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To live in Los Angeles is to be a seeker. There are those who come to the city in search of the limelight and affluence. There are others who crave temperate weather and long for accessible beaches. The list goes on. Some of these desires are easily satisfied, while others are left unfulfilled or forgotten. But for those born and raised in this atypical metropolis, like Shirley Kurata, the search is never-ending.

The costume designer tells me the key to loving this city is to never stop venturing around. We sit in the shaded back patio of Virgil Normal, a 21st century lifestyle shop she owns with her husband, Charlie Staunton. She wears a vibrant pink getup — a vintage top and Issey Miyake pants — complete with small pleats and optimal for the unavoidable August heat wave. Her signature pair of black circular glasses sits perfectly on the bridge of her nose. It’s a style of eyewear she owns in several colors.

“I always tell people, L.A. is like going to a flea market. There’s some digging to do, but you’ll definitely find some gems,” says the stylist and costume designer, as she’s regularly on the lookout for up-and-coming creative hubs and eye-catching storefronts. “It won’t be handed to you. You have to dig.”

In one way or another, “digging” has marked Kurata’s creative livelihood. Whether she’s conjuring wardrobes for the big screen, like in the Oscar-winning “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” or styling musicians like Billie Eilish, Florence and the Machine and ASAP Rocky for photo shoots and music videos, the hunt for the perfect look keeps her on her toes.

Over the summer, Kurata spent a lot of time inside the Costco-size Western Costume Co., pulling looks for Vogue World, the magazine’s annual traveling runway extravaganza. This year, the fashion spectacle is centered around Hollywood and will take place at Paramount Pictures Studios in late October. She is one of the eight costume designers asked to present at the event — others include Colleen Atwood of “Edward Scissorhands,” Ruth E. Carter of “Black Panther” and Arianne Phillips of “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.” Kurata will be styling background performers and taking inspiration from the invited costume designers.

Shirley wears vintage hat, Meals Clothing top, shirt and dress, We Love Colors tights, Opening Ceremony x Robert Clergerie shoes and l.a. Eyeworks sunglasses.

“[Vogue] wanted someone that is a stylist and costume designer who has worked both in fashion and film. Because a lot of costume designers work primarily in TV and film, they don’t do the fashion styling for editorial shoots,” says Kurata. “I’m coming on and working with what other costume designers have done.”

Since her start in the business, Kurata has gained acclaim for her ability to infuse daring prints and vibrant color into the narrative worlds she deals with. Her maximalist sense of experimentation took center stage in “Everything Everywhere All at Once” and earned her an Academy Award nomination for costume design. From a bejeweled Elvis jumpsuit to a look made entirely of neon green tassels meant to resemble an amoeba, her vision was avant-garde, playful and undeniably multidimensional.

When Kurata isn’t on set or in the troves of a costume house, she’s likely tending to Virgil Normal. Housed in a former moped shop, the Virgil Village store offers a selection of novelty items and streetwear treasures, curated by both Kurata and Staunton. Though Staunton jokes that he’s constantly seeking her approval when sourcing inventory: “If it’s not cool enough for her, it doesn’t come in.”

The couple first met at the Rose Bowl Flea Market through mutual friends. At first sight, Staunton recalls being enthralled by her perpetually “cool” demeanor. Early in their relationship, he even floated the idea of starting a clothing line together, just to “knock off her closet.”

Shirley wears Leeann Huang t-shirt, skirt and shoes, We Love Colors tights and l.a. Eyeworks glasses here and in photos below.

“She’s like a peacock. It’s not like she’s trying to get attention. But she has her own vision and doesn’t really care what’s going on. She knows what’s cool,” says Staunton, who cites Kurata as the biggest “inspiration” for the store.

Inside the quaint red brick building, blue L.A. hats are embroidered to read “Larry David,” acrylic shelves are packed with Snoopy figurines (for display only), trays of l.a. Eyeworks frames fill the tables and each clothing tag is a different elaborate doodle illustrated by Staunton. He adds that everything in the store is meant to have a “rabbit hole” effect, where shoppers can give in to their curiosities.

“We wanted a place where like-minded people could come here and have it be a space to hang out. They don’t have to buy anything,” says Kurata. The attached patio is complete with a mural of a man floating in space, pipe in hand, and the coolers are still filled with chilled beers and sparkling waters from their most recent get-together. She tells me about how many times they’ve allowed musicians and artists to transform this peaceful outdoor space into a lively venue.

“Having that connection with a community of creatives in the city is essential. Having that sort of human interaction is really good for your soul, and for your creativity,” she shares. “Having this store has been one of the most fulfilling things that I’ve done, and it’s not like we’re not making a ton of money off it.”

From the cactus out front, which Kurata and Staunton planted themselves, to grabbing lunch at the taqueria down the street, she explains cultivating a space like this and being an active part of the neighborhood has made her into a more “enriched person.” Kurata, who is of Japanese descent, brings up the lesser known history of East Hollywood. In the early 1900s, the neighborhood, then called J-Flats, was where a sizable group of Japanese immigrants settled. It was once a bustling community with Japanese boarding houses that offered affordable rent and home-cooked meals. Today, only one of these properties is operating.

“Having that connection with a community of creatives in the city is essential. Having that sort of human interaction is really good for your soul, and for your creativity,”

For Kurata, being a part of this legacy means trimming the nearby overgrown vegetation to keep the sidewalks clear and running over to the locally owned convenience store when Virgil Normal needs supplies, instead of immediately turning to Amazon. She pours everything she learned from being raised in this city back into the store, and in turn, its surroundings.

Kurata was born and raised in Monterey Park, a region in the San Gabriel Valley with a primarily Asian population. The neighborhood is a small, homey stretch of land, known for its dining culture, hilly roads and suburban feeling (but not-so-suburban location). These days, she’ll often find herself in the area, as her mother and sister still live there. Together, they enjoy many of the surrounding dim sum-style restaurants.

Even from a young age, she was encouraged to treat the entire city as her stomping grounds. She attended elementary school in the Arts District, which she describes as quieter and “more industrial than it is today.” She also spent a lot of her childhood in Little Tokyo, shopping for Japanese magazines (where she found a lot of her early inspiration), playing in the arcade and grocery shopping with her family.

Shirley wears Leeann Huang lenticular dress and shoes, Mary Quant tights and l.a. Eyeworks sunglasses.

For high school, she decided to branch out even further, making the trek to an all-girls Catholic school in La Cañada Flintridge. “It was the first time where I felt like an outsider,” Kurata says, as she had only previously attended predominantly Asian schools. She laughs a little about being one of the rare “Japanese Catholics.”

“When you’re raised in something, you go along with it because your parents tell you, and it’s part of your education,” Kurata says. Her religious upbringing began to reach a point where she wasn’t connecting with it anymore. “Having that sort of awakening is good for you. I was able to look at myself, early in life, and realize that I don’t think this is for me.”

Her senior year, she discovered vintage stores. (She always knew that she had an affinity for clothing of the past, as she gravitated toward hand-me-down Barbies from the ’60s.) Her coming-of-age style consisted of layering skirts with other oversize pieces — and everything was baggy, “because it was the ’80s.” With this ignited passion for vintage and thrifting, Kurata began to mix items spanning across decades into one look.

“All the colors, the prints, the variety. It just seemed more fun. I would mix a ’60s dress with a jacket from the ’70s and maybe something from the ’40s,” says Kurata. It’s a practice that has remained a major part of her creative Rolodex.

Her lifelong interest in fashion led her to get a summer job at American Rag Cie on La Brea Avenue. At the time, the high-end store primarily sold a mix of well-curated timeless pieces, sourced from all over the world. It was the first time she encountered the full range of L.A.’s fashion scene. She worked alongside Christophe Loiron of Mister Freedom and other “rockabilly and edgier, slightly goth” kinds of people.

“Living abroad is such an important way of broadening your mind, being exposed to other cultures and even learning another language. It helps you grow as a person. It’s the best thing I ever did.”

“Time moved really slowly in that place. But just the creativity that I was around, from both the people who worked there and shopped there, was great exposure,” says Kurata, who recalls seeing faces like Winona Ryder and Johnny Depp browsing the selection and Naomi Campbell and Christy Turlington trying on jeans.

Kurata continued her L.A. expedition to Cal State Long Beach, where she began her art degree. It wasn’t long before Studio Berçot, a now-closed fashion school in Paris known for its avant-garde curriculum, started calling her name.

“Living abroad is such an important way of broadening your mind, being exposed to other cultures and even learning another language. It helps you grow as a person,” says Kurata. “It’s the best thing I ever did.”

Her Parisian studies lasted around three years and it was the closest she had ever gotten to high fashion. Sometimes, she would be able to see runway shows by selling magazines inside the venue or volunteering to work backstage. Other times, she relied on well-intentioned shenanigans. She used to pass around and reuse an invitation within her group of friends. She once snuck in through a large, unattended hole in a fence. In one instance, she simply charged at the entrance when it began to rain. All things she did in the name of fashion.

“I would just do what I could to see as many shows as possible. All of the excitement is hard to explain. When I worked backstage, there’s this labor of love that’s put towards the show. It’s this contagious energy that you could feel when the models start coming,” says Kurata, who saw everything from Jean Paul Gaultier to John Galliano and Yves Saint Laurent. When she was backstage for a Vivienne Westwood show, she recollects seeing this “shorter model, and thinking, ‘Oh, she’s so tiny,’ and then realizing that it was Kate Moss who was still fairly new at that point.”

“We wanted a place where like-minded people could come here and have it be a space to hang out. Having this store has been one of the most fulfilling things that I’ve done.”

Staying in France was intriguing to a young Kurata, but the struggles of visas and paperwork deterred her. She instead returned to L.A., freshly inspired, and completed her bachelor’s degree in art (to her parents’ satisfaction). She didn’t plan to get into costume design, Kurata explains. But when it became clear that designing her own line would require moving to somewhere like New York or back to Europe, she realized, “Maybe fashion is not the world I want to get into; maybe it’s costumes.”

“I felt comfortable with that decision,” shares Kurata. “I do love film, so it was just a transition I made. It was still connected [to everything that I wanted to do].”

Without the aid of social media, she sent letters to costume designers, hoping to get mentored, and started working on low-budget jobs. She quickly fell in love with how much the job changed day-to-day. On occasion, there are 12-hour days that can be “miserable,” but her next job might be entirely different. One day she’s styling the seasonal campaigns for her longtime friends Kate and Laura Mulleavy, owners of Rodarte, and the next she could be styling for the cover of W Magazine, where a larger-than-life Jennifer Coolidge stomps through a miniature city in a neon polka-dot coat.

Whenever Kurata takes on a project, Staunton says she “just doesn’t stop.” Sometimes, he’ll wake up at 3 in the morning and she’s emailing people in Europe, attempting to hunt down a rare vintage piece. Her passion is the kind that simultaneously consumes and fuels her.

“There’s a lot of times [with her work] where I’m like, ‘That’s just straight out of Shirley’s closet.’ It’s not like she has to compromise. It’s something she would wear herself. She doesn’t have to follow trends,” explains Staunton. “People seek her out, because she has such a unique vision.”

“I always tell people, L.A. is like going to a flea market. There’s some digging to do, but you’ll definitely find some gems.”

Kurata thinks of herself as “someone who gets bored easily.” It’s a quality that’s reflected in her eclectic style, busy travel schedule, Virgil Normal’s constantly changing selection and even the common feeling she gets when she’s sick of all of her clothes. It’s a good thing being bored and being in Los Angeles don’t go hand in hand.

I ask Kurata a somewhat daunting question for a born-and-bred Angeleno.

“Do you think you could ever see yourself calling another place home?”

She lets out a deep sigh and tells me it’s not something she’s closed off to. Though, she takes a moment to reflect on how everyone came together to provide support during the Palisades and Eaton fires earlier this year. Or how good it feels when they have events at Virgil Normal, to be surrounded by a diverse group of creative minds “who don’t judge.” She even thinks about how she currently lives in a Franklin Hills house, a neighborhood she never thought she would be able to afford.

Time and time again, Kurata and this sprawling city-state have looked out for each other. From the way she speaks of different areas with such an intrinsic care, to showcasing her unique creative eye in Tinseltown, L.A. has made her into a permanent seeker. Whether she chooses to stay in Franklin Hills for the rest of her life or packs up everything tomorrow, she’ll always keep an eye out for hidden gems — just like at the flea market.

“We’ve been doing this for a while now,” laughs Channing Tatum, “and every once in a while a new thing comes out I haven’t heard.”

Tatum’s responding to the latest revelation of the press tour for his new film “Roofman”: Director Derek Cianfrance’s claim that he was the fastest checker in Walmart history. (“They gave you a raise if you got 18 rings a minute,” says Cianfrance. “I averaged 350.”)

The point, for Cianfrance, is that the characters at the heart of “Roofman” — good-hearted thief and unauthorized Toys “R” Us tenant Jeffrey Manchester (Tatum) and working mother Leigh (Kirsten Dunst) — are his kind of people.

And “Roofman,” which in its themes of personal responsibility, community and acceptance holds much in common with the work of Frank Capra, is his kind of film. The director behind the 1946 Christmas classic “It’s a Wonderful Life” loomed over Cianfrance’s film from the start. “As we were selling this movie, trying to get it financed, I was pitching it to everyone as a Capra movie and what I kept hearing is, ‘We don’t make those movies anymore.’”

Cianfrance always knew he wanted “Roofman” to be a Christmas movie, which often features characters rediscovering themselves in a small town and magical happenings like, as he says, “a fish shows up with wings.” Or, in this case, that Manchester — on the lam after escaping prison — ends up falling in love with Leigh and being embraced by her family and community.

Tatum as Jeffrey Manchester in “Roofman.”

(Davi Russo / Paramount Pictures)

“I love the populist filmmaker who’s making movies about regular people,” says Cianfrance. “You never feel like Capra’s ever judging people, or being snobby about the people he’s making movies about. He’s making movies about the people who go to the movies.” And while the film’s true-life tale is certainly stranger than fiction, Cianfrance avoided turning “Roofman” into Hollywood escapism. Instead, he says, he wanted to illustrate his respect for working people’s dreams and aspirations: “The thing that transformed it for me was when Leigh told me that Jeff was the greatest adventure of her life, and that she didn’t regret a thing.”

With that in mind, he urged the cast to live their characters’ suburban North Carolina lives. He encouraged actor Peter Dinklage, who plays the Toys “R” Us store manager, to actually manage the store. Dunst’s Leigh, a new hire, was given an actual job interview by Dinklage himself. “He would not give me an inch in that interview,” says Dunst. “I respect him so much as an actor, I think I was also just intimidated by him as well.”

Cianfrance calls the set “an aquarium for actors” — a place where, to pull another Christmas reference he drops, everyone was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on the island of misfit toys. Actors like Emory Cohen and Juno Temple expanded their characters beyond the page. Cohen, who plays bullied employee Otis, conjured up his character’s love for peanut M&M’s, while Temple, who plays the girlfriend of one of Manchester’s friends, saw her character as a hairdresser.

Even a scene where the Toys “R” Us is decorated for Thanksgiving gave Cianfrance and production designer Inbal Weinberg the opportunity to debate where to have Dunst place an inflatable turkey. “I was like, we’re gonna let the actors decide. Kirsten came to set. She got the turkey. And she started to decide where it went, and she put it where my production designer wanted it,” Cianfrance says. “And Peter Dinklage came out and was like, ‘No, the turkey goes here.’”

“As we were selling this movie, trying to get it financed, I was pitching it to everyone as a Capra movie and what I kept hearing is, ‘We don’t make those movies anymore,’’’ says “Roofman” director Derek Cianfrance.

(The Tyler Twins / For The Times)

Dunst had been wanting to work with the director since auditioning (unsuccessfully, the pair joke) for his 2016 feature “The Light Between Oceans.” “I would have done this movie without reading any script,” she says. “How he makes a set — he wants to capture all the nuance and the things that make us humans interesting.”

Tatum concurs. He knew immediately the role would challenge him as a performer. The actor had heard stories of how Cianfrance worked with performers to get authentic responses, like giving Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams — playing a married couple in 2010 drama “Blue Valentine” — contrasting information in scenes to heighten tension.

Dunst recalls a similar moment on “Roofman,” where Jeff scares Leigh by driving a car too fast with her and her daughters inside. “Derek held my arms and he was like, ‘Push against me as hard as you can,’” she says. “I did that and he held tight and then we went into the scene immediately after. It brought up emotions of being trapped and a feeling like everything was out of your control … but that really helped me a lot.”

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“I only told [Cianfrance] no one time,” says Tatum, “and that’s when he wanted me to sing.” That might surprise viewers considering Tatum has an extended nude sequence where Jeff tries to escape from Dinklage’s Mitch — the first time Dinklage and Tatum met, as it happens.

“[Derek] always jokes, ‘You read the script,’” says Tatum. “I’m like, ‘Yeah, I know I read the script. I just assumed you had a plan … a blocking plan.” The scene itself, which involved Tatum running through the toy store and leaping onto a small roof, took 15 takes to accomplish over almost eight hours. Tatum, Dunst and Cianfrance laugh about how the director broached the subject of keeping Tatum’s nudity tasteful. “He’s like, ‘You want me to blur it?’” says Tatum. “I’m like, ‘Don’t blur it. That’s even weirder.’”

As Dunst, Tatum and Cianfrance discuss the production, the conversation seems to be as much about the memories they made on set as the making of a film — which underscores Cianfrance’s approach to directing.

“I’ve always tried to make sure [the actors] have environments … so that they can have these accidents and surprises. Moments can happen one time that you can’t replicate, and they become the moment that you watch forever. They become immortalized because of that.”

It’s enough to make Frank Capra smile.

The airline made an announcement this morning

easyJet has today made an announcement, aimed at people aged above 17 and three months. The airline is launching applications for its 2026 engineering apprenticeship programme, with roles available at a number of major UK airports.

This comes at a time when the UK Civil Aviation Authority estimates that 27% of the aircraft engineering workforce is set to retire within the next decade, and after new research commissioned by easyJet suggests more needs to be done to encourage young Brits to consider a career in engineering.

Some 65% of the 2,000 16-24 year olds surveyed said they had never considered a career in the field, with many deterred by misconceptions about their suitability for the profession. Over half (59%) believed they lacked the right qualifications, while 34% said engineering was never presented as an option at school and 21% thought it was too expensive to pursue.

The study also highlighted a gender gap, with only 36% of young women considering a career in engineering, compared to 52% of young men. In reality, an apprenticeship offers an accessible alternative route into the profession, providing the skills, experience and confidence needed for a successful career in engineering.

As well as this, the research revealed a growing trend among 16-24 year-olds expressing an interest in pursuing a career with a purpose. Over half (52%) expressed a desire to be in a role that benefits society, with more than two-fifths (44%) stating they aspired to a career that would help tackle climate change.

A further 43% identified engineering as a profession that could help achieve these goals through activities such as developing lower-emission technologies. In an effort to dispel misconceptions and support young 16–24 year olds in their ambition of a purpose-driven career path, easyJet is welcoming its next batch of aspiring engineers, offering an apprenticeship programme that will provide essential skills while earning and learning on the job, without the barriers of traditional routes to access the profession.

Speaking about the call for more apprentices to join its ranks, Brendan McConnellogue, Director of Engineering and Maintenance at easyJet said: “Today’s young people are motivated by purpose – they want to solve problems, travel, innovate and play their part in building a more sustainable future.

“Our engineering apprenticeships give candidates the chance to gain valuable experience working on our state-of-the-art fleet of aircraft while helping to deliver on aviation’s commitment to decarbonisation.

“This programme not only provides a pathway to grow professionally but also allows apprentices to make a meaningful contribution to the success of our operations throughout our network. We’re looking forward to opening the doors to applicants from all backgrounds who are ready to take their first step into a rewarding career in aviation.”

Aviation Minister, Keir Mather, said: “This engineering apprenticeship scheme marks an important step in continuing to build a highly skilled aviation workforce fit for the future.

“Initiatives like easyJet’s unlock exciting, flexible routes into aviation, backing an expanding sector whilst offering young people valuable opportunities and long-term careers – helping deliver our Plan for Change.”

Applications for the 2026 intake are now open, with spots up for grabs across all of easyJet’s major engineering bases nationwide including Luton Airport, London Gatwick Airport, Manchester Airport, Liverpool Airport, Bristol Airport, Edinburgh Airport and Glasgow Airport. Those with a minimum of 2 GCSEs at grade 3 and above or equivalent (SCQF Level 4) Scottish Qualifications in English and Maths are urged to apply here

A year after tech firm OpenAI roiled Hollywood with the release of its Sora AI video tool, Chief Executive Sam Altman was back — with a potentially groundbreaking update.

Unlike the generic images Sora could initially create, the new program allows users to upload videos of real people and put them into AI-generated environments, complete with sound effects and dialogue.

In one video, a synthetic Michael Jackson takes a selfie video with an image of “Breaking Bad” star Bryan Cranston. In another, a likeness of SpongeBob SquarePants speaks out from behind the White House’s Oval Office desk.

“Excited to launch Sora 2!” Altman wrote on social media platform X on Sept. 30. “Video models have come a long way; this is a tremendous research achievement.”

But the enthusiasm wasn’t shared in Hollywood, where the new AI tools have created a swift backlash. At the core of the dispute is who controls the copyrighted images and likenesses of actors and licensed characters — and how much they should be compensated for their use in AI models.

The Motion Picture Assn. trade group didn’t mince words.

“OpenAI needs to take immediate and decisive action to address this issue,” Chairman Charles Rivkin said in a statement Monday. “Well-established copyright law safeguards the rights of creators and applies here.”

By the end of the week, multiple agencies and unions, including SAG-AFTRA, chimed in with similar statements, marking a rare moment of consensus in Hollywood and putting OpenAI on the defensive.

“We’re engaging directly with studios and rightsholders, listening to feedback, and learning from how people are using Sora 2,” Varun Shetty, OpenAI’s vice president of media partnerships, said in a statement. “Many are creating original videos and excited about interacting with their favorite characters, which we see as an opportunity for rightsholders to connect with fans and share in that creativity.”

For now, the skirmish between well-capitalized OpenAI and the major Hollywood studios and agencies appears to be only just the beginning of a bruising legal fight that could shape the future of AI use in the entertainment business.

“The question is less about if the studios will try to assert themselves, but when and how,” said Anthony Glukhov, senior associate at law firm Ramo, of the clash between Silicon Valley and Hollywood over AI. “They can posture all they want; but at the end of the day, there’s going to be two titans battling it out.”

Before it became the focus of ire in the creative community, OpenAI quietly tried to make inroads into the film and TV business.

The company’s executives went on a charm offensive last year. They reached out to key players in the entertainment industry — including Walt Disney Co. — about potential areas for collaboration and trying to assuage concerns about its technology.

This year, the San Francisco-based AI startup took a more assertive approach.

Before unveiling Sora 2 to the general public, OpenAI executives had conversations with some studios and talent agencies, putting them on notice that they need to explicitly declare which pieces of intellectual property — including licensed characters — were being opted-out of having their likeness depicted on the AI platform, according to two sources familiar with the matter who were not authorized to comment. Actors would be included in Sora 2 unless they opted out, the people said.

OpenAI disputes the claim and says that it was always the company’s intent to give actors and other public figures control over how their likeness is used.

The response was immediate.

Beverly Hills talent agency WME, which represents stars such as Michael B. Jordan and Oprah Winfrey, told OpenAI its actions were unacceptable, and that all of its clients would be opting out.

Creative Artists Agency and United Talent Agency also argued that their clients had the right to control and be compensated for their likenesses.

Studios, including Warner Bros., echoed the point.

“Decades of enforceable copyright law establishes that content owners do not need to ‘opt out’ to prevent infringing uses of their protected IP,” Warner Bros. Discovery said in a statement. “As technology progresses and platforms advance, the traditional principles of copyright protection do not change.”

Unions, including SAG-AFTRA — whose members were already alarmed over the recent appearance of a fake, AI-generated composite named Tilly Norwood — also expressed alarm.

“OpenAI’s decision to honor copyright only through an ‘opt-out’ model threatens the economic foundation of our entire industry and underscores the stakes in the litigation currently working through the courts,” newly elected President Sean Astin and National Executive Director Duncan Crabtree-Ireland said in a statement.

The dispute underscores a clash of two very different cultures. On one side is the brash, Silicon Valley “move fast and break things” ethos, where asking for forgiveness is seen as preferable to asking for permission. On the other is Hollywood’s eternal wariness over the effect of new technology, and its desire to retain control over increasingly valuable intellectual property rights.

“The difficulty, as we’ve seen, is balancing the capabilities with the prior rights owned by other people,” said Rob Rosenberg, a partner with law firm Moses and Singer LLP and a former Showtime Networks general counsel. “That’s what was driving the entire entertainment industry bonkers.”

Amid the outcry, Sam Altman posted on his blog days after the Sora 2 launch that the company would be giving more granular controls to rights holders and is working on a way to compensate them for video generation.

OpenAI said it has guardrails to block the generation of well-known characters and a team of reviewers who are taking down material that doesn’t follow its updated policy. Rights holders can also request removal of content.

The strong pushback from the creative community could be a strategy to force OpenAI into entering licensing agreements for the content they need, legal experts said.

Existing law is clear — a copyright holder has full control over their copyrighted material, said Ray Seilie, entertainment litigator at law firm Kinsella Holley Iser Kump Steinsapir.

“It’s not your job to go around and tell other people to stop using it,” he said. “If they use it, they use it at their own risk.”

Disney, Universal and Warner Bros. Discovery have previously sued AI firms MiniMax and Midjourney, accusing them of copyright infringement.

One challenge is figuring out a way that fairly compensates talent and rights holders. Several people who work within the entertainment industry ecosystem said they don’t believe a flat fee works.

“Bring monetization that is not a one size fits all,” said Dan Neely, chief executive of Chicago-based Vermillio, which works with Hollywood talent and studios and protects how their likenesses and characters are used in AI. “That’s what will move the needle for talent and studios.”

Visiting journalist Nilesh Christopher contributed to this report.

MEXICO CITY — Amid the constant blare of car horns in southern Mexico City, it’s hard to imagine that Cuicuilco was once the heart of a thriving ancient civilization. Yet atop its circular pyramid, now surrounded by buildings and a shopping center, a pre-Hispanic fire god was revered.

“This is incredible,” said Evangelina Báez, who spent a recent morning at Cuicuilco with her daughters. “In the midst of so much urbanization, there’s still this haven of peace.”

Her visit was part of a monthly tour program crafted by the National Institute of Anthropology and History, known by its Spanish initials as INAH.

Aside from overseeing Mexico’s archaeological sites and museums, the institute safeguards the country’s cultural heritage, including restoring damaged monuments and artworks as well as reviewing construction projects to ensure they don’t harm archaeological remains.

Its historians and archaeologists also lead excursions like the one in Cuicuilco. Each academic expert picks a location, proposes a walking itinerary to the INAH and, once approved, it’s offered to the public for about 260 pesos ($15).

“I joined these tours with the intention of sharing our living heritage,” said archaeologist Denisse Gómez after greeting guests in Cuicuilco. “Our content is always up to date.”

According to Mónica de Alba, who oversees the tours, the INAH excursions date to 1957, when an archaeologist decided to share the institute’s research with colleagues and students.

“People are beginning to realize how much the city has to offer,” said De Alba, explaining that the INAH offers around 130 tours per year in downtown Mexico City alone. “There are even travel agents who pretend to be participants to copy our routes.”

María Luisa Maya, 77, often joins these tours as a solo visitor. Her favorite so far was one to an archaeological site in Guerrero, a southern Mexican state along the Pacific coast.

“I’ve been doing this for about eight years,” she said. “But that’s nothing. I’ve met people who have come for 20 or 25.”

Traces of a lost city

Cuicuilco means “the place where songs and dances are made” in the Nahua language.

Still, the precise name of its people is unknown, given that the city’s splendor dates back to the pre-Classic era from 400 to 200 B.C. and few clues are left to dig deeper into its history.

“The Nahuas gave them that name, which reveals that this area was never forgotten,” said archaeologist Pablo Martínez, who co-led the visit with Gómez. “It was always remembered, and even after its decline, the Teotihuacan people came here to make offerings.”

The archaeological site is a quiet corner nestled between two of Mexico City’s busiest avenues. Yet according to Martínez, the settlements went far beyond the vicinity and Cuicuilco’s population reached 40,000.

“What we see today is just a small part of the city,” he said. “Merely its pyramidal base.”

Now covered in grass and resembling a truncated cone, the pyramid was used for ritual purposes. The details of the ceremonies are unknown, but female figurines preserved at the site’s museum suggest that offerings were related to fertility.

“We think they offered perishable objects such as corn, flowers and seeds,” Gómez said. “They were feeding the gods.”

Echoes of living heritage

According to official records, Mexico’s most visited archaeological sites are Teotihuacán and Chichén Itzá. The first is a pre-Aztec city northeast of the capital known for its monumental Sun and Moon pyramids. The latter is a major Mayan site in the Southeast famed for its 12th-century Temple of Kukulkán.

The INAH oversees both. But its tours focus on shedding light on Mexico’s hidden gems.

During an excursion preceding Cuicuilco’s, visitors walked through a neighborhood in Ecatepec, on the outskirts of Mexico City, where open-air markets, street food and religious festivals keep local traditions alive. A few days prior, another tour focused on La Merced market, where flowers, prayers and music filled the aisles during the feast of Our Lady of Mercy.

October’s schedule takes into account Day of the Dead traditions. But tours will feature a variety of places like Xochimilco, where visitors can take a moonlit boat tour through its canals and chinampas, and Templo Mayor, the Aztec empire’s main religious and social center in ancient Tenochtitlán.

“These tours allow the general public to get closer to societies that are distant in time and space,” said historian Jesús López del Río, who will lead an upcoming tour on human sacrifices to deities in Mesoamérica.

“Approaching the pre-Hispanic past is not only about how the Maya used zero in their calculations or how the Mexica built a city on a lake,” he added. “It’s about understanding how those societies worked — their way of seeing and relating to the world.”

Hernández writes for the Associated Press.

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.

Half of the population is projected to experience critical food shortages by mid-2026 as armed groups block aid.

More than half of Haiti’s population is experiencing critical levels of hunger as armed groups tighten their grip across the Caribbean nation and the ravaged economy continues its downward spiral.

A report released on Friday by the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC) found that some 5.7 million Haitians – of a population of roughly 11 million – are facing severe food shortages. The crisis threatens to worsen as gang violence displaces families, destroys agricultural production, and prevents aid from reaching those desperately in need.

The assessment shows 1.9 million people are already at emergency hunger levels, marked by severe food gaps and dangerous rates of malnutrition. Another 3.8 million face crisis-level food insecurity.

The situation is expected to deteriorate further, with nearly six million people projected to face acute hunger by mid-2026 as Haiti enters its lean agricultural season.

Haiti’s government announced plans on Friday to establish a Food and Nutrition Security Office to coordinate relief efforts. Louis Gerald Gilles, a member of the transitional presidential council, said authorities would mobilise resources quickly to reach those most affected.

But the response faces enormous obstacles. Armed groups now control an estimated 90 percent of Port-au-Prince, the capital, and have expanded into agricultural regions in recent months.

Violence has forced 1.3 million people from their homes – a 24 percent increase since December – with many sheltering in overcrowded temporary sites lacking basic services.

Farmers who remain on their land must negotiate with gangs for access and surrender portions of their harvests. Small businesses have shuttered, eliminating income sources for countless families. Even when crops reach normal yields, produce cannot reach Port-au-Prince because gangs block the main roads.

The economic devastation compounds the crisis. Haiti has recorded six consecutive years of recession, while food prices jumped 33 percent last July compared with the previous year.

The deepening emergency affects children with particular severity. A separate report this week found 680,000 children displaced by violence – nearly double previous figures – with more than 1,000 schools forced to close and hundreds of minors recruited by armed groups.

The international community authorised a new 5,550-member “gang suppression force” at the United Nations earlier this month, replacing a smaller mission that struggled with funding shortages.

But the security situation remains volatile. On Thursday, heavy gunfire erupted when government officials attempted to meet at the National Palace in downtown Port-au-Prince, forcing a hasty evacuation from an area long controlled by gangs.

Martine Villeneuve, Haiti director at Action Against Hunger, warned that while some improvements have been made, progress remains fragile without long-term investment to address the crisis’s root causes.

Authorities in the southern US state have called the blast ‘devastating’, with many of the missing presumed dead.

An explosion at a Tennessee military munitions plant has left 19 people missing and feared dead, authorities said.

The blast occurred on Friday at Accurate Energetic Systems, a manufacturer in rural Tennessee, a state in the southern United States. People reported hearing and feeling the explosion miles away.

Humphreys County Sheriff Chris Davis said it was one of the most devastating scenes he’s ever seen. He did not specify how many people were killed, but referred to the 19 missing as “souls” and said officials were still speaking to family members.

The company’s website says it makes and tests explosives at an eight-building facility that sprawls across wooded hills in the Bucksnort area, about 97 kilometres (60 miles) southwest of Nashville.

The cause of the explosion, which Davis called “devastating”, was not immediately known, and the investigation could take days, the sheriff said.

Aerial footage of the aftermath from the news channel WTVF-TV showed the explosion had apparently obliterated one of the facility’s hilltop buildings, leaving only smoldering wreckage and the burnt-out shells of vehicles.

There’s no further danger of explosions, and the scene was under control by Friday afternoon, according to Grey Collier, a spokesperson for the Humphreys County Emergency Management Agency.

Emergency crews were initially unable to enter the plant because of continuing detonations, Hickman County Advanced EMT David Stewart said by phone. He didn’t have any details on casualties.

Accurate Energetic Systems, based in nearby McEwen, did not immediately respond to a phone message seeking comment Friday morning.

“This is a tragedy for our community,” McEwen Mayor Brad Rachford said in an email. He referred further comment to a county official.

Residents in Lobelville, a 20-minute drive from the scene, said they felt their homes shake and some people captured the loud boom of the explosion on their home cameras.

The blast rattled Gentry Stover from his sleep.

“I thought the house had collapsed with me inside of it,” he said by phone. “I live very close to Accurate, and I realized about 30 seconds after I woke up that it had to have been that.”

State Representative Jody Barrett, a Republican from the neighbouring town of Dickson, was worried about the possible economic impact because the plant is a key employer in the area.

“We live probably 15 miles [24km] as the crow flies, and we absolutely heard it at the house,” Barrett said. “It sounded like something going through the roof of our house.”