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The first shot of director Lynne Ramsay’s stubborn and exasperating postpartum nightmare “Die My Love” would be a great opener for a horror movie. The camera lurks in the kitchen of an isolated ranch house, as still and foreboding as a ghost, while a couple named Grace and Jackson (Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson) poke around the front porch of their newly inherited property. The two take several beats to go inside, long enough that we suspect these crazy kids are making a dangerous mistake. Just look at the wallpaper. Those florals would make anyone crack.

“It’s not New York but it’s ours,” Jackson says of the rural home, left to him by his uncle who died violently upstairs in a way that Grace finds hilarious. He grew up in the area and his parents, Pam and Harry (Sissy Spacek and Nick Nolte), still live nearby. Neither Jackson nor Grace say anything about their past lives back in the city, but he yearns to play drums and she once claimed to write. There’s a sense that their dreams have stalled out, either due to finances, passion or talent. So they move in, have a baby and pivot to domestic chaos.

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Lawrence and Pattinson are such a natural, overdue pairing that it’s a surprise to realize this is the first time they’ve teamed up to make the kind of polarizing, go-for-broke prestige film they both enjoy. The two stars launched into the public consciousness roughly around the same time, then followed the same trajectory from teen franchise idols to creatively ambitious A-listers and now, more recently, newish parents making a movie about miserable parents whose hopes have run aground. Lawrence has two tots under 3; Pattinson, a toddler. Their kids shouldn’t watch this movie until college.

In a dynamic montage, Ramsay sets up their boyfriend-girlfriend pair as lusty but strange. Jackson and Grace flirt by fighting like wild beasts. Nuzzling, sniffing, biting, wrestling — that’s foreplay (and she’s more into it than he is). But they can’t communicate with words. “If you’re not feeling good, maybe we should, like … talk?” Jackson says tentatively to his increasingly restless and unstable partner. Grace isn’t interested in talking, though occasionally she’s game to scream. When they fight for real, their bodies twist into spasms of outrage. And when the other one isn’t looking, each seems to power down — Lawrence’s Grace physically collapsing like an unplugged air dancer — a clue of how much energy they must privately expend to make it work.

“Die My Love,” adapted by Ramsay, Enda Walsh and Alice Birch from the 2012 novel by Argentine author Ariana Harwicz, makes parenthood feel like being handcuffed to an anchor that’s sinking into a swamp. Lawrence’s Grace needs help and the more she flails, the worse she makes things. The book is an inner monologue of poison: “How could a weak, perverse woman like me, someone who dreams of a knife in her hand, be the mother and wife of those two individuals?” the first paragraph seethes. But Ramsay rejects putting its angst into words. As with Joaquin Phoenix in “You Were Never Really Here,” she prefers characters who silently roil under their skin.

The tension in this home starts quiet — too quiet — with Grace cranking up kiddie albums by Alvin and the Chipmunks and Raffi to drown out whatever noise is happening in her head. After Jackson brings home a stray dog, the racket becomes unbearable, with sound designers Tim Burns and Paul Davies skillfully and cruelly making sure that no matter how far Grace roams, she can still hear the darned thing bark.

Lacking much perspective into Grace, we mostly see a mentally unwell woman incensed that her sexual playtime is over. She howls with the urge to mate, prowling the house in matching fancy bras and thong sets that clash with this disheveled house and its stockpile of cheap beer. Occasionally, a mysterious leather-clad biker (LaKeith Stanfield) speeds by, considering a quickie with this bored beauty.

Grace’s erotic agony is reductive and a bit ridiculous, although I think the script is also trying to imply that Grace herself is focused on the wrong problems. The film represents her depression by coating the night scenes in so much blue tint that even Picasso might suggest dialing it back. Despite cinematographer Seamus McGarvey’s efforts to put us in her headspace with lenses that make the world blur and swirl around her, you’re more afraid of Grace than for Grace, especially when the shock editing has her smashing through doors like Michael Myers.

Hurling herself into every scene, Lawrence puts her full faith in Ramsay. It’s not a trust fall so much as a trust cannonball. As good and committed as Lawrence is, there were times I wanted to rescue her from her own movie, to protect her from the fate of Faye Dunaway when “Mommie Dearest” turned another blond Oscar winner into a joke.

Yet, this is a character who hates pity and I can’t help but admire that Ramsay faces down today’s phonily upbeat and relatable motherhood discourse with this boogey-mom who keeps herself aloof. Grace treats the older women in her family like a wall of advice to be tuned out even when they’re right. “Everybody goes a little loopy the first year,” Spacek’s Pam says, offering empathy that falls on deaf ears. (Spacek delivers a lovely, endearingly layered turn.) And while Grace is so lonely she literally claws the walls, she rejects any overture of friendship, either from a perky fellow parent (Sarah Lind) or a peppy cashier (Saylor McPherson) whose attempts to start a conversation go so badly that when the poor dear asks Grace if she’s found everything she’s looking for, Grace huffs, “In life?”

Pattinson has the more recessive role but his performance is so subtle and clever that it’s worth watching closely. His Jackson is pathetic, passive and skittish around his baby’s mother, who he both longs to heal and tries to avoid. He has a few moments that play so close to comedy — say, whining to be let into the bathroom — that you wish the movie would do more to encourage our pained, guttural laughs. The punchlines are there, such as a beat after one meltdown where Jackson admits he’s getting really stressed out and Grace coolly replies, “About what?”

There’s one scene in which Grace reveals a snippet of backstory that might explain her psychology, and I think that specificity is a narrative misstep. What’s powerful about Grace is that she’s howling for all parents, even the mostly happy ones. Harwicz’s book deliberately never gave her character a name.

Even inside this movie, Grace’s anguish is universal. Yes, she wanders into the wilderness at night, but so do her in-laws Harry and Pam, for reasons of their own.There are dark vibrations emanating from almost every character, even the minor ones, although Grace is too caught up in herself to take any comfort from that. But Ramsay is comfortable suggesting that everyone feels crazy and miserable. I suspect she thinks it’s the most normal way to live.

Comedian Becky Robinson’s life has turned into the most insanely fun reality show. One minute she’s screaming into a closet mirror, feeling defeated back in her parents’ house, and a few viral moments later, she’s on The Members Only tour, zipping around country clubs in Oakleys with her tricked-out Streetrod Golf Cart, “sauvi B,” and a sun visor clamped on her blond bob like it’s couture. Her bestie Trish is one call away, her kids Macabee and Dashiell are wrecking the house, her husband Scott isn’t listening (shocker), but her fans-turned-friends, the “Gieurlz,” are. Welcome to the world of the Entitled Housewife. No fancy membership required here because none of it is real, but it’s all so real.

Every story, and character, has a beginning and before she was taking rides on custom carts, she was riding an emotional roller coaster during the pandemic. “So during the pandemic I was with my sister, and she was working at an ER,” says Robinson. “She was in the trenches trying to help people and coming home and you know, might die, and I was terrified because she was coming home from work every day and — who knows? I grew up around Portland, so I had packed up my wigs to go there in case I was going to have a proper ‘Menty-B’ [mental breakdown]. Then even she was like, why don’t you go to mom and dad’s and try to find some form of happiness. So many people were depressed during that time, but I didn’t realize how much I needed to perform.”

While she was stuck at a low point, her parents were somehow in peak vacation mode. “My dad was like, ‘Golf is all we have! You know, we’re golfing all day,’” Becky says, impersonating her father. “He was wearing a golf glove on both hands, kind of like COVID protection, and he’s like, ‘Yeah, I’m doing my part, you know, I’m not wearing a mask, but I got a golf glove on both hands!’”

Becky Robinson takes the stage as the Entitled Housewife

(Megan Rego)

Her mom shared the same sentiment — not for double-fisting gloves — but she too needed to live. “My mom has kind of been through it health-wise, and so she was like, ‘I don’t want to be locked down. I want to go to happy hour with the gieurlz.’ I just sat there and watched them like, you guys are out of your f— minds. Then one day they left the house, and I just felt inspired. So I put a wig on.”

Robinson went into her parents’ closet and dressed herself in a polo, a skort and a visor. “I put on the Oakleys and the Air Pods and the second I looked in the mirror, I just started improvising. She was like, SCOTT! DASHIELL! MACABEE! [My character] had this element of, she could get frustrated very fast.”

That day, in her parents’ closet, Robinson turned lemons into hard lemonade, and with a visor high on her head like a regal crown, a new version of herself emerged — an entitled one. “I improvised for, like, five hours in character. It might have been a manic episode, I don’t know, but I just remember when the whole thing was assembled that day and I started filming, it was making me laugh and I was like, maybe it’ll make someone else laugh too.”

Initially, she hadn’t planned on posting videos of her in character on TikTok but considering how much she was making herself laugh, it was only a matter of time.

“When I made the first , I was like, ‘I can’t post this. It’s dark times and I’m going to look like such a fool for trying to be funny.’ But then I took an edible and showed my sister to see if it made her laugh because I figured she’s experiencing it every day, in the middle of it, and she told me to post it.”

The debut video of Entitled Housewife got millions of views on social media. As it would turn out, other people needed to laugh at the exact same time. “All these celebrities started messaging me and then Chris Pratt DM’d me and is like, ‘If you make a movie with these characters, I have to be Scott!’”

Robinson’s parents weren’t quite as enthusiastic when she showed them her content for the first time. “I think my dad walked out and my mom was like, ‘You know, Beck, this hits a little close to home.’ She was actually pissed at first because I used the real name of my dad’s country club, and it was so vulgar, so she was worried about him getting kicked out.”

Fast forward to now, and many of these types of golf clubs have booked her for shows and actually pay for her to be vulgar. “So they love it now!,” Robinson said. “People come up to my dad in the store like, ‘Are you Entitled’s dad?!’ He definitely loves the perks because he’s a huge golfer.”

“Some people really think I’m this 50-year-old golf lady with kids, and I think a lot of people think that I started when my character started,” Robinson said.

(Megan Rego)

With her family on board and fans worldwide cheering her on, she’s taking off the wig and going back to her stand-up, but with a touch of Entitlement. Shot at the Wilbur Theatre in Boston, her debut comedy special, “Becky Robinson: Entitled,” comes out Friday exclusively on her website and shines a massive spotlight on the fact that Robinson has never needed to lean on props to be funny.

“We’re definitely excited to be releasing on our own platform with entire creative control. The team I work with is so bad ass and they’re really the reason it was all brought to life. I wanted something to give to the fans, and I wanted them to be able to watch it without ads. I want them to see how much they lift me up, so I’m excited to get to release this exactly the way we want it. You know, it’s a little longer than an hour, which streamers don’t like, but the Gieurlz will.”

Robinson has been doing stand-up for 13 years, and that experience shows the second she hits any stage (or bar top). In “Entitled,” you see her stand-up carries the same raw, fearless charge that made her Entitled Housewife sketches a phenomenon. Similar, yet clearly distinct, the two share a flair for the dramatic and an energy that feels almost superhuman. “People are always asking, is it drugs? IS IT?,” Robinson laughs. “In the last couple of years, I got this trainer who is like, ‘You gotta treat this like you’re a professional athlete, OK, because that’s what you’re doing up there!’ For a while, I never listened because we were having fun and it’s just stand-up! And for the first couple of years of touring I would have some drinks and stuff, but now, we’re playing at a level where there are acrobatics involved and cues and high kicks and all these things where injury is very possible. Still, though, when I go out there, I just can’t give them anything less than 200%. Then when I get home, I sleep for 24 hours and then, I’m a person again.”

Should there still be any confusion about Robinson versus Entitled Housewife, in addition to her special, she also released a 30-minute documentary that goes behind the scenes of “Becky Robinson: Entitled.” Also available on her website, Robinson couldn’t be more grateful for her Gieurlz who make this world of hers possible, even if some of them think she’s a bit “seasoned.”

“It took me a while to realize that people see videos and just buy tickets, and that they didn’t even know I was this person who’s done stand-up for 13 years,” says Robinson. “Some people really think I’m this 50-year-old golf lady with kids, and I think a lot of people think that I started when my character started. I feel my funniest when I’m doing characters, and I love that people come out dressed like Entitled, but now more and more people are saying they came for the character, and now they like my stand-up too. You love to hear that so that’s been really great!”

“I wanted something to give to the fans,” Robinson said about her new special. “I want them to see how much they lift me up, so I’m excited to get to release this exactly the way we want it.”

(Tara Johnson)

In no way does that signal the end of the fun with Entitled. This fall, Robinson is taking her skort-wearing alter ego global with her very own golf tournament. From Nov. 6 to Nov. 9, “She Gone Golfing: The Entitled Housewife Tulum Classic” hits the PGA Riviera Maya, Mexico’s No.1-ranked course, with PXG backing the madness. It’s a full-blown Gieurlz escape with golf by day, and karaoke-fueled chaos by night in Mexico’s Riviera Maya.

“This trip is probably gonna take years off my life, but we’re gonna turn it up in Mexico, baby! Let’s get international! We’re gonna get that tequila flowing!” Though the idea of being a golfer may have started out as a joke for Robinson, she’s now become fully addicted to the sport.

“It’s such a fun game and it can relax you when you’re just out there waxing those balls! I really want to introduce more people to it so this will be a fun way to do that. The only reason I’m able to do all of these things is because of the fans coming to see the show, buying the merch, and showing up in the visors. They really are the best!”

The image of a grieving parent is not an uncommon sight on the dramatic stage. Euripides, whom Aristotle called “the most tragic of the poets,” returns to the figure of the grief-stricken parent in “Hecuba,” “Hippolytus” and “The Bacchae,” to cite just a few disparate examples of characters brought to their knees by the death of their child.

Shakespeare offers what has become the defining portrait of this inconsolable experience in “King Lear.” Cradling the lifeless body of his murdered daughter, Lear can do nothing but repeat the word “never” five times, the repetition driving home the irrevocable nature of loss.

In tragedy, the protagonist is often plagued by guilt for his own role, however inadvertent or inescapable, in the catastrophe that befell his loved one. Theseus in “Hippolytus” and Agave in “The Bacchae” both have reason to feel that they have blood on their hands. Lear, though “more sinned against than sinning,” recognizes only after it’s too late the error in judgment that led to the devastation from which there can be no return.

The difference with “Guac,” the one-man performance work at the Kirk Douglas Theatre, is that Manuel Oliver isn’t just playing a bereaved father. He is one.

Manuel Oliver in “Guac.”

(Cameron Whitman)

Oliver’s 17-year-old son, Joaquín, known as Guac to family and friends, was one of the 17 lives lost in 2018 at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla. The production, written and performed by Oliver, turns a parent’s grief into a theatrical work of activism.

Co-written by James Clements and directed by Michael Cotey, “Guac” has been sharing the story of Joaquín’s short but vividly lived life with audiences around the country. Oliver didn’t just love his son. He liked him. Guac was his best friend. He was also his trusted guide to American culture.

Immigrants from Venezuela, the family had made a new start in a country that Guac helped them feel was their home. To convey the meaning of Guac’s life, Oliver introduces his family members through a series of photo images he has crafted into artworks.

The last picture, and the one that remains staring at us throughout the performance, is of Guac. Oliver continues to enhance the portrait. While adding flourishes to the background and making adjustments to what his son is wearing, he tells us about the life they shared before it was tragically stolen.

Manuel Oliver works on a portrait of his late son in “Guac.”

(Donna F. Aceto)

The tragedy is overwhelmingly real. Oliver bears the weight of it by transforming his grief into fuel for activism. The performance makes the case for stricter gun law in America with the heartbreaking eloquence of a father whose life changed permanently after dropping his son off at school on a Valentine’s Day that started so promisingly.

What happened to Joaquín could happen to any of us, anytime, anywhere, in a country that has allowed its elected officials to deflect responsibility for their repeated failure to pass common sense gun legislation. While taking money from the NRA, these cynical politicians offer empty “thoughts and prayers” in place of meaningful reform. The result is that no one can go anywhere in public without eyeing the emergency exits and scanning the crowd for trouble.

Oliver isn’t a polished theatrical professional. He’s a dad, first and foremost. But it’s his comfortable ordinariness that allows him to make such a powerful connection with the audience. He’s onstage but could very well be exchanging a few neighborly words with us on our street.

Oliver summons his son by joyfully remembering his virtuosity on air guitar. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird” resounds throughout the Douglas while he enlivens the portrait with impassioned strokes. The words “I wish I was here” are added to Guac’s T-shirt, and it’s a sentiment we all devoutly, agonizingly share as Oliver brings his wife, Patricia, onto a stage that has urgently become an extension of our national reality.

In honor of Joaquín, the couple formed Change the Ref, an organization dedicated to raising awareness about mass shootings and empowering the next generation of activists through “creativity, activism, disruption and education.” “Guac” is a potent example of what can be done in the wake of a tragedy that can no longer be described as unthinkable.

Ben Stiller has made a lovely, dreamlike film about his parents, the comedian-actors Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, which is also a film about himself, his sister, Amy Stiller, and his own fatherhood as reflected back by his children and his wife, the actor Christine Taylor. Premiering Friday on Apple TV, “Stiller & Meara: Nothing Is Lost” is a show business story, in large part, but will be emotionally familiar to anyone who has had the occasion to wonder about their parents’ lives, in their parents’ absence.

Though both had set out to be actors — “I carried Eleanora Duse’s life under one arm,” says Anne, “and ‘An Actor Prepares,’ Stanislavski, under the other” — Jerry had been thinking of getting into comedy when he met Anne. They married in 1954, but it wasn’t until 1963 that the conjoined career of Stiller and Maera took off, with an appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” They might play the last two people on Earth meeting for the first time, or an Irish girl and a Jewish boy matched by computer dating. He was a fretful perfectionist who would endlessly rehearse; Anne was naturally funny; she flowed.

As documentary subjects go, the Stillers were not remarkably dysfunctional — no violence, no skeletons — past the not uncommon situation of parents whose work, or fixation on work, often took them away from their kids, physically or mentally, with the added fillip of that work having made them famous. (There are references to Anne’s drinking, which bothered Jerry, but this is not a hole the film runs down, and there’s nothing here to suggest it diminished her life or work.) As different people with different goals — “My mom wanted to be happy independent of performing,” says Ben, “and I think for my dad performing was so important to him it was part of his happiness” — there was tension, but they loved each other, and they loved their kids, and stayed married for 62 years, until Anne’s death in 2015.

Stiller frames the film with his and Amy’s return to the Upper West Side apartment where they were raised in order to clear it out to be sold, providing the opportunity to see what their parents had left behind. (Jerry died in 2020.) And it was a lot — nothing is lost if nothing is thrown away. There are love letters, diaries, scripts, manuscripts. (Anne: “I think Jerry has a need to keep his name going and for some reason he thinks that when we check out and pass over that the Smithsonian institute is going to want his memorabilia.”) Jerry had a habit, amounting to a compulsion, of documenting their life on film and tape; some of their conversations, and arguments, would turn into routines. (“Where does the act end and the marriage begin?” Anne wonders.) Raised voices in another room might be rehearsing or fighting. One routine consisted of escalating declarations of hate: “I hated you before I met you.” “I hated you before you were born.”

They quit playing nightclubs in 1970 (they drove her “meshuggah”), but remained in public view — in guest appearances, game shows and talk shows, where, unlike the highly managed appearances of today, they seemed ready to dish the dirt on themselves, providing Ben Stiller with material for this film. And they went to work as actors, each amassing a long list of screen and stage appearances. Jerry, of course, is now best known from “Seinfeld,” where he played George’s father, Frank Costanza, and “The King of Queens,” acting in nearly 200 episodes.

Much of it has to do with Ben and Amy as children of famous people, of family vacations that became working vacations, and growing up on display. In one clip from “The Mike Douglas Show,” the siblings perform “Chopsticks” as a screechy violin duet. Young Ben, already interested in film and asked by an interviewer if his parents will feature in his movies, says that they won’t: “I’ll be making adventure or a murder or something like that, but never a comedy. I don’t like comedy.”

We get glimpses of Stiller’s own prolific career — in comedy, mostly, as it turned out — as well as confessions of his own failings as a family man. (His children, Quin and Ella, get to have their good-humored but penetrating say, as does Taylor, from whom he separated in 2017, and with whom he reunited during the pandemic.) But there’s no evident resentment on the part of Ben and Amy, just curiosity and self-examination as adults whose own lives have taught them something about being adults, amid the knowledge that their parents had parents, too, and some of their imperfections became imperfections of their own.

Both Anne and Jerry had come from dark places. “Their lives were always reaching for the light,” says the playwright John Guare, whose black comedy “The House of Blue Leaves” Anne performed in off-Broadway. “Why don’t you become a stagehand?” Jerry’s father told him when Jerry first told him of his ambition. “Where do you get off trying to be Eddie Cantor?” Anne’s mother died by suicide. “Your father was kind of a saint, you know,” Christopher Walken tells Ben.

Stiller’s approach is musical; his assembly of clips and photos is musical — poetic, not prosaic. He ends his film with a conversation between Jerry and his aged father, Willie, cut to a montage of the family through time.

“Isn’t this better than anything, just being alive?” says Jerry. “When we go, we’ll go together, you and me”

Willie: “Yeah, OK, hold hands and everything else.”

“You’ll take me to shows again when we get up there?”

“Yeah, when I go I’ll take you any place. … What is this?”

“It’s a tape recorder. … Whatever you say is on that tape. They’ll hear you forever. You’ll never be lost.”

And we see young Ben, filming a camera that’s filming him, as his father steps in behind him.

Among the small army of prospects who’ve eyed the California governorship, none seemed more qualified than Toni Atkins.

After serving on the San Diego City Council, she moved on to Sacramento, where Atkins led both the Assembly and state Senate, one of just three people in history — and the first in 147 years — to head both houses of California’s Legislature.

She negotiated eight state budgets with two governors and, among other achievements, passed major legislation on abortion rights, help for low-income families and a $7.5-billion water bond.

You can disagree with her politics but, clearly, Atkins is someone who knows her way around the Capitol.

She married that expertise with the kind of hardscrabble, up-by-her-bootstraps backstory that a calculating political consultant might have spun from whole cloth, had it not been so.

Atkins grew up in rural Appalachia in a rented home with an outdoor privy. Her first pair of glasses was a gift from the local Lions Club. She didn’t visit a dentist until she was 24. Her family was too poor.

Yet for all of that, Atkins’ gubernatorial campaign didn’t last even to 2026, when voters will elect a successor to the termed-out Gavin Newsom. She quit the race in September, more than eight months before the primary.

She has no regrets.

“It was a hard decision,” the Democrat said. “But I’m a pragmatic person.”

She couldn’t and wouldn’t keep asking “supporters and people to contribute more and more if the outcome was not going to be what we hoped,” Atkins said. “I needed sort of a moonshot to do it, and I didn’t see that.”

She spoke recently via Zoom from the den of her home in San Diego, where Atkins had just returned after spending several weeks back in Virginia, tending to a dying friend and mentor, one of her former college professors.

“I was a first-generation college kid … a hillbilly,” Atkins said. She felt as though she had no place in the world “and this professor, Steve Fisher, basically helped turn me around and not be a victim. Learn to organize. Learn to work with people on common goals. … He was one of the first people that really helped me to understand how to be part of something bigger than myself.”

Over the 22 months of her campaign — between the launch in January 2024 and its abandonment on Sept. 29 — Atkins traveled California from tip to toe, holding countless meetings and talking to innumerable voters. “It’s one thing to be the speaker or the [Senate leader],” she said. “People treat you differently when you’re a candidate. You’re appealing to them to support you, and it’s a different conversation.”

What she heard was a lot of practicality.

People lamenting the exorbitant cost of housing, energy and child care. Rural Californians worried about their dwindling access to healthcare. Parents and teachers concerned about wanton immigration raids and their effect on kids. “It wasn’t presented as a political thing,” Atkins said. “It was just fear for [their] neighbors.”

She heard plenty from business owners and, especially, put-upon residents of red California, who griped about Sacramento and its seeming disconnection from their lives and livelihoods. “I heard in Tehama County … folks saying, ‘Look, we care about the environment, but we can’t have electric school buses here. We don’t have any infrastructure.’ ”

Voters seemed to be of two — somewhat contradictory — minds about what they want in their next governor.

First off, “Someone that’s going to be focused on California, California problems and California issues,” Atkins said. “They want a governor that’s not going to be performative, but really focused on the issues that California needs help on.”

At the same, they see the damage that President Trump and his punitive policies have done to the state in a very short time, so “they also want to see a fighter.”

The challenge, Atkins suggested, is “convincing people … you’re absolutely going to fight for California values and, at the same, that you’re going to be focused on fixing the roads.”

Maybe California needs to elect a contortionist.

Given her considerable know-how and compelling background, why did Atkins’ campaign fizzle?

Here’s a clue: The word starts with “m” and ends with “y” and speaks to something pernicious about our political system.

“I hoped my experience and my collaborative nature and my ability to work across party lines when I needed to … would gain traction,” Atkins said. “But I just didn’t have the name recognition.”

Or, more pertinently, the huge pile of cash needed to build that name recognition and get elected to statewide office in California.

While Atkins wasn’t a bad fundraiser, she simply couldn’t raise the many tens of millions of dollars needed to run a viable gubernatorial race.

That could be seen as a referendum of sorts. If enough people wanted Atkins to be governor, she theoretically would have collected more cash. But who doubts that money has an unholy influence on our elections?

(Other than Kentucky Sen. Mitch McConnell, who spent much of his career fighting campaign finance reform, and members of the Supreme Court who green-lit today’s unlimited geyser of campaign spending.)

At age 63, Atkins is not certain what comes next.

“I’ve lost parents, but it’s been decades,” she said. “And to lose Steve” — her beloved ex-college professor — “I think I’m going to take the rest of the year to reflect. I’m definitely going to stay engaged … but I’m going to focus on family” at least until January.

Atkins remains optimistic about her adopted home state, notwithstanding her unsuccessful run for governor and the earful of criticisms she heard along the way,

“California is the place where people dream,” she said. “We still have the ability to do big things … We’re the fourth-largest economy. We’re a nation-state. We need to remember that.”

Without losing sight of the basics.

In a continuing crackdown by the Southern Section against against students and parents who are supplying inaccurate information on transfer paperwork, Orange Lutheran High announced Tuesday that it has declared a football player ineligible and will forfeit its first two games of the season. The school self-reported the violation after an investigation that lasted for weeks.

More than 40 students this fall have been given penalties of two years without being able to play for violating CIF rule 202, which involves providing false information. In September, the Southern Section disqualified 19 players from the Bishop Montgomery football program for a total of 24. The school canceled its varsity season.

Players at Long Beach Millikan, Long Beach Poly, Compton, Victor Valley and Bellflower have also been hit with two-year penalties.

The Orange Lutheran student will be ineligible only until next season because the transfer did not submit fraudulent paperwork.

The Southern Section has deployed new investigative techniques to checker transfer paperwork submitted by schools.

Orange Lutheran principal Jack Preus and football coach Rod Sherman informed players and parents on Tuesday. Preus said as a result of this experience, his school will institute a “more rigorous process” of reviewing bills and visiting homes of transfer students before sending in paperwork for a valid change of residence.

Schools have started to submit transfer paperwork for basketball players, with the season beginning on Nov. 17, and that will be a good indication whether athletic directors and parents have learned lessons from what has been happening to football players.

A big change is that the Southern Section has been declaring players ineligible after accepting a school’s decision declaring the athlete eligible with a valid change of residence. If additional information becomes available, whether the student was cleared for a valid change of residence, they can be switched to ineligible. Same with students cleared after sit-out period athletes.

“We’re going to be different and do it right,” Sherman said.

Southern Section commissioner Mike West said last month, “We’ve had a real influx of fraudulent paperwork. It’s been significant and very disheartening.”

Orange Lutheran drops to 2-6 overall but is still considered a likely Division 1 playoff participant with its strength of schedule. It forfeited wins to Miami Northwestern and Rancho Cucamonga.

The Latin Recording Academy unveiled the first slate of performers for the 26th annual Latin Grammy Awards, which will take place at the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas on Nov. 13.

Among the artists announced were música Mexicana acts Carín León, Pepe Aguilar and Los Tigres del Norte; sad sierreño singer-songwriters Ivan Cornejo and DannyLux; Latin pop icon Gloria Estefan, and Colombian rock band Morat.

“Happy to be at the biggest Latin music festival! Even more so because it features music from my Mexico. Long live Mariachi!” Aguilar told The Times. His latest project, “Mi Suerte Es Ser Mexicano,” is nominated for ranchero/mariachi album.

“Very honored to be part of this musical celebration,” León wrote on Instagram. The 36-year-old singer nabbed three nominations, including for album of the year, contemporary Mexican music album for his LP “Palabra de To’s (Seca),” as well as regional song for “Si Tú Me Vieras,” which features Maluma. León will make history next year by being the first Latin music act to perform at the Sphere in Las Vegas. The one-of-a-kind venue features a 16K resolution wraparound LED screen.

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“It’s crazy to even say that I’m performing at the Latin Grammys. I think of my parents, all their struggles, and how far we’ve come,” DannyLux shared in a statement. “This isn’t just my moment. It’s for every kid who grew up watching their parents fight for a better life.”

The 21-year-old Coachella Valley native celebrated his second Latin Grammy nomination (“Leyenda” is up for contemporary Mexican music album) by unveiling a billboard on Sunset Boulevard that paid tribute to his parents.

Spanish singer Raphael, who will receive the 2025 Person of the Year award, is also expected to grace the stage. The honoree’s career spans six decades, first wowing crowds during Eurovision Song contests in 1966 and 1967, where he gained recognition for his love-struck ballads “Yo Soy Aquél” and “Hablemos del Amor,” respectively.

Watching comedians perform under the thumb of a government that is actively attacking swaths of its population is nothing new for Angelo Colina.

The 31-year-old joke teller was born and raised in the Venezuelan city of Maracaibo as the South American country faced continuous political turmoil under the prolonged presidencies of Hugo Chavez and Nicolás Maduro, among other economic, humanitarian and democratic challenges — such as hyperinflation, increased rates of starvation and decreased access to adequate healthcare services.

Colina — who carved a lane in the Americas as a Spanish-language comedian and has garnered millions of views across social media due to his whip-smart jokes and playful crowd work — left his home country at 21 and began pursuing a comedy career after moving to the neighboring Colombia.

It was the audacity of Venezuelan acts — like Nacho Redondo, Led Varela, Erika de la Vega and Luis Chataing, who spoke out against oppressive government rule — that inspired Colina and informed his worldview.

“As someone who grew up watching [them] perform and doing jokes about the government in Venezuela while they still could, that was my example,” Colina told The Times. “They really fought censorship as long as they could.”

As a self-described “double immigrant,” first to Colombia and subsequently Salt Lake City, the New York-based comedian said he felt as though he’s already lived four lives — all of which have helped shape his comic eye and sharpened his observational skills.

The current political climate, the continued artistic acceptance of Latino art in the U.S. and the ongoing Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids throughout the country were at the top of mind as Colina spoke with The Times ahead of his Oct. 11 performance at the Hollywood Improv.

This interview has been edited and shortened for clarity.

What has it been like doing comedy shows for a Spanish-speaking crowd in the time of ICE raids?

I start my shows by saying, “We’re doing comedy. You guys are not noticing, but we’re doing comedy in Spanish. In the United States in 2025. This is the closest to punk that we’ve ever been.” And people start laughing about it, because [federal officials] backed up by the law to say that if you speak Spanish, then they can ask about your current immigration status. And it’s like, all right, let’s speak Spanish. We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re just celebrating our culture in every show we do.

Do you like the idea of being a little punk?

I think it just became that; it was more organic. I wasn’t thinking that I’m part of a larger movement that started by other people of doing comedy in Spanish, which has always been and it’s certainly been a cool thing to me, but now it’s counterculture for sure. But I don’t need to invite people to my show because it’s counterculture, that’s not the reason why I want to sell. People have been freely celebrating being Latino for years already and I don’t think there’s any way to stop it, honestly.

Have you felt a change in your audience at all in recent months?

Unfortunately, I have. I do, however, have to give a shout-out to all the non-Latinos coming to the shows. They are coming because they want to see a form of Latinidad in its own rhythm and they are in love with our culture and they come and they support it.

I see the hesitance to come to shows a lot more with people that used to come with their parents. A lot of people born in the States, but with immigrants parents, used to come to my shows. My shows have always been a place where people finally can do something with their parents. Normally, they don’t find a lot of activities where they can share something like that. So their parents are now the ones that are faster on the joke and they are the ones that are catching up. It’s always been part of my whole demographic.

That’s the shift I’ve been seeing. A lot of people have reached out to me and said, “I would love to go to your show, but I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.” I got a lot of Venezuelans coming to my shows and saying, “This is the last show I’m going to in the States. I’m leaving next week. I got a deportation letter.” I got screenshots of it and they’re saying they’ll see me in Colombia or Argentina. It’s been pretty emotional. Honestly, this might be the first time I actually get emotional talking about it, but it’s hurt a bit.

It must be nice for the audience to have that time at your show to be who they are, but are you addressing the craziness of everything in your act?

I’m not pretending that’s not happening out there. Comedy gave me the opportunity to become a resident in the United States. I got my visa because of the people coming to my shows. It would be disgraceful for me not to talk about what’s happening or not to at least try to be of help, even if it’s by making people laugh.

Has it been difficult navigating the U.S. comedy scene as a fully Spanish act?

I would say dealing with the industry can be tougher sometimes because of the lack of awareness of how powerful Latino crowds can be. Luckily, it’s changing a bit because of musicians like Bad Bunny and Karol. Everything artists like them have done has made people organizing shows say, “Hmm, let’s see. Maybe I won’t give the Spanish act a Tuesday night slot. Let me try them on a Thursday or Friday night or a Sunday.” And then they see the room packed and people spending money, just having a great time.

I complained a lot about the industry last year and now I’m in a phase where I just want to do this for my people for as long as I can. I’m just enjoying being able to perform.

How has it been seeing Latinos in the U.S. further embrace Spanish-language content?

It’s not only Latinos; people from all backgrounds are interested in our culture. In L.A., a lot of Latinos that were born here didn’t have the chance to learn Spanish or practice it as much, but they love the culture. You also see a lot of people that are non-Latino at my show because they’re interested in Spanish.

It’s like music. There’s no merengue in English because there’s no need for merengue in English. If you are a non-Spanish speaker and you like the rhythm, you’re gonna come to the music. And that’s happening at my show and I’m learning how to navigate it. Sometimes I see people making faces and you don’t hear the laugh coming back at you. Then the show ends and everyone’s DMing me and then they’re signing at the very end of the DM because white people love doing that.

A federal judge has temporarily blocked a new Trump administration policy to keep migrant children in detention after they turn 18, moving quickly to stop transfers to adult facilities that advocates said were scheduled for this weekend.

U.S. District Judge Rudolph Contreras on Saturday issued a temporary restraining order to U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement not to detain any child who came to the country alone and without permission in ICE adult detention facilities after they become an adult.

The Washington, D.C., judge found that such automatic detention violates a court order he issued in 2021 barring such practices.

ICE and the U.S. Department of Homeland Security didn’t immediately respond Saturday to emails seeking comment.

The push to detain new adults is yet another battle over one of the most sensitive issues in President Trump’s hard-line immigration agenda — how to treat children who cross the border unaccompanied by adults.

The Associated Press reported Friday that officials are offering migrant children age 14 and older $2,500 to voluntarily return to their home countries. Last month a separate federal judge blocked attempts to immediately deport Guatemalan migrant children who came to the U.S. alone back to their home country. Some children had been put on board planes in that late-night operation before a judge blocked it.

“All of these are pieces of the same general policy to coerce immigrant youth into giving up their right to seek protection in the United States,” said Michelle Lapointe, a lawyer for the American Immigration Council, one of the groups that asked Contreras to intervene in a filing made early Saturday, just after midnight.

Unaccompanied children are held in shelters run by the Office of Refugee Resettlement, which isn’t part of ICE. Contreras’ 2021 order instructed federal officials to release minors who turn 18 from those shelters to “the least restrictive setting available.” He ruled that that is what’s required by federal law as long as the minor isn’t a danger to themselves or others and isn’t a flight risk. Minors are often released to the custody of a relative, or maybe into foster care.

But lawyers who represent unaccompanied minors said they began getting word in the last few days that ICE was telling shelters that children who were about to turn 18 — even those who had already-approved release plans — could no longer be released and would instead be taken to detention facilities, possibly as early as Saturday. One email from ICE asserted that the new adults could only be released by ICE under its case-by-case parole authority for “urgent humanitarian reasons” or “significant public benefit.” From March through September, ICE has paroled fewer than 500 people overall.

The plaintiffs argued that “release on parole is all but a dead letter” and that children aging out of shelters would experience lasting harm from unnecessary and inappropriate adult detention” in jails that might be overcrowded or in remote locations. The plaintiffs said that was especially true because some of the clients they cited had been victims of trafficking or had been abused, neglected or abandoned by their parents.

U.S. border authorities have arrested children crossing the border without parents more than 400,000 times since October 2021. A 2008 law requires them to appear before an immigration judge before being returned to their countries.

Children have been spending more time in government-run shelters since the Trump administration put them under closer scrutiny before releasing them to family in the United States to pursue their immigration cases.

The additional scrutiny includes fingerprinting, DNA testing and home visits by immigration officers. Over the summer, immigration officers started showing up and arresting parents.

The average length of stay at government-run shelters for those released in the U.S. was 171 days in July, down from a peak of 217 days in April but well above 37 days in January, when Trump took office.

Amy writes for the Associated Press.

In the spring of 2020, Doug Caines was burned out and finished coaching football.

“The COVID season probably broke me,” he said.

He had been head coach at Dos Pueblos High since 2018. He had been head coach at Santa Barbara from 2012-14. He remained at Dos Pueblos as a media arts teacher and focused on his own kids.

Then, in 2023, he was approached about becoming the girls’ flag football coach in the first season of the sport. It changed his life.

“Honestly, I’ve never had this much fun coaching football,” he said. “Man is it fun. The girls are just coachable and want to play and most are other athletes first.”

Dos Pueblos flag football receiver Brooklyn Hedricks, left, and quarterback Kacey Hurley.

(Michael Owen Baker/For The Times)

That feeling of fun, players wanting to learn and parents watching to enjoy the game instead of worrying about college recruiters best describes the third season of flag football. Everyone realizes this purity probably won’t last for long. Players are already getting offered flag football scholarships to colleges. High schools have started to seek out players.

Yet for now, the participants are enjoying just having the chance to play a sport that used to be reserved for boys.

“Before freshman year, I had never played and never heard of it,” said star Dos Pueblos receiver/defensive back Brooklyn Hendricks, whose father, George, is head baseball coach and also an assistant flag coach.

Dos Pueblos head coach Doug Caines, center, talks with his players during halftime.

(Michael Owen Baker/For The Times)

She was a travel ball player for years in softball. Her parents spent lots of time and money taking her to games around the country. Guess what has happened in her junior year of high school?

“Softball was my best sport, but flag football honestly is my best,” she said. “To get a scholarship offer is crazy.”

Dos Pueblos is 18-2 and part of a strong group of teams from Ventura County and the Santa Barbara area ready to challenge the powerful teams in Orange County. Dos Pueblos’ took 18-1 Orange Lutheran to overtime before losing.

“That was the most intense game I’ve played in,” Hendricks said. “It was such a battle back and forth. It was so much fun.”

Besides Hendricks, who has more than 30 interceptions in her flag football career, quarterback Kacey Hurley has been a key contributor. Last season Hurley was the center snapping the ball to the quarterback. Now she’s the one firing spirals, with 49 touchdown passes so far.

The regular season ends on Oct. 15. The playoffs are Oct. 21, 25, 28 and Nov. 1 with the championship games on Nov. 8.

Caines has been revitalized and rejuvenated.

“It’s been magical,” he said. “The first year was so fun. No expectations. Everything was new — the first game, the first touchdown, the first interception. We’ve been able to keep that going.”

Based on Caines’ coaching experience, a real trend in the coming years could be veteran 11-man football coaches switching to flag football to get back to the days of players learning from scratch and appreciating every moment at practice and games.

Meanwhile, the players will keep having strange dances before and after games, applying eyeblack like it’s makeup and, most of all, having fun playing a sport that isn’t their main one but could be one day.

“This team has great chemistry,” Hendricks said. “There’s never any drama. We have a good set of coaches, We focus on having more fun. We love a win. That’s great. But it’s more of a family.”

Los Angeles County agreed to pay $20 million Tuesday to the family of Noah Cuatro, a 4-year-old Palmdale boy who was tortured to death by his parents in 2019.

The case brought intense scrutiny of the county’s child welfare system after it was revealed that the Department of Children and Family Services had failed to remove Noah from his parents despite a court order.

DCFS had been given 10 days to get Noah away from his parents and seen by a doctor after multiple reports of neglect and abuse, The Times previously reported. The department ignored the order.

He died less than two months later, right before his fifth birthday. His parents later pleaded no contest to murder and torture charges.

“He always begged me not to send him to his parents,” said Eva Hernandez, Noah’s great-grandmother. “I tried to explain to him so many times, but he didn’t understand. He’d take his little hands and look into my eyes and say, ‘Don’t make me go there.’”

Eva Hernandez cries while remembering her great-grandson Noah Cuatro as the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors prepares to approve a $20-million settlement to his family.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Hernandez sued DCFS in 2020, alleging the department had failed her grandson and should have intervened to keep him safe. Cuatro had been under the supervision of the agency from the time he was born because his mother had been accused of fracturing his half sister’s skull.

The child welfare department said since Noah’s death they’ve hired thousands of social workers to decrease caseloads and retrained social workers on interviewing techniques and use of forensic exams.

“It is DCFS’ hope that this resolution gives Noah’s family a sense of peace,” the department said in a statement. “DCFS remains committed to learning from the past, improving its work, and operating with transparency.”

At the time of his death, Noah remained under supervision by DCFS despite more than a dozen reports to the child abuse hotline and police from callers who believed that he and his siblings were being abused.

Attorney Brian Claypool, who represented Cuatro’s family in the lawsuit, said Noah’s death was a direct result of the county failing to follow the court order to remove him from his parents. A Superior Court judge had agreed to remove him after a social worker filed a 26-page request with the court, citing evidence of abuse.

“The county really blew it with the removal order. There’s no excuse for them not to have picked up Noah,” Claypool said. “The most shocking, upsetting part of this case is when I took the deposition of the social worker in the case and the two supervisors, none of the individuals read the petition of all the abuse that was submitted to the court. That was inexcusable.”

Eva Hernandez holds a photo of her great-grandson Noah Cuatro.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Noah’s parents initially called 911 on July 5, 2019, saying their son had drowned in a swimming pool of their apartment complex, but authorities grew suspicious after finding the boy unconscious and dry in the apartment. Doctors later found bruises across his body and signs of “mottling” around his neck.

County Supervisor Kathryn Barger, whose district includes Palmdale, called his death a “heartbreaking tragedy.”

“While nothing can undo the harm he suffered, today’s $20 million settlement awarded to his surviving siblings and grandmother provides some measure of support as they continue to heal,” she said in a statement. “Noah’s life was not in vain. His case has reinforced the need for ongoing review of child welfare cases, stronger partnerships with our schools, and a stabilized DCFS workforce to better protect children in the Antelope Valley. Noah leaves behind a legacy — he will not be forgotten.”

His great-grandmother, Hernandez, said she still thinks of him every day.

“I know that he’s not suffering anymore,” she said.

We got a first look at the new Lego Masters Academy in Denmark, and with near-constant messages about the dangers of kids in the online world, it gave us a whole new outlook on parenting

At a time where parents are inundated with warnings about the dangers to our kids of the online world and the reduction in free and imaginative play, raising happy and healthy kids can feel daunting. But after a visit to the new Lego Masters Academy at Denmark’s Lego House, I was given a much-needed reminder that all is not lost – and it has genuinely changed how I interact and spend time with my two primary school-aged kids.

We were already a Lego family, with a smattering of neurodivergency all around, but it’s never really been something we’ve enjoyed together, more a solitary pursuit. I’ve learnt there’s a big difference between just whacking up a set by following instructions, and actually sitting down and chatting about how to build the “best castle drawbridge”, or “a fruit bowl with a flat bottom”, to name some recent genuine examples.

There are now several surfaces around our home with various Lego creations on them, and every one of them is an opportunity (which we can’t and don’t always take, of course) to just be together. With the company recently reporting record-high sales figures, I would assume I’m not the only parent with the same idea….

What is the Lego House?

Not to be mistaken with the nearby LegoLAND® Billund Resort, Lego House is officially the Home of the Brick. It’s part interactive museum, part all-you-can-build Lego building buffet, and overall an incredible place to take kids (and adults).

The newly-opened Lego Masters Academy

If you haven’t seen the reality TV show Lego Masters on Channel 4, check it out. It started in the UK in 2017 and has since exploded in popularity, with versions now running in Australia, France, Japan, the United States, Germany, Norway and South Korea, and more.

Teams compete to build the best Lego project, as per the brief, until there’s only one winning team left.

The new Lego Masters Academy at Lego House essentially takes some of the incredible skills you see on the TV show, and breaks them up into teachable segments so even the most basic Lego builder can feel confident veering away from the step-by-step instruction booklets and creating something from their imagination.

What

If you’re not a Lego superfan, you may not know that certain building techniques have names (the Lowell sphere, for example, which is explained in the Level 3 session), but they do.

The SNOT technique is another one, which means Studs Not On Top, and allows the creator to build outwards, on-the-round, and sideways, rather than just stacking high.

What do you do at Lego Masters Academy?

Think classroom learning, but intensely fun. You (and your friends/family), are seated at tables facing a (human) Lego teacher, with a large screen used for instructions above them. The room itself is a thing of beauty, with almost floor-to-ceiling pick-a-brick shelves full of almost every type and colour of brick imaginable.

Both of our ‘classes’ included a mix of guided instructions and free building to a theme – for example, “give your character something to shade them”, and “your figure needs to climb high, build something for them to stand on”.

There are four different levels, focusing on creativity, storytelling, technical building, and teamwork. As of today, Levels 1 and 3 are available to book, Levels 2 and 4 will be coming in 2026.

Level 1 – Family Fun – described as a ‘playful introduction to Lego creativity’. Great for families and casual builders.

Level 2 – Build Me Up – a way to improve on basic building skills and learn how to take things to ‘the next level’.

Level 3 – aROUND the bricks we go – all about refining and improving some of the basic skills (learning the Lowell Sphere and SNOT, for example).

Level 4 – Mastery – perfect for ‘aspiring designers and Lego Masters’ who want to push their skills to the limit.

As well as walking away with some new Lego engineering skills, you’re also able to take home what you’ve built. You might also want to bear this in mind when choosing what pieces you pick to use during the free-build elements of the classes (but don’t let that distract you from the fun of the lesson, the Lego House Store is well stocked with individual blocks.)

Where to eat in Lego House

It’s very easy to take a packed lunch into Lego House and pop outside to eat, but the MINI CHEF restaurant is well worth a visit but we were advised to book our table ahead of our visit.

Diners choose their foods using coloured Lego bricks – red for protein, green for salads/vegetable, blue for energy/carbohydrates – with different shapes identifying different dishes, and the prices are set per meal. It’s a small but varied menu, and adults get to choose from an extra list of dishes (using a special black brick!) and kids get a special surprise if they attach a yellow brick.

The food is surprisingly delicious (our dishes included Scandinavian salmon, veggie meatballs and Danish chicken thigh) and without wanting to ruin any surprises – delivered in an appropriately themed-box via two very special Lego robots.

• FYI – MINI CHEF will be temporarily closed for renovations from 27 October 2025 to March 2026.
• Prices as of September 2025 – 229DKK adults, 135DKK kids

There’s also the BRICKACCINO cafe serving fresh snacks, desserts, sandwiches and hot and cold drinks.

How to get to Lego House from the UK

You can fly directly to Billund, Denmark, from the UK’s London airports, but will need to transfer if flying from elsewhere.

Alternatively, there are regular flights to Copenhagen, and then it’s a very beautiful and comfortable two-hour train from the city’s main train station, København H, followed by a 40-minute bus ride.

We did this and aside from adding a few hours to the travel time, the trains and buses were so easy to navigate via the DSB app, that it was part of the adventure, rather than an added stress.

What are the best bits of Lego House?

The Experience zones are split into four sections – Red, Yellow, Green and Blue Zones, and each Zone has a huge number of interactive stations where you can build to your heart’s content.

The Lego sea animal aquarium was a big hit for our family, where we got to see our Lego fishy creations swim off into a huge animated aquarium. There’s also a Lego minifigure mood changer, where we saw our built characters come to life and dance on a digital stage.

There’s heavy emphasis on the ‘experience’ elements of the House, it isn’t just a shrine to incredible creations behind glass – but there are plenty of these in the Masterpiece Gallery if you want to see what some of the biggest names in AFOL (Adult Fans of Lego) have created. Prepared to be wow-ed.

The History Collection explores the history of Lego, and includes hundreds of the company’s most popular and famous sets, as well as explanations about how this simple studded brick became so iconic.

What shou

Of course it wouldn’t be a Lego experience without a Lego store. But this one is unique. Here, you can buy sets that are exclusive to the House, such as the famous Wooden Duck, which was one of the first Lego toys made, and dates back to the 1930s.

There’s also the Lego House Architecture set, true to scale and complete with the iconic coloured roof.

Tip – the store is busiest as it nears closing time (the Experience zones close at 4pm, and the House and store close at 5pm). So, if you’re organised and know what you want, consider heading there earlier in the day so you don’t panic buy or miss out. That said, it wasn’t too busy for us and we had plenty of time to create our exclusive Lego House minifigures as well as pick up the exclusive set, and a pack-a-brick box (or four).

How much does it cost to visit Lego House and what time is it open?

• Entry to LEGO House : £32
• Masters Academy session: From £23 per/person per session

Standard opening hours: