review

Secretary of the Navy John Phelan says his service is looking to wrap up a review of its aircraft carrier plans within the next month or so. The Navy has been taking a deep look at the design and capabilities, and associated costs, of the Ford class as compared to the older Nimitz class. The question has been raised about whether this might point to a major shift in the service’s carrier acquisition strategy on the horizon, including the potential cancellation of planned orders for more Ford class ships and even a transition to a new design.

Phelan talked about the carrier review yesterday at a roundtable on the sidelines of the Navy League’s Sea Air Space 2026 exposition. When asked, Phelan said that there was nothing in particular about the Ford class that prompted the Navy to take a new comprehensive look at the program and that the service is looking for ways to cut costs and be more efficient across the board.

A key question the review has been focused on is “are we getting the appropriate bang for our buck, i.e., how superior is the Ford [class] to the older Nimitz class, etc,” the Navy’s top civilian leader said. “To be honest, we’re reviewing every program, so it’s – carriers [are] just one of them.”

That being said, President Donald Trump has been a vocal critic of the Ford class, and its electromagnetic catapults (also known as the Electromagnetic Aircraft Launch System, or EMALS) and weapons elevators in particular, which have faced serious reliability and maintenance issues. Last October, he pledged to sign an executive order that would compel the Navy to go back to using steam-powered catapults and hydraulic elevators on new aircraft carriers, which has yet to materialize. Two months later, in announcing plans for the Trump class “battleship,” the President also said that “we have the Ford class. We’re going to be upping that to a different class of aircraft carrier,” but did not elaborate.

Electromagnetic Aircraft Launch System (EMALS)

Watch the Advanced Weapons Elevators on the aircraft carrier Gerald R. Ford

Phelan’s comments yesterday about the ongoing review were prompted, in part, by a question about whether the Navy has actually been looking at acquiring a new class of aircraft carrier. There is no indication that this is the case currently. The service has explored alternatives to the Ford class, including smaller designs, on several occasions in the past decade or so.

“What I would say on the carriers is, we are looking at [CVN-]82 and [CVN-]83 to review the costs, the designs, the systems, to make sure that they make sense and they have all the systems and requirements that we want going forward,” Phelan explained. “I think it’s a prudent and practical thing for us to do, given the costs of them, as a percentage of the budget, and how we are thinking about the force design and our needs going forward.”

CVN-82 and CVN-83 are the hull numbers assigned to a pair of future Ford class aircraft carriers currently set to be named the USS William J. Clinton and the USS George W. Bush. Construction has not begun on either of those ships, and the Navy has not even awarded contracts yet to order them. The service is asking for advance funds to support the future procurement of CVN-82 in its newly released budget request for the 2027 Fiscal Year. The budget documents also still show plans to seek funding for CVN-83 in the coming years.

The USS Gerald R. Ford is the only member of its class currently in service. It is now in the midst of a marathon deployment that has lasted some 10 months already, the longest for any carrier since the Vietnam War. In its time at sea so far, the ship and its air wing took part in the mission to capture Venezuelan dictator Nicolas Maduro, and more recently supported operations against Iran. Ford suffered a fire in March, underscoring concerns about strains on the ship and its crew, as you can read more about here.

There are three more Ford class carriers in various stages of being built. The second ship in the class, the future USS John F. Kennedy (CVN-79), left port for the first time for initial sea trials in January and is set to be formally delivered to the Navy next year.

John F. Kennedy (CVN 79) Successfully Completes Builder’s Sea Trials

Kennedy and all subsequent ships in the class are already set to have notable differences from Ford, including AN/SPY-6(V)3 radars in place of the design’s original Dual Band Radar (DBR). The immensely troublesome DBR is just one of a laundry list of issues that Ford has had to contend with over the years. The Navy has been trying to leverage lessons learned from those experiences to streamline work going forward.

However, Kennedy, as well as the next two ships in the class after that, the future USS Enterprise (CVN-80) and USS Doris Miller (CVN-81), have all continued to suffer further delays. As of last year, the estimated total procurement costs for Kennedy, Enterprise, and Doris Miller were nearly $13.2 billion, almost $14.25 billion, and just over $15.2 billion, respectively, according to the Congressional Research Service.

This, in turn, has created complications for Navy plans to begin retiring Nimitz class carriers. In May, the service announced it was extending the USS Nimitz‘s service life into 2027, in line with the latest delivery schedule for Kennedy.

“So the President knows we’re reviewing it [the carrier plans], and want [sic] us to put in a review,” Phelan said. “And I think, like any businessman, he’s – okay, make sure you look at all these programs, understand the capabilities and what they’re doing.”

The Secretary of the Navy was asked what metrics the service might be looking at in order to assess the comparative capabilities of the Ford class and the preceding Nimitz class. Phelan was given, as an example, statements the Navy has made in the past about the new EMALS catapults offering improved sortie generation rates and reducing wear and tear on aircraft during launches.

“I think you’ll see the sortie rate come out and it will be eye-watering,” Navy Rear Adm. Ben Reynolds said just yesterday at the Pentagon during the rollout of the service’s proposed budget for the 2027 Fiscal Year, according to USNI News. “The capability is just absolutely incredible.”

Reynolds is currently serving as Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Navy for Budget and Director of the Fiscal Management Division within the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations.

USS Ford Launches, Recovers Fighters With Electromagnetic Aircraft Launch System (EMALS)

“So these are all things you’ve heard. These are all the same things I’ve heard,” Phelan said at the roundtable at Sea Air Space. “I go to the Ronald Reagan School of trust, but verify. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Trust me, we measure and monitor a lot of things in the Navy, including that – the airframes and how that works. So I think it’s a function of just understanding it, for example, is the sortie rate generation that much greater? And then what are the cost implications of this electric catapult, and did it really generate the savings?” Phelan continued. “You know, the Navy would like to say we’ve saved $5 billion in terms of savings in number [sic] of men and maintenance. I just need to check that back up, and that’s what I mean by that.”

“I think, like anything, it’s both understanding the cost-benefit analysis of it, because we really want to make sure we’ve got a good handle on the costs,” the Navy Secretary added. “I think one of the things we have to do a better job of in the Navy is kind of what I call total cost of ownership. So what does it really cost to sustain and maintain these things? I think we do a reasonable job at that, to be honest. But the infrastructure needs on these are also costs you have to understand going in.”

As Phelan noted, the Navy has been conducting reviews of major programs across the service. The Navy Secretary has also shown a willingness to curtail high-profile, but seriously underperforming efforts despite high sunk costs. Last November, the service axed the Constellation class frigate program, long touted as a major priority, but which had become mired in delays and at risk of ballooning costs. Earlier this month, the Navy finally abandoned plans to return the Los Angeles class attack submarine USS Boise to active service, closing out a more than 10-year-long saga that had already cost it $800 million.

Yesterday, Phelan was also asked whether the Ford class could be curtailed as a result of the ongoing review. The possibility of truncating the program has been raised in the past.

“It’s too early to say, but we will have carriers. So, carriers are an important component to [sic] the force, and we will need that,” the Navy Secretary said. “I think it’s more, how do we figure out – like, again, this comes back to every program we’re looking at. What can we do to cut costs? What can we do to make this more efficient? What can we do to make the design more simple [sic]? What are the areas where we think we can save or not save?”

Even just cancelling future orders for Ford class ships would have major downstream impacts, including on the shipbuilding industrial base and its many suppliers. At the same time, the Navy’s shipbuilding priorities also now include the Trump class “battleships,” the first of which may cost $17 billion, according to the latest official estimates. If that price point holds, these large surface combatants will be more expensive than a Ford class aircraft carrier.

“These are very important decisions to be made, and you’re locking into very big contracts and very big platforms that are going to be around for a long time. And so I just think we’re trying to make prudent decisions across everything,” he added. “I think what I found a little bit is, I have a lot of people who know how to do finance. I don’t have a lot of people who necessarily understand finance, understand incentives and deal structures, and that’s something we just need to fix.”

How the Navy’s plans for the Ford class, and aircraft carriers in general, may evolve going forward will likely become clearer after the current review is completed.

Contact the author: joe@twz.com

The best coming-of-age stories derive their power from being endings as much as beginnings. There’s often a clarifying, poignant harshness in the losses they depict. That applies — with sobering grace — to the memory ballad “Amrum,” set on Germany’s titular North Sea island in 1945, when the winds of a world war’s conclusion blow into a 12-year-old boy’s life with unexpected consequences.

The movie bears a curious credit: “A Hark Bohm film by Fatih Akin.” Bohm, who died last year at 86, was a highly respected film writer, actor and academic, a veteran of Germany’s New Wave. Realizing he’d be unable to direct his fictionalized childhood remembrance, he entrusted it to his mentee Akin, the firebrand behind modern German classics such as “Head-On” and “In the Fade.” The project became, according to Akin, like “adopting a child.”

In story terms, that child, a stand-in for Bohm himself, is wide-eyed, sensitive Nanning (well-cast newcomer Jasper Billerbeck), who works in the potato fields of local farmer Tessa (Diane Kruger, in a small but key role). At home, he has a pregnant mother, Hille (Laura Tonke), aunt Ena (Lisa Hagmeister) and two younger siblings, but not the high-ranking Nazi officer patriarch who relocated them from bombed-out Hamburg to an ancestral house on this tiny, beachy outpost. Pejoratively dubbed a mainlander by even the friendliest neighbors and generally viewed with suspicion for his family’s Nazi ties, Nanning is assured by his ideology-soaked mom that their roots, their “bloodline,” make them real Amlumers.

The boy’s first real lesson in the shifting sands comes when, at dinner, he remarks that the war will soon be over, intending it as good news — Dad could come home. Yet his mother reacts as if he’d sided with the enemy by wishing defeat. Later, with the news of Hitler’s demise, she sinks into a depression, refusing food unless it’s white bread, butter and honey, all in scarce supply. So Nanning sets out to secure her the necessary ingredients, as if the fabric of his world depends on it.

What follows is a tightly told fable-like journey built around the war-battered realities of survival when everyone’s tired, hungry and irritated. There are brutal truths in store for Nanning about what his family represents. It’s an evolving boyhood, framed with unshowy elegance by cinematographer Karl Walter Lindenlaub against the island’s flat, grassy, weather-rich horizons. “Amrum” avoids the sentimentality baked into so many childhood-during-wartime stories. Akin, as if inspired by the unfussy youthfulness that marked Italian neorealism and the New Waves in both France and Iran (there are shout-outs to “Bicycle Thieves” and “The 400 Blows”), zeroes in on the steady accumulation of detail rather than the trappings of cuteness or melodrama.

That measured approach, exemplified in star Billerbeck’s arresting simplicity and the many fine supporting turns around him, allows us to clock Nanning’s growing awareness of what matters to others, what’s impossible to ignore and how to interpret an unjust world that’s still full of beauty and kindness if you know where to look. Which, of course, includes inside himself.

Near the end, “Amrum” serves up a wonderfully understated moment: Nanning is invited to celebrate the war’s end with a small group of dancing, drinking islanders. He hangs back, though, as if not quite ready to choose their joyous relief over obediently tending to his broken family. But you can see this dutiful son’s wish to be one of them. For all of us wondering when an ugly time will fade, the moment will resonate like a cautious, dawning hope.

Like the milieu in which they’re set, prison movies can be terribly constricting. Often focusing on well-worn themes of masculinity, regret and redemption, they feature (and sometimes indulge) rough-hewn portrayals of tortured characters suffering through physical and emotional tumult. Inherently compelling but also a shade predictable, the genre promises a tantalizing glimpse at a terrifyingly macho world — one that most of us are fortunate not to know firsthand.

Cal McMau’s feature directorial debut hardly reinvents the formula, but it does remind audiences what remains so sturdy about the premise of an ordinary man trying to stay alive behind bars. And thanks to the latest impressive turn from rising star David Jonsson, “Wasteman” even finds a few new notes to play within a familiar stark melody.

Jonsson is Taylor, who has been serving 13 years in a U.K. prison for a drug deal that went tragically wrong, leading to an accidental death. Soft-spoken and overly accommodating, the young man mostly wants to avoid trouble, allowing himself to be bullied by cell-block thugs Paul (Alex Hassell) and Gaz (Corin Silva) while offering to cut their hair in exchange for the pills that fuel his addiction. Taylor has learned to go along to get along, existing in a zombie-like state from the perpetual high he chases.

But Taylor’s stasis is interrupted by the news that he may be granted early parole. (The overstuffed U.K. penal system needs to shed nonviolent prisoners to make room for dangerous offenders.) Longing to reconnect with his estranged teenage son Adam (Cole Martin), Taylor can see the light at the end of the tunnel — until the arrival of Dee, his new cellmate.

Played by a snarling, coiled Tom Blyth, Dee swaggers whereas Taylor shrinks. Seeing his new home as his kingdom, Dee quickly becomes the prison’s chief supplier of whatever you need — sneakers, candy, drugs — while ferociously asserting his dominance. (Early on, Dee slashes a fellow inmate’s face, recognizing him as someone who once ran with a rival crew.) Taylor adapts to the volatile situation as he always has, serving as the unthreatening beta, eventually earning Dee’s trust and friendship. Soon, Dee takes an interest in Taylor, ordering his lackeys on the outside to give Adam gifts that they claim are from his dad.

“Wasteman” introduces this odd-couple scenario and then waits for their fragile coexistence to rupture. Accustomed to being the prison’s top dogs, Paul and Gaz don’t take kindly to Dee invading their turf, resulting in an escalation of tension that puts Taylor’s parole at risk. But if much of “Wasteman” follows an expected trajectory, the film’s conception of Taylor proves thornier than anticipated.

Although probably best known for the HBO series “Industry,” Jonsson has demonstrated a dazzling range over a short period of time, including acing romantic dramas (“Rye Lane”) and dystopian thrillers (“The Long Walk”). But what unites his diverse roles is the sense of a sensitive, intelligent actor who constantly makes us wonder what he’s thinking.

Jonsson’s silences always seem to say so much and in “Wasteman” he capitalizes on his reserved demeanor and smaller frame to create a character who is much less frightening than those around him. Unlike Dee, he’s no hardened criminal, merely a guy who made one stupid mistake to financially support his child, and “Wasteman” initially encourages viewers to sympathize with this delicate soul who’s been thrown to the wolves.

Gradually, though, Jonsson complicates our feelings about Taylor. Equally desperate to be freed and to keep getting high — essentially escaping one prison while remaining in another — he slowly reveals himself to have little in the way of principles or ethics. When Paul and Gaz confront Dee, Taylor’s response is so cowardly that it’s pathetic, suggesting a spinelessness that bedeviled him long before he wound up in jail. The film presents Taylor as a kindly spirit, which turns out to be little more than calculated self-preservation.

Within the confines of a fairly conventional prison drama, McMau dissects an anonymous nobody who discovers that, both in prison and in life, there are consequences for not taking sides. Despite Dee’s savagery, Blyth portrays Taylor’s cellmate as loyal and honest — someone who believes in a personal code of conduct. The movie’s bitterest irony is that, of the two men, it’s ultimately Dee who may be more honorable.

McMau’s attempts to amplify the story’s grim authenticity occasionally fall flat. (Inspired by footage shot by actual inmates with contraband cellphones, the first-time director incorporates stagey inserts meant to re-create these intimate, graphic images.) He’s on firmer footing exploring his two leads as they square off inside this smoldering crucible. Like Jonsson, Blyth hints at a whole universe inside his character simply by the way he quietly listens and observes. As Taylor’s parole looms, the stakes grow. By the time “Wasteman” reaches its ambiguous finale, our loyalties are far from clear-cut.

In the first of several significant flashbacks in “Over Your Dead Body,” Samara Weaving’s unhappy Lisa complains to a friend about a hunting trip her equally miserable husband Dan (Jason Segel) is taking her on. “You know how much I hate guns,” Lisa fumes. “So dangerous.” Turns out, she’s actually telling two lies, which is par for the course for this twisty yet underwhelming dark comedy that views marriage as both a hyperviolent blood sport and a battle to the death.

Based on Norwegian filmmaker Tommy Wirkola’s 2021 “The Trip,” “Over Your Dead Body” concerns a couple whose wedded bliss has faded along with their professional prospects. Dan directed a moderately successful sci-fi film several years ago but is now stuck shooting cheesy pop-up ads. Meanwhile, Lisa’s nascent acting career is flailing. As the movie begins, Dan conspicuously informs his production team that he and his wife are going hiking in the middle of nowhere — something, he insists, the risk-taking Lisa wants to do, despite how perilous that might be. What we soon realize is that he’s creating cover for his nefarious plan, which is to kill Lisa at his family’s forest cottage, making it look like she disappeared without a trace in the woods.

But director Jorma Taccone eventually reveals that it’s not just Dan who has murder on his mind. That first flashback rewinds to Lisa’s simultaneous scheming, claiming to those close to her that Dan longs to go hunting — when, in fact, she’s secretly brought a rifle so that the authorities will assume he accidentally shot himself. (Whatever fears she once harbored about firearms are, clearly, no longer an issue, if they ever were.) Dan is offended when he uncovers her plot: Why would she want to kill him? At least he’s justified, he believes, having caught Lisa in an affair with her scene partner.

More surprises are in store as Dan and Lisa engage in a deadly standoff in the cabin, only to discover that they’re not alone. Another flashback details how two convicted killers, Todd (Keith Jardine) and Pete (Timothy Olyphant), escaped from a local penitentiary with the help of Pete’s girlfriend, prison guard Allegra (Juliette Lewis), and are seeking refuge at the cottage. Suddenly, the feuding married couple must work together to stay alive.

One-third of the comedy troupe the Lonely Island, Taccone previously directed the big-screen adaptation of the “Saturday Night Live” sketch “MacGruber” and co-directed the endlessly rewatchable mockumentary “Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping.” For “Over Your Dead Body,” he teams with producer David Leitch, whose 87North shingle specializes in R-rated action-comedies like “Nobody” and “Violent Night.” Taccone’s irreverent, slyly shocking style would seem a good match for a story in which the pain of romantic discontent is paired with myriad scenes in which a variety of weapons wreak grisly havoc, including lawnmowers, sports cars, gardening equipment and a sock with a pool ball in it.

But despite Segel and Weaver’s best efforts, they can’t make this bickering duo deliciously awful, the characters proving more grating than hilariously combustible. And when Pete and his cohorts arrive, they’re too broadly quirky to be either menacing or hysterical, although Olyphant’s long-suffering leader has some nice moments slowly processing how dumb Todd and Allegra are.

Other than one queasy homage to “Deliverance,” the film’s handling of the showdown between this drab married couple and the cartoonish criminals is rarely gripping. Instead, “Over Your Dead Body” delivers over-the-top fight sequences emphasizing grimaces and gross-out laughs. People aren’t simply shot in the head — the bullet transforms it into a gooey slab of meat. Fingers get sliced off, stakes are driven through hands and a foot is reduced to bloody tatters. Taccone handles all this with gleeful excessiveness but once you’ve seen one pulverized face, you’ve seen them all.

A droll irony is intended to unfold alongside the rising body count. Dan and Lisa embarked on this getaway to murder one another, but they’ll end up rekindling their love. To be sure, Segel and Weaving are much more winning once their characters start warming to one another. Still, the film feels like a missed opportunity for Weaving, who became a scream queen in the “Ready or Not” films. In those movies, as an unsuspecting bride thrust into a life-or-death situation, she appealingly balanced a convincing physical performance with an understated comedic streak, her beleaguered character enduring one absurdity after another.

Weaving finds herself in a somewhat similar role in “Over Your Dead Body” and this uneven action-comedy is anchored by her had-it-up-to-here performance, which provides a witty insight into marriage that the film otherwise ignores. It’s bad enough that Lisa has to deal with Dan’s insecurity — now she’s got to tangle with some dopey crooks? Women have to do everything in a relationship.

Sophy Romvari’s luminous debut feature “Blue Heron” is a loving and studious act of remembrance. Her protagonist and surrogate, Sasha (Amy Zimmer), attempts to understand her family’s past through a reverent process of recreation. While she finds that not everything can be understood, there is beauty and solace in the journey itself — and maybe a kind of catharsis.

“Blue Heron” is an autobiographical project, but it’s more apt to call it a memoir. Sasha admits she doesn’t remember much of her childhood and doesn’t even trust the fragments. But she will try anyway. As Sasha zooms in on her iPhone, standing at the bluff overlooking her hometown, Romvari rolls up the back of a moving truck to deliver a lush slice of ’90s childhood nostalgia, picking up the memory as her Hungarian immigrant family — two parents, three brothers and one sister — arrive at their new home on Canada’s Vancouver Island.

Father (Ádám Tompa) settles into work on the home computer; Mother (Iringó Réti) attempts to amuse the kids with trips to the beach and nature preserves. Snippets of summer filter through the eyes and ears of 8-year-old Sasha (Eylul Guven) and in the photos snapped by their parents.

But a disquieting presence looms: Jeremy (Edik Beddoes), the eldest son. Blond, light-featured and tall, he is visually distinct from the three other children and his silent rebellion permeates the atmosphere.

His misbehavior is minor — irritating but untenable when stacked together — like bouncing a ball against a wall, disappearing for fun or climbing on the roof. He mostly just seems like a moody, unsatisfied teen, drawing elaborate maps and sometimes playing with his siblings sweetly. It all seems like harmless mischief until it escalates.

The movie’s title refers to a key chain from a gift shop that Jeremy, who almost never speaks, presents to his younger sister. Like him, the film is quiet and meditative, bathed in the cool blues and verdant greens of the setting, captured in Maya Bankovic’s saturated cinematography. We are transported to a place of natural beauty and a period of seemingly unlimited time. But Jeremy-related tension simmers beneath the domestic surface, just as it does in Chantal Akerman’s 1975 landmark “Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles,” referenced in a shot of a mother and daughter peeling potatoes.

“Blue Heron,” though, is not just going to simply be a throwback family drama about a troubled boy and his younger sister. The film suddenly zooms out, linearly, to two decades later. Zimmer’s older version of Sasha is grappling with her brother’s void and she does so with her mind, her work, her actions. She conducts a focus group of social workers for a documentary in order to try to understand Jeremy’s behavior and the treatment he got at the time. She scrubs through video and photos and interviews a case worker. She escapes into old movies.

In Romvari’s award-winning 2020 short “Still Processing,” a companion piece to “Blue Heron,” she processes the loss of two brothers through photography, sifting through boxes of old photos and film negatives shot by her father, who trained as a cinematographer in Hungary. It seems natural for Romvari to access the emotional through artistic practice, to give her — and Sasha — something to do with their hands. The tactility of the photographs in “Still Processing” provide an access point to the past. Romvari weeps as she spreads them out on a table, saying “hi” softly to her brothers. But there’s a remove in the rigorous focus on the snapshots that perhaps also protects her from the full crushing weight of these emotions.

But in a film like “Blue Heron,” anything is possible, including time travel, and for Romvari, it’s the channel that she offers Sasha to achieve the closure that she needs: a visit to a time she doesn’t really remember, even as she’s building an archive of materials to bolster herself.

If young Sasha watches (and Guven is absolutely terrific at watching), the older Sasha speaks. Zimmer, a New York City comedian, is tasked with a heavy, grief-laden dramatic role, and she’s utterly convincing, entrancing in her stillness. But she also has a way with words, a clarity that rings with a rare kind of honest empathy, especially in a letter that Sasha reads to her parents.

That letter is what “Blue Heron” represents for its filmmaker — an attempt to re-create the past, to bring it back to life. Even if imperfect, the value is in the effort, in the ongoing practice of remembering, as an act of devotion to family and self.

Prosecutors said Friday they have rejected a police request for an arrest warrant for Bang Si-hyuk, chairman and founder of K-pop powerhouse Hybe, who is accused of unfair stock trading, citing insufficient evidence.

The Seoul Southern District Prosecutors’ Office sent back to the police the arrest warrant request filed against Bang earlier this week on charges of fraudulent unfair trading under the Capital Markets Act.

The chief was suspected of deceiving investors in 2019 into selling their shares in Hybe before the company held an initial public offering (IPO), through which he allegedly pocketed about 260 billion won (US$175.28 million) in illegal profits.

“At this stage, there is insufficient evidence to justify the necessity of detention, and we have therefore requested a supplementary investigation,” the prosecution said.

The act prohibits obtaining financial gains through false statements or by using deceptive schemes in connection with financial investment products, such as unlisted shares. Violations involving profits exceeding 5 billion won are punishable by life imprisonment or a minimum of five years behind bars.

Bang has denied the allegation, saying the IPO had followed the law and regulations.

Police first received a tip-off on the allegations in late 2024 and raided the Korea Exchange and Hybe’s headquarters the following year as part of the probe. Bang was banned in August from leaving the country, leading to various restrictions on his activities.

The U.S. Embassy in Seoul recently sent a letter to the police agency asking that it allow him to travel to the United States to take part in K-pop supergroup BTS‘ world tour.

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David Mackenzie’s “Fuze” springs to life in a millisecond.

In central London, a construction digger unearths an unexploded World War II bomb, and it starts to tick. The blast radius could be a half-mile wide. Outside the cordon, Chief Supt. Zuzana (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) oversees the evacuation of thousands of residents to Hyde Park. Inside the cordon, a military explosives expert, Maj. Tranter (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), marshals his squad to disarm the weapon. Also inside the cordon, a heist crew headed by thieves Karalis and X (Theo James and Sam Worthington, respectively) uses the dangerous distraction to rob a bank.

Three skilled teams, three goals. Meanwhile, a displaced neighborhood resident named Rahim (Elham Ehsas) is cooling his heels in Hyde Park very aware of an evening flight that his family is supposed to be on. His clan will factor into the plot too, although his wheelchair-bound father flusters, “Nobody ever tells me what’s going on.” Join the club, old man.

“Fuze” was one of my favorite treats at last fall’s Toronto International Film Festival, although unlike many of the other films it premiered alongside, it has no pretensions of being an awards contender. (Mackenzie’s 2016 modern western “Hell or High Water” did make a moderate Oscar splash.) This is just quality popcorn filmmaking that spins the audience in circles as we watch experts do their jobs. I left the theater feeling giddily put through the wringer by its contrarian depictions of heroes and fiends.

A mechanical exercise more than a character piece, the script by Ben Hopkins (of the 2023 Willem Dafoe existentialist art burglar drama “Inside”) functions like an elaborate contraption. First, you’re impressed by the scale. Then, it reveals how its small moving parts fit together — and at the very end, just when you think you’ve clinched it, there’s a surprise coda that makes you unpack everything again to reassemble the story from a completely different perspective.

It’s a film with a few strong opinions about how the world is being run. Yet, they’re rarely said out loud. Everyone on-screen is a person of action, not words — particularly Taylor-Johnson’s major, a veteran of the War on Terror, who is so calm under pressure that he’s introduced sniping a bull’s-eye at Lord knows how many meters. He’s the sort of character who tends to come across either bland or unconvincingly cocky-funny. Here, he’s compellingly focused on the task at hand and, like all the leads, never pauses to fill in the audience on exactly what he’s doing.

The performances are all from the grip-and-grin school of acting: neat and precise with a minimum of bluster. “Fuze’s” version of a joke is when an anxious underling pipes up to ask for permission to speak. “No,” Tranter snaps, and his gruffness is so confident that it makes you chuckle. Yet even he has a boss, Gen. Minton (Iain Fletcher), who storms into one scene to yank on Tranter’s chain of command and disrupt the power balance again.

Instead of bothering much about dialogue, “Fuze” is a blueprint of how stress and deference exert themselves upon a workplace. The robber clique turns out to have its own bosses, too, as well as the most visible fractures in their unit. You’d be correct to guess that within their grand scheme lurks at least one or two self-interested ruses run by either James’ Karalis or Worthington’s X. The other crooks don’t have names worth learning, but the actors playing them, Shaun Mason and Nabil Elouahabi, do have memorable faces.

There are no flourishes onscreen other than Matt Mayer’s editing, which is relentless. Mackenzie barely gives the audience a pause to ask questions, although he does get around to answering them (mostly). All this competence puts us in a strange state — a suspenseful trance — in which you feel on edge while also relaxing into the idea that the characters have things under control. Unpredictable twists are afoot. But the pace moves so fast that you can only observe, not outguess, the surprises, putting us in the same fix as a heavy, played by Dragos Bucur, who moans that he knows he’s getting screwed over, “but I don’t know how.”

Coming at cross purposes, some of these people will fail. One unit — it would be a spoiler to specify which — evaporates toward the climax and, oddly, isn’t missed. While the outro feels tacked on, upon reflection, it’s the missing piece that transforms the movie from a puzzle into a proclamation on group cohesion. Only afterward does it hit us that Mackenzie has really made a thriller about trust. Each of these groups (and shadow groups) is united by either duty, blood or circumstance. Of those factors, one proves more adhesive than the rest.

“Fuze” does smack a bit of an excellent episode of TV. Everyone in the cast is a little too pretty for their jobs. Likewise, the score by Tony Doogan leans too heavily on generic electronic thuds, the kind that segue into a commercial break cliffhanger and an ad for blood pressure medicine. When his techno beats kick in during the most fraught sequences, however, the effect is dynamite. As the closing credits kick in, Mackenzie lets off some well-earned steam with an apropos punk rock anthem, the Clash’s cover of “Police & Thieves.”

A British couple have shared their honest verdict on the giant mozzarella sticks in Tenerife that have gone viral on social media, with a plate of three setting you back £11.25

A couple have given their candid verdict after sampling the viral, giant mozzarella sticks during their holiday to Tenerife in the Canary Islands.

Whenever you’re gearing up to visit somewhere new, many people turn to the internet and social media to scout out things to do and foods to try, building excitement while piecing together an itinerary for their time away.

This also means that if you’re heading to a well-known tourist hotspot, the chances are you’ll stumble across at least one dish or eatery that’s already taken social media by storm. In Tenerife, one such food that’s been setting the internet alight is an impressive-looking mozzarella stick. But with all the buzz surrounding them, some may question whether they’re truly worth seeking out.

To put them to the test, British holidaymaker Sam Jenkins decided to give them a go while away with her boyfriend, before heading to TikTok to share their honest thoughts.

“Trying the VIRAL Tenerife mozzarella sticks!” they wrote at the beginning of the clip, which shows the pair making their way to the restaurant that serves them.

The footage then revealed the mozzarella stick itself, which appeared thick, lengthy and a beautifully golden shade after being deep-fried. They were presented on a plate of three, which looked to be a rather generous serving given their considerable size. A dipping sauce was also included on the side.

The girl then attempted to tear off a piece, resulting in an impressive cheese pull that demonstrated just how generously packed with mozzarella each stick truly was.

The guy then had a go himself, snapping the mozzarella stick open from the middle, which once again produced a spectacular cheese pull that appeared to stretch wide enough to reach his outstretched arms.

Although they didn’t film themselves actually tasting the mozzarella sticks following the cheese pull, they did confirm the snacks had lived up to all the hype, awarding them a ’10/10′.

“Try the viral Tenerife mozzarella sticks with us!!! From the Winchester Tenerife Costa adeje 10/10 would recommend,” they wrote in the caption of the post.

In the comments section, they revealed that the plate of three mozzarella sticks had set them back €12.95 (£11.25), adding that other dishes on the menu, including burgers and pizzas, were equally delicious.

Numerous viewers also flocked to the comments to share their opinions. One person said: “I’m going to Tenerife in June so definitely will try them.

“10/10 cheese pull,” someone else remarked, while a third viewer gushed: “Omg need!!!! I dream about these everyday.”

Not everyone was convinced, however, with some branding them ‘overhyped’. One person commented: “Over hyped! We loved the seahorse just up the street I would run back there just for their food.”

“For Want of a Horse,” a play by Olivia Dufault receiving its world premiere in an Echo Theater Company production at Atwater Village Theatre, wants to have a rational conversation about a taboo topic that can provoke instant outrage.

The subject is zoophilia, not to be confused with bestiality, though for many of us it will be a distinction without much of a difference.

Calvin (Joey Stromberg), a good-looking, mild-mannered married accountant, has harbored a secret for much of his life. He has a thing for horses. His erotic interest began at an early age, and all his efforts to lead a normal life have left him depressed and contemplating suicide.

His wife, Bonnie (Jenny Soo), is a permissive kindergarten teacher who’s having difficulty restraining a girl in her class who has discovered the joys of masturbation. Worried about her husband, she discovers through his browsing history that he’s once again visiting strange animal sites.

She suggests he keep a horse, explaining that she doesn’t want to end up a widow or divorcée. Calvin is taken aback by her generosity but has come to recognize that his preference is more than a kink. It’s part of his identity — and maybe the only part that makes his life seem worth living.

Joey Stromberg and Jenny Soo in “For Want of a Horse” at the Echo Theater Company.

(Cooper Bates)

A horse named Q-Tip (Griffin Kelly) enters the couple’s lives. A stable is secured, and the mare, who senses that something strange is going on, is indulged with apples and caresses.

Kelly, a statuesque presence in a dress, harness and boots, brings the horse to life with wild, unpredictable movements. The sheer size of the animal poses a threat to humans. One kick, as Q-Tip herself explains in one of her thought-bubble monologues, is capable of penetrating a steel wall. But controlling an animal’s food supply is an effective way of winning over its trust.

Calvin has found support in the online zoophilia community. PJ (Steven Culp), a man whose current inamorata is a bichon frise, is considering moving to a country where zoophilia isn’t illegal. He’s tired of the shame and the secrecy. He’s proud of his attachment to pooch, even if his thing for dogs has cost him contact with his daughter and ex-wife.

Dufault doesn’t shy away from sexual details. For PJ, intimacy depends on peanut butter. Calvin describes the physical signals that reveal Q-Tip’s erotic satisfaction. The play occasionally descends into sitcom humor. (PJ says he’s considering creating a human-dog dating app called Rin Tin Tinder.) But mostly the subdued tone steers clear of sensationalism.

The production, directed by Elana Luo, is scrupulously well-acted by the four-person cast. Stromberg makes Calvin seem not only reasonable but surprisingly sensitive. Soo’s Bonnie sweetly embodies the excesses of a kind of progressive piety. As PJ, Culp gruffly embraces his role as the play’s polemical fire-starter. And Kelly’s Q-Tip, in the production’s most physically demanding performance, straddles the human-animal divide with theatrical aplomb.

Steven Culp, left, and Joey Stromberg in “For Want of a Horse” at the Echo Theater Company.

(Cooper Bates)

The open-mindedness that Dufault, a trans playwright, brings to the play creates some dramatic slack. Possibly the same fear of making value judgments that has inhibited Bonnie from imposing common-sense discipline in her classroom has robbed “For Want of a Horse” of a propulsive point of view.

The play moves monotonously between Calvin and Bonnie’s bedroom and the stable. Scenic designer Alex Mollo has worked out an efficient way of shifting between these realms by employing the same set of wooden trunks. But the argument of the play doesn’t so much build as elapse.

Time takes its toll, and Calvin eventually has to make a decision. But the character who interested me most was Bonnie, whose reality is only glimpsed. The play tacitly uses her husband’s threat of suicide as a trump card. Zoophilia isn’t merely a fetish for Calvin but a nonnegotiable part of his identity.

This questionable assumption can be psychologically scrutinized not only from Calvin’s point of view but also from his wife’s. The play wants to have an intelligent debate, but it doesn’t want to interrogate certain political positions too skeptically.

At one point, Bonnie objects when Calvin compares his situation to that of homosexuality, but the conversation ends there. The reality is that the right wing has been making a similar claim, arguing that same-sex marriage opens the door to bestiality, polygamy and incest. “For Want of a Horse” inadvertently lends legitimacy to this line of reasoning.

Griffin Kelly in “For Want of a Horse” at the Echo Theater Company.

(Cooper Bates)

Not that extremist positions should be off limits, but they ought to be more rigorously addressed. Similarly, Bonnie’s concern about the issue of consent — how can a horse say yes to intercourse with a human — is introduced only to be dismissed in a shrug of mild-mannered bothsidesism.

While watching “For Want of a Horse,” I recalled a program on PBS called “My Wild Affair” that wasn’t about zoophilia but about the problematic nature of human bonds with untamed animals. Relationships with a seal, an elephant and a rhino, for example — obsessive, protective, loving friendships — all seemed to end if not in outright tragedy, then in shattering heartbreak.

Q-Tip is rightfully given the play’s last word, and Kelly, an actor (HBO’s “The Book of Queer”), writer and comedian, is the production’s driving force. We can never know what’s inside this mare’s mind because Q-Tip’s brain has evolved so differently from our own. Kelly plays the anthropomorphic game while retaining some of the inscrutability of a four-legged creature.

It is through language that we, as humans, traverse the chasm separating us from one another. That’s not possible with animals, even with our closest domestic companions. (Try explaining a necessary medical procedure to a cat.)

“For Want of a Horse” sets out to speak about the unspeakable, but its construction may be too tame for such a wild subject.

For disputed reasons, April 20, abbreviated to 420, has become a day to celebrate marijuana; even if this is nothing you mark on your calendar, the collective culture is bound to remind you.

Weed is not what it used to be, which is to say illegal everywhere. (State laws may differ, but the federal government still disapproves.) Stoners are no longer useful as a comedy device, while pot’s countercultural meaning has dissipated as it’s been absorbed into the mainstream. According to the CDC, some 60 million American reported using it in 2022. Snoop Dogg is a beloved media figure (and, somehow, an Olympics commentator). Seth Rogen co-owns a cannabis company, Houseplant, that also sells coffee, furniture and incense. The paper you are reading has published weed-themed gift guides.

Now, Hulu, wholly owned by the Walt Disney Company, is marking the day (Monday) with “4×20: Quick Hits,” a frisky anthology comprising four 20-minute documentaries on pot-related subjects, with family-friendly figure Jimmy Kimmel as an executive producer. It’s less about the drug itself than the arts, crafts and enterprises it has inspired. Given where we are now, it’s not surprising that there’s a historical bent to the films, a look back to earlier times — certainly worse for some of the people profiled, who were targeted by and battled with the law in pursuit of their businesses and dreams — but one they regard with a kind of amused nostalgia.

All the films are affectionate, most are light-hearted and often comical. One, Todd Kapostasy’s “Bong Voyage,” about the rise and fall and rise of artisanal glassblower Jason Harris, is narrated by one of his creations and includes such dumb puns as “fine piece of glass.” Directed by Brent Hodge, “Highly Unlikely” is an entertaining, straightforward reminiscence of the making of “Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle,” though it is less about the stoner themes than how the film broke stereotypes in making two little-known Asian actors, John Cho and Kal Penn, the film’s stars. The adorable “The Legend of Ganjasaurus Rex,” directed by Alex Ross Perry, and nearly the premise for a Christopher Guest movie, recounts an act of community filmmaking in the late ‘80s in pot-growing Humboldt County, wherein locals created a monster movie in a proxy war with the authorities, and its inspirational afterlife.

More serious in tone is Kyle Thrash‘s “High Times,” which looks at the history of the pot-centric magazine, its drug smuggling founder Tom Forçade and his suicide. More compelling perhaps is his friend, Yippie co-founder and lifelong cannabis activist Dana Beal, who frames the film; we see him in the nearly present day on trial for drug trafficking, having been stopped in Idaho with 56 pounds of raw marijuana, and also on the streets of New York leafleting passersby with his daughter to “help us legalize weed worldwide.”

Whether or not cannabis itself interests you, each of these mini-docs is capable of holding your attention for 20 minutes — assuming you’re capable from your end — and, being as brief as they are, may well send you to learn more. (I don’t imagine they will send you to smoke pot if you don’t — they didn’t work on me, anyway — and, who knows, might even make one less inclined.) You might finally watch “Harold & Kumar,” or find Garberville on a map, or look to see how things are going for Beal, or discover whether the same John Holmstrom who once edited High Times is the same person who founded Punk magazine and drew covers for the Ramones’ “Rocket to Russia” and “Road to Ruin” albums. (He is.) “Ganjasaurus Rex,” in its 90-minute full length, is itself online to see, and, for those who celebrate, I don’t suppose there’s a better day to watch it.

The order calls on the federal government to relax restrictions on psychedelics, including ibogaine, for potential treatments.

United States President Donald Trump has signed an executive order to speed up the review of a handful of psychedelic drugs, including the controversial ibogaine.

Trump was joined by podcaster Joe Rogan during Saturday’s Oval Office event.

Rogan, considered one of the most influential podcasters in the country, has been a leading proponent of ibogaine, which is derived from a plant that grows in West Africa and has been embraced by some military veteran groups as a treatment for post-traumatic stress.

Speaking at the event, Rogan recounted how he had previously texted information to Trump about ibogaine.

He recalled that the president quickly texted back: “Sounds great. Do you want FDA [Food and Drug Administration] approval? Let’s do it.”

Advocacy groups have long pushed for more research into the possible use of psychedelics to treat an array of issues, including depression.

“Today’s order will ensure that people suffering from debilitating symptoms might finally have a chance to reclaim their lives and lead a happier life,” Trump said at the signing.

“If these turn out to be as good as people are saying, it’s going to have a tremendous impact.”

At one point, the president quipped that he would be open to taking psychedelics himself: “Can I have some, please? I’ll take some.”

But he quickly pivoted away from the joke. “I don’t have time to be depressed. You know, if you stay busy enough, maybe that works, too. That’s what I do,” he said.

Increasing research into psychedelics has proven a rare issue with bipartisan support in the US, where ibogaine and other psychedelics remain banned under the federal government’s most restrictive category for illegal drugs.

Health Secretary Robert F Kennedy Jr had previously pledged to ease access to psychedelics for medical use.

Trump’s executive order calls on the Department of Health and Human Services to direct at least $50m to states that have enacted or are developing programmes to advance psychedelic drugs for serious mental illness.

It also arrives ahead of several actions from the FDA to loosen restrictions.

This week, the agency will issue so-called “national priority” vouchers for three psychedelics, which the agency’s commissioner, Marty Makary, said will allow certain drugs to be approved quickly “if they are in line with our national priorities”.

The FDA is also taking steps to clear the way for the first-ever human trials of ibogaine in the US. Previous research had been stalled by concerns over the drug potentially triggering fatal heart problems.

Ibogaine was first used by members of the Bwiti religion in African nations like Gabon for religious ceremonies.

Rogan’s endorsement helped boost Trump ahead of the 2024 presidential election. He has since publicly questioned the administration’s war with Iran, saying it runs counter to Trump’s campaign pledges.

Also present on Saturday was Marcus Luttrell, a former Navy SEAL whose memoir about his time in Afghanistan, Lone Survivor, was later made into a film.

He praised ibogaine during the ceremony: “It absolutely changed my life for the better.”

How’s Lee Cronin doing? Fine. You know, still making movies. This one’s his third feature. Somebody — perhaps it was Lee Cronin himself, probably not — wanted us to know that his latest project, “Lee Cronin’s The Mummy,” was no mere mummy movie. Certainly not the one you have in mind: bandaged dead guy, ominous hieroglyphics, maybe Brendan Fraser. This is not that mummy movie. This is “Lee Cronin’s The Mummy.”

As for what that possessive credit means, we’re still in a haze. Cronin’s previous outing was “Evil Dead Rise,” a sequel heavily devoted to the gooey game plan mapped out by Fede Alvarez’s 2013 rethink of Sam Raimi’s gross-out comedies. In our current moment, when horror seems to be mining an especially rich vein (we’ve even seen an Oscar go to an unforgettable witch in “Weapons”), Lee Cronin represents the safe old ways of dutiful stewardship, getting the job done for a generic night out.

There are worse sins in the world. And sometimes the best way to introduce an ancient Egyptian curse is via a prologue that’s tonally very much like the one in “The Exorcist.” Who is the spooky, smiling woman beckoning to a young girl at the edge of her garden? No matter. The kid goes missing and, eight years later, her American family, since relocated to suburban New Mexico, is still feeling the loss: TV reporter Charlie (Jack Reynor), his haunted wife Larissa (Laia Costa) and their two semi-surly children, Maud (Billie Roy) and Sebastián (Shylo Molina).

When their precious Katie (a game Natalie Grace) is somehow returned to them, though, nearly catatonic with wrinkled, desiccated skin and gnarly toenails that would make a pedi technician shriek, it’s hard to blame them for feeling euphoric. Working from his own screenplay, Cronin barrels over the gaping plot holes — a doctor might have some thoughts here — and gets to the good stuff with the family at home in squirm-inducing close quarters, a live-in demon resting in her bedroom.

“Lee Cronin’s The Mummy” works best as a variation on Ari Aster’s career-making “Hereditary,” slicker and less guilt-ridden, with Grace’s Katie prone to jaw-snapping clicks and faraway looks, a spin on Milly Shapiro’s hypnotic turn as a doomed host. Eventually, things get more obvious: a levitating wheelchair, some skittering around on the ceiling. If Cronin does have a signature — more of a penchant, really — it’s for juicy gore, Katie’s skin peeling off in sheets. She goes to town on her own teeth.

All these moments are good for audience groans and there’s an enjoyable bad movie here for the seizing — that is when Cronin isn’t steering the action back to Egypt for an underpowered mystery thread involving a one-dimensional Cairo detective (May Calamawy) pursuing the root of the trouble. Why deploy a plummy archaeology professor (Mark Mitchinson) if you’re only going to give him a single scene to cut loose? He’s the kind of character who usually makes it to the big finale.

The film is tangled in its mess of references: a possession thriller that also wants to dish out some grainy video footage à la “The Ring” or “Bring Her Back” along with the expected mouth-to-mouth vomiting. Ironically, an honest-to-goodness mummy movie consumed with exotica (the first one from 1932 was released in the wake of the global mania over King Tut’s tomb) makes a lot of sense right now, with America straying into foreign deserts.

Was that in mind at any point? You’d have to ask Lee Cronin. It’s his movie and these are his mummy issues.

Film buffs understand that nearly every movie is, at heart, a travelogue — even if it occurs in your neighboring town — and that most travelogues can come across like love stories, whether anyone ends up together or not. That’s the whimsical, charged appeal of the Charli XCX-starring “Erupcja,” a mélange of romance, escape and disruptive coincidence in modern Warsaw from American micro-auteur Pete Ohs.

If you put footage of a smoke-spewing volcano under that Polish title, you’ll gather what the word means, which is exactly what Ohs does at the beginning, color-tinting his boxy frame ’60s-arthouse-style and adding a vintage Mancini-esque track from a Polish chanteuse. All the better to seed the belief that we’re about to experience something dreamy and convulsive.

That said, a volcano isn’t why British couple Bethany (Charli XCX) and Rob (Will Madden) have arrived in Warsaw. That rumbling you hear could also just be suitcases rolled over ancient streets. Besotted Rob’s surprise plan was to propose to Bethany in Paris — as revealed to us in omnipotent voice-over (by Jacek Zubiel) that fills in the feelings and backstories of our protagonists.

Bethany chose Warsaw, however, because she has a rekindling in mind, in the form of her longtime friend Nel (Lena Góra), a florist for whom Bethany’s unprompted arrival under her balcony one night — stealing away from her Airbnb with Rob — is complicated and exciting. With the news breaking that Italy’s Mount Etna has just erupted, grounding planes across Europe, a mighty passion they forged as teenagers, fueled by drugs, clubbing, heart-to-hearts and poetry, has once more been unleashed. It’s just their thing: Whenever Bethany and Nel connect, a volcano announces itself somewhere in the world. Woe be to the moony boyfriend or, in Nel’s case, exasperated girlfriend (Agata Trzebuchowska), left behind to dust off the ash.

“Erupcja,” which Ohs also photographed and edited with impressionistic verve, unfolds as if Jacques Rivette’s playful air of mystery and Roberto Rossellini’s earthy melancholia had somehow come together to form a zillennial with a restless heart. Ohs makes movies with the in-the-moment creative participation of his cast — he, Charli, Madden, Góra and playwright Jeremy O. Harris, who portrays a friendly American artist, are the credited writers and the whole enterprise goes down like a cocktail of ruminations and swerves invented on the spot, but not haphazardly.

You get the buzz (music by Charlie Watson and Isabella Summers plays a big part), the hangover, but also an aura of remedy and renewal. It’s all very human, evident in the pop star’s subtly frisky portrait of someone drawn to abandon (Charli should definitely continue acting), but also in Madden’s unshowy, mature hurt and in how Góra suggests the more grounded half of a self-mythologizing duo. Ohs works in evocative details: inserted frames of color, like mood flashes, or a shot of a lonely phone ringing, never getting picked up.

He leaves it up to you to wonder if Bethany and Nel have ever been more than friends — “It’s not Romeo and Juliet,” Nel coolly declaims from her balcony upon glimpsing Bethany waiting below — but what’s fun is how that’s ultimately beside the point. The edgy appeal of “Erupcja” is in the way it maps humans as molecules and electrons, fizzed by location, inspired by connection, driven to hover, fuse and release. The characters may get bounced around a bit and some will feel stranded, but you’ll know you’ve been taken somewhere new by this charming indie.

Anyone who has spent any time in the digital agora will know the chilling feeling of seeing some supposedly secret thing about yourself suddenly reflected in a targeted advertisement. In a new Silicon Valley soap, “The Audacity,” Duncan (Billy Magnussen) founds a company called PINATA, for Privacy Is Not a Thing Anymore, which will allow subscribers to snoop at a deep level on just about anyone in the world; the war against the date eaters, the name suggests, is long since lost, and is none of your business, anyway.

Created by Jonathan Glatzer who has written for “Succession” and “Better Call Saul,” the series premieres Sunday on AMC, the network of “Breaking Bad,” “Mad Men” and an earlier tech-related series, “Halt and Catch Fire,” about the rise of the personal computer — shows that focus on difficult, sometimes amoral characters whose shenanigans might change the world, not necessarily for the better. “The Audacity,” though well made enough, is not in their league.

Duncan made his fortune as a co-founder of a community app something along the lines of Facebook (which, along with Mark Zuckerberg, doesn’t exist in this silicon reality — “If only,” do I hear you sigh? Or was that me?) Now he’s trying to sell his information-gathering startup to “Cupertino” (as in the home of Apple), “the most important tech company to ever exist,” and leaking rumors he imagines will be to his advantage. Duncan is not himself a creator, or particularly smart — he thinks it’s “Schroeder’s Cat,” for example — but does have a gift for selling; his “genius” late partner, Hamish — a suicide — did the real work. Now a new Hamish enters his life in the form of Harper (Jess McLeod, whose blonde bob may remind viewers of the brilliant coder played by Mackenzie Davis on “Halt and Catch Fire”) the creator of the “algo” mentioned above.

Despite his riches, Duncan is unhappy enough to be a patient of the series’ other main character, therapist JoAnne (Sarah Goldberg). (He also has an “ayahuasca guy.”) Most prominent among her other clients is Carl (Zach Galifianakis), a semi-retired industry legend who made his money from a spam platform and whom Duncan will spend much of this eight-episode season attempting to impress. “People act like we took something as if we didn’t build everything they touch,” Carl will complain to JoAnne. “Where’s our parade? All I see are pitchforks and ingratitude.”

Sarah Goldberg plays Joanne, therapist to Duncan and Carl (Zach Galifianakis) in “The Audacity.”

(Ed Araquel/AMC)

JoAnne conducts her business from her rented home, as does her child psychiatrist (second) husband, Gary (Paul Adelstein), one of the few figures in this roundelay you will be given no reason to dislike. (It’s an old house, to contrast it with the modernist leviathans inhabited by the overly moneyed class.) Sharing the place is her weedy, newly arrived 15-year-old son, Orson (Everett Blunck), sent reluctantly from Baltimore, where his father is being treated for cancer. Orson has embarrassing gastric issues and watches alpha-male videos in the basement, where he also practices the bassoon. (That he’s working on “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice,” in its way a story of runaway tech, might have some thematic meaning, though it does also have a killer bassoon part.)

Something Duncan says in a session with JoAnne leads her to unload some stock, like Martha Stewart in 2004, and Duncan, working this out, blackmails her into passing on inside information from her clients to him. “You think you know everything because you have information, but information is not insight,” says JoAnne, who has insight to spare, making herself even more valuable to Duncan, whose pronouncements are more in the line of “Cheaters never lose, and losers, they never cheat” and “Empathetic is just pathetic with a prefix — I am an apex predator.”

Anushka (Meaghan Rath), a power player who works for Duncan, is also a toothless director of ethical innovation on the board at Cupertino. She’s married to Martin (Simon Helberg), who is working on something he calls Alexander, or Xander — he would say “someone,” probably — “an intelligent entity, more of an autonomous companion, for alienated teens based on personal data ecosystems.”

He has less time for his own alienated teen, Tess (Thailey Roberge) — “Dad, eyes on me,” she says, as the family sits at a comically long dinner table, the parents looking at their phones — who has been expressing herself through low-level vandalism and thievery. “I hear you’re klepto now,” says Jamison (Ava Marie Telek), the daughter of Duncan and Lili (Judy Punch), whose body mass is under constant review by her mother. Seemingly, all the children of the Valley are being shuttled by their parents toward Stanford, where they will matriculate by hook or by crook.

Though Lili has been configured as shallow and spoiled, Punch (a great comic actor) injects her with some warmth and keeps her from being the joke she might have been. Galifianakis has a native oddball energy, though some of Carl’s assigned interests feel tacked on and out of joint — he’s involved with a fight club, where “control alt delete” serves for saying “uncle,” and, even weirder, has been made a World War Ire-enactor and military fetishist; it’s a point that exists only to make him receptive to Tom (Rob Corddry), the deputy undersecretary of Veterans Affairs who has come to Palo Alto looking for a partner to digitize truckloads of files that will in some way help to better their plight. (“Straightforwardly, what’s the quant ben for us?” he’s asked. Translation: “What’s in it for us?”) The series’ designated tragic figure, he’s granted a karaoke performance, with original lyrics, of Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There Is?”

Much of the action has to do with characters buying and selling various enterprises, or failing to, and creating and breaking and creating alliances, and it ceases to matter after not too long awhile what person or which company does what. Much less of it has to do with people being people. The cast is very good and the dialogue good enough, but because few of these characters are developed beyond a handful of identifying characteristics, it’s a generally cold, dispassionate watch. As to Duncan, the nominal star of the show, it doesn’t matter whether he’ll win or lose — there’s not enough to hang on to. Past being unlikable, he’s unsympathetic, and worse, for all his noisy behavior, uninteresting. JoAnne, though her journey is more twisted, doesn’t fare all that much better.

To signal that he has considered these things, Glatzer gives Anushka, who has had a revelation, a speechy little speech to voice the thoughts already on your mind. “When was the last time we saw tech help? … Truth be told, what have we actually made better? Did we spread knowledge? No. People used to occasionally agree on truth. Are we more tolerant of those different from ourselves? Please. Absolutely blew it on climate. Data centers emit more greenhouse gas than all of air travel. And have we made made the lives of our children better? Probably, no. But we can have Q-tips at our door in an hour. Huzzah.” So true.

We also get a reminder, from Harper, to check the box that keeps a website from selling your information. It’s good advice.

U.S. abortion opponents are increasingly frustrated with the lack of action by President Trump’s administration to stem the flow of abortion pills prescribed online that they view as undermining state abortion bans.

A court ruling this week in a lawsuit the Louisiana attorney general brought against Trump’s Food and Drug Administration cast a spotlight on the simmering tension. The judge said the state has a strong case while declining to block telehealth prescriptions to the pill mifepristone for now.

Anti-abortion groups are pushing the FDA to move faster with a review that they hope will result in restrictions on the abortion pill, including blocking its prescribing via telehealth platforms. The administration says the work takes time.

The groups have focused mostly on the health agency and not the Republican president whose three U.S. Supreme Court appointees were instrumental in the 2022 ruling that overturned Roe v. Wade and allowed the state bans in the first place. But the administration’s requests in the Louisiana lawsuit and similar ones elsewhere to delay rulings until it finishes a review have sparked anger for some activists.

“The stall tactics are beyond frustrating,” Kristi Hamrick, a spokesperson for Students for Life of America, said in an interview. Hamrick said the administration could also block the pills from being mailed by changing its interpretation of a 19th century law and enforcing it.

A judge opened the door to pushing the administration

U.S. District Judge David Joseph, who was nominated to the bench by Trump, gave a mixed ruling Tuesday in a case brought by Louisiana Atty. Gen. Liz Murrill and a woman who says her boyfriend coerced her into taking mifepristone to end a pregnancy.

Their overall aim is to roll back FDA rules that have made the pills more accessible. Murrill, like officials in other states that have filed similar lawsuits, contends that the availability of the pills via online providers takes the teeth out of the bans in the 13 states that bar abortion at all stages of pregnancy, with limited exceptions.

Surveys of abortion providers have suggested that its availability through telehealth is a reason the number of abortions in the U.S. has not dropped since the overturn of Roe. While state abortion bans include prohibitions on abortion using the pills, some Democratic-controlled states have adopted laws that seek to protect medical providers who prescribe them over telehealth and mail the pills to states with bans. Those so-called shield laws are being tested through civil and criminal cases.

In the Louisiana case, Joseph declined to grant Murrill’s request to block telehealth prescriptions to the pills while the case moves through the courts. But he said he could do that eventually and the plaintiffs in the case are likely to succeed on the merits of their arguments because the state has demonstrated it’s suffered “irreparable harm.”

He also ordered the FDA to report to him within six months on the status of its review of the drug.

On Wednesday, Murrill filed a notice that she’s taking the case to the U.S. 5th Circuit Court of Appeals in hopes of forcing faster action.

The politics aren’t simple

Family Research Council President Tony Perkins, an influential conservative voice who is also a former Louisiana lawmaker, applauded Murrill’s step.

He said people he meets are often shocked to learn that the number of abortions has not dropped since the 2022 Supreme Court ruling.

“Bewilderment sets in,” he said. “We’re already seeing an enthusiasm gap between the parties. What the Republicans do not need is a dampening of enthusiasm in their base.”

He’s hoping the administration will restrict abortion pills rather than risk losing support from conservative, anti-abortion voters in November’s midterm elections.

Other groups are being more cautions.

Madison LaClare, director of federal government affairs at National Right to Life, said her group trusts the administration to review mifepristone. Marjorie Dannenfelser, president of Susan B. Anthony Pro-Life America, avoided harsh words for the president: “The Trump-Vance administration has an important opportunity right now to prioritize women’s safety,” she said in a statement.

Still, recent electoral results suggest that voters seeking to keep abortion available have the political momentum. Since Roe was overturned, abortion has been on the ballot directly in 17 states. Voters have sided with the abortion-rights side in 14 of those questions.

“There seems to be an emerging consensus in the country that people don’t want to ban abortion,” said Rachel Rebouche, a professor at the University of Texas School of Law who studies abortion.

The FDA says it’s working on it

In a statement Wednesday in response to questions from the Associated Press, the FDA said it’s reviewing the safety of mifepristone, “including the collection of robust and timely data, evaluation of data integrity, and implementation of the analyses, validation, and peer-review.”

After that, the agency said, it will decide whether to make changes to the rules about how the drug can be prescribed.

It said this kind of study can take a year or more to complete by academics but the agency is trying to move faster than that. A spokesperson did not answer questions about when the work began.

Mifepristone has been a political priority for anti-abortion activists and their allies in Congress since Trump returned to office last year. In his January 2025 confirmation hearing, Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. was repeatedly asked about the drug by Republican lawmakers and said the president had requested a safety review.

Frustration over signs that the FDA isn’t prioritizing curbing abortions flared last fall when the FDA approved an additional generic version of mifepristone.

The drug is most often used for abortion in combination with another drug, misoprostol.

Mifepristone was approved in 2000 as a safe and effective way to end early pregnancies.

Because of rare cases of excessive bleeding, the FDA initially imposed strict limits on who could prescribe and distribute the pill — only specially certified physicians and only after an in-person appointment where the person would receive the pill.

Both those requirements were dropped during the COVID years. At the time, FDA officials said that after more than 20 years of monitoring mifepristone use, and reviewing dozens of studies involving thousands of women, it was clear that women could safely use the pill without direct supervision.

Mulvihill and Perrone write for the Associated Press.

No actor in a movie this month is enjoying themselves more than Ian McKellen as an egomaniac painter in Steven Soderbergh’s slender pleasure “The Christophers.” Once, his Julian Sklar was the bisexual provocateur of the London art scene commanding millions for a single piece. Now he’s better known as the villain of “Art Fight,” a reality competition show where he took cruel pleasure destroying amateurs’ hopes.

Equally dismissive of his own output, Julian hasn’t wielded a paintbrush in decades. And so his adult children Barnaby and Sallie (James Corden and Jessica Gunning of “Baby Reindeer”) — two money-grubbing, untalented brats — hire a broke art restorer, Lori (Michaela Coel), to finish a stack of half-sketched portraits Julian made of his male ex-lover that were left abandoned in the attic. Don’t think of it as forgery, Barnaby assures Lori, “more like forging through them until they are completed.”

That’s a great line, and “The Christophers” has a dozen more almost as good. Nearly all get delivered by McKellen’s Julian, waving a champagne coupe while monologuing about humidifiers, cancel culture and a doctor who smells like radishes. He seems to imagine acolytes — or at least, television audiences — eagerly soaking up his bon mots. Meanwhile, Lori, a young Black woman hired under false pretenses as an assistant, stares mutely. If their first meeting as boss and employee were freeze-framed into a painting, it would be called “A Study in Contrasts.”

The script is by Ed Solomon, who also collaborated with Soderbergh on the more action-packed 2021 gangster movie “No Sudden Move.” This plot doodles along, rarely going where we expect. Mostly, Julian and Lori take turns thwarting his obnoxious kids and threatening to quit. I chuckled every time Corden and Gunning showed up for more abuse, including from Soderbergh, who shoots them like a wall of stupidity, blocking doorways as they stand side-by-side like Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

The inequalities of the art world are gestured to as fact. Lori, who might be every bit as technically gifted as Julian, ekes out a living serving egg rolls in a food truck while sharing a walk-up loft with three other struggling painters. Julian lords over not one but two swanky adjoining townhouses stuffed with antiques. Once, to flip off the establishment, he sold a work worth 2 million British pounds for the price of a used car. His version of disdain is her idea of a fortune.

One stick figure by Julian would be worth more than anything Lori’s ever done, which makes it extra maddening that he chooses instead to earn a little extra pocket money recording video messages for fans who only care about him as that mean guy on TV. In the glow of a ring light, he tosses off glib advice that might itself be worthless. Quit art school, he tells one, and “happy birthday, blah, blah, blah.” (Even imagining a popular TV show about art is, in itself, culturally aspirational for those of us who enjoy reruns of Bob Ross.)

Why is there such disparity between the value of Julian and Lori’s work? The reasons are so obvious that, to the film, they’re barely worth mentioning: age, gender, era, fame and skill. Julian would dismiss the first two, claiming that wokeness gives an old, white male like him the handicap. But it’s frustrating that the film doesn’t dig very deep into the rest, either. I especially wanted a scene where Julian must reckon with a no-name interloper’s ability to copy his genius, but comparing whether Lori is Julian’s equal would call the film’s bluff and force it to actually show us their art. The handheld camera prefers to lurk on the wooden side of the easel.

Really, I’m not sure Soderbergh even has an opinion on their clash. He just wants to be an eavesdropper in the room, standing back against the dusty brick-a-brack. Of course, if you squint, you can see what interests Soderbergh in this set-up. Like Julian, he’s been threatening to retire for years. He knows how irritated people are when an artist claims they don’t want to bother anymore. And like the neglected paintings in the attic — the Christophers of the title — every filmmaker has their own unfinished projects taking up mental space overhead, treasured ideas that will never emerge to their satisfaction.

Still, I suspect that even if Soderbergh personally identifies with the premise (even though he continues to release more movies in one year than his peers do in five), he still finds Julian’s paralysis a bit pathetic. Julian just needs paint, a brush and the will to create. Filmmakers, now those poor bastards need rich patrons.

Even so, Soderbergh likes to make movies as resourcefully as he can, doing his own editing and cinematography and, above all, prioritizing the act of invention. He can’t be copied because his own work is so eclectic. Have you ever heard of any director being called the next Soderbergh? You sense that, to him, forgery is as creatively dull as a factory-issued franchise sequel. (Except, of course, his “Magic Mike” and “Ocean’s” series, which are, at their best, closer to wacky Warhols.)

Tasked to play the foil to McKellen’s clown, Coel comes off stiff. She has the spine to hold her own against him, but it’s hard to play withholding, particularly when the film needs her character to be both the voice of reason and a politically correct scold. Only her carved cheekbones give off an impression of Lori’s hungry ambition. Still, when she does deign to speak, there’s a dynamite scene where she dresses down Julian critically and psychologically. Whether or not she’s the second coming of him as an artist, she’s more insightful than he ever was insulting watercolors of kittens on TV.

Really, we’re just watching McKellen give a bravura, scene-gobbling performance that doesn’t hold back one iota. My favorite detail he pulls off comes when he greets Lori at the front door undressed and, when she insists he wear clothes, ties on a trench coat that somehow makes him look even more pervy and naked in how McKellen wears it, leaving one bare shoulder roguishly exposed.

The film has plenty of funny little asides like that which make it worth your while. Angelenos will chuckle at a scene in which two characters verbally commit to a meet-up both know won’t happen — or, as we say here, let’s do lunch. Out of magnanimity, I’ll liken this trifle to a Rothko. The more I think about “The Christophers,” the more I imagine it has interesting layers. But I won’t fault anyone who just sees a simple square.

When the Hulu adaptation of Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” premiered during the early months of the first Trump presidency, it was seen by many as a timely prophecy — the crimson cloaks and white bonnets of the story’s eponymous sex slaves became a symbol of protest against a president who, though not a religious man himself, embraced many policies supported by the far-right Christian minority, especially those regarding the reproductive and civil rights of women.

This was not the plan, of course, or at least not as regards the Trump factor. The book was written in 1985, the show greenlit long before Trump became president, which only proves the grim resilience of Atwood’s themes. So it shouldn’t be surprising that the sequel series, “The Testaments,” also has name-specific cultural resonance. Plum-cloaked in a YA-leaning, high school drama that owes as much to “Pretty Little Liars” or “Gossip Girl” as it does to “The Handmaid’s Tale,” “The Testaments” gives us an apocryphal version of the Epstein files.

Based on Atwood’s 2019 Booker Prize-winning novel, “The Testaments” takes place some years after the final events of “The Handmaid’s Tale” series and revolves around Ardua Hall where Aunt Lydia (Ann Dowd), having regained her Gileadean status, oversees the instruction of young women as they prepare to take up their lives as obedient wives and, Under His Eye, fruitful mothers.

Agnes (Chase Infiniti) is our initial central character and narrator. Though we know from her backward-looking tone that change is coming, her initial main worries are her mean stepmother and when (or if) she will finally begin to menstruate. She and her friends — Becka (Mattea Conforti), Shunammite (Rowan Blanchard) and Hulda (Isolde Ardies) — have all graduated from the “Pinks” (little girls) to the “Plums” (young women) but only Becka has achieved the “blessing” of menarche, which means she can now be chosen by an unmarried (or widowed) Commander or other man of lesser rank.

This particular form of reaping occurs midway through the season at a dance where all the eligible girls meet with all manner of young bachelors, only to discover that the oldest and most powerful members of the elite get first choice. Watching as the men joke among themselves before staking their claims, it is difficult not to think of Jeffrey Epstein parceling out young women to his powerful male friends (albeit not for marriage).

Though touched on throughout “The Handmaid’s Tale,” the horrifying connection between status and the systematic procurement of women is the sinister force that drives “The Testaments.” A global infertility crisis may have been the catalyzing force for Gilead’s rise but this “privilege” of power is not about repopulation; Agnes and the Plums are simply victims of sexual grooming taken to its pathological conclusion.

Becka is the only one who is less than thrilled by her “prospects” — everyone else, including Agnes, can hardly wait to be married off and, with any luck, quickly become pregnant (not that they know anything about sex, forced by the state or otherwise).

Having been raised in a beautiful home with no material wants, Agnes knows little about the outside world. Like most women in Gilead, she is not allowed to read or write, and she and her friends coolly accept public executions, torture and other means of corporal punishment as the inevitable consequence of breaking any of the many rules drilled into them. They accept that their bodies are instruments of the devil designed to compel men to commit lustful acts and that they are responsible for ensuring that this does not happen.

Ann Dowd reprises her role as Aunt Lydia in “The Testaments.”

(Russ Martin / Disney)

But girls will be girls and even under the stern eye of Aunt Vidala (Mabel Li) and the more kindly countenance of Aunt Estee (Eva Foote), they tease each other and romp together, compare hairstyles and trade snarky comments about the Aunts as they dream of a happy ending.

In its own way, that’s even more chilling and resonant than the horrors of “The Handmaid’s Tale.” Enslavement will always require some level of violence, but violence tends to spark rebellion — indoctrination is always more effective. Training people to believe they are fated, or even happy, to live without freedom, rights or real choice is the only way a totalitarian society can survive.

Showing this is far less exciting than the images of grown women being killed or stripped of their rights as presented in “The Handmaid’s Tale” (though “The Testaments” does offer a few very chilling flashbacks). But as social commentary, it’s difficult to beat the sight of young women, recognizable in so many ways as modern teens, complying with their own enslavement, out of ignorance and, as events proceed, the gut-wrenching fear of what the truth might mean.

Gilead’s future hangs on whether the Plums remain ignorant and compliant, as does the story of “The Testaments.” Agnes may not share Becka’s unhappiness with forced marriage, but she is soon given other things to worry about, including a growing attraction to one of the Eyes who guards her and a request to mentor one of the school’s new “Pearl Girls.” These young female missionaries, dressed in white, have been sent into Canada to draw girls to Gilead’s cause. Among the recruits is Daisy (Lucy Halliday), who Aunt Lydia puts under Agnes’ care.

Shunammite, the sharpest-tongued of Agnes’ friends, is convinced Daisy is a spy. Daisy, whose backstory includes, in the first episode, a brief glimpse of Elisabeth Moss’ June, certainly upsets things, most often by reacting to Gilead’s penchant for public atrocities the way a non-sociopath outsider would.

Over the course of the season (upon which many, many plot-point embargoes have been placed), Agnes and Daisy form a bond that threatens Agnes’ worldview, as well as her friend group. The novel “The Testaments” is a much larger and more complex book than “The Handmaid’s Tale.” Each are presented as historical records of a government long gone, but where Bruce Miller, who adapted both, had to first spin a series out of “The Handmaid’s Tale’s” relatively short and fairly elliptical story, he has much more to work with here.

He does so carefully, and perhaps a tad too slowly. Much of the first season is spent getting to know the girls, especially Agnes (whose pre-Gilead identity is obvious to anyone who read or watched “The Handmaid’s Tale.”) Coming off her Oscar-nominated performance in “One Battle After Another,” Infiniti masterfully conjures the rigorous placidity of a young woman so accustomed to holding herself in check she has a hard time recognizing the difference between her mask and her real self.

Her friends share the same disability, though to greater and lesser degrees. As their characters, Conforti, Blanchard and Ardies, deftly carve out discrete personalities beneath their plum-colored homogeneity, each playing a role that is, in turn, playing a role while also remaining desperately human.

Halliday as Daisy is the rawest nerve among them, but all the main characters, including the Aunts, are people trapped inside uniforms and all allow their intelligence to shine through state-imposed ignorance, embodying both the tense acceptance of indoctrination and the disorientation that strikes when it begins to crack.

Dowd, of course, is next level. Compressing and occasionally revealing all that she has been through in “The Handmaid’s Tale” and before, what she manages to make Aunt Lydia is both Dorian Gray and his portrait. What exactly Aunt Lydia is doing by handing Daisy into Agnes’ care is not made clear but she is obviously doing something.

Both “The Handmaid’s Tale” and “The Testaments” were written as historic documents gathered from a fallen regime; it doesn’t break any embargo to say that at some point Gilead will fall. Whether that fall begins, or occurs within, the action of “The Testaments” remains to be seen.

But we all know what happened to Epstein in the end.

Newly opened Ella Álkyna is an adults-only, all-inclusive 5-star resort on Corfu’s west coast with stunning sea views and private pools

There arrives a moment in life when the notion of an adults-only, all-inclusive resort suddenly seems less of a luxury and more of a relief. No inflatable pool toys hurtling towards you, no frantic early-morning buffet chaos – simply sea vistas, excellent cuisine and the freedom to do absolutely nothing if that’s what you fancy. That’s precisely the atmosphere Ella Álkyna delivers to Corfu’s west coast.

Recently launched and positioned high above the dramatic bay of Agios Gordios, it’s crafted as a sophisticated, luxury retreat, yet without the eye-watering bill you’d typically encounter at other 5-star Mediterranean resorts.

The accommodation

The resort boasts 349 rooms, suites and villas, all orientated towards the Ionian Sea to ensure the panorama is practically inescapable. I stayed in a private pool sea-view room, which swiftly became the standout feature of the entire visit. At the more budget-friendly end of the spectrum, you can also reserve charming comfort rooms that still offer equally stunning vistas.

Inside, the design is serene and modern, featuring touches of pale timber, sandy hues and linen finishes that mirror the scenery beyond. But the genuine showstopper is the terrace. My compact private pool gazed straight out across the water, meaning mornings commenced with a pre-breakfast swim and evenings frequently concluded with another plunge as the sun descended behind the cliffs. Bathrooms are spaciously proportioned with rainfall showers and sumptuous robes, reports OK!.

The resort Álkyna is carved into the hillside overlooking Agios Gordios beach, and the location is breathtaking. The resort’s terraces tumble downwards, meaning virtually every spot – from the pools to the dining areas – boasts sweeping sea vistas. Amenities include two primary outdoor pools, an indoor pool, and a contemporary spa and wellness centre.

One point worth noting: the sunloungers surrounding the main pools tend to get snapped up fairly swiftly as the morning progresses. There’s no requirement for a crack-of-dawn towel dash, but if you’ve got your eye on a specific view, it’s wise to head down following breakfast rather than waiting until mid-afternoon.

Food and drink

READ MORE: Italy’s ‘alternative to Rome’ that’s cheaper and has no tourists

Dining takes centre stage here, with three restaurants – Cocura, Nafs and Lucáta – plus six bars dotted throughout the resort. Several of the culinary concepts were developed alongside Michelin-starred chef Alex Tsiotinis, which accounts for why evening meals feel more akin to a chic metropolitan eatery than a typical hotel buffet.

Anticipate abundant Mediterranean touches such as grilled seafood, seasonal vegetables, regional olive oil and dishes crafted for leisurely, convivial dining rather than hurried consumption. Most tables are positioned outdoors, as you’d expect, meaning dinner frequently comes accompanied by a sea breeze and a stunning sunset.

It’s worth noting, however, that Corfu’s late-summer wasp season can make alfresco dining slightly more animated than anticipated. They appeared especially drawn to sweet cocktails and anything containing honey during my visit, so a touch of patience or a well-chosen seat makes all the difference if you’re planning to go in August or September.

What’s on offer at the resort

There’s no shortage of activities if you fancy keeping busy. Visitors can take part in fitness classes, yoga and Pilates sessions, or indulge at the spa with massages and facials designed to promote complete relaxation. I was especially taken with the on-site Roée Wellness spa’s Finnish sauna and steam room, and enjoyed the most soothing (and aromatic) 50 minutes of tranquillity thanks to the bespoke massage featuring Greek botanicals and natural oils.

Exploring the local area

The resort is located near the charming village of Agios Gordios, where traditional tavernas dot the seafront and the sunsets are renowned throughout the island. If you venture out just once, I’d urge you to visit Akrogiali Family Taverna, where I sampled the finest honey-drenched baklava and ice cream of my entire life.

I’d also strongly suggest making the journey to Kaiser’s Throne in the quaint town of Pelekas, merely a 20-minute drive away. The walk is brief, and the restaurant perched at the summit serves superb Greek salads alongside endless emerald vistas. For a change of scenery, Corfu Town is approximately a 30-minute taxi journey away and certainly worth a visit. Its Venetian alleyways, independent boutiques and bustling squares make it one of Greece’s most characterful island capitals. Boat excursions along the west coast are also sought-after and showcase some of Corfu’s most striking beaches and secluded coves.

Book it

Comfort Room with Sea View prices start from £215 per night based on an all-inclusive basis. To book, visit here. Flights to Corfu from major UK airports are served by Ryanair, easyJet, Jet2 and more.

April 2 (UPI) — The United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights urged authorities in El Salvador to reconsider recent constitutional and legal changes that allow life sentences for minors as young as 12.

The agency warned Wednesday that the measure contradicts international human rights standards and obligations.

El Salvador’s Legislative Assembly approved the reform March 26, amending the country’s juvenile criminal law to permit life imprisonment for minors linked to criminal groups.

The change is part of broader constitutional changes promoted by President Nayib Bukele, and it expands the use of life sentences, previously authorized for adults, to include adolescents.

The reform accompanying a constitutional amendment promoted by the government of Nayib Bukele alters the juvenile justice system by removing previous maximum detention limits for crimes such as terrorism and organized crime, digital outlet Lexis reported.

The move is part of a broader tightening of criminal policy after ratification of a constitutional reform that authorizes life sentences for adults and now extends them to adolescents, with the stated goal of combating criminal networks and gangs.

Until now, Salvadoran law established that in severe cases, minors under 12 could face up to 10 years in detention, while those older than 16 could receive sentences of up to 15 years.

The new legal framework establishes life imprisonment as the only possible sentence for crimes such as homicide, femicide, rape and gang membership for those between ages 12 and 18, representing a major shift in the country’s juvenile justice model, Infobae reported.

The proposed measure was ratified with 57 votes in favor, marking a significant shift in the Central American country’s criminal policy.

In response to the U.N. statement, Bukele pointed to historical precedents. He recalled the implementation of the Juvenile Offender Law in 1994, adopted following U.N. recommendations, which he said contributed to conditions that enabled the growth of gangs in the country.

In a message on X, Bukele said past decisions, along with processes such as the deportation of Salvadorans during the administration of Bill Clinton, helped strengthen criminal structures that shaped decades of violence in El Salvador.

“So, no, thank you very much. Take your social experiments to other countries that have not suffered what we have suffered; maybe they will believe you (hopefully not). We are not going back to the past,” Bukele wrote.

The office of high commissioner said the reform conflicts with the Convention on the Rights of the Child, which requires that children in conflict with the law be treated in a way that prioritizes rehabilitation and reintegration, and that detention be used only as a last resort and for the shortest possible time.

“Prolonged detention is deeply harmful to children, violates several of their rights and affects their development and well-being throughout life, reducing their chances of successful reintegration into society,” spokesperson Marta Hurtado said in a statement.

The agency added that improving prison conditions and ensuring full compliance with human rights standards for all detainees remain essential.

Salvadoran magistrates defended the reform, saying it is consistent with the Convention on the Rights of the Child because it does not impose a sentence without the possibility of release, the newspaper La Nación reported.

The government created a mechanism that allowed those sentenced to life imprisonment to seek a review of their sentence. Under certain criteria, this could allow them to regain their freedom in a controlled manner after 25 years in prison.

If a minor is convicted of more than one crime, the sentence review would take place after 35 years in prison. If the conviction involves an aggravated or extremely serious offense, the sentence may not be reviewed until 40 years have been served.

On March 27, El Salvador marked four years under a state of emergency aimed at combating gangs, which authorities blame for the majority of homicides in the country.

WASHINGTON — The Department of Homeland Security is pausing the purchase of new warehouses intended to house immigrants as it scrutinizes all contracts signed under former Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, according to a senior Homeland Security official.

The development comes just days after the new Homeland Security Secretary, Markwayne Mullin, was sworn in last week to lead a department that was steeped in controversy during Noem’s tenure but also central to President Trump’s mass deportation agenda.

The official spoke on condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to speak publicly on the matter. News of the pause was first reported by NBC News.

The official also said that warehouse purchases that were already made are also being scrutinized.

When asked about reports of the pause, the Department of Homeland Security said in a statement that “as with any transition, we are reviewing agency policies and proposals.”

The Department also noted that Mullin said during his confirmation hearing that he wanted to “work with community leaders” and “be good partners.”

Mullin inherited a $38.3 billion plan to boost detention capacity to 92,000 beds by acquiring eight large-scale detention centers, capable of housing 7,000 to 10,000 detainees each, and 16 smaller regional processing centers.

The plan was hatched during Noem’ s tenure but immediately ran into intense opposition around the country by residents and communities opposed to such large Immigration and Customs Enforcement facilities in their neighborhoods.

Many objected on moral grounds to ICE’s presence in their neighborhoods, while others questioned whether the facilities would be a drain on local resources, such as sewer and water systems.

So far, 11 warehouses have been purchased in Arizona, Georgia, Maryland, Michigan, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Texas and Utah, with the federal government spending a combined $1.074 billion.

But lawsuits are pending in three of the states. Meanwhile, the capacity of at least one warehouse has been scaled back. Plans initially called for a warehouse in the Phoenix suburb of Surprise to be used as a 1,500-bed processing site, but Homeland Security now plans to cap occupied beds at 542, Surprise Mayor Kevin Sartor said during a news conference on Monday.

In many cases, mayors, county commissioners, governors and members of Congress learned about ICE’s ambitions only after the agency bought or leased space for detainees, leading to shock and frustration even in areas that have backed Trump.

The warehouse plan ran into challenges from the start. Eight deals were scuttled in places like Kansas City, Missouri, when owners decided not to sell.

Pressed on the lack of information during his confirmation hearing, Mullin acknowledged there had been issues.

“We’ve got to protect the homeland and we’re going to do that,” Mullin said. “But obviously we want to work with community leaders.”

Mullin, who took over and expanded his family’s plumbing business before representing Oklahoma in the U.S House and Senate, said that “one thing I do know is construction.”

He noted that most municipalities don’t have the capacity in their infrastructure for waste and water.

“So, it’s important that we’re talking to the communities and if we’re having additional needs, we can work with the cities,” he said at his confirmation hearing earlier this month.

Santana and Hollingsworth write for the Associated Press. Hollingsworth reported from Kansas City, Mo.

It’s clear that “Forbidden Fruits” director and co-writer Meredith Alloway has marinated in plenty of ’90s teen movies and the kitschy pop-culture ephemera of that era. Her directorial debut, written with Lily Houghton and based on Houghton’s play “Of the woman came the beginning of sin and through her we all die,” is essentially a synthesis of “The Craft,” “Mean Girls” and “Clueless,” about a coven of catty witches who work at a boutique in a Texas mall.

But in “Forbidden Fruits,” it’s hard to shake the feeling that Alloway’s movie knowledge is just that — easily identifiable iconography without much innovation or depth.

Our clique comes storming down the mall food court in that classic slow-motion strut, letting us know right away what we’re in for. They’re known as the Fruits because they all happen to be named after them. The leader, Apple (Lili Reinhart), operates in the controlling mode of Regina George or Cher Horowitz; her lackeys are alt queen Fig (Alexandra Shipp) and blond bimbo Cherry (Victoria Pedretti). When they realize that a cute pretzel purveyor is named Pumpkin (Lola Tung), they quickly bring her into their circle as a fourth, seemingly only because her name fits the theme.

Apple runs her high-femme coven out of their store Free Eden with an emphasis on iconic women: The girls confess to their martyr Marilyn Monroe in a dressing room and practice dark magic with their panties and a silver cowboy boot. In the interest of helping each other “shine,” Apple also takes a page from Ann Lee and the Shakers — sex and boys are banned and communication is highly controlled.

It’s only when Pumpkin starts uncovering some of the coven’s secrets, including the existence of a former member named Pickle (Emma Chamberlain), that their controversial personal histories involving hexes, poison, fires and hidden boyfriends come to light, and the situation spirals out of control (literally — the climax happens during a tornado).

Alloway and cinematographer Karim Hussain craft a distinctive and unique aesthetic, a gauzy, highly artificial look that underlines the winky referential tone, but one that also lends “Forbidden Fruits” a strangely dreamlike quality that doesn’t always work for the genre.

While the actors, particularly Reinhart and Pedretti, are locked in with the tone and Reinhart delivers the fierceness required of such a role, the pace of “Forbidden Fruits” is at odds with the performers. The film is weirdly slow and sleepy and at least 20 minutes too long. The convoluted story, peppered with various twists, lacks momentum.

A stronger hand in the edit could have resulted in something more dynamic and engaging, but the plotting is mushy and then rushed. For a witchy horror thriller, it’s heavier on psychological violence than actual scares, and a third-act bloodbath and big reveal can’t save it when we finally get there.

The film’s theatrical provenance reveals itself in long monologues in the Marilyn confessional room and Pedretti delivers one that reveals the depth beyond Cherry’s ditzy exterior. We can see Houghton’s play in these moments, but then Alloway’s cheeky pop sensibility intervenes, the arch artificiality and ironic tone draining the emotional impact.

“Forbidden Fruits” can’t reconcile all of its influences and just ends up as a collection of references and high style without much staying power — it’s essentially the fast fashion of girly pop horror.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.