance between themselves and Trump — not because they hate everything he stands for, but because they don’t want their own careers sinking with one person. There’s a real difference between backing conservative policies and handing the whole party over to a single leader. More of them seem to be waking up to that.

What’s interesting is that the pushback is coming from inside the tent. Democrats opposing Trump is old news. When Republicans do it, it hits different. Senators like Rand Paul, Susan Collins, Lisa Murkowski, and Bill Cassidy broke ranks on the Senate vote. In the House, guys like Thomas Massie, Brian Fitzpatrick, Tom Barrett, and Warren Davidson did the same. These are still small numbers. But big shifts often start small.

The bigger story might be that some Republicans are finally imagining a future without Trump dominating every headline. A younger crop is coming up—they agree with him on immigration, trade, and culture wars, but they don’t want the party to be defined only by personal loyalty to him forever. They want a Republican Party that can keep going after he’s gone—Trumpism as one important piece, not the whole thing.

History shows parties sometimes tie themselves too tightly to charismatic leaders. Sometimes it revitalizes them. Sometimes it drags them down.

Right now, some inside the GOP worry Trump might be moving from asset to liability—especially with the Iran war dragging on and polarization getting worse. Trump is still the biggest force in the party with a rock-solid base. But power and lasting control aren’t the same.

These congressional votes show that at least some Republicans are already looking ahead to the next chapter. They see the risks of hitching the whole party’s future to one man. Whether they’re right or wrong, time will tell. But the conversation inside the party has clearly moved past just Iran or war powers. It’s now about whether the Republican Party still belongs to Trump — or whether it can finally start belonging to itself again.

Some people are still processing “Euphoria’s” evolution away from its roots as a gritty drama that explored highly mature and dark teenage experiences to, in its final season, a fever dream-esque look at adulthood that played like a full-blown neo-noir crime thriller. But another show’s creative transformation has taken the stage now.

The third season of AMC’s adaptation of Anne Rice’s “Interview With the Vampire” brings a reset to the captivating world of bloodsuckers. While the first two seasons adapt the original 1976 novel, relying heavily on the recollection of Louis de Pointe du Lac (Jacob Anderson) as he recounts his centuries-long life and romance with Lestat de Lioncourt (Sam Reid) to a journalist, the new season shifts narrative focus and perspective over to Lestat, who transforms into a charismatic frontman of a glam-rock band to publicly set the record straight. As such, the series has been retitled “The Vampire Lestat,” which is the name of Rice’s second novel. For this week’s Guest Spot, I spoke with showrunner Rolin Jones about the show’s rebranding and Reid’s commitment to the musical challenge.

Also in this week’s Screen Gab, TV critic Robert Lloyd steers us away from the usual streaming options to recommend a man’s video journal that documents his quest to travel the world by foot, while culture critic Mary McNamara suggests a new British comedy about codependent BFFs navigating the sort of tricky development that would end most friendships.

Speaking of endings to relationships, it was announced this week that “Doctor Who” showrunner Russell T Davies is exiting the series (again) seven months after Disney+ decided not to continue its partnership with the BBC to distribute the long-running sci-fi series. BBC also announced it will not air the show’s previously announced Christmas special this year. Lloyd, a longtime Whoverse follower, is a voice of calm through it all. He shares his thoughts on why the new questions swirling around the franchise don’t necessarily have to be cause for alarm — evolution is part of the show’s essence, he reminds us. Elsewhere in current events, if you’ve been curious (… sure, that’s the right word!) about the UFC Freedom 250 live event that will unfold in an oversize cage on the White House South Lawn in celebration of Trump’s 80th birthday and the country’s 250th anniversary — and will be streamed live on Paramount+ — check out our explainer about the controversy — and lawsuit — it has sparked.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another Matthew Rhys story to read so I can maintain my executive membership in the fan club. See you next week!

— Yvonne Villarreal

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@AlexanderCampbellOfficial (YouTube)

In February 2023, Alexander Campbell, then 27, set out from Sydney to walk west around the world. Currently he is somewhere around Albania, having traversed, among other places, Bangladesh, Nepal, Pakistan, Kazakhstan, Turkey and Bulgaria. He’s been documenting his progress on camera all along the way, but it wasn’t until Day 938, in Georgia, that he began posting the longer, “uneventful” videos that make his channel such a singular, meditative, even hypnotic, form of vicarious travel. Walking alone to the sound of his own footsteps, through sun, rain, sleet, snow and dark of night, over mountains and deserts, through forests and fields, he becomes a character in a peripatetic, nearly one-man show. The occasionally encountered friendly local will warn him about wolves or bears or the hunters who might mistake him for one, though he meets more dogs than people. (He calls them all “Buddy,” warily.) Titles include “I Slept in a Barn Full of Stray Dogs,” “I Got Caught in a Snowstorm With Nowhere to Sleep” and “Something Was Out There in the Forest.”) — Robert Lloyd

Jemaine Clement, left, and Nicola Walker in “Alice and Steve.”

(Lara Cornell / Hulu)

“Alice and Steve” (Hulu, Disney+)

What would you do if your ex-turned-longtime bestie slept with your 26-year-old daughter? Well, Alice (“The Split’s” Nicola Walker) 100% loses her mind. Sure, during a drunken convo at a bar, she did tell Steve (“Flight of the Conchords’” Jemaine Clement) that he could have any woman he wanted, but she most certainly wasn’t talking about Izzy (Yali Topol Margalith). Having just returned home after breaking up with her boyfriend, Izzy decides that Steve, now bunking down on the sofa, is “strangely hot” enough for a little rebound sex and then a romantic relationship. And Steve, though initially regretful and more than a little shell-shocked, decides this is what he wants too. “I really like her,” he says by way of sheepish explanation. It leaves Alice no choice but to hilariously alternate between screaming and scheming as she tries to put a stop to the proceedings even at the expense of her marriage, her career, her friendship with Steve and her self-respect.

Clement’s sad-sack charm successfully boosts the leap of faith required to keep Steve from becoming an oblivious creep, but the show belongs to Walker. Her Alice becomes a blazing embodiment of the emotional maelstrom inside every woman who is expected to somehow put on a supportive, understanding face no matter how outrageous or impossible the situation. The laughs she elicits are exhalations of shock, recognition and relief. We can’t all ditch the high road for pure, luxurious fury, but it’s mighty fun to watch someone who does. — Mary McNamara

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Sam Reid as Lestat De Lioncourt in “The Vampire Lestat.”

(Sophie Giraud / AMC)

If you thought posting cryptic digs about an ex on your social media accounts as a way to cope with unresolved emotions was petty, this TV vampire may have you beat. The wild new, music-infused season of “The Vampire Lestat” (formerly “Interview With the Vampire”) revolves around Lestat de Lioncourt (Reid) on an elaborate mission to tell his side of the story after his ex-lover, Louis de Pointe du Lac (Anderson) published a scandalous memoir — with the help of journalist — that detailed their turbulent romance. In his bid to control the narrative, Lestat becomes an immortal glam rocker who launches a music tour and enlists the same journalist — newly turned into a vampire — to direct and film a music documentary about his life. The result is a flamboyant seven-episode season that blends rock-opera style performances (the season will feature 20 original songs) with personal reflections from its flashy frontman. As it enters its second week of release on AMC and AMC+, creator and showrunner Rolin Jones spoke over video call recently to discuss the show’s creative pivot and more. — Y.V.

To kick off the new season, there was an immersive premiere concert event at the historic Beacon Theatre in New York City earlier this month. Was that a surreal experience? Did you feel like a music manager?

I have a hard time talking about the work — the selling of the work, all that kind of stuff. I want to finish my edit, and then I want to like disappear at the Arctic. I knew we were doing this and I knew that there were like fans from all over the world flying in for it — some who didn’t have tickets. I knew there were people who had worked on the show from Seasons 1, 2, and 3 who got on a plane, asked for a ticket, and made a pilgrimage there. I was really moved by it. It was about as good as these things can ever be. It felt really beautiful. It felt like Vampire Church. It was pretty cool. And Sam — “surprising” is not the word because I’ve worked with him for a long time — was way better than he should have been. It’s incredible.

In this TV landscape, taking a show and giving it a new title as it enters its third season is a daring move. The series moves focus to the second book in Rice’s oeuvre. And while it continues the story of these characters, at the same time, it feels like a new show. What made you nervous about carrying out that kind of creative transformation? And what was thrilling about it?

We could start with a thrilling part because the idea to be able to go to the people who worked really hard and say, “Hey, let’s rebuild it” — that’s exciting. That part’s cool. The executing part about it is where the terror begins because most worthwhile art — you can call TV art — invariably has to have risk and danger involved in it, otherwise you’re probably performing a magic trick. No offense to magicians. But you want something that when you turn off the TV, you’re not immediately forgetting. The more risk you do, in terms of form, in terms of all that, you want to be able to feel like you can pull it off because, otherwise, they [the audience] have nothing to grasp onto. [And they say,] “You just destroyed this thing we love, how dare you!” But generally speaking, everybody — from the top of the network down to the actors who are doing it — was down for it. Mostly because, if you listen to our fandom, I think they demand it. They’re out there on a limb telling everybody “it’s the greatest TV show, and blah blah blah” and you have to deliver that for them so that they can continually confidently bombard all their friends and neighbors and say, “Watch the show.” There’s nobody who didn’t give everything [to this season]. It was a real collective leap together.

Sam undergoes quite the transformation to make this rock star vampire persona believable. What struck you about how he approached embodying Lestat this season?

I gained 20 pounds in Toronto, and that’s because I kept stuffing my face with bread, and about every three or four times I would have this big sloth of butter on bread, I’d go, “Poor Sam” because I know Sam had not touched a piece of bread. Let’s start there — 0% body fat, the dimensions on the waist. The level of dedication. He was living and breathing every second about the role and about the demands of it — sing songs, and not only sing songs, but go learn to be a musician, and go train with people who have been doing it their whole life so you can fake it. I feel very confident saying this: Anybody who watches this season and Sam’s performance will feel like, at the end, they saw one of the 10 greatest performances in the history of our medium. I think he absolutely disappeared. James Gandolfini did not sing songs, Swearengen [the “Deadwood” character played by Ian McShane] did not sing songs. Mr. White [the “Breaking Bad character played by Bryan Cranston] did not sing songs. I’ll put him [Sam] up against all of them. He’s incredible.

What if he wants to go off and be a rock star now?

He could do it.

Jacob Anderson as Louis De Pointe Du Lac in Season 3 of “The Vampire Lestat.”

(Sophie Giraud / AMC)

You have a rock band posing as vampires fronted by an actual vampire who is the focus of a documentary being directed by a vampire passing as a human. And for all this to work, the band has to be good. What was the challenge of making this fictional band’s stardom believable — the charisma, the presence on stage, the discography? It’s a tall order, in addition to making a compelling TV show.

Anytime you have seen these things, following a band, there’s so many ways it can fall flat. You can do three or four of the things you need to do, and if one of them falls apart, you’re still stuck there, going, “Eh.” We all, who are working on it, love music. We’ve all been in clubs. The first thing we did was remove the stardom for budget reasons, but also for singular storytelling — he decided to do rock ’n’ roll in the year 2025. Some basic building blocks, we need songs. So with [composer and songwriter] Daniel Hart, we bring him into the [writers’] room because it’s not only writing songs, but writing the context about when and where he’s [Reid] singing them. He has to be aware of what we’re doing in the room. We also have to be able to pivot when he has pure inspiration; he can come in with something we’ve never talked about, and go “Boom!” And it’s OK, now what do we do with this song? And quite often this year we restructured episodes because the song was beating our episode. [We had to] hire actors who can play or musicians that can act — and that’s not everybody, so that shrinks that down. Make sure when you’re in the club, or whether you’re singing the song in rehearsal, let us uglify it, embrace the mistake, make it a little dirty. We have a song this year that has some of the most beautiful orchestrations, but because of where it landed in the season and what it talked about, we ended up going with the most stripped down, bare version of it. Don’t worry, you’ll get to hear these beautiful orchestrations [at some point]. [It’s also thinking about] how do you carve out the time you need to shoot it and the playback elements of it, and what sacrifices you have to make on other set pieces that you would normally put in is a lot. But everything from the beginning was with one thing in mind: Do not suck. How can we suck less? Let’s not suck. And we just kept going over and over again with that.

At the end of the first episode we see Lestat reunited with his undead mom, Gabriella, who he has, I think it’s fair to say, an oddly intimate relationship with —

Multifaceted.

And obviously the Louis-Lestat romance is far from being over. What are you interested in exploring within those two dynamics, in particular, moving forward since they’re so central to Lestat?

It becomes immediately about him going, “Let me try to explain this … I might have just repelled 80% of you.” I’m really interested in the viewers who are really off-put by it. I want to see where they’re at by the end of Episode 7, if they trust us. And see what they’re feeling. I guess [some people feel], “Oh, you’re not allowed to do this in the TV world unless you got f— dragons and s—, but all the things that you would have thought [that the network might say], “Don’t do this,” we didn’t really have a lot of those obstacles. There was a lot of trust. The thing with the Lestat character is like it’s probably harder to cuddle up to him like you could Louis. Louis is a Faustian tale; here it’s like a Faustian tale but Elton John’s at the center of it. There’s a series of questions like “Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you keep get trapped into these things?” It’s like going on odyssey, or as Jacob called it, an idiocy, with a character that is exotic and eccentric and contradictory. For us going forward, as we wrote it, every time we fell into the something that felt well-made or cool on a twist or turn level, we found we were very suspicious of it, and we were trying to make alien TV as best we could. So, what do I want? It’s less about exploring those two dynamics, although they’re richly part of this fabric. It was, how can you take them on a magic carpet ride, a very difficult one? The idea is to actually have, by the end, every single person recognize that part of themselves in him. And how can you normalize him over seven episodes? How can you deliver that to an audience?

I know you’ve been super–busy, but what’s the last thing you watched that you found yourself recommending to everyone or something that you were obsessed with right now?

A TV show I’m watching, one that I’m enjoying right now, is “Widow’s Bay” [Apple TV]— that has been very enjoyable. It’s so much fun.

Matthew Rhys’ facial expressions are so good.

Oh, he’s great, and that show just really knows what it is, and is joyfully silly, and has a great atmosphere. It’s one of the most beautifully shot things I’ve seen in a while. I’m not finished yet.

OK, before I let you go, I hope we get a concert out in L.A. at some point.

Wouldn’t that be nice? Where would you put it up? Echoplex?

Maybe the Troubadour.

What about the Greek? That would be nice.

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Stacey Solomon and her Sort Your Life Out team left an East Sussex family in tears with a heartfelt tribute to their late grandmother

BBC Sort Your Life Out viewers were moved to tears by a heartwarming tribute to a beloved late family member.

Host Stacey Solomon and her dedicated team descended on a family in East Sussex to help transform their bursting-at-the-seams converted bungalow.

The household was headed up by single mum Nadine, who had called the property home since her teenage years, sharing it with her own mother.

Having brought up her four daughters there while also caring for her late mum, three generations of the Jamieson women had amassed mountains of DVDs, clothing and fine China for Stacey to work through.

Buried amongst the clutter, she uncovered 106 animal ornaments, 87 board games and over 1,000 pieces of Nadine’s China, reports Kent Live.

Reflecting on the belongings filling her home and how cluttered it had become, Nadine became emotional as she explained: “I’ve lived in this house since 1988 and it’s pretty much still in the condition it was in 1988.”

Her eldest daughter Merle chipped in: “It was a small crowded house but it wasn’t cluttered back then.”

Former NHS nurse Nadine tearfully continued: “Mum was the second parent. She was our rock and she was just our rock and made it so special for the girls.

“She started to need care in the last four years of her life, and I became full time carer. And that’s when I think it started to change.

“I didn’t have the time or energy to focus on the house because I had to focus on so many people.”

She added: “I need to have a home again and start living again.”

She heartbreakingly went on: “It’s a place I don’t want to be in. There’s no joy to come home to because you know what’s surrounding you.”

After the challenge of letting go of 40 years’ worth of possessions and memories, the family were left touched by a special tribute to Nadine’s mum.

Coming back home after Stacey and her team, including guest star Zoe Sugg, worked their magic, they saw a special memory of Nadine’s mum.

Nadine had earlier explained how her mum’s chair held its place of honour in the living room, with her old combs and hairbands still on it.

Instead of having the objects still there, Stacey, having transformed the living room to a brighter, emptier space, decided to embroider Nadine’s mum’s comb and headband and radio onto a little cushion.

She said: “I know how important Nan’s comb and headband and radio were to you, so instead of having them sat precariously on top of the chair, ready to fall at any minute, I thought, we could put it into the pillow, and then you could always look at her favourite things but keep her actual favourite things safe away.”

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” Nadine’s daughter Merle commented. Breaking down into tears as she saw the cushion, she added: “That is too much.”

“It’s making you emotional,” Stacey replied, as Nadine’s daughter Beth also wiped back tears.

After seeing the response the family had to their new home, Stacey shared: “I think that might have been one of my favourite reactions ever.

“Nadine has, for the last 20-something years, just been looking after everyone around her.

“She’s been raising her kids, looking after her mum, putting all of her energy into everybody else.

“And now finally, she can bring some of that energy back to her, and she just deserves this so much.”

Nadine emotionally added: “Dreams come true.”

Sort Your Life Out is available to watch on BBC iPlayer.

WHILE most Brits use retirement to slow down, one Brit has done the opposite by starting a new life in Spain.

Fed up of the UK’s grey skies, Jeff Locke-Lavell packed his bags and moved to Majorca to start a new career as a Tui holiday rep.

Jeff admitted that in Majorca he’s “happier than ever”, now waking up to sunshine and spending his days helping people make the most of their holiday.

“It’s a completely different way of life,” he said.

Day-to-day, Jeff helps out with guest experiences at Tui Blue Sensatori Biomar Resort as well as sharing tips about the resort and the area.

One of his top tips: “If you want to see the real Majorca, I always suggest heading out to places like the mountains around Sóller or taking a boat trip along the coast.

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“There are some incredible hidden coves and the island has so much more to offer than people expect,” he revealed.

Jeff continued: “For something special, I love recommending a Palma day trip. The old town, the cathedral, the food, it’s a brilliant day out.

“And for families, the experiences we offer mean you can really make the most of your time here without the stress.

“Everything’s taken care of.”

When not working, Jeff and his wife, Sarah, make the most of living in Majorca, heading off exploring different spots including ticking things off the bucket list such as learning to scuba dive.

He said: “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do but never had the confidence and this job has given me that push.

“There’s always something new to discover.”

Before heading out to Spain, Jeff thought he would slow down.

But after the couple fell in love with Spain following trips to Nerja and Sarah landed her dream role as a kids’ club rep with Tui, working across Spanish destinations such as Benidorm and Majorca, as well as Lapland, the decision felt easy.

Jeff said: “We loved the lifestyle straight away, it was the warmth of the people, the pace of life, and of course the weather.

He added: “That’s when I thought, why not give [becoming a Tui rep] a go myself?”

Then landing a role as a Tui Blue rep, Jeff felt as if he had achieved a lifelong dream, especially after watching holiday reps work as a child during summer trips to Cornwall.

He shared: “At my age, you don’t expect someone to say yes, but they did – and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“People think opportunities like this are only for the young, but that’s just not true.”

He added that no two guests are the same, with some wanting total relaxation while others want adventure.

“One minute I’m chatting to a family about day trips, the next I’m pointing couples towards hidden gems across the island,” he said.

Ultimately, Jeff hopes that other Brits will take similar leaps later in life.

“I’d say to anyone, if you’re thinking about doing something different, whether it’s a new job, moving abroad or trying a new hobby, just go for it.

“Life’s too short to sit back and wonder what if.

“I thought my best years were behind me, but it turns out they were only just getting started.”

KATIE Price has admitted son Harvey is happiest at home and tells her he “hates” living anywhere else.

The former glamour model revealed that while Harvey previously moved into his own flat, he is now back living with her and dreads the prospect of being away from his mum again.

Speaking on The Katie Price Show podcast, Katie opened up about how much Harvey struggles when he’s not at home.

She said: “I think people are noticing I’ve got Harvey here more than I normally do. Normally he’s in Cheltenham.”

Harvey, 24, who has Prader-Willi Syndrome, attended a specialist further education college for young people with complex disabilities.

He enrolled at the residential college in Cheltenham in 2021 before his funding was cut in 2024.

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Harvey then moved into supported independent living, with Southampton serving as a temporary base.

Katie explained: “We’re still waiting for his next placement. They’re saying next month and that’s up the road from me.

“But where he is in Southampton, he just doesn’t like being there.

“When he’s there, he texts me, ‘I hate it here, Mum. I just need you. I want your cuddles, hold my hand.’

“And it pulls on your heart. So I’ve got him here and it’s hard because I’m working and his carer at the same time.”

Harvey and Katie’s daily challenges have previously been documented in the BBC documentary Harvey and Me.

Meanwhile, Katie recently returned from Dubai, where she tried to find out more about husband Lee Andrews’ detention in Al Awir prison.

Lee, 43, claims he was arrested and detained on suspicion of espionage, but it is understood he is actually being held over a private civil matter.

Anticipation. Rumors. Anxiously scanning the horizon, hoping that a brilliant force will leave the masses forever changed. Yes, a new Steven Spielberg movie about close encounters with extraterrestrials is landing — and misses the mark.

“Disclosure Day” is a story of truth and feared consequences. A personality-free cybersecurity expert, Daniel (Josh O’Connor), is on the run with evidence of little gray men arriving on our planet to a rude reception. The aliens are kind. Our species is barbaric. Wittily bruising us with that fact, Spielberg opens with a POV of a wrestler kicking the audience in the face. Welcome to Earth.

Elsewhere in America, a weathergirl named Margaret (Emily Blunt) breezes into her Kansas City studio, babbling up until the minute the news camera turns on, a bravura sequence that channels her restlessness, the station’s tempo and the film’s alarm that this ditz has just this morning been stricken with preternatural powers. (The cinematography and editing are by Janusz Kaminski and Sarah Broshar.) Locally, Margaret is known for announcing hailstorms with a sexy shimmy. Suddenly, she’s fluent in Russian, Korean and telepathy. Although she and her boyfriend, Jackson (Wyatt Russell), are a bad match, she’s giving everyone else life advice like an intergalactic Dear Abby.

When Margaret starts spouting alien-ese — spasms of gutteral clicks — on live TV, she and Jackson rush to the hospital for a brain scan followed by several suspicious men who claim to be with the FBI. Russell’s befuddled Jackson is as useless as a traffic cone but Blunt’s Margaret is a gas before the movie makes her go all glassy-eyed and solemn. Yet, the movie is less inspired by why she was chosen or how she feels about it than in dragging us back in time to the moment when it happened, which isn’t that interesting except for its resemblance to a Disney princess having a psychotic break. The CG animals and aliens look stiff, other than a nifty close-up of an eyeball. (Later, I did like how one alien appears to be wearing sportswear.)

Chasing both Daniel and Margaret around the Midwest is a deep-state company called Wardex that wants to steal back the proof in Daniel’s backpack, a heap of hard drives with footage of 70-plus years of extraterrestrial visitations. It’s a treat to see Spielberg enjoying staging this conspiratorial gossip in different film stocks, from the black-and-white noir of 1947 Roswell to the clinical security-camera look of today. Whatever Wardex does on a day-to-day basis is unclear (we just see video screens and lab equipment). But it acts all-powerful, seeming to know more about outer-space tech than its overseers at the Department of Defense.

The script is by David Koepp of the paranoid thriller “Black Bag” and Spielberg’s 2005 version of “War of the Worlds,” yet, this plot strand about private enterprise isn’t science fiction. Last year, in the unrelated UFO documentary “The Age of Disclosure,” current Secretary of State Marco Rubio admitted that companies have a stronger institutional memory of “exotic materials” than any presidential administration: “The people in government who know where it came from originally — they’re long gone and their successors have no idea that it was there at all.” To add nationalistic insult to injury, the head of Wardex isn’t even American. He’s a Brit played by Colin Firth.

If anything, “Disclosure Day” isn’t paranoid enough. Clutching a mysterious tool the shape of a mouse coffin, Firth’s villain tracks Daniel’s location by mentally transplanting himself into another person’s body, changing the color of their pupils to his own icy blue. His gadget also makes his targets super sweaty. This laborious alien tactic leads to a few fun scenes but frankly feels old-fashioned when the omnipresent surveillance that Spielberg himself warned about nearly 25 years ago in “Minority Report” is now here with recording devices constantly tracking our faces, voices and movements just so we don’t have to dial phones, fetch sandwiches or talk to human drivers. Although his movie urged us against this 24/7 spyware future, we have since embraced the convenience.

I bring this up because “Disclosure Day’s” driving question is how humanity will react to life-altering information. (Not that the plot has much momentum — too many scenes end with the belief that ducking 10 feet out of view makes you invisible, with an antagonist simply giving up.) Daniel insists on total honesty: “People have a right to know the truth,” he says. His girlfriend Jane (Eve Hewson) doubts 8 billion people can handle his alien revelations. A Catholic, she’s alarmed that extraterrestrial intelligence could replace the concept of God, naively claiming that “religion holds society together.” Since when?

There’s some wan comedy in an early scene where these new-ish lovers debate the ethics of secrecy while revealing the skeletons they’ve been hiding from each other. Both have pasts you wouldn’t put on a Tinder profile. The script is glancingly empathetic to Jane’s moral turmoil but like Daniel, the film has made up its mind before the movie started. Narratively and logistically, Daniel’s whistleblowing escape limps along with a lack of suspense. Wardex doesn’t even bother to preemptively discredit Daniel in the public’s eye, which, given the two sentences of backstory we know about his character, would be easy.

Nattering in the background are broadcasts about the impending threat of global war at the hands of the United States, Russia and North Korea. Given that scary possibility, the risk that Daniel’s reveal could tip over the world order doesn’t seem that bad. Honestly, I’m dubious of the film’s certainty that folks even have the bandwidth to care about such news, let alone agree on what they’re seeing. The serious journalism Margaret aspires to do is splintering under our distrust of who controls the megaphones. Last month’s infodump of an Armed Forces report listing 209 sightings of unidentified objects was announced with a presidential tweet that “the people can decide for themselves.” I didn’t bother to click. Did you?

Getting information about these space invaders out leaves no time for taking the marvel of their existence in. Decades after Spielberg unveiled his signature shot — a face amazed at wonders we can’t see — he seems wearied by his awareness that today’s moment of revelation would look like a person staring down at their phone. When lens flares continually beam right at the screen, the whole movie feels like enlightenment under duress.

Where are the aliens from and why are they here? Who knows. “Disclosure Day” speeds around frantically, talking constantly and explaining little. Back in 1977, Spielberg’s “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” was a popcorn masterpiece of withheld information. Its quiet assurance that experts had a handle on flying saucers and a plan to meet them felt comforting. Here, Colman Domingo’s renegade intelligence operative also refuses to tell anyone anything, but all the unspoken beats just feel like plot holes. Mostly, his character builds what looks like a Hollywood set to reveal a truth he already suspects. That’s what Spielberg is doing too, but a film needs a sense of curiosity.

Instead, the wows come from good stagings of ordinary action: a car crash, a gripped crucifix, a hideout crowded with jostling, thrumming musical instruments. There’s a great train-track crossing sequence that’s also a vicious callback to Richard Dreyfuss’ epiphany in “Close Encounters.” Yet, I wanted to see more of the old Spielberg, the one who expressed awe in moments of silence rather than relentless motion.

That Spielberg has come full circle to his lifelong obsession with the sky had me convinced that this might be a secret sequel to “Close Encounters” beyond the droll joke that both Dreyfuss’ Roy and Blunt’s Margaret are shacked up with unsupportive blonds. They do share a universe; you’ll see a glimpse of what could pass for an outtake from Devils Tower, a.k.a. Mashed Potato Mountain, on one of Daniel’s hard drives. Still, I left underwhelmed. I didn’t need Dreyfuss to step off a spaceship gangplank and say, “I’m back.” I just needed “Disclosure Day” to have the same spark of intelligent life.

It was built by locals to be able to cross a huge river

There are thousands upon thousands of bridges across the world, yet one has the unwelcome title of being the most dangerous. Not all bridges are created equally when it comes to safety.

Often called the “most dangerous” in the world, the Hussaini Suspension Bridge in Pakistan is known for its high winds. Despite the title, the bridge remains a masterpiece of local engineering and has become a magnet for thrill seekers.

It was built in 1968 by local villagers of Hassaini and Zarabad using only raw materials. The 635-foot-long bridge is made of wooden planks and steel cables, held together by six main ropes that span its length.

The Hussaini Suspension Bridge was designed to provide a lifeline to transport goods and livestock across the Hunza River. Following a devastating landslide in 2010, the bridge was reconstructed.

Between the wooden planks of the bridge are larger spaces designed to resist the wobbly vibrations caused by the wind. Travel Magazine Conde Nast Traveller named the bridge as among the most dangerous in the world in 2013.

While it was built for local access, it has become popular with tourists. To visit and cross the bridge, tourists must wear life jackets.

Tragically, in July 2022, a student from Sindh reportedly died from drowning after falling from the bridge. It was sealed off while an investigation was under way, and later renovations were carried out.

Safety upgrades were implemented, including replacing the old, rotting and uneven wooden boards. The local community and authorities also worked together to tighten the steel cables.

Many tourists are still braving the crossing and have shared their experiences on TripAdvisor. One said: “What a thrilling bridge! People who have mental strength and not afraid of heights should give a try on this bridge! It’s a dare!”

Another added: “The journey to reach the bridge itself is an adventure, with winding roads and breath-taking landscapes that set the stage for the thrill to come.”

Someone else commented: “About 400 steps from one end to the other end of the bridge.

“The bridge is secure and safe. However, precautions should be taken when crossing the bridge as it is still a risk of falling accidentally. Give it a try!”

However, a fourth wrote: “Firstly, I refused to cross that bridge, but now I literally repent my decision. Looks dangerous , definitely not for people with fragile hearts like me , but its damn daring.”

Ali Louis Bourzgui scored an upset win for performance by an actor in a featured role in a musical for originating the role of David in the musical adaptation of the cult vampire horror film, “The Lost Boys.”

As viewers scrambled to keep their score cards straight — André De Shields was favored to take the trophy for his work in “Cats: The Jellicle Ball” — the 26-year-old Bourzgui went on to deliver the night’s most impassioned, and pointedly political speech.

He began by noting that, “Vampires represent those who have shunned their own humanity in order to achieve a non-existent sense of superiority. The billionaires will never find happiness from their money. The colonizers will never find fulfillment from the land and lives they steal. The fascists will never find meaning from their conformity, not in this lifetime or eternity.”

Through the cheers of an invigorated audience, Bourzgui went on to talk about how “theater is one of the last places people can come to worship the power of true collective human presence.”

At its best, he said, theater helps us see ourselves in a stranger’s story.

“This is dedicated to the beautiful tapestry of immigrant families who make this country really special. May you one day not have to audition for the empathy that should be freely given by this country that benefits from your beauty, for the queer and trans communities who will exist, no matter what people in power try to take away from them.”

Bourzgui, whose father immigrated to America from Morocco, went on to pay tribute to Palestine and his own Arab heritage.

“For the people of Palestine, who deserve a free life, a full life without occupation, for Arabs and their makers and artists, may we continue to tell our stories and show our faces. Our humanity becomes undeniable, and our families can no longer be written off as merely collateral damage, may they know the beauty of our kisses upon his cheek and the romance of a language rooted in passion for love and life itself.”

He wrapped up this speech with a plea for love and empathy.

“If there’s one thing we can learn from vampires, it’s that life is short, but that’s it’s a gift. Find beauty in the ephemeral and gratitude in what is not promised, and always invest in the people that want to see you blossom into your truest self, and hold that space for them in return.”

EXCLUSIVE: Scott Mills was axed from the BBC earlier this year after new evidence came to light about a historical alleged sexual offences – but this might not be the end of the former radio DJ

Axed star Scott Mills has seen a flurry of support this week as his husband Sam Vaughan returned to Instagram to mark their two-year anniversary.

In his first post since the DJ’s shock sacking, Sam posted a sweet picture of him and his husband from their wedding day, captioning the post with a white heart emoji and the words “2 years.”

Stars including Zoe Ball, Rylan Clark and Sara Cox reacted to the post, with former colleauge Zoe writing: “Love you,” in the comments, followed by four red heart emoji’s. Rylan and Sarah also posted hearts in the comments section.

It comes as the Mirror exclusively revealed that Scott is set to sue the BBC for unfair dismissal after his surprise sacking. The DJ has enlisted top lawyers to lodge a case against the BBC. It’s understood he will claim that he disclosed the full details of the cop probe – including the accuser’s age – to BBC Radio 1 bosses at the time.

The BBC has previously said that they knew about the investigation but that “new information” came to light which sources claim was the fact the accuser was under 16. But it’s understood Mills will argue that this was all raised at the time to Radio 1. A source said: “It’s going to get very messy indeed.”

Mills was interviewed by police in 2018 under caution after being accused of serious sexual offences against a boy under the age of 16. A full file was sent to the CPS, who said there was not enough evidence to charge him.

In April, Mills released a statement through his lawyers claiming he had been the subject of “rumour and speculation” since his sacking and that he had “co-operated fully” with the police investigation into the allegations.

As Scott gears up for a battle with the Beeb and his partner returns to social media, questions have been raised on when the DJ could make a career return. “I think Scott Mills’ route back into the spotlight will depend on whether the public see his departure as a temporary setback or as a sign that his broadcasting career has reached a crossroads,” Mayah Riaz, a PR to the stars, tells the Mirror.

“Historically, we have seen that established presenters who have a strong personal brands and years of goodwill behind them are often afforded a second act. This is especially true when they have built up a loyal audience and have industry support over many years,” she said.

The expert noted the significance of the public show of support towards Scott’s husband Sam as it highlights that the star still has a network of influential friends and colleagues who are willing to publicly stand by him. She said this can help “soften the narrative” and “remind people of the affection that exists for a personality.”

The DJ has lost a number of gigs since being axed by the BBC, including podcast roles on Race Across the World and Pop Top 10 with Rylan Clark. Mills was also dropped as a patron of children’s cancer charity Neuroblastoma UK and “stepped back” from his role as an ambassador for the MS Society UK.

His regular panto work, which reportedly made him £600,000 in the last three years, has also been cut. Imagine Theatre, which got Scott involved in Jack And The Beanstalk shows, said there are no plans to work with the presenter for the 2026/2027 season. It said the decision was taken before he was fired by the BBC.

If Scott was to make a comeback, Mayah suggests it won’t be through a “grand relaunch”. Instead, it could be through a project that reminds his audience why they connected with him in the first place.

She explained: “Talent and familiarity remain powerful currencies in broadcasting. It goes without saying that authenticity will be key. The public are increasingly sceptical of overly polished comeback campaigns and media-managed statements.”

Mayah says the public respond “far more positively to resilience, humility and genuine passion for the work” and the biggest mistake Scott Mills could make is to come across “desperate to reclaim the spotlight”. She added: “The strongest celebrity comebacks are those that give people something new to talk about.”

Mills previously issued a statement via lawyers thanking his well-wishers. He said: “I wish to thank from the bottom of my heart all those who have reached out to me with kindness, my former colleagues, and my beloved listeners, who I greatly miss.”

On the police probe, he said: “The recent announcement that I am no longer contracted to the BBC has led to the publication of rumour and speculation. In response to this the Metropolitan Police has made a statement, which I confirm relates to me.

“An allegation was made against me in 2016 of a historic sexual offence, which was the subject of a police investigation in which I fully co-operated and responded to in 2018.” He added: “Since the investigation related to an allegation that dates back nearly 30 years and the police investigation was closed seven years ago, I hope that the public and the media will understand and respect my wish not to make any further public comment on this matter.”

At the recent glitzy PEN America Literary Gala at the Natural History Museum in New York City the evening’s MC, B.J. Novak, declared that the crowd was there to celebrate more than just freedom of speech — they were there for “literary glamour.”

“Writing is glamorous,” he declared. “Reading is glamorous.”

For Novak, bestselling novelist Ann Patchett — who has also worked tirelessly on behalf of independent booksellers and in support of her fellow writers, and was one of the event’s honored guests — epitomizes that allure. “I think it’s great that Ann Patchett is a smoke show. She doesn’t have to be,” he quipped. “It’s just cool that she is.”

With “Whistler,” Patchett’s 10th novel, she definitively proves that the “smoke show” moniker, if at all relevant, is icing on the cake. This exquisite writer has once again delivered an incandescent work of fiction — sweet, but never sentimental, infinitely wise and suffused with love. It’s also an ode to New York City itself.

“Whistler” is narrated by protagonist Daphne Fuller, a 54-year-old English teacher married to Jonathan, a restlessly retired doctor and hospital administrator who dotes on his wife and whom he regards as “extraordinary.” When we first encounter the couple, they’re roaming the Metropolitan Museum of Art — which, one gets the sense, they know by heart. As Daphne ponders the sculpture “Two Horses,” by Charles Ray, Jonathan spots an elderly stranger eyeing his wife, casting glances in her direction. The stranger follows them from room to room fixated on Daphne. Jonathan’s curiosity is piqued, and he slips away from his wife’s side to get to the bottom of why they’re being followed — which is revealed to be the novel’s inciting incident.

Turns out that stranger is no stranger at all. He is Eddie Triplett, a long-lost stepfather whose divorce from Daphne’s mother, Abigail, remains an unhealed wound. Running into Eddie now for the first time in more than four decades, Daphne is startled by the rush of emotion she feels: “I hadn’t known there was something in me to break,” she reflects, “but there it was and break it did. I stepped into an open crack in time and fell backwards.”

Eddie, as it happens, is but one of Daphne and her sister, Leda’s, three dads. By the time Abigail marries her third husband, mild-mannered Lucas, and the couple go on to have three sons, Daphne has grown a protective shell. These facts are narrated with detachment by the protagonist herself. As she and Eddie gently unspool their memories and together fill in the blanks, their bond deepens. The “falling backwards” Daphne experiences in Eddie’s company — traversing time — soothes, softens and delights her.

As the novel unfolds, what becomes ever clearer is that Daphne and her author are undeniably similar, though Patchett has observed: “I am normally careful to make sure there is a big wall between my life and my fiction.” In “Whistler,” she throws that caution to the wind. Easter eggs are scattered throughout. Like Daphne, Patchett is married to an older man — also a doctor — whom she adores. She too had three dads, as she chronicled in a 2020 New Yorker piece aptly titled “My Three Fathers.” Patchett and her heroine also appear to share this enviable trait: They navigate life with grace, generosity and utter competence. IRL, Patchett returns emails on the day she receives them, is an outspoken advocate for free expression, is generally renowned for her good deeds. She’s also widely known for her many devoted friendships, though she doesn’t suffer fools. You’d want to be her ride or die. As you would … Daphne’s.

In an interview 10 years ago, Patchett observed that it wasn’t until she read a piece by Jonathan Franzen, “in which he insisted that the novelist had to do what scares him most, and for him, that had been writing about his family,” that she considered following that path in her fiction. “I thought ‘oh nothing would scare me more. I would happily ride down the Amazon in a canoe and deal with snakes’ ” (as she did for “State of Wonder”) “ ‘than face my family.’ ” In 2016 she wrote “Commonwealth,” which drew on her personal experience of divorce and dysfunction, themes she revisits in “Whistler.” But in “Whistler,” it’s as if Patchett herself is in the reader’s ear. (And, by the way, should you pick up the audio version of the book, she narrates and is literally in your ear.)

Patchett has said she had an ulterior motive for writing “Whistler.” She’d been in the midst of writing a different book, a novel about a Wyoming rancher and her horse, Whistler, but it wasn’t clicking. As she pressed on over the better part of a year, a second idea came to her “like a fever dream.” She immediately filed away the messy work-in-progress and began writing a fictional ode to a cherished friend, former publishing executive Jim Fox, to whom “Whistler” is dedicated. Fox had died two years before, on his 85th birthday, and Patchett was still grieving. Her aim, with “Whistler,” she has said, is to put down on paper how much they loved each other. Fox is reborn as Eddie Triplett in the book, a charming and erudite book editor who radiates joie de vivre and is among the loves of his stepdaughter Daphne’s life.

Patchett’s literary style isn’t of the show-offy variety packed with dazzling sentences and edge-of-your-seat cliffhangers. The drama is quiet. Her words accrue and gain power through their spareness and clarity, and a level of character development that forges an easy intimacy with the reader. There’s also a sly wit and sagacity that have become Patchett signatures, honed to perfection in “Whistler,” whether wrestling with the legacy of family trauma, or the human struggle to accept the transitory nature of it all. Or, as Patchett’s mother once admonished after the failure of her daughter’s first marriage: “Stop trying to make everything permanent. It doesn’t work.”

While Patchett has clearly drawn on actual events and individuals to produce this luminous work, she exhibits the expert novelist’s knack for following a plot where the imagination takes it. I don’t recommend consuming “Whistler” in one enormous gulp. I dipped in and out, savoring scenes, reflecting on them, occasionally shedding a tear. In other words, I didn’t want it to end.

Haber is a writer, editor and publishing strategist and co-founder of the Ink Book Club on Substack. She was director of Oprah’s Book Club and books editor for O, the Oprah Magazine.

Zverev had long been dubbed the best player of his generation to have never won a Grand Slam after a string of near misses – including three defeats in major finals.

At the US Open in 2020, he lost the final despite being two sets up against Dominic Thiem and having served for the championship at 5-3 in the final set.

Zverev then led Carlos Alcaraz by two sets to one in the 2024 French Open final but it was the Spaniard who ended up lifting his first Coupe des Mousquetaires.

At the Australian Open in 2025, he was outclassed in a merciless performance by Jannik Sinner that left Zverev saying he felt mentally “empty” a few months later.

“Last year was one of the most difficult moments in my tennis career,” Zverev said.

“This year is one of the happiest moments. It’s a very different feeling right now.”

It seemed like the pressure of a Grand Slam final might prove too much for a fourth time when 24-year-old Cobolli, who had twice fought back from a set down, forced a deciding fifth set.

But Zverev, who has struggled with his emotions on court in the past, held his nerve to end his major final curse.

After falling flat on his back in celebration, Zverev dedicated his victory to his team, which includes his father and brother.

“We have been through injury, heartbreaks, losses. We have been losers at times in the most important moments,” Zverev said.

“At the end of the day, we are Grand Slam champions now and that is what counts.

“I was laying on this court with an injury that I didn’t know if I will ever come back from. All of those memories, they’re not wiped out,” he said.

“They’re still with me but this one will beat all of them.”

Black amber, all painted, white foam…
The rain sings, summer is over.
White foam… May flower.

“Flor de Mayo”, Otilio Galíndez

The Chakana path,
It is up and down, inside and out…

Water is synonymous with life, and rain is perhaps the metaphor through which Mother Earth conveys the importance of preserving, nurturing, and multiplying life on this planet. For the peoples of the South, May is a turning point. It brings the rainfall, and thus abundance is renewed. The wet season begins in these torrid regions of exuberant contrasts and excessive beauty. Everything sprouts, blooms, and matures.

In May, the night sky in the South allows us to behold the zenith of a constellation that holds immense value in the ancestral worldview of our peoples: the Southern Cross. This fixed constellation consists of Alpha Crucis, Gamma Crucis, Beta Crucis, Delta Crucis, and a fifth star, Epsilon Crucis, which, although not part of the main points, serves to distinguish it from the “False Cross.” 

Our Andean ancestry, which exerts a deep influence on all the Indigenous peoples of Abya Yala, identifies this constellation by the name Chakana, which can be translated as a ladder or bridge between the earthly and spiritual worlds. It means complementarity, harmony, and purpose, as well as a path for returning to the core. The Chakana is the organizational center of the Andean world and its entire sphere of influence, which is why it is the focus of numerous and diverse rituals, ceremonies, offerings, and festivals throughout these territories. 

From the moment of their arrival, the Spanish conquistadors were struck by the symbolic power, veneration, and cultural identity of the peoples of Abya Yala with the Chakana. This is why they suppressed all traditional knowledge and ritual symbols, imposing their Eurocentric worldview in the clearest demonstration of colonial epistemicide. Temples, codices, and sages were demolished, burned, tortured, and martyred in the name of Christianity, which came to replace the Southern Cross, a symbol of knowledge and life, with the Catholic Cross, as a condensed symbol of pain, domination, sacrifice, death, and the promise of resurrection.

In Venezuela, a series of daytime and nighttime ritual activities persist, drawing young people and adults alike, in cities and rural areas alike. Afro-Venezuelan peoples especially cherish these traditions. The celebrations of the Cruz de Mayo, San Isidro, San Pascual Bailón, Corpus Christi, San Antonio, San Juan, and San Pedro, among others, escape the Catholic liturgical calendar that continues to try to assimilate them. They are celebrations framed within those exuberant contrasts of excessive beauty that cause everything to sprout, bloom, and mature. These are the days in which the Venezuelan people celebrate the cycle of life and for which they have created music, dances, drinks, foods, costumes, and poetry that have transcended both the Catholic Church and its Inquisition as well as civil and military power, in a testament to the most committed re-existence.

Lighting the altar candles

Wakes (“velorios”) are community gatherings organized to honor the deceased, a saint, the Virgin Mary, the Baby Jesus, or the Cross. These gatherings are held to fulfill a vow or out of devotion, and they feature prayers, drinks, food, poetry, singing, and dancing.

The velorio is a popular tradition that goes beyond the institutional framework of the Catholic Church. In fact, as early as the Synodal Constitutions of the Bishopric of Venezuela and Santiago de León de Caracas of 1687, published by Bishop Diego de Baños y Sotomayor, these activities, which “attract large crowds” and in which “many indecencies and offenses against God are committed,” were prohibited under penalty of “Major Excommunication.” Certainly, the Church seized on these practices of profane worship of the madero (the wood) to imbue them with Christian meaning.

At the center of the velorio dedicated to the Cruz de Mayo (“May Cross”) stands an altar with a main cross and two smaller ones. These are crosses without the image of Christ, “dressed” with cloth, paper, and multicolored flowers. The altar and its surroundings are also decorated in harmony with the crosses, and the offerings of candles, fruits, food, and drinks are arranged in such a way as to celebrate the abundance of a countryside that turns green again at this time of year.

The church’s calendar states that May 3 marks the celebration of “The Finding of the Cross.” Therefore, on the night of May 2, vigils begin in all the eastern states, as well as in Guárico, Lara, Cojedes, Aragua, Yaracuy, Carabobo, Barinas, Apure, Portuguesa, Miranda, Falcón, and in the city of Caracas. People give thanks for health and the fertility of the land. In the central coastal region, where Afro-Venezuelan communities are present, sirenas and fulías are sung. In the llanos, three-voice tonos are performed. In the east, the rhythms include galerones, malagueñas, fulías, jotas, and punto y llanto. The decimistas (poets) make offerings in a circular formation and vie for the spotlight as the musicians and singers perform.

Dancing up and down in a cross 

The Dancing Devils of Corpus Christi dance by forming a cross on the ground, to which they add new crosses with every turn, spiral, backward step, and leap. Each movement has a specific meaning and timing because the goal is to maintain order between the upper and lower realms, between complementary forces that must harmonize. Or, put more simply, to ensure that good prevails over evil.

The Incarnation of Christ in the Eucharist is a movable feast that occurs nine Thursdays after Holy Thursday. There are references to its celebration dating back to the third century in the Roman Empire. In 1350, it began to be celebrated in Barcelona with processions that reenacted the Devil’s defeat by the power of the Cross. In Venezuela –specifically in Ocumare de La Costa –there is evidence of Dancing Devils dating back to 1621, and although masked devils were present in many places, this practice survived only in the central region as a magical-religious ritual in the states of Aragua, Carabobo, Cojedes, Guárico, Miranda, and La Guaira.

The people, embodying the Devil, do not view the Evil One as a figure but as a concept. He is simply a force opposed to God. A revelrous, playful, and imperfect being. However, the promesero, dressed in colorful pants and a shirt, wearing masks of different sizes, shapes, and shades, which bear no resemblance to the European portrayal of the devil, protects himself with prayers, scapulars, bells, whips, and crosses that he carries as part of his attire. But his greatest protection is the insistent sign of the Cross he traces with the movements of his foot and the hand holding a maraca.

The cuatro or the caja (snare drum) are the instruments that accompany this celebration, depending on the community. Only in the town of Chuao are both used, though at different times. There is no singing, and the rhythms are performed with different beats that vary in intensity and speed. There are eleven Afro-Venezuelan lay brotherhoods or cofradías recognized as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO, and each has a distinct musical identity linked to its spiritual environment.

Beating the drums

Pipas, quitiplás, culos ‘e puya, minas, curbatas, cumacos, and maracas are the essential instruments with which the Venezuelan people celebrate the arrival of San Juan (John the Baptist), the most popular Catholic festival in seventeenth-century Spain that was brought over to preserve the identity of the conquistadors while simultaneously subjugating the Indigenous peoples and later the kidnapped and enslaved African peoples. Coinciding with the second cocoa harvest in these territories, the birth of John the Baptist, exactly six months after Jesus, became the figure of greatest devotion on the major slave-owning plantations along our country’s northern coast. 

San Juan is regarded by the people as a saint who charges for his miracles. He’s drinker of aguardiente, a dancer, and a reveler, which is why there is both a popular celebration and an institutional, Catholic one. It must be remembered that Black people were barred from entering the church until well into the nineteenth century. Today, depending on the town and the priest, drums may or may not be allowed inside the church. In any case, the popular celebration of San Juan involves dancing, singing, drumming, drinks, and food –all meant to reclaim a freedom that was historically limited to an extreme. For this reason, it was a celebration that was persecuted and punished with excommunication during the colonial period, as we saw in the above mentioned Synodal Constitutions.

The San Juan festival cycle begins on June 1 with the “Repique de San Juan.” Families, communities, and various organizations meet in advance to plan and assign responsibilities. It is a colorful celebration reflected in the participants’ attire, flags, and scarves. Women’s participation is essential, particularly in the singing that takes place during the sirenas, the sangueo, and the golpes. These songs accompany the individual dancing of those carrying the flags and the saint in the sangueo, which is part of a group dance, but also the dancing of individual couples and, to a lesser extent, of linked couples.

The songs to San Juan are, above all, responsorial, alternating between soloist and choir, often improvised. Each drum has its own “tonada” or way of singing it, and in each locality, even if the same drum is used, the way of playing it and the style of singing this or that beat may vary. They follow the African tradition of three-drum ensembles –interdependent and complementary –where polyrhythm is enhanced by the timbral qualities of each drum, with the lowest-pitched one taking the “lead,” providing the beats and embellishments. “The Saint is in the drum,” it is said, affirming the enduring relevance of the worldview of the Indigenous peoples of West Africa.

¡Arriba negro!

With this call, a singer signals to his partner that it is their turn to sing, because in the bella, the galerón, and the seis figureao, consecutive duets of singers in two different voices (a third apart) take turns. Meanwhile, in the yiyivamos, the juruminga, the perrendenga, and the poco a poco, one singer improvises verses and a chorus responds. The so-called Sones de Negros are made up of seven songs. However, it all begins with La Salve, a solemn song in which permission and a blessing are sought from the saint to begin the dance; once this is finished, the battle ensues, sung in two-part harmony and “danced” by two men with traditional stick-fighting. 

The dance in the bella and galerón consists of male-female couples who participate one after another in a free-form manner. The seis figureao features a choreographed dance by three couples performing intricate, intertwined movements and turns. In the yiyivamos, juruminga, perrendenga, and poco a poco, independent couples dance, executing figures and movements as directed by the singer. San Antonio presides over an altar beautifully adorned with flowers, fruits, candles, clubs, crosses, bread, and other foods. Musicians and singers stand facing the altar, and each time the dancers enter the circle, they bow to the saint as a sign of respect and gratitude.

The Baile de Negros or Sones de Negros may have originated in the vicinity of El Tocuyo, in the fertile valley irrigated by the Tocuyo river, where the sugarcane-producing slave plantations were located. Its characteristic sound comes from an ensemble of stringed instruments related to the Baroque and Renaissance guitar, known as the cinco, medio cinco, requinto, and cuatro. The master or most experienced player plays the cinco. The timbral variety of the instruments and the ornamentation of the requinto give this instrumental ensemble an unmistakable texture. 

In front of the saint stands the Tamunango or Tambor de Negro, a fundamental instrument constructed from a long, hollowed-out log, sized so that one musician can sit on it and play with their hands on its single head, while another strikes the wooden body with the drumsticks. The rest of the musicians are arranged around this instrument. A double-headed drum, a tambourine, and maracas complete this celebration, which is most popular in the states of Lara, Falcón, Yaracuy, and Portuguesa. Throughout June, with a focus on the 13th, these communities organize this traditional dance in homes, squares, streets, and fields -a celebration that cannot end without a sancocho (wood fire, community-prepared stew)  soup) and a glass of cocuy de penca (agave-derived drink).

Stomp on the boss!

The San Pedro festival is perhaps one of the most complex. Certainly, it is part of the cycle of life celebrations, featuring music, dance, food, and drink specially prepared as an offering to the saint. But as a kind of narrative that highlights Peter’s benevolence, there is the story of the enslaved María Ignacia, who, desperate over her daughter Rosa Ignacia’s illness, offered the deity an annual celebration. Once the miracle was fulfilled, María Ignacia danced until the last day of her life, and on her deathbed asked her husband to keep the promise. That is why a man in drag, carrying a rag doll in his arms, reenacts today the promise that María Ignacia’s husband made to his wife.

The cuatro and maracas are the accompanying instruments, and there may be many of them providing harmonic and rhythmic support to a soloist, which are answered by a chorus from the audience. The latter either joins in or simply watches this parranda as it winds its way through the streets of Guatire and Guarenas (outskirts of Caracas), starting from the church and making strategic stops at the homes of the revelers, the headquarters of the cofradías, and other points of interest.

Although there is no dramatized performance, during the procession there are characters in costume with carefully assigned roles, performing specific actions to convey the story of the miracle that was granted.

It is a distinctly joyful celebration. In the lyrics, music, and dance, there is a feeling of gratitude for favors received. This festive nature does not mean a loss of conscience. The Parranda de San Pedro carries a very powerful symbolic weight that recalls the use of irony and theatrics as a tool of clandestine insurgency, allowing people to denounce oppression and express their own identity as human dignity. When they sing: “With the cotiza [sandal], stomp the earth / turn it to dust without mercy…” and suddenly switch earth (“terrón”) for “boss” (“patrón”), it becomes perfectly clear what they are talking about.

The candles remain lit in the collective memory altar and the music continues to sound. After following the path of the Southern Cross and the beats of existence, the Chakana route has another stop. In the upcoming delivery of this column, we will go deep into the heart of these festivities in their wonderful displays of cyclicity, complementarity, and interconnectedness.

Fabiola José is a Venezuelan singer. She has performed in countries across South America, Africa, Europe, and Asia. Her singles and albums are available on all digital platforms. She hosted and produced “Cantante y Sonante” for Radio Nacional de Venezuela. In 2018–2019, she created a series of videos for social media, published on her YouTube channel #HechoEnCasa. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Music from IUDEM, Caracas (2005); specialized under Maestro Tom Krause in Spain (2007); and an M.A. in Arts and Cultures of the South from UNEARTE, Venezuela (2020).

Fidel Barbarito is a Venezuelan musician and researcher, with a bachelor’s and master’s degrees in music and history, respectively. He teaches in the undergraduate and graduate programs at the National Experimental University of the Arts (UNEARTE). Together with Fabiola José, he promotes several musical projects aimed at disseminating traditional folk repertoires, integrating them with contemporary compositions inspired by these sounds. Joropo llanero. Parranda de reexistencia is one of his published essays.

The views expressed in this article are the authors’ own and do not necessarily reflect those of the Venezuelanalysis editorial staff.

Last summer, James Tronstein of Harvard-Westlake was struggling at the plate. Then came shocking news before his senior year: He didn’t make the list of 40 finalists for the U18 national baseball team despite winning gold medals for the U15 team.

“He was pressing,” coach Jared Halpert said. “He had really good at-bats but wasn’t getting results. Credit goes to his maturity, ‘How do I get better?’”

His mental adjustment on how to react to failure, combined with a conditioning program that led him to lose 10 pounds and become faster and stronger, created a spring environment sending him into rarefied air.

The 6-foot, 170-pounder batted .531 with 52 hits and 10 home runs while making the transition from center fielder to shortstop. Everyone associated with the program now calls him the best hitter in school history.

For an individual performance that separated him from all others, Tronstein has been selected The Times’ player of the year for the 2026 season. The Vanderbilt commit and possible high draft pick has been a four-year varsity starter. He also was named the Gatorade state player of the year.

One of the lessons Tronstein said he learned is that “baseball is a game of failure. How am I going to handle that and set myself up for success?”

“He started evaluating situations,” Halpert said.

He also became a vocal leader, having been taken under the wings by former stars Bryce Rainer, Tommy Bridges and Miguel Villegas. His fire during games and his support of teammates came through loud and clear

He credited Halpert for teaching him about baseball and life.

“Coach Halpert has a huge impact on my life,” Tronstein said. “He’s made me into the man I am today.”

Tronstein helped Harvard-Westlake win the Mission League title and reach the Southern Section Division 1 semifinals before losing 3-1 to eventual champion St. John Bosco.

Coronation Street legend Amanda Barrie, who starred as Alma Baldwin on the ITV soap, is convinced bosses would’ve sacked her had her sexuality been made public at the time

Amanda Barrie is convinced she would have been axed from Coronation Street had producers found out about her sexuality. The actress, 90, starred as Alma Halliwell on the ITV soap from 1988 until 2001 and the character became known for her marriage to Mike Baldwin (Johnny Briggs) and ran the local café with Gail Tilsey (Helen Worth) before it was taken over by Roy Cropper.

In real life, Amanda was married to actor Robin Hunter from 1967 until the mid-1980s and she went on to tie the knot with crime novelist and former Mirror journalist Hilary Bonner in 2014, having chosen to come out as bisexual in her 2002 memoir It’s Not A Rehearsal, which she released shortly after quitting the soap.

Now, Amanda, has insisted that whilst the programme now has an influx of gay and lesbian characters, she had to keep her sexuality a secret and is now sure that, had she been open and honest about it, she would have been written out thanks to the attitudes that were in place in society at that time.

She said: “Not thought, I KNOW I would have been [fired], taking into account the climate at the time. Things are so different now. Corrie’s like Canal Street in Manchester these days.

“The people I was close to always knew about me and the relationships throughout my life. Being at the age I am, I still remember when gay men were absolutely crucified for being the way they were. “

Amanda, whose Corrie alter-ego Alma was memorably killed off following a battle with cancer, noted that these days it is “so much easier” for people like Christine McGuinness, who was rumoured to have been dating Nicola Adams after splitting from Paddy McGuinness, to discuss their sexuality publicly.

Now, the former Bad Girls star is just hopeful that eventually, society will arrive at a place where the announcement of one’s sexuality is not even necessary and it ends up being an “unimportant” factor in one’s personality.

Speaking to The Sun, she added: “I believe in the freedom to do and be exactly as you wish in life. To live in your own way. I dream of a day when people’s sexuality is regarded as so unimportant that no one even bothers to remark on whether somebody is gay or straight. “It’s probably a pipedream, but I still like to dream it.”

Amanda, whose stellar showbiz career also includes appearances in other TV favourites like Casualty, Amandaland, and Benidorm and has also seen her become a pantomime favourite, previously spoke of the surprise reaction she got from the public when she did eventually decide to go public about her sexuality.

During an appearance on Good Morning Britain towards the end of last year, she explained: “I expected to be stoned in the street, I got a lot of hugs. What was I in such a state about? Because it was just ‘Oh, I see, oh…'” before adding:

“You automatically revert to the way you’d always behave, lurking about with your head down editing your life is what you do. You change they, he, she, all that editing…”

Like this story? For more of the latest showbiz news and gossip, follow Mirror Celebs on TikTok, Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, YouTube and Threads.

Anyone who has been a new parent knows it’s not easy to do on your own — it really does take a village. And in the latest season of “The Four Seasons,” which returned to Netflix last week, Ginny, played by Erika Henningsen, finds her village as she navigates single parenthood after the sudden death of Nick, played by Steve Carell. While that may sound gloomy — no, terrifying — the comedy series created by Tina Fey, Lang Fisher and Tracey Wigfield keeps the laughs coming, whether they involve the central friend group spreading Nick’s ashes — morbid, I know, but I promise you’ll laugh — a malfunctioning breast pump or making friends with someone who loves to dig really big holes in the sand at the beach. Henningsen dropped by Guest Spot to talk about her character and what she hopes comes next if the show gets a third season.

And if you breeze through the second season’s eight episodes, there’s plenty else to watch this weekend. For more laughs, Mindy Kaling’s latest comedy series, “Not Suitable for Work,” premiered this week with three episodes. The TV creator spoke to Times TV writer Yvonne Villarreal about how the series touches on the heightened feelings Kaling experienced living in New York in her 20s, trying to break into comedy writing. But if you are looking for the complete opposite, the first two episodes of the newest iteration of “Cape Fear” are out today on Apple TV (you may remember the 1991 film version directed by Martin Scorsese and starring Robert De Niro, or even the 1962 version starring Robert Mitchum). The series, which inserts some modern elements and twists, stars Javier Bardem as the villainous Max Cady and Amy Adams as lawyer Anna Bowden, who our television critic says “is low-key forceful as his primary opponent.”

Also in this week’s Screen Gab, our critics recommend a web short that will give you some background on “Backrooms,” as well as a horror film with a similar vibe, and a new nature documentary series. — Maira Garcia

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Recommendations from the film and TV experts at The Times

Chiwetel Ejiofor in “Backrooms,” which was inspired by Kane Parson’s surrealist web videos.

(A24)

“Backrooms – Presentation” (YouTube), “Buffet Infinity” (VOD)

Last weekend, 20-year-old Kane Parsons became the youngest filmmaker to hit No. 1 at the box office with “Backrooms,” a surrealistic experiment about a furniture salesman (Chiwetel Ejiofor) drawn into a maze of humdrum office space. Peek into the movie’s lore on Parsons’ YouTube channel where his eight and a half minute short, “Presentation,” hints at why Mark Duplass was running around in a lab coat. Or let the feature stand as its own work and watch Simon Glassman’s “Buffet Infinity” instead. Told through snippets of local TV commercials, this morbidly hilarious horror tale is like plopping down on one of the backroom’s couches to channel surf. The bland muzak and cinematography are spot-on, as are the familiar breeds of low-budget pitchmen: the car salesman, the personal injury lawyer, the housewife. But once two neighboring restaurateurs duel over the rights to a special sauce — and one gets defamed and disappeared — these escalating, tense ads reveal a town under siege. Things have gotta be bad when the pawn broker starts rapping about his vast selection of knives. — Amy Nicholson

A pilosaurs in NBC’s “Surviving Earth.”

(NBC)

“Surviving Earth” (NBC, Peacock)

If computer animation is good for anything, it is its ability to bring prehistoric creatures to convincing conjectural life. From Willis O’Brien‘s stop-motion dinosaurs in “The Lost World,” to “Jurassic Park,” to the BBC’s “Walking With Dinosaurs,” we are ever glad to take that trip backward, in increasingly sharp detail. “Surviving Earth,” an eight-part nature documentary cum disaster movie cum action film, adds a thematic twist: extinction. With titles like “When the Earth Burned,” “When the Seas Died” and “When the Forests Collapsed,” it is, on the one hand, a dark tour through a long history of climate crises and population collapse; on the other, per its title, its relatively cheering theme is that life, generally speaking, can handle whatever the planet (or stray asteroid) throws at it. (Humans are not left off the hook; the two episodes out for review each conclude with a visit to our destructive modern world.) As in many nature films, the animals are framed in cute or suspenseful stories that largely involve family and community; territory and travel; and looking for food and not being food. (The more adorable the animal, the more likely it is to escape uneaten, and some of those baby dinos are precious.) It premieres Thursday at 8 p.m. on NBC, and new episodes air weekly, followed by a rebroadcast of “The Americas,” the network’s earlier present-day nature series, and stream on Peacock the next day. — Robert Lloyd

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Kerri Kenney-Silver as Anne and Erika Henningsen as Ginny in Season 2 of “The Four Seasons.”

(Emily V. Aragones/Netflix)

What if you found out you were pregnant? And then your partner died suddenly. Oh, and he hadn’t divorced his wife yet, so there’s no money to support yourself and a new baby. For some people, it would be enough to cause a meltdown and an existential crisis. But in Season 2 of “The Four Seasons,” Ginny takes it all in stride. The character, played by actor Erika Henningsen, forges ahead, has the baby — fathered by the now-deceased Nick — and ends up getting help from the most unexpected person: Anne, her partner’s ex.

The comedy series once again follows the close-knit friend group consisting of Jack (Will Forte) and Kate (Tina Fey), Danny (Colman Domingo) and Claude (Marco Calvani), and the new odd couple, Anne (Kerri Kenney-Silver) and Ginny. This season, they take trips to the Catskills, the Jersey Shore and Italy as they try to navigate grief following Nick’s death, supporting Ginny despite the awkwardness of her situation with Anne, and an international move by Danny and Claude after they decide not to have a child.

Henningsen discussed Ginny’s arc this season and how she connects with Anne, who finds purpose in caring for baby Gino (or Eugene, depending on whom you ask), and what it was like juggling multiple projects along with filming “The Four Seasons.” — M.G.

At the end of the first season of “The Four Seasons,” viewers were hit with a big surprise: Ginny is pregnant. And in Season 2, we see her further along and eventually with a baby. What was it like to play Ginny at this stage in her life, navigating single motherhood? Did you look to anyone for inspiration?

I feel like Ginny’s character arc in this season was a tightrope walk that our writers executed flawlessly. Because, let’s be honest, the situation between Anne and Ginny is a bit bizarre. To quote our show, “there is no Beyoncé song” for what to do when your recently deceased ex-husband’s pregnant girlfriend shows up on the group hiking trip! What myself and the writers really tried to highlight, especially in those early spring episodes, is how scared Ginny feels to be entering motherhood without a partner by her side and how that fear and grief become the dominating force behind her actions. She’s just scrambling for some semblance of confidence and security, to feel like she’s going to be “ready” when the baby arrives. But, as any real mom can attest, there is no ‘“ready” when it comes to a baby. You just take it one day at a time and figure it out as you go. I love that Ginny has that realization toward the middle of the season. She may not be the perfect mom to Gino, but she’s his mom, and getting to play the beach scene where Ginny takes one tiny bold step, alone, into motherhood was super special. In terms of inspiration, I was constantly texting two friends of mine who had just had babies for ways to walk, ways to lay down, ways to stretch, etc. Also, our incredible hair department head, JT Franchuk (shoutout, JT!), was on set with me every day, and I was lucky to have her as a confidant and sounding board as she was seven months pregnant when we began shooting Season 2.

You share many great scenes with Kerri Kenney-Silver, who becomes a surrogate mother to Ginny and grandmother to her baby, despite the history between them. How did you two navigate this dynamic, and what was it like working together?

Kerri Kenney-Silver is truly the greatest scene partner an actor could have for a litany of reasons. Kerri comes from an improv background but is also a technical wordsmith. She’s constantly throwing out new line readings and physical comedy to bounce off of, but is also deeply respectful of the words Tina Fey and company have crafted, so she’s equal parts anchor to a scene as well as a playmate. Kerri and I never tried to nail down one exact “right” way to play a scene. We were constantly adjusting the levers with each take, digging into one another versus backing off, casually throwing away a sentimental line versus staring into one another’s eyes. What we did agree on was to never judge these two characters. Some people might look at our character’s choices as debilitating or selfish, but we both found that Anne and Ginny deeply needed and wanted to be there for one another. In their own little “odd couple” way, they were choosing one another to get through the next tenuous, unknown chapter of life. Oh, and working with Kerri? As I’ve said, “if you’re gonna lose a Steve Carrell, just wait til you gain a Kerri-Kenney Silver.” She is obviously so talented, but also one of the warmest and most welcoming humans I have worked with. And she makes me snort-laugh on a regular basis.

You came up in theater and originated the role of Cady Heron in the Broadway production of “Mean Girls,” based on the film by Fey. You were on Broadway in “Just in Time” last year, too. What has it been like to balance your stage work with your TV work lately?

Honestly? It’s been a lot! I say that with 98% gratitude and 2% “so tired when is vacation?” exhaustion. Last year, I was doing press for “The Four Seasons” while opening a brand-new original Broadway show, while also recording Season 3 of the hit animated series I currently star in, “Hazbin Hotel” [Prime Video]. My days were spent doing interviews in the morning, rushing to Circle in the Square theater for “Just in Time” preview rehearsals in the afternoon, recording episodes of “Hazbin Hotel” on my dinner break, all before heading back to the theater for an 8 p.m. curtain. I remember there was one night I did a SAG panel with Tina, Kerry and Marco on 55th and Broadway that ended at 7:45, and I was in pincurls and fake eyelashes, ready to go onstage opposite Jonathan Groff at 8:15. It is definitely a balancing act, and one I would not be able to navigate without my team and my husband. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love how each discipline has started to inform the other: I’ve taken my spontaneity in the voice-over booth onto set, I’ve taken my trust in stillness in front of the camera onto the stage, and I’ve taken my discipline doing eight shows a week into everything. Getting to dip a toe into multiple pools of the entertainment industry is, I think, the only way my brain wants to operate.

If “The Four Seasons” gets a third season, where would you like to see Ginny go?

In a perfect world? I’d love if Danny/Claude planned a fabulous trip to a gay destination like Mykonos that the rest of the group somehow gloms onto. I remember visiting Fire Island for the first time a few summers ago at Tina’s recommendation and loving it so much. I texted her that I never wanted to leave and she basically wrote back, “Yup. Always follow the gays.” So, maybe we will do exactly that in Season 3. Also, on a very specific Ginny note, I will hopefully have a toddler in Season 3 as opposed to a baby (our babies on set were under 6 months old so they definitely fell into the “handle with care” category!), and my dream is to be able to hold one the way Diane Keaton holds her toddler in “Baby Boom.” It’s a perfect moment of physical comedy, and I aspire to re-create it.

What have you watched recently that you are recommending to everyone you know?

“Beef” Season 2 and the recent Rafael Nadal documentary, “Rafa.” Both Netflix. What can I say? I’m loyal. The entire cast in “Beef” is spectacular, and I love the genre-bending the showrunner weaves throughout. You never quite know where you stand, but the twists feel earned and character-driven as opposed to gimmicky. There’s one quasi-bottle episode set in an ER that felt perfectly surreal, claustrophobic and exactly what it feels like to be in the ER on bad health insurance (speaking from 21-year-old experience). “Rafa” is just … no words. I love a sports doc (“The Last Dance” [Netflix], “Prefontaine” [VOD], “The Endless Summer” [Tubi] — you name it), probably because, in my heart of hearts, I just want to be an athlete.

What’s your go-to comfort watch, the movie or TV show you go back to again and again?

I will never tire of watching “The Parent Trap” [Disney+]. It’s perfect. Chessy is a queer icon, Meredith Blake is the “villain” but also get that vineyard honey, one of Lindsay Lohan’s best performances, and what I wouldn’t give to have an ounce of the class that was Natasha Richardson. Every scene is perfect, there’s not a single “skip” on the soundtrack. Also a flawless Maggie Wheeler cameo! Nancy Jane Meyers: You outdid yourself.

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BOSTON — A federal judge on Friday struck down a Trump administration policy enacted after the shooting of two National Guard members that made it harder for immigrants from dozens of countries to stay and enter the U.S.

In a ruling harshly criticizing the administration, U.S. District Chief Judge John McConnell Jr. said the policy “threw the lives of countless immigrants living in the United States into indeterminate legal limbo,” and he accused the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services of ignoring the law.

“In enacting its latest immigration policies, USCIS: claims statutory and regulatory authority that it does not possess; makes decisions without the reasoned explanations that it must provide; acts without regard for the reliance interests of applicants that it must consider; and justifies its actions with pretextual concerns of ‘national security’ that mask anti-immigrant sentiments that it is forbidden from letting influence its decision-making,” he wrote. “In legal terms that means USCIS’s actions are contrary to law and arbitrary and capricious.”

A spokesperson for the Department of Homeland Security did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

The policies enacted after the National Guard shooting last year meant that immigrants from 39 African, Asian, Latin American and Middle Eastern countries have been “categorically barred” from receiving final decisions on, among other things, their asylum, work permit, green card and citizenship applications.

“This ruling reaffirms a basic principle: the federal government cannot shut down lawful immigration pathways or discriminate against people based on where they come from,” said Skye Perryman, president and CEO of Democracy Forward, which represented the plaintiffs in the case. “These unlawful policies caused enormous harm to families, workers, asylum-seekers, and communities across the country who were left in limbo, unable to work, access protections, or move forward with their lives.”

The policies apply to U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, which approves applications for immigrants to work and become citizens. The agency, which is within the Homeland Security Department, often grants asylum, but only for those already in the United States when they apply. Immigration judges grant asylum to those who are stopped at the border; the ruling does not affect them, and neither do the policies that sparked the lawsuit.

It is part of an ongoing effort by the administration to tighten U.S. entry standards for travel and immigration, in what critics say unfairly prevents travel for people from a broad range of countries. The administration suggested it would expand the restrictions after the arrest of an Afghan national suspect in the shooting of two National Guard troops over Thanksgiving weekend.

In its motion to dismiss, which the court denied, the government argued that Congress gave the executive branch broad authority over immigration policy, including “the entry of aliens into the United States as well as discretion within the statutory scheme to confer as well as withdraw various discretionary benefits.”

“This case rests on a remarkable premise: that a federal court should prevent an agency from issuing the very policy guidance that provides government personnel with the guardrails necessary to ensure consistent, non-arbitrary, and individualized decisionmaking consistent with federal law,” the government wrote in its brief.

Immigration groups celebrated the ruling.

“This ruling sets a powerful precedent that the administration cannot ignore the law as laid down by Congress and cannot arbitrarily bar immigration benefits on the basis of national origin by fiat,” said Jamal Abdi, president at the National Iranian American Council. “Fortunately, this is still a nation of laws, and those who uphold America’s values have recourse to challenge and push back on such discriminatory, arbitrary policies.”

Shawn VanDiver, a Navy veteran who heads a coalition that supports Afghan resettlement efforts called #AfghanEvac, said the ruling was a “significant victory for the rule of law and for thousands of Afghan allies and other immigrants who followed every requirement asked of them.”

“Just this week in Dallas and Fort Worth, we met people who feared losing jobs because delayed work permit renewals threatened their livelihoods, families who postponed education, travel, and homeownership because they did not know when their cases would be resolved, and future Americans who had expected to become citizens only to see their applications stall without explanation,” VanDiver said.

Casey writes for the Associated Press.