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ROCK legend Jon Bon Jovi is the next big name star to join CBeebies Bedtime Story slot.

And he uses his stint to share a loving message about his new granddaughter.

Jon has gushed about his new family role since his son Jake Bongiovi and wife Millie Bobby Brown adopted a baby girl.

The Bon Jovi singer said: “Some of my favourite things in life are music and being a grandad – or as I like to say,‘papa’ – and going on adventures.

“When my grandchildren are a little older, I can’t wait to take them on amazing adventures.

“Music has played a part in all of my kids’ childhoods and I’m looking forward to watching my children become parents and seeing our grandchildren become part of our lives.

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 “It’s not about what I’m going to teach my grandchildren, but what they’re going to teach me!”

The TV storytelling gig has welcomed everyone from Harry Styles to Idris Elba to the bedtime armchair.

Jon has chosen to read his friend Paul McCartney’s book Hey Grandude! tomorrow night (Friday 7 November) at 6.50pm on CBeebies and BBC iPlayer.

He added: “I picked Hey Grandude! because it’s written by the great Paul McCartney, singer, songwriter, storyteller.

“He’s someone I’ve always admired and looked up to, not just for his music but for his parenting and grandparenting skills. He’s a dear friend and someone we all admire.”

Jon will also feature in an episode of the CBeebies Parenting Helpline podcast, out November 27 on the CBeebies Parenting website and BBC Sounds.

He will pose a question about when (and when not) to give parenting advice to your own children.

“Death By Lightning,” premiering Thursday on Netflix, introduces itself as “a story about two men the world forgot,” and while it is undoubtedly true that few in 2025 will recognize the name Charles Guiteau, many will know James A. Garfield, given that he was one of only four assassinated American presidents. There are less well remembered presidents, for sure — does the name John Tyler ring a bell? — and assassins better known than Guiteau, but if you’re going to make a docudrama, it does help to choose a story that might be more surprising to viewers and comes with a murder built in. It is also, I would guess intentionally, a tale made for our times, with its themes of civil rights, income inequality, cronyism and corruption.

Indeed, most everything about the Garfield story is dramatic — a tragedy, not merely for the family, but for the nation. For the sense one gets from “Death by Lightning” and from the historical record it fairly represents, is that Garfield, killed after only 200 days in office, might have made a very good chief executive. (The stated source for the series is Candice Millard’s 2011 book “Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President”; Millard is also a voice in the more briefly titled, illuminating “American Experience” documentary “Murder of a President.”)

That the longtime Ohio congressman did not seek but was drafted for the job — a compromise chosen, against his protests, on the 36th ballot at the 1880 Republican National Convention, where he’d given a stirring speech to nominate a fellow Ohioan, Treasury Secretary John Sherman — made him, one might say, especially qualified for the job; unlike some politicians one might name, he was self-effacing and humble and not out for personal gain. But he saw, finally, that he had a chance to “fix all the things that terrify me about this republic,” most especially the ongoing oppression of Black citizens, a major theme of his inauguration speech (with remarks transferred here to a campaign address delivered to a crowd of 50,000 from a balcony overlooking New York’s Madison Square Park). “I would rather be with you and defeated than against you and victorious,” he tells a group of Black veterans gathered on his front porch, from which he conducted his campaign. (Some 20,000 people were said to have visited there during its course.)

Political machinations and complications aside, the narrative, which stretches two years across four episodes, is really fairly simple, even schematic, cutting back and forth between Garfield (Michael Shannon, between tours covering early R.E.M. albums) and Guiteau (Matthew Macfadyen), a drifter with delusions of grandeur, as they approach their historically sealed date with destiny. Garfield is goodness personified; we meet him on his farm, cooking breakfast for the family, planing wood to make a picnic table. (A table we will meet again.) Guiteau goes from one failed project to another, living it up on money stolen from his sister, running out on restaurant checks and rooming house bills, telling lies about himself he might well have thought were true, until he decides that politics is the place to make his mark. Under the impression that he was responsible for Garfield’s election, he believed the new president owed him a job — ambassador to France would be nice — and when none was coming, turned sour. A message from God, and the belief that he would save the republic, set him on a path to murder.

Matthew Macfadyen plays Garfield’s assassin, Charles Guiteau, in the miniseries.

(Larry Horricks / Netflix)

The series largely belongs to them — both actors are terrific, Shannon imbuing Garfield with a gravity leavened with kindness and humor, Macfadyen’s Guiteau, optimistically dedicated to his delusions yet always about to pop. But it’s a loaded cast. The ever-invaluable Betty Gilpin, in her fourth big series this year after “American Primeval,” “The Terminal List: Dark Wolf” and “Hal & Harper,” plays Garfield’s wife, Crete, fully up on the political scene and free with her opinions. Shea Whigham is New York senator and power broker Roscoe Conkling, Garfield’s moral opposite, and the series’ villain, if you excuse Guiteau as mentally ill. (The jury didn’t.). As wise Maine Sen. James Blaine, Bradley Whitford exudes a convincing, quiet authority, honed over those years working in the pretend White House on “The West Wing.” All the men have been whiskered to resemble their historical models.

Where most of them, even Guiteau, remain consistent from beginning to end, it’s Nick Offerman’s Chester A. Arthur who goes on a journey. Conkling’s right hand, in charge of the New York Customs House — which generated a third of the country’s revenues through import fees — he’s offered the position of vice president to appease Conkling, New York being key to winning the election. Arthur begins as a thuggish, cigar-smoking, sausage-eating, drunken clown, until he’s forced, by events, and the possibility of inheriting the presidency, to reckon with himself.

When First Lady Crete Garfield wonders whether there should be a little extra security (or, really, any security at all) around her husband, he responds, “Assassination can no more be guarded against than death by lightning — it’s best not to worry too much about either one,” giving the series its title and clearing up any confusion you may have had about its meaning. Indeed, Guiteau moves in and out of what today would be well guarded rooms with surprising ease, managing encounters (some certainly invented) with Crete, Blaine, a drunken Arthur and Garfield, whom he implores, “Tell me how I can be great, too.”

Created by Mike Makowsky, it isn’t free from theatrical effects, dramatic overreach or obvious statements, but as period pieces go, it’s unusually persuasive, in big and little ways. Only occasionally does one feel taken out of a 19th century reality into a 21st century television series. The effects budget has been spent where it matters, with some detailed evocations of late 19th century Chicago and Washington that don’t scream CGI. The first episode, which recreates the 1880 convention, held at the Interstate Exposition Building in Chicago, aligns perfectly with engravings of the scene and brings it to life, supporting the wheeling and dealing and speechifying in a way that one imagines is close to being there.

Because we know what’s coming, the series can be emotionally taxing, especially as a wounded Garfield lingers through much of the final episode, while being mistreated by his doctor, Willard Bliss (Zeljko Ivanek), who ignores the advice of the younger, better informed Dr. Charles Purvis (Shaun Parkes), the first Black physician to attend to a sitting president; many, including Millard, believe it was the doctor who killed him through a lack of sanitary precautions, and that Garfield might have recovered if he’d just been left alone, an idea the series supports.

But you can’t change history, as much as “Death By Lightning” makes you wish you could.

When Xavier “X” Atencio was plucked by Walt Disney in 1965 to be one of his early theme park designers, he was slotted on a number of projects that placed him out of his comfort zone.

Atencio, for instance, never would have envisioned himself a songwriter.

One of Atencio’s first major projects with Walt Disney Imagineering — WED Enterprises (for Walter Elias Disney), as it was known at the time — was Pirates of the Caribbean. In the mid-’60s when Atencio joined the Pirates team, the attraction was well underway, with the likes of fellow animators-turned-theme park designers Marc Davis and Claude Coats crafting many of its exaggerated characters and enveloping environments. Atencio’s job? Make it all make sense by giving it a cohesive story. While Atencio had once dreamed of being a journalist, his work as an animator had led him astray of a writer’s path.

Atencio would not only figure it out but end up as the draftman of one of Disneyland’s most recognizable songs, “Yo Ho (A Pirate’s Life for Me).” In the process, he was key in creating the template for the modern theme park dark ride, a term often applied to slow-moving indoor attractions. Such career twists and turns are detailed in a new book about Atencio, who died in 2017. “Xavier ‘X’ Atencio: The Legacy of an Artist, Imagineer, and Disney Legend” (Disney Editions), written by three of his family members, follows Atencio’s unexpected trajectory, starting from his roots in animation (his resume includes “Fantasia,” the Oscar-winning short “Toot, Whistle, Plunk and Boom” and even stop-motion work in “Mary Poppins”).

For Pirates of the Caribbean, Atencio is said to have received little direction from Disney, only that the park’s patriarch was unhappy with previous stabs at a narration and dialogue, finding them leaning a bit stodgy. So he knew, essentially, what not to do. Atencio, according to the book, immersed himself in films like Disney’s own “Treasure Island” and pop-cultural interpretations of pirates, striving for something that felt borderline caricature rather than ripped from the history books.

Xavier “X” Atencio got his start in animation. Here, he is seen drawing dinosaurs for a sequence in “Fantasia.”

(Reprinted from “Xavier ‘X’ Atencio: The Legacy of An Artist, Imagineer, and Disney Legend” / Disney Enterprises Inc. / Disney Editions)

Indeed, Atencio’s words — some of those quoted in the book, such as “Avast there! Ye come seeking adventure and salty old pirates, aye?” — have become shorthand for how to speak like a pirate. The first scene written for the attraction was the mid-point auction sequence, a section of the ride that was changed in 2017 due to its outdated cultural implications. In the original, a proud redheaded pirate is the lead prisoner in a bridal auction, but today the “wench” has graduated to pirate status of her own and is helping to auction off stolen goods.

At first, Atencio thought he had over-written the scene, noticing that dialogue overlapped with one another. In a now-famous theme park moment, and one retold in the book, Atencio apologized to Disney, who shrugged off Atencio’s insecurity.

“Hey, X, when you go to a cocktail party, you pick up a little conversation here, another conversation there,” Disney told the animator. “Each time people will go through, they’ll find something new.”

This was the green light that Atencio, Davis and Coats needed to continue developing their attraction as one that would be a tableau of scenes rather than a strict plot.

Tying it all together, Atencio thought, should be a song. Not a songwriter himself, of course, Atencio sketched out a few lyrics and a simple melody. As the authors write, he turned to the thesaurus and made lists of traditional “pirating” words. He presented it to Disney and, to Atencio’s surprise, the company founder promptly gave him the sign off.

“Yo Ho (A Pirate’s Life for Me),” Atencio would relay, was a challenge as the ride doesn’t have a typical beginning and ending, meaning the tune needed to work with whatever pirate vignette we were sailing by. Ultimately, the song, with music by George Bruns, underlines the ride’s humorous feel, allowing the looting, the pillaging and the chasing of women, another scene that has been altered over the years, to be delivered with a playful bent.

The song “altered the trajectory” of Atencio’s career. While Atencio was not considered a musical person — “No, not at all,” says his daughter Tori Atencio McCullough, one of the book’s co-authors — the biography reveals how music became a signature aspect of his work. The short “Toot, Whistle, Plunk and Boom,” for instance, is a humorous tale about the discovery of music. And elsewhere in Atencio’s career he worked on the band-focused opening animations for “Mickey Mouse Club.”

“That one has a pretty cool kind of modern instrument medley in the middle,” Kelsey McCullough, Atencio’s granddaughter and another one of the book’s authors, says of “Mickey Mouse Club.” “It was interesting, because when we lined everything up, it was like, ‘Of course he felt like the ride needed a song.’ Everything he had been doing up to that point had a song in it. Once we looked it at from that perspective, it was sort of unsurprising to us. He was doing a lot around music.”

Xavier “X” Atencio contributed concepts to Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion, including its famous one-eyed cat.

(Reprinted from “Xavier ‘X’ Atencio: The Legacy of An Artist, Imagineer, and Disney Legend” / Disney Enterprises Inc. / Disney Editions)

Atencio would go on to write lyrics for the Country Bear Jamboree and the Haunted Mansion. While the Haunted Mansion vacillates between spooky and lighthearted imagery, it’s Atencio’s “Grim Grinning Ghosts” that telegraphs the ride’s tone and makes it clear it’s a celebratory attraction, one in which many of those in the afterlife prefer to live it up rather than haunt.

Despite his newfound music career, Atencio never gave up drawing and contributing concepts to Disney theme park attractions. Two of my favorites are captured in the book — his abstract flights through molecular lights for the defunct Adventure Thru Inner Space and his one-eyed black cat for the Haunted Mansion. The latter has become a fabled Mansion character over the years. Atencio’s fiendish feline would have followed guests throughout the ride, a creature said to despise living humans and with predatory, possessive instincts.

In Atencio’s concept art, the cat featured elongated, vampire-like fangs and a piercing red eye. In a nod to Edgar Allan Poe’s story “The Black Cat,” it had just one eyeball, which sat in its socket with all the subtlety of a fire alarm. Discarded eventually — a raven essentially fills a similar role — the cat today has been resurrected for the Mansion, most notably in a revised attic scene where the kitty is spotted near a mournful bride.

Xavier “X” Atencio retired from Disney in 1984 after four-plus decades with the company. He drew his own retirement announcement.

(Reprinted from “Xavier ‘X’ Atencio: The Legacy of An Artist, Imagineer, and Disney Legend” / Disney Enterprises Inc. / Disney Editions)

Co-author Bobbie Lucas, a relative of Atencio’s colloquially referred to by the family as his “grandchild-in-law,” was asked what ties all of Atencio’s work together.

“No matter the different style or no matter the era, there’s such a sense of life and humanity,” Lucas says. “There’s a sense of play.”

Play is a fitting way to describe Atencio’s contributions to two of Disneyland’s most beloved attractions, where pirates and ghosts are captured at their most frivolous and jovial.

“I like that,” Lucas adds. “I like someone who will put their heart on their sleeve and show you that in their art.”

As one century gives way to another, a child is born in Mumbai. “The millennium’s gift,” Chandni Contractor, is a source of joy to her parents. When Chandni turns 4 and reveals herself to be a musical prodigy, she becomes a source of wonder. At the age of 13, she dazzles audiences across India with her piano and sitar performances. Five years later, she enthralls Majnoo, the playboy son of billionaire parents, and the pair go on to have a spectacular wedding. But their marriage sours and her in-laws turn overbearing. Eventually Chandni snaps and wreaks havoc by playing a different kind of music, one that has the power to destroy livelihoods and lives.

“The Musician of Kahani” is one of five stories in a new collection by Salman Rushdie. “The Eleventh Hour” sees the acclaimed Indian-born British American author exploring the weighty matters of life and death. That he should choose to craft tales around these twin themes is hardly surprising. In 2022, he was nearly killed in a frenzied attack at an event in upstate New York. Two years later, in his up-close-and-personal memoir, “Knife,” he recounted his ordeal and told how he had come to embrace what he called “my second-chance life.” Rushdie’s brush with death and new lease on life renders his latest stories — his first fiction since the attack — all the more potent and poignant.

The collection’s opener, “In the South,” gets underway both innocently and ominously: “The day Junior fell down began like any other day.” What follows is a chronicle of a death foretold. Senior and Junior are two octogenarian neighbors in Chennai, India, who spend their time together arguing. The former has had a rich and fulfilling life, but as so many of his friends and family have died — or “gone to their fiery rest” — he now longs for death. The latter, afflicted by “the incurable disease of mediocrity,” has led a disappointing life yet still possesses a lust for it.

When a tsunami hits the city, it kills Junior. At first Senior is angry (“Why not me?” he rages), but his dominant emotion turns to sadness after he realizes he has lost a man who was his “shadow.” Or so he believes. For Junior’s passing is not the end. Senior continues to see, and quarrel with, his fallen friend. As Rushdie puts it: “Death and life were just adjacent verandas.”

One of the finest stories here, “Late,” involves another apparition. English academic S. M. Arthur wakes up in his university college (an unnamed King’s College, Cambridge) and discovers he is dead. Feeling like “a broken entity trapped in a kind of prison,” he finds peace by communing with the one person who can see him, Indian student and fellow lonely soul, Rosa.

The pair form a bond in the empty college over the Christmas holidays. Despite their affinity, Arthur harbors secrets. When Rosa is tasked with sorting his papers, she comes across a mysteriously locked box file, the contents of which he refuses to disclose. Then Arthur takes stock of his situation and decides he can’t rest until Rosa helps him get even with a past persecutor. What is in the box and why the need for revenge?

Weighing in at over 70 pages, “Late” constitutes more a novella than a story, as does “The Musician of Kahani” and the equally substantial “Oklahoma.” This last offering about writers, writing and elaborate vanishing acts is artfully structured and formally daring, made up of multiple layers, diverse references, literary ventriloquy and slick twists and turns. In a lesser writer’s hands, this novella might have been too clever for its own good; however, Rushdie, a seasoned pro, achieves the perfect balance.

He hasn’t done so in recent years in his long-form fiction. “The Golden House” (2017), “Quichotte” (2019) and his last novel, “Victory City” (2023), were blighted in places by digressive riffs and monologues, bottomless subplots, “humorous” character names (Evel Cent, Thimma the Almost as Huge) and excessive magic-realist high jinks comprising talking revolvers, ferocious mastodons, an Italian-speaking cricket and a demigoddess who grows a city from seeds and lives for 247 years. Sometimes this hocus-pocus worked wonders; at other times it felt like cheap tricks.

Rushdie has far more success in “The Eleventh Hour.” His narratives are more streamlined. His flights of fancy— malevolent music, undead scholars, imaginary brothers, a cult led by a guru with 93 Ferraris in an “experimental township” called the Moon — are more controlled and add subtle strokes of color. Some groan-inducing puns aside, Rushdie’s comic touches are deftly managed, appearing as sharp satirical swipes or witty repartee. “You look like a man who is only waiting to die,” says Junior to Senior, who in turn retorts: “That is better than looking, as you do, like a man who is still waiting to live.”

Rushdie exhibits further playfulness by scattering clues and inviting his reader to trace connections. Arthur is in part a crafty composite of the writer E.M. Forster and the computer scientist Alan Turing — all three being, like their creator, King’s College alumni. “And at midnight, the approved hour for miraculous births in our part of the world, a baby was born to a Breach Candy family,” Rushdie writes of Chandni, with a knowing nod to the key time, place and circumstances in his 1981 masterpiece “Midnight’s Children.”

The book’s last and shortest entry, the fabular “The Old Man in the Piazza,” makes for a somewhat slight coda. Otherwise, this is an inventive and engrossing collection of stories which, though death-tinged, are never doom-laden. With luck this master writer has more tales to tell.

Malcolm Forbes is a freelance writer and critic from Edinburgh, Scotland, who writes for the Economist, the Washington Post and other publications.

After going global for its second volume, “Star Wars: Visions” Volume 3 brings the anthology series back to its roots with a new slate of shorts all created by Japanese anime studios.

Each season of the Disney+ series, which launched in 2021, has infused fresh creative energy into the galaxy far, far away by giving international animation houses the freedom to explore ideas about the Force, the factions of the Galactic War and brand new planets and cultures outside of the constraints of the long-running franchise’s canon.

And while Volume 3, which premiered last week, revisits some characters that were introduced in Volume 1, it also shows how anime is a medium with range. From the gritty installment that explores the complexity of the dark sides of the Force through a battle between former Sith and Jedi (“The Duel: Payback”) to a more heartwarming story about a pair of resourceful orphans who decide to become family (“Yuko’s Treasure”), there are different types of anime for everyone.

Anée-san in “The Duel: Payback,” one of the shorts in “Star Wars: Visions” Volume 3.

(Lucasfilm Ltd.)

With movies like “Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba Infinity Castle” and “Chainsaw Man — The Movie: Reze Arc” making waves at the box office, anime’s growing popularity is undeniable and its availability on major streamers has also made anime series and movies more accessible than ever. So for those whose curiosity about the medium has been piqued by “Star Wars: Visions,” here are some titles to check out based on the themes and stories of the nine shorts that comprise Volume 3.

Stunning fights (with some moral ambiguity)

Sagiri in an episode of “Hell’s Paradise.”

(©Yuji Kaku/Shueisha, Twin Engine, Mappa / Crunchyroll)

Let’s be honest: Lightsaber duels are awesome. So it’s no surprise that a number of shorts in “Star Wars: Visions” Volume 3 leaned into stories involving Jedi and/or the Sith, including “The Duel: Payback,” “The Lost Ones” and “The Bird of Paradise.”

For those who are looking for anime featuring stylish and stunning sword-fighting scenes, the ever popular “Demon Slayer” (Netflix, Disney+/Hulu, Crunchyroll), featuring a secret organization fighting to protect humans from demons, is an obvious choice. Another show featuring stylish combat between skilled warriors and supernatural monsters is “Hell’s Paradise” (Netflix, Disney+/Hulu, Crunchyroll). The series follows a ninja who is recruited by an executioner to join a party of death row inmates on a quest to find the elixir of life on a mythical island populated with mysterious deadly threats. The successful convict will be pardoned for all of their past crimes. The premise may remind some of the supervillain team-up “The Suicide Squad,” but the fighting scenes — and the island’s inhabitants — stand alone.

Master and apprentice dynamics

Frieren, left, and Fern from “Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End.”

(Crunchyroll)

Speaking of Jedi, “The Lost Ones” and “The Bird of Paradise” also touch on the relationship between a Jedi master and their padawan apprentice. If a story involving a lineage of student-teacher dynamics that’s about friendship, human connection, memory, mortality and legacy sounds intriguing, consider checking out “Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End” (Netflix, Disney+/Hulu, Crunchyroll). The fantasy series follows an elven mage, her young human apprentice and others they pick up along their years-long journey to visit the spirits of old friends. The show is part travelogue, part adventure quest with monsters, magic battles and dungeon exploration.

Lovable scoundrels

Kazuki, left, Miri and Rei in an episode of “Buddy Daddies.”

(©KRM’s Home / Buddy Daddies Committee / Crunchyroll)

The world of “Star Wars” is full of scoundrels that fans can’t help but love for their swagger and independent moral code, and “Visions” installments “The Smuggler” and “The Bounty Hunters” add to that legacy.

Well-known classics like “Cowboy Bebop” (Crunchyroll) and “Lupin the Third” (Tubi, Crunchyroll) and the long-running “One Piece” (Netflix, Disney+/Hulu, Crunchyroll) are good starting points for those first dipping their toes into anime and are interested in the adventures of a ragtag group of bounty hunters, thieves and/or pirates. For those looking for something new, consider “Buddy Daddies” (Crunchyroll), which follows a pair of assassin roommates who form a makeshift family after taking in a 4-year-old they encounter while out on a job. Think of it like “The Mandalorian,” if Mando had a recluse gamer co-parent and Grogu was a picky eater.

Political space wars and mech suits

Suletta Mercury in an episode of “Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury.”

(©Sotsu, Sunrise, MBS / Crunchyroll)

Some film and TV shows set in the galaxy far, far away are more political than others, but aspects of the conflict involving the Galactic Empire, Rebel forces and stray Jedi are touched on in a few of the shorts in “Visions” Volume 3 like “The Lost Ones,” “The Smuggler,” “Black” and “The Song of Four Wings,” with the latter featuring a young protagonist that dons a snazzy flying mech suit.

The mecha franchise “Gundam” is best known for its giant robots, but it’s a sprawling space opera that touches on political themes including the horrors of corruption, inequity and war. A recent standout is newcomer-friendly “Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury” (Crunchyroll). The show follows a shy new transfer student at a corporate military school where recruits train and settle disputes in giant mech suit combat. The series uses school drama and a budding teen romance as a backdrop to touch on themes such as class strife and prejudice, corporate greed and personal vengeance.

Emotionally resonant robots

Atom in an episode of “Pluto.”

(Netflix)

From the Skywalkers’ fussy protocol droid C-3PO to Hera Syndulla’s cranky astromech Chopper, lovable androids are a “Star Wars” signature. “Visions” Volume 3 installments “The Ninth Jedi: Child of Hope” and “Yuko’s Treasure” each introduce loyal droids that tug viewers’ heartstrings.

The title androids in “Astro Boy” (also known as Atom) and “Doraemon” are kid-friendly household names in Japan akin to Mickey Mouse and Snoopy, but a more mature option is “Pluto” (Netflix). The gritty, sci-fi murder mystery series is based on a reimagining of a story arc from the “Astro Boy” manga, and is set in a world where humans live alongside robots — though the dynamic is a bit different than in “Star Wars.” The story follows a robot detective who is investigating a string of robot and human killings, and, like many sci-fi stories about androids and artificial intelligence, touches on themes like what makes humans human.

A scene from “Yuko’s Treasure,” one of the shorts in “Star Wars: Visions” Volume 3.

(Lucasfilm Ltd.)

Rambunctious kids

Plenty of “Star Wars” media is made with younger audiences in mind, but not many are about the adventures of children in the galaxy far, far away. “Vision” Volume 3’s “Yuko’s Treasure” puts a couple of orphan kids in the forefront — along with an adorable bear-like droid.

There’s no shortage of anime series about the (mis)adventures of rambunctious kids and one of the more heartwarming involves a “fake” family. “Spy x Family” (Disney+/Hulu, Crunchyroll) follows a secret agent working to maintain the fragile peace between neighboring nations and the faux happy family he constructed for his latest undercover mission. Unbeknownst to him, his adopted daughter is secretly a telepath and his fake wife is an assassin. As one might expect, a telepathic first grader with a wild imagination who lives with a spy and an assassin can get caught up in plenty of shenanigans. Bonus: The family also adopts a cute massive dog.

Kotaro in an episode of “Kotaro Lives Alone.”

(Netflix)

On the opposite end of the spectrum is “Kotaro Lives Alone” (Netflix), a more grounded show with just as outlandish a premise. The series follows a 4-year-old who moves into a rundown apartment complex alone — for reasons that are eventually revealed as his neighbors get to know him. The boy is unusually self-reliant and mature but also childish and understandably vulnerable. As viewers might assume, there are not many happy circumstances that could possibly lead to a 4-year-old child living on his own, but there’s more warmth than tragedy.

Musical, visual spectacle

One of the standouts in “Star Wars: Visions” Volume 3 is “Black,” a jazz-fueled, mind-bending fever dream of a Stormtrooper during a battle. The bold, music-driven 13-minute short is a visual spectacle that challenges viewers and there’s not much else out there that compares. Though it has a more structured narrative, the anime film “Inu-Oh” (Netflix) is a psychedelic rock opera that might scratch the same itch. Set in 14th century Japan, the film follows two young artists who forge a friendship because they are both outcasts — the musician is blind, and the dancer was born with monstrous deformities — and their dazzling performances drive the story.

President Donald Trump’s razing of the White House’s East Wing to build a ballroom has put some news organizations following the story in an awkward position, with corporate owners among the contributors to the project — and their reporters covering it vigorously.

Comcast, which owns NBC News and MSNBC, has faced on-air criticism from some of the liberal cable channel’s personalities for its donation. Amazon, whose founder Jeff Bezos owns The Washington Post, is another donor. The newspaper editorialized in favor of Trump’s project, pointing out the Bezos connection a day later after critics noted its omission.

It’s not the first time since Trump regained the presidency that interests of journalists at outlets that are a small part of a corporate titan’s portfolio have clashed with owners. Both the Walt Disney Co. and Paramount have settled lawsuits with Trump rather than defend ABC News and CBS News in court.

“This is Trump’s Washington,” said Chuck Todd, former NBC “Meet the Press” host. “None of this helps the reputations of the news organizations that these companies own, because it compromises everybody.”

Companies haven’t said how much they donated, or why

None of the individuals and corporations identified by the White House as donors has publicly said how much was given, although a $22 million Google donation was revealed in a court filing. Comcast would not say Friday why it gave, although some MSNBC commentators have sought to fill in the blanks.

MSNBC’s Stephanie Ruhle said the donations should be a concern to Americans, “because there ain’t no company out there writing a check just for good will.”

“Those public-facing companies should know that there’s a cost in terms of their reputations with the American people,” Rachel Maddow said on her show this week, specifically citing Comcast. “There may be a cost to their bottom line when they do things against American values, against the public interest because they want to please Trump or buy him off or profit somehow from his authoritarian overthrow of our democracy.”

NBC’s “Nightly News” led its Oct. 22 broadcast with a story on the East Wing demolition, which reporter Gabe Gutierrez said was paid for by private donors, “among them Comcast, NBC’s parent company.”

“Nightly News” spent a total of five minutes on the story that week, half the time of ABC’s “World News Tonight,” though NBC pre-empted its Tuesday newscast for NBA coverage, said Andrew Tyndall, head of ADT Research. There’s no evidence that Comcast tried to influence NBC’s coverage in any way; Todd said the corporation’s leaders have no history of doing that. A Comcast spokeswoman had no comment.

Todd spoke out against his bosses at NBC News in the past, but said he doubted he would have done so in this case, in part because Comcast hasn’t said why the contribution was made. “You could make the defense that it is contributing to the United States” by renovating the White House, he said.

More troubling, he said, is the perception that Comcast CEO Brian Roberts had to do it to curry favor with the Trump administration. Trump, in a Truth Social post in April, called Comcast and Roberts “a disgrace to the integrity of Broadcasting!!!” The president cited the company’s ownership of MSNBC and NBC News.

Roberts may need their help. Stories this week suggested Comcast might be interested in buying all or part of Warner Bros. Discovery, a deal that would require government approval.

White House cannot be ‘a museum to the past’

The Post’s editorial last weekend was eye-opening, even for a section that has taken a conservative turn following Bezos’ direction that it concentrate on defending personal liberties and the free market. The Oct. 25 editorial was unsigned, which indicates that it is the newspaper’s official position, and was titled “In Defense of the White House ballroom.”

The Post said the ballroom is a necessary addition and although Trump is pursuing it “in the most jarring manner possible,” it would not have gotten done in his term if he went through a traditional approval process.

“The White House cannot simply be a museum to the past,” the Post wrote. “Like America, it must evolve with the times to maintain its greatness. Strong leaders reject calcification. In that way, Trump’s undertaking is a shot across the bow at NIMBYs everywhere.”

In sharing a copy of the editorial on social media, White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt wrote that it was the “first dose of common sense I’ve seen from the legacy media on this story.”

The New York Times, by contrast, has not taken an editorial stand either for or against the project. It has run a handful of opinion columns: Ross Douthat called Trump’s move necessary considering potential red tape, while Maureen Dowd said it was an “unsanctioned, ahistoric, abominable destruction of the East Wing.”

In a social media post later Saturday, Columbia University journalism professor Bill Grueskin noted the absence of any mention of Bezos in the Post editorial” and said he wrote to a Post spokeswoman about it. In a “stealth edit” that Grueskin said didn’t include any explanation, a paragraph was added the next day about the private donors, including Amazon. “Amazon founder Jeff Bezos owns The Post,” the newspaper said.

The Post had no comment on the issue, spokeswoman Olivia Petersen said on Sunday.

In a story this past week, NPR reported that the ballroom editorial was one of three that the Post had written in the previous two weeks on a matter in which Bezos had a financial or corporate interest without noting his personal stakes.

In a public appearance last December, Bezos acknowledged that he was a “terrible owner” for the Post from the point of view of appearances of conflict. “A pure newspaper owner who only owned a newspaper and did nothing else would probably be, from that point of view, a much better owner,” the Amazon founder said.

Grueskin, in an interview, said Bezos had every right as an owner to influence the Post’s editorial policy. But he said it was important for readers to know his involvement in the East Wing story. They may reject the editorial because of the conflict, he said, or conclude that “the editorial is so well-argued, I put a lot of credibility into what I just read.”

Bauder writes for the Associated Press.

At a Starbucks in downtown Culver City, Amit Jain pulls out his iPad Pro and presses play. On-screen, one of his employees at Luma AI — the Silicon Valley startup behind a new wave of generative video tools, which he co-founded and now runs — lumbers through the company’s Palo Alto office, arms swinging, shoulders hunched, pretending to be a monkey. Jain swipes to a second version of the same clip. Same movement, same hallway, but now he is a monkey. Fully rendered and believable, and created in seconds.

“The tagline for this would be, like, iPhone to cinema,” Jain says, flipping through other uncanny clips shared on his company’s Slack. “But, of course, it’s not full cinema yet.” He says it offhandedly — as if he weren’t describing a transformation that could upend not just how movies are made but what Hollywood is even for. If anyone can summon cinematic spectacle with a few taps, what becomes of the place that once called it magic?

Luma’s generative AI platform, Dream Machine, debuted last year and points toward a new kind of moviemaking, one where anyone can make release-grade footage with a few words. Type “a cowboy riding a velociraptor through Times Square,” and it builds the scene from scratch. Feed it a still photo and it brings the frozen moment to life: A dog stirs from a nap, trees ripple in the breeze.

Dream Machine’s latest tool, Modify Video, was launched in June. Instead of generating new footage, it redraws what’s already there. Upload a clip, describe what you want changed and the system reimagines the scene: A hoodie becomes a superhero cape, a sunny street turns snowy, a person transforms into a talking banana or a medieval knight. No green screen, no VFX team, no code. “Just ask,” the company’s website says.

For now, clips max out around 10 seconds, a limit set by the technology’s still-heavy computing demands. But as Jain points out, “The average shot in a movie is only eight seconds.”

A series on how the AI revolution is reshaping the creative foundations of Hollywood — from storytelling and performance to production, labor and power.

Jain’s long-term vision is even more radical: a world of fully personalized entertainment, generated on demand. Not mass-market blockbusters, but stories tailored to each individual: a comedy about your co-workers, a thriller set in your hometown, a sci-fi epic starring someone who looks like you, or simply anything you want to see. He insists he’s not trying to replace cinema but expand it, shifting from one-size-fits-all stories to something more personal, flexible and scalable.

“Today, videos are made for 100 million people at a time — they have to hit the lowest common denominator,” Jain says. “A video made just for you or me is better than one made for two unrelated people. That’s the problem we’re trying to solve… My intention is to get to a place where two hours of video can be generated for every human every day.”

It’s a staggering goal that Jain acknowledges is still aspirational. “That will happen, but when the prices are about a thousand times cheaper than where we are. Our research and our engineering are going toward that, to push the price down as much as humanly possible. Because that’s the demand for video. People watch hours and hours of video every day.”

Scaling to that level would require not just faster models but exponentially more compute power. Critics warn that the environmental toll of such expansion could be profound.

For Dream Machine to become what Jain envisions, it needs more than generative tricks — it needs a built-in narrative engine that understands how stories work: when to build tension, where to land a joke, how to shape an emotional arc. Not a tool but a collaborator. “I don’t think artists want to use tools,” he says. “They want to tell their stories and tools get in their way. Currently, pretty much all video generative models, including ours, are quite dumb. They are good pixel generators. At the end of the day, we need to build general intelligence that can tell a f— funny joke. Everything else is a distraction.”

The name may be coincidental, but nine years ago, MIT’s Media Lab launched a very different kind of machine: Nightmare Machine, a viral experiment that used neural networks to distort cheerful faces and familiar cityscapes into something grotesque. That project asked if AI could learn to frighten us. Jain’s vision points in a more expansive direction: an AI that is, in his words, “able to tell an engaging story.”

For many in Hollywood, though, the scenario Jain describes — where traditional cinema increasingly gives way to fast, frictionless, algorithmically personalized video — sounds like its own kind of nightmare.

Jain sees this shift as simply reflecting where audiences already are. “What people want is changing,” he says. “Movies obviously have their place but people aren’t spending time on them as much. What people want are things that don’t need their attention for 90 minutes. Things that entertain them and sometimes educate them and sometimes are, you know, thirst traps. The reality of the universe is you can’t change people’s behaviors. I think the medium will change very significantly.”

Still, Jain — who previously worked as an engineer on Apple’s Vision Pro, where he collaborated with filmmakers like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas — insists Hollywood isn’t obsolete, just due for reinvention. To that end, Luma recently launched Dream Lab LA, a creative studio aimed at fostering AI-powered storytelling.

“Hollywood is the largest concentration of storytellers in the world,” Jain says. “Just like Silicon Valley is the largest concentration of computer scientists and New York is the largest concentration of finance people. We need them. That’s what’s really special about Hollywood. The solution will come out of the marriage of technology and art together. I think both sides will adapt.”

It’s a hopeful outlook, one that imagines collaboration, not displacement. But not everyone sees it that way.

In Silicon Valley, where companies like Google, OpenAI, Anthropic and Meta are racing to build ever more powerful generative tools, such thinking is framed as progress. In Hollywood, it can feel more like erasure — a threat to authorship itself and to the jobs, identities and traditions built around it. The tension came to a head during the 2023 writers’ and actors’ strikes, when picket signs declared: “AI is not art” and “Human writers only.”

What once felt like the stuff of science fiction is now Hollywood’s daily reality. As AI becomes embedded in the filmmaking process, the entire ecosystem — from studios and streamers to creators and institutions — is scrambling to keep up. Some see vast potential: faster production, lower costs, broader access, new kinds of creative freedom. Others see an extraction machine that threatens the soul of the art form and a coming flood of cheap, forgettable content.

AI storytelling is just beginning to edge into theaters — and already sparking backlash. This summer, IMAX is screening 10 generative shorts from Runway’s AI Film Festival. At AMC Burbank, where one screening is set to take place later this month, a protest dubbed “Kill the Machine” is already being organized on social media, an early flashpoint in the growing resistance to AI’s encroachment on storytelling.

But ready or not, the gravity is shifting. Silicon Valley is pulling the film industry into its orbit, with some players rushing in and others dragged. Faced with consolidation, shrinking budgets and shareholder pressure to do more with less, studios are turning to AI not just to cut costs but to survive. The tools are evolving faster than the industry’s playbook, and the old ways of working are struggling to keep up. With generative systems poised to flood the zone with content, simply holding an audience’s attention, let alone shaping culture, is becoming harder than ever.

While the transition remains uneven, some studios are already leaning in. Netflix recently used AI tools to complete a complex VFX sequence for the Argentine sci-fi series “El Eternauta” in a fraction of the usual time. “We remain convinced that AI represents an incredible opportunity to help creators make films and series better, not just cheaper,” co-chief executive Ted Sarandos told analysts during a July earnings call.

At Paramount, incoming chief executive David Ellison is pitching a more sweeping transformation: a “studio in the cloud” that would use AI and other digital tools to reinvent every stage of filmmaking, from previsualization to post. Ellison, whose Skydance Media closed its merger with Paramount Global this week and whose father, Larry Ellison, co-founded Oracle, has vowed to turn the company into a tech-first media powerhouse. “Technology will transform every single aspect of this company,” he said last year.

In one of the most visible examples of AI adoption in Hollywood, Lionsgate, the studio behind the “John Wick” and “Hunger Games” franchises, struck a deal last year with the generative video startup Runway to train a custom model on its film and TV library, aiming to support future project development and improve efficiency. Lionsgate chief executive Jon Feltheimer, speaking to analysts after the agreement, said the company believes AI, used with “appropriate guardrails,” could have a “positive transformational impact” on the business.

Elsewhere, studios are experimenting more quietly: using AI to generate early character designs, write alternate dialogue or explore how different story directions might land. The goal isn’t to replace writers or directors, but to inform internal pitches and development. At companies like Disney, much of the testing is happening in games and interactive content, where the brand risk is lower and the guardrails are clearer. For now, the prevailing instinct is caution. No one wants to appear as if they’re automating away the heart of the movies.

Legacy studios like Paramount are exploring ways to bring down costs by incorporating AI into their pipeline.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

As major studios pivot, smaller, more agile players are building from the ground up for the AI era.

According to a recent report by FBRC.ai, an L.A.-based innovation studio that helps launch and advise early-stage AI startups in entertainment, more than 65 AI-native studios have launched since 2022, most of them tiny, self-funded teams of five or fewer. At these studios, AI tools allow a single creator to do the work of an entire crew, slashing production costs by 50% to 95% compared with traditional live-action or animation. The boundaries between artist, technician and studio are collapsing fast — and with them, the very idea of Hollywood as a gatekeeper.

That collapse is raising deeper questions: When a single person anywhere in the world can generate a film from a prompt, what does Hollywood still represent? If stories can be personalized, rendered on demand or co-written with a crowd, who owns them? Who gets paid? Who decides what matters and what disappears into the churn? And if narrative itself becomes infinite, remixable and disposable, does the idea of a story still hold any meaning at all?

Yves Bergquist leads the AI in Media Project at USC’s Entertainment Technology Center, a studio-backed think tank where Hollywood, academia and tech converge. An AI researcher focused on storytelling and cognition, he has spent years helping studios brace for a shift he sees as both inevitable and wrenching. Now, he says, the groundwork is finally being laid.

“We’re seeing very aggressive efforts behind the scenes to get studios ready for AI,” Bergquist says. “They’re building massive knowledge graphs, getting their data ready to be ingested into AI systems and putting governance committees in place to start shaping real policy.”

But adapting won’t be easy, especially for legacy studios weighed down by entrenched workflows, talent relationships, union contracts and layers of legal complexity. “These AI models weren’t built for Hollywood,” Bergquist says. “This is 22nd-century technology being used to solve 21st-century problems inside 19th-century organizational models. So it’s blood, sweat and tears getting them to fit.”

In an algorithmically accelerated landscape where trends can catch fire and burn out in hours, staying relevant is its own challenge. To help studios keep pace, Bergquist co-founded Corto, an AI startup that describes itself as a “growth genomics engine.” The company, which also works with brands like Unilever, Lego and Coca-Cola, draws on thousands of social and consumer sources, analyzing text, images and video to decode precisely which emotional arcs, characters and aesthetics resonate with which demographics and cultural segments, and why.

“When the game is attention, the weapon is understanding where culture and attention are and where they’re going.” Bergquist says, arguing media ultimately comes down to neuroscience.

Corto’s system breaks stories down into their formal components, such as tone, tempo, character dynamics and visual aesthetics, and benchmarks new projects against its extensive data to highlight, for example, that audiences in one region prefer underdog narratives or that a certain visual trend is emerging globally. Insights like these can help studios tailor marketing strategies, refine storytelling decisions or better assess the potential risk and appeal of new projects.

With ever-richer audience data and advances in AI modeling, Bergquist sees a future where studios can fine-tune stories in subtle ways to suit different viewers. “We might know that this person likes these characters better than those characters,” he says. “So you can deliver something to them that’s slightly different than what you’d deliver to me.”

A handful of studios are already experimenting with early versions of that vision — prototyping interactive or customizable versions of existing IP, exploring what it might look like if fans could steer a scene, adjust a storyline or interact with a favorite character. Speaking at May’s AI on the Lot conference, Danae Kokenos, head of technology innovation at Amazon MGM Studios, pointed to localization, personalization and interactivity as key opportunities. “How do we allow people to have different experiences with their favorite characters and favorite stories?” she said. “That’s not quite solved yet, but I see it coming.”

Bergquist is aware that public sentiment around AI remains deeply unsettled. “People are very afraid of AI — and they should be,” he acknowledges. “Outside of certain areas like medicine, AI is very unpopular. And the more capable it gets, the more unpopular it’s going to be.”

Still, he sees a significant upside for the industry. Get AI right, and studios won’t just survive but redefine storytelling itself. “One theory I really believe in is that as more people gain access to Hollywood-level production tools, the studios will move up the ladder — into multi-platform, immersive, personalized entertainment,” he says. “Imagine spending your life in Star Wars: theatrical releases, television, VR, AR, theme parks. That’s where it’s going.”

The transition won’t be smooth. “We’re in for a little more pain,” he says, “but I think we’ll see a rebirth of Hollywood.”

“AI slop” or creative liberation?

You don’t have to look far to find the death notices. TikTok, YouTube and Reddit are full of “Hollywood is dead” posts, many sparked by the rise of generative AI and the industry’s broader upheaval. Some sound the alarm. Others say good riddance. But what’s clear is that the center is no longer holding and no one’s sure what takes its place.

Media analyst Doug Shapiro has estimated that Hollywood produces about 15,000 hours of fresh content each year, compared to 300 million hours uploaded annually to YouTube. In that context, generative AI doesn’t need to reach Hollywood’s level to pose a major threat to its dominance — sheer volume alone is enough to disrupt the industry.

The attention economy is maxed out but attention itself hasn’t grown. As the monoculture fades from memory, Hollywood’s cultural pull is loosening. This year’s Oscars drew 19.7 million viewers, fewer than tuned in to a typical episode of “Murder, She Wrote” in the 1990s. The best picture winner, “Anora,” earned just $20 million at the domestic box office, one of the lowest tallies of any winner of the modern era. Critics raved, but fewer people saw it in theaters than watch the average moderately viral TikTok.

Amid this fragmentation, generative AI tools are fueling a surge of content. Some creators have a new word for it: “slop” — a catchall for cheap, low-effort, algorithmically churned-out media that clogs the feed in search of clicks. Once the world’s dream factory, Hollywood is now asking how it can stand out in an AI-powered media deluge.

Audience members watch an AI-assisted animated short at “Emergent Properties,” a 2023 Sony Pictures screening that offered a glimpse of the uncanny, visually inventive new wave of AI-powered filmmaking.

(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)

Ken Williams, chief executive of USC’s Entertainment Technology Center and a former studio exec who co-founded Sony Pictures Imageworks, calls it a potential worst-case scenario in the making — “the kind of wholesale dehumanization of the creative process that people, in their darkest moments, fear.”

Williams says studios and creatives alike worry that AI will trap audiences in an algorithmic cul de sac, feeding them more of what they already know instead of something new.

“People who live entirely in the social media world and never come out of that foxhole have lost the ability to hear other voices — and no one wants to see that happen in entertainment.”

If the idea of uncontrolled, hyper-targeted AI content sounds like something out of an episode of “Black Mirror,” it was. In the 2023 season opener “Joan Is Awful,” a woman discovers her life is being dramatized in real time on a Netflix-style streaming service by an AI trained on her personal data, with a synthetic Salma Hayek cast as her on-screen double.

So far, AI tools have been adopted most readily in horror, sci-fi and fantasy, genres that encourage abstraction, stylization and visual surrealism. But when it comes to human drama, emotional nuance or sustained character arcs, the cracks start to show. Coherence remains a challenge. And as for originality — the kind that isn’t stitched together from what’s already out there — the results so far have generally been far from revelatory.

At early AI film festivals, the output has often leaned toward the uncanny or the conceptually clever: brief, visually striking experiments with loose narratives, genre tropes and heavily stylized worlds. Many feel more like demos than fully realized stories. For now, the tools excel at spectacle and pastiche but struggle with the kinds of layered, character-driven storytelling that define traditional cinema.

Then again, how different is that from what Hollywood is already producing? Today’s biggest blockbusters — sequels, reboots, multiverse mashups — often feel so engineered to please that it’s hard to tell where the algorithm ends and the artistry begins. Nine of the top 10 box office hits in 2024 were sequels. In that context, slop is, to some degree, in the eye of the beholder. One person’s throwaway content may be another’s creative breakthrough — or at least a spark.

Joaquin Cuenca, chief executive of Freepik, rejects the notion that AI-generated content is inherently low-grade. The Spain-based company, originally a stock image platform, now offers AI tools for generating images, video and voice that creators across the spectrum are starting to embrace.

“I don’t like this ‘slop’ term,” Cuenca says. “It’s this idea that either you’re a top renowned worldwide expert or it’s not worth it — and I don’t think that’s true. I think it is worth it. Letting people with relatively low skills or low experience make better videos can help people get a business off the ground or express things that are in their head, even if they’re not great at lighting or visuals.”

Freepik’s tools have already made their way into high-profile projects. Robert Zemeckis’ “Here,” starring a digitally de-aged Tom Hanks and set in one room over a period for decades, used the company’s upscaling tech to enhance backgrounds. A recently released anthology of AI-crafted short films, “Beyond the Loop,” which was creatively mentored by director Danny Boyle, used the platform to generate stylized visuals.

“More people will be able to make better videos, but the high end will keep pushing forward too,” Cuenca says. “I think it will expand what it means to be state of the art.”

For all the concern about runaway slop, Williams envisions a near-term stalemate, where AI expands the landscape without toppling the kind of storytelling that still sets Hollywood apart. In that future, he argues, the industry’s competitive edge — and perhaps its best shot at survival — will still come from human creators.

That belief in the value of human authorship is now being codified by the industry’s most influential institution. Earlier this year, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences issued its first formal guidance on AI in filmmaking, stating that the use of generative tools will “neither help nor harm” a film’s chances of receiving a nomination. Instead, members are instructed to consider “the degree to which a human was at the heart of the creative authorship” when evaluating a work.

“I don’t see AI necessarily displacing the kind of narrative content that has been the province of Hollywood’s creative minds and acted by the stars,” Williams says. “The industry is operating at a very high level of innovation and creativity. Every time I turn around, there’s another movie I’ve got to see.”

The new studio model

Inside Mack Sennett Studios, a historic complex in L.A.’s Echo Park neighborhood once used for silent film shoots, a new kind of studio is taking shape: Asteria, the generative AI video studio founded by filmmaker-turned-entrepreneur Bryn Mooser.

Asteria serves as the creative arm of Moonvalley, an AI storytelling company led by technologist and chief executive Naeem Talukdar. Together, they’re exploring new workflows built around the idea that AI can expand, rather than replace, human creativity.

Mooser, a two-time Oscar nominee for documentary short subject and a fifth-generation Angeleno, sees the rise of AI as part of Hollywood’s long history of reinvention, from sound to color to CGI. “Looking back, those changes seem natural, but at the time, they were difficult,” he says.

Ed Ulbrich, left, Bryn Mooser and Mateusz Malinowski, executives at Moonvalley and Asteria, are building a new kind of AI-powered movie studio focused on collaboration between filmmakers and technologists.

(David Butow / For the Times)

What excites him now is how AI lowers technical barriers for the next generation. “For people who are technicians, like stop-motion or VFX artists, you can do a lot more as an individual or a small team,” he says. “And really creative filmmakers can cross departments in a way they couldn’t before. The people who are curious and leaning in are going to be the filmmakers of tomorrow.”

It’s a hopeful vision, one shared by many AI proponents who see the tools as a great equalizer, though some argue it often glosses over the structural realities facing working artists today, where talent and drive alone may not be enough to navigate a rapidly shifting, tech-driven landscape.

That tension is precisely what Moonvalley is trying to address. Their pitch isn’t just creative, it’s legal. While many AI companies remain vague about what their models are trained on, often relying on scraped content of questionable legality, Moonvalley built its video model, Marey, on fully licensed material and in close collaboration with filmmakers.

That distinction is becoming more significant. In June, Disney and Universal filed a sweeping copyright lawsuit against Midjourney, a popular generative AI tool that turns text prompts into images, accusing it of enabling rampant infringement by letting users generate unauthorized depictions of characters like Darth Vader, Spider-Man and the Minions. The case marks the most aggressive legal challenge yet by Hollywood studios against AI platforms trained on their intellectual property.

“We worked with some of the best IP lawyers in the industry to build the agreements with our providers,” Moonvalley’s Talukdar says. “We’ve had a number of major studios audit those agreements. We’re confident every single pixel has had a direct sign-off from the owner. That was the baseline we operated from.”

The creative frontier between Hollywood and AI is drawing interest from some of the industry’s most ambitious filmmakers.

Steven Spielberg and “Avengers” co-director Joe Russo were among the advisors to Wonder Dynamics, an AI-driven VFX startup that was acquired by Autodesk last year. Darren Aronofsky, the boundary-pushing director behind films like “Black Swan” and “The Whale,” recently launched the AI studio Primordial Soup, partnering with Google DeepMind. Its debut short, “Ancestra,” directed by Eliza McNitt, blends real actors with AI-generated visuals and premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in June.

Not every foray into AI moviemaking has been warmly received. Projects that spotlight generative tools have stoked fresh arguments about where to draw the line between machine-made and human-driven art.

In April, actor and director Natasha Lyonne, who co-founded Asteria with her partner, Mooser, announced her feature directorial debut: a sci-fi film about a world addicted to VR gaming called “Uncanny Valley,” combining AI and traditional filmmaking techniques. Billed as offering “a radical new cinematic experience,” the project drew backlash from some critics who questioned whether such ventures risk diminishing the role of human authorship. Lyonne defended the film to the Hollywood Reporter, making clear she’s not replacing crew members with AI: “I love nothing more than filmmaking, the filmmaking community, the collaboration of it, the tactile fine art of it… In no way would I ever want to do anything other than really create some guardrails or a new language.”

Even the boldest experiments face a familiar hurdle: finding an audience. AI might make it easier to make a movie, but getting people to watch it is another story. For now, the real power still lies with platforms like Netflix and TikTok that decide what gets seen.

That’s why Mooser believes the conversation shouldn’t be about replacing filmmakers but empowering them. “When we switched from shooting on film to digital, it wasn’t the filmmakers who went away — it was Kodak and Polaroid,” he says. “The way forward isn’t everybody typing prompts. It’s putting great filmmakers in the room with the best engineers and solving this together. We haven’t yet seen what AI looks like in the hands of the best filmmakers of our time. But that’s coming.”

New formats, new storytellers

For more than a century, watching a movie has been a one-way experience: The story flows from screen to viewer. Stephen Piron wants to change that. His startup Pickford AI — named for Mary Pickford, the silent-era star who co-founded United Artists and helped pioneer creative control in Hollywood — is exploring whether stories can unfold in real time, shaped by the audience as they watch. Its cheeky slogan: “AI that smells like popcorn.”

Pickford’s flagship demo looks like an animated dating show, but behaves more like a game or an improv performance. There’s no fixed script. Viewers type in suggestions through an app and vote on others’ ideas. A large language model then uses that input, along with the characters’ backstories and a rough narrative outline, to write the next scene in real time. A custom engine renders it on the spot, complete with gestures and synthetic voices. Picture a cartoon version of “The Bachelor” crossed with a choose-your-own-adventure, rendered by AI in real time.

At live screenings this year in London and Los Angeles, audiences didn’t just watch — they steered the story, tossing in oddball twists and becoming part of the performance. “We wanted to see if we could bring the vibe of the crowd back into the show, make it feel more like improv or live theater,” Piron says. “The main reaction is people laugh, which is great. There’s been lots of positive reaction from creative people who think this could be an interesting medium to create new stories.”

The platform is still in closed beta. But Piron’s goal is a collaborative storytelling forum where anyone can shape a scene, improvise with AI and instantly share it. To test that idea on a larger scale, Pickford is developing a branching murder mystery with Emmy-winning writer-producer Bernie Su (“The Lizzie Bennet Diaries”).

Piron, who is skeptical that people really want hyper-personalized content, is exploring more ways to bring the interactive experience into more theaters. “I think there is a vacuum of live, in-person experiences that people can do — and maybe people are looking for that,” he says.

Attendees check in at May’s AI on the Lot conference, where Pickford AI screened a demo of its interactive dating show.

(Irina Logra)

As generative AI lowers the barrier to creation, the line between creator and consumer is starting to blur and some of the most forward-looking startups are treating audiences as collaborators, not just fans.

One example is Showrunner, a new, Amazon-backed platform from Fable Studio that lets users generate animated, TV-style episodes using prompts, images and AI-generated voices — and even insert themselves into the story. Initially free, the platform plans to charge a monthly subscription for scene-generation credits. Fable is pitching Showrunner as “the Netflix of AI,” a concept that has intrigued some studios and unsettled others. Chief executive Edward Saatchi says the company is already in talks with Disney and other content owners about bringing well-known franchises into the platform.

Other AI companies are focused on building new franchises from the ground up with audiences as co-creators from day one. Among the most ambitious is Invisible Universe, which bypasses traditional gatekeepers entirely and develops fresh IP in partnership with fans across TikTok, YouTube and Instagram. Led by former MGM and Snap executive Tricia Biggio, the startup has launched original animated characters with celebrities like Jennifer Aniston and Serena Williams, including Clydeo, a cooking-obsessed dog, and Qai Qai, a dancing doll. But its real innovation, Biggio says, is the direct relationship with the audience.

“We’re not going to a studio and saying, ‘Do you like our idea?’ We’re going to the audience,” she says. “If Pixar were starting today, I don’t think they’d choose to spend close to a decade developing something for theatrical release, hoping it works.”

While some in the industry are still waiting for an AI “Toy Story” or “Blair Witch” moment — a breakthrough that proves generative tools can deliver cultural lightning in a bottle — Biggio isn’t chasing a feature-length hit. “There are ways to build love and awareness for stories that don’t require a full-length movie,” she says. “Did it make you feel something? Did it make you want to go call your mom? That’s going to be the moment we cross the chasm.”

What if AI isn’t the villain?

For nearly a century, filmmakers have imagined what might happen if machines got too smart.

In 1927’s “Metropolis,” a mad scientist gives his robot the likeness of a beloved labor activist, then unleashes it to sow chaos among the city’s oppressed masses. In “2001: A Space Odyssey,” HAL 9000 turns on its crew mid-mission. In “The Terminator,” AI nukes the planet and sends a killer cyborg back in time to finish the job. “Blade Runner” and “Ex Machina” offered chilling visions of artificial seduction and deception. Again and again, the message has been clear: Trust the machines at your peril.

Director Gareth Edwards, best known for “Godzilla” and “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story,” wanted to flip the script. In “The Creator,” his 2023 sci-fi drama, the roles were reversed: Humans are waging war against AI and the machines, not the people, are cast as the hunted. The story follows a hardened ex-soldier, played by John David Washington, who’s sent to destroy a powerful new weapon, only to discover it’s a child: a young android who may be the key to peace.

“The second you look at things from AI’s perspective, it flips very easily,” Edwards told The Times by phone shortly before the film’s release. “From AI’s point of view, we are attempting to enslave it and use it as our servant. So we’re clearly the baddie in that situation.”

In Gareth Edwards’ 2023 film “The Creator,” a young AI child named Alphie (Madeleine Yuna Voyles) holds the key to humanity’s future.

(20th Century)

In many ways, “The Creator” was the kind of film audiences and critics say they want to see more often out of Hollywood: an original story that takes creative risks, delivering cutting-edge visuals on a relatively lean $80 million. But when it hit theaters that fall, the film opened in third place behind “Paw Patrol: The Mighty Movie” and “Saw X.” By the end of its run, it had pulled in a modest $104.3 million worldwide.

Part of the problem was timing. When Edwards first pitched the film, AI was still seen as a breakthrough, not a threat. But by the time the movie reached theaters, the public mood had shifted. The 2023 strikes were in full swing, AI was the villain of the moment — and here came a film in which AI literally nukes Los Angeles in the opening minutes. The metaphor wasn’t subtle. Promotion was limited, the cast was sidelined and audiences weren’t sure whether to cheer the movie’s message or recoil from it. While the film used cutting-edge VFX tools to help bring its vision to life, it served as a potent reminder that AI could help make a movie — but it still couldn’t shield it from the backlash.

Still, Edwards remains hopeful about what AI could mean for the future of filmmaking, comparing it to the invention of the electric guitar. “There’s a possibility that if this amazing tool turns up and everyone can make any film that they imagine, it’s going to lead to a new wave of cinema,” he says. “Look, there’s two options: Either it will be mediocre rubbish — and if that’s true, don’t worry about it, it’s not a threat — or it’s going to be phenomenal, and who wouldn’t want to see that?”

After “The Creator,” Edwards returned to more familiar terrain, taking the reins on this summer’s “Jurassic World Rebirth,” the sixth installment in a franchise that began with Steven Spielberg’s 1993 blockbuster, which redefined spectacle in its day. To date, the film has grossed more than $700 million worldwide.

So what’s the takeaway? Maybe there’s comfort in the known. Maybe audiences crave the stories they’ve grown up with. Maybe AI still needs the right filmmaker or the right story to earn our trust.

Or maybe we’re just not ready to root for the machines. At least not yet.

A mutant killer baby. Lampshades and pickle jars that come alive. Sinister sewers. A demonic clown that preys on children.

HBO Max’s “It: Welcome to Derry,” the latest adaptation of Stephen King’s epic 1986 novel about a deadly clown named Pennywise, has already scared up a lot of buzz since its Oct. 26 premiere with its mix of evil events and nightmarish images.

The first episode featuring Robert Preston warning “Ya Got Trouble” via the classic musical “The Music Man” is an ominous introduction to the subsequent terrors. Gruesome sequences revolving around birth in the first two episodes will likely make several viewers cover their eyes. (The second episode drops Friday on HBO Max in time for Halloween, and it will air in its usual 9 p.m. PT Sunday slot on HBO.)

A prequel to 2017’s “It” and 2019’s “It: Chapter Two” — both directed by Andy Muschietti — the new drama is set in 1962 in the fictional small town of Derry, Maine. Bill Skarsgård, who played Pennywise in the films, will reprise his role during the season.

The large ensemble of child actors and adults features several Black characters, including Air Force Maj. Leroy Hanlon (Jovan Adepo); his wife Charlotte (Taylour Paige), a civil rights activist in a Jackie Kennedy pillbox hat; and son Will (Blake Cameron James). Also featured is Hank Grogan (Stephen Rider), the town’s theater projectionist, and his teen daughter Ronnie (Amanda Christine).

Developed by Muschietti, his sister Barbara Muschietti and Jason Fuchs, the creators have prioritized increasing the intensity of the films. But the Muschietti siblings add that they are also incorporating certain messages into the mayhem. Many of the Black characters face bigotry and resistance in the predominantly white town that echo challenges that people of color currently face.

“Stephen is a master of weaving these issues into his stories, and it’s impossible to think of doing one of his stories without having that texture front and center,” Barbara Muschietti said.

The Muschiettis, in a video call, discussed diving deeper into the story of Pennywise, getting their young cast to act like kids from the 1960s, and what gives them nightmares. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Siblings Barbara Muschietti and Andy Muschietti on the set of HBO’s “It: Welcome to Derry.”

(Brooke Palmer / HBO)

How soon after the two “It” movies did the idea of a deeper dive into the world of Pennywise come about?

Andy Muschietti: The novel was the inspiration. There are all these enigmas still lingering, enigmas intentionally left unresolved in the book. Part of the greatness of the novel is that you finish 1,200 pages and at the end, you still have no idea what “It” is and what it wants. It’s all speculation. We had conversations with Bill about how great it would be to do an origin story of Bob Gray, this cryptic character, and give him the opportunity to play the human side, the man behind the clown. It’s about completing the puzzle and uniting the stories that lead one to another, creating a story with the final purpose of getting to this conclusive event, which is the creation of Pennywise, the incarnation of evil.

Barbara Muschietti: Once the idea start percolating, we got in touch with Mr. King and he loved the idea. At the beginning of the pandemic we went to (then-Warner Bros. TV chief) Peter Roth. He bought it in the room and we’ve been on it ever since. Not a day of rest.

“The Music Man” plays a prominent role in the first episode, and it gets dark pretty quickly. I’m a huge fan of that movie, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at that joyful musical the same way again.

Andy Muschietti: I actually wanted us to create a musical ourselves that would pretend to be a movie from 1962. But we would have spent so much money and energy. So we started a quest for the right musical. “The Music Man” was made by Warner Bros. in 1962, and it’s about someone coming to a small town not unlike Derry, talking about trouble, trouble. And it just seemed to fit.

Barbara Muschietti: We also hope a lot of younger people will be curious and go see “The Music Man.”

What is the superpower of “It” that makes it a story that keeps giving and giving?

Andy Muschietti: There are a lot of things people connect to. One of them is childhood. Most of us cherish those years as being full of magic and imagination. We’ve all been children and we’ve all been afraid of something. The novel is a testament to the virtues of childhood, and those virtues normally disappear when you become an adult. Arguably the adults are always the enemy in the world of ‘It.’”

Apart from the clown, there’s a whole mythology that has yet to be connected. My purpose in this series is to reveal the iceberg under the water.

Black characters, including Hank (Stephen Rider), Ronnie (Amanda Christine), Leroy (Jovan Adepo) and Charlotte (Taylour Paige) play central roles in HBO’s “It: Welcome to Derry.” (Brooke Palmer / HBO)

You could not have planned the timing of the show coming on, but it seems like the topical issues addressed in this show, like bigotry, have a relevance to what’s going on in the country today.

Andy Muschietti: What’s going on is not new. It’s just found a new expression. It has been going on and on in cycles. We have this illusion that things are good, but around the corner is another dictator trying to come. We came from Argentina, and we don’t have the kind of racial tension that America has had for hundreds of years. Most of Stephen’s books are a song to empathy in general, and denouncing injustice everywhere. It is important to show, especially in an era where some people in the country are trying to delete history.

Barbara Muschietti: Sadly, these horrors keep haunting us, and racism, antisemitism, Islamophobia is still sadly a human condition, needing to find someone below you that you can punch. Yes, our history makes us a little more sensitive. We live in the United States, it’s a country we love, but it is surprising …

Andy Muschietti: Alarming.

Barbara Muschietti: … that more people are not more concerned.

Andy Muschietti: It’s the fog that Stephen King was talking about. People, basically out of fear, look the other way, trying to suppress things they see, and forget. It’s all part of the same reflection.

It’s immediately obvious that some horrific things will be happening in this show, even more so than the films. The imagery is really nightmarish.

Andy Muschietti: Being a shape-shifter is the thing which keeps giving and giving, and there was a clear intention for us to raise the volume of intensity. You need to meet the expectations of the audience — they don’t want to see more of the same. And we are also dealing with a different time when the collective fears were different because of the social and political situation of that era — the Cold War, the Cuban Missile Crisis — was just around the corner. Then there’s social unrest and segregation.

Barbara Muschietti: I’d like to say it’s all very cathartic. We’re very nice people. I swear.

A demon baby birthed in Episode 1 is among the monsters seen in “Welcome to Derry.”

(HBO)

The show also has a great feel and look to it when it comes to depicting the 1960s.

Andy Muschietti: There was a lot of instinctive respect and attention to accuracy, aesthetically and spiritually. It was the true work of a team in every department, the same folks who had worked on the movies. There was also the research from the writers.

Most of the cast members are kids who did not live in that era. How do you communicate that era and feel to a young cast?

Andy Muschietti: There is a lot of talking. Stephen King knows a lot about this because he was a kid in the 1950s. The book is so rich in detail. We have Ben Perkins, who is a child actor coach. And there is imagination. These kids like to play and at this age, they thrive when you don’t put a lot of restrictions on them. The only thing that went overboard was the cursing.

Barbara Muschietti: That’s one thing that Stephen came back to us with. “There’s too many f—.” We also send the kids with Ben who basically sets up a camp — a bicycle riding camp, a swimming camp, stuff like that which kids in 2024 did not have access to. We’ve been doing that since 2016 very successfully. Because of all of this, all these kids have an incredible bond. They’re friends for life. They get to say goodbye to adolescence on our sets in the most beautiful way.

How long will you keep expanding the ”It” universe?

Andy Muschietti: It’s Derry, Derry, Derry all day. “Welcome” is an arc that expands over three seasons. Why is “It’” Derry, and why is Derry “It”? We will eventually reveal a bigger story revolving around the existence of Pennywise.

I have to ask — what gives you two nightmares? What is scary to you?

Barbara Muschietti: Fascism. Guns.

Andy Muschietti: Violence in general. We’ve come so far as a civilization, and it seems like we haven’t learned anything. What happened to empathy, and seeing what makes us similar, instead of things that divide us?

Barbara Muschietti: And love and respect.

Ariana Grande has been confirmed to star in the 13th season of American Horror Story alongside a host of franchise regulars

American Horror Story season 13 has revealed its star-studded line-up will feature pop sensation Ariana Grande alongside a roster of franchise favourites.

The two-time Grammy Award winner, currently portraying Glinda in the musical films Wicked and its forthcoming sequel, will lead the series with an ensemble cast.

Whilst she’s never featured in the acclaimed horror anthology previously, she has collaborated with its creator Ryan Murphy on the cult favourite series Scream Queens, which launched a decade ago and spanned two seasons.

Grande is joined by several cast members unveiled this Halloween, including Jessica Lange, Sarah Paulson, Evan Peters, Angela Bassett, Kathy Bates, Emma Roberts, Billie Lourd, Gabourey Sidibe and Leslie Grossman.

The official line-up was revealed on Murphy’s Instagram account through a mysterious video featuring Vera Lynn’s rendition of I’ll Be Seeing You, reports the Express.

American Horror Story’s forthcoming season will follow the Kim Kardashian -fronted Delicate, which broadcast from September 2023 through April 2024.

Fans have since started theorising that the 13th instalment could be its final chapter and revisit a previous narrative.

It’s scheduled to premiere on FX in precisely one year’s time, 31st October, 2026.

Numerous fans have already flocked to social media to express their enthusiasm, with one X user writing: “Ariana Grande will be in AHS season 13!!! What a Halloween treat!”

Another declared: “ariana in AHS alongside all the iconic actresses that carried the series… y’all IM GAGGING-“

One particularly enthusiastic Ariana fan commented: “Ariana Grande is about to be that girl yet again in the next 12 months.

“She can essentially win an Emmy (Wicked TV special, AHS 13), an Oscar (Wicked), and another Grammy (Brighter Days Ahead MV, any ES deluxe nomination).

“She would only need the Tony to become an EGOT. She’s been that girl and I will be seated for each of her projects.”

Have you already marked the 13th season of American Horror Story in your diary?

American Horror Story season 13 premieres 31st October 2026 on FX.

If you’re like me, you spent a lot of time over the last few weeks reading about the unbelievably brazen Louvre museum heist. Not only did it provide a welcome respite from obsessing over the destruction of the East Wing, it also supplied an adrenaline boost for the imagination: Who on earth had the nerve to literally cut through a window in broad daylight and leap into the world’s most famous museum in order to grab nearly $102 million worth of crown jewels before escaping on a motor scooter?

My favorite article about the fiasco ran in the Atlantic under the headline “The Louvre Heist is Terrific,” with the subhed, “Here was a dreamy little crime in which no one really got hurt.” The French people beg to differ. In many circles, the crime signaled a glaring national failure. Either way, seven suspects have now been detained by police in connection with the crime, and we will have answers soon enough — even if nobody will ever see the jewels again.

The heist seemed ripped from the script of a Hollywood blockbuster — something along the lines of “Ocean’s Eleven,” starring Vincent Cassel and Omar Sy instead of George Clooney and Matt Damon. As such, it spawned a paroxysm of frenetic, click-sticky activity on social and legacy media alike. Newly-minted CBS news chief Bari Weiss reportedly suggested to staff that they interview “The Da Vinci Code” author Dan Brown about the heist. And an online platform called Action Network that analyzes odds, mostly for betting and sports books, released a new U.S. study called “Top 10 Museums Most Vulnerable to a Heist.”

“The study estimates each museum’s implied probability of a heist, showing how visibility, value, and public access combine into a theoretical ‘heist appeal.’ It reflects exposure, not vulnerability. To be clear: we’re not predicting theft. We’re measuring where culture meets risk,” Action Network explained on its website.

It turns out that in Los Angeles, Getty Center and Los Angeles County Museum of Art have the most “heist-appeal,” according to the study. The former comes in at No. 4 on the list, and the latter at No. 7. New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art sits in the top place, followed by Washington D.C.’s National Gallery of Art.

The study puts the implied probability of a heist at Getty Center at 3.9%, and gives this sunny description of the campus, “A hilltop postcard with galleries. Open vistas, bright courtyards, and art that draws camera phones nonstop, all under movie-worthy security.”

Movie-worthy security has me thinking: I might write a screenplay featuring a gang of criminals who make a daring escape on the Getty tram with Titian’s Venus and Adonis.

I’m arts and culture writer Jessica Gelt, planning my next great adventure. Here’s your arts and culture news for the week.

On our radar

Composer Sarah Kirkland Snider’s opera “Hildegard” will be performed at the Wallis.

(Sarah Kirkland Snider)

Hildegard
With her new opera, “Hildegard,” which has its West Coast premiere as part of Los Angeles Opera’s Off-Grand series, Sarah Kirkland Snider joins a broad range of artists enraptured by the earliest remembered composer, Hildegard von Bingen. Her otherworldly sacred vocal music, along with her visionary writing, has made the 12th century mystic philosopher, medical doctor, natural historian and Benedictine abbess a source of late 20th and 21st century fascination. She shows up in texts about gardening, numinous Christianity and the Kabbalah. David Lynch was not the only filmmaker obsessed with the abbess. Her 900th birthday in 1998 was observed by a feminist composer and singer collective, Hildegurls, by inventively staging Hildegard’s luminous “Ordo Virtutum.” Now it is Snider’s turn, assisted by Elkhanah Pulitzer, for a full-scale Hildegard opera.
– Mark Swed
7:30 p.m. Wednesday, Thursday and Nov. 8; 2 p.m. Nov. 9. The Wallis, 9390 N. Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills. laopera.org

Janet Leigh in the famous shower scene in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 classic thriller “Psycho.”

(Associated Press)

Psycho
The American Cinematheque celebrates the 65th anniversary of the unleashing of Norman Bates on moviegoers. “Alfred Hitchcock’s terrifying 1960 landmark forever upended the audience’s narrative expectations, changed theatrical exhibition models and probably led to reduced water bills nationwide,” wrote former Times film critic Justin Chang in 2016. “Accept no substitutes.”
7:30 p.m. Friday. Aero Theatre, 1328 Montana Ave., Santa Monica. americancinematheque.com

Gail Bean, Biko Eisen-Martin, seated, and Michael Rishawn, standing, star in “Table 17” at Geffen Playhouse.

(Corey Olsen)

Table 17
The West Coast premiere of this rom-com by Douglas Lyons (author of the Broadway comedy “Chicken & Biscuits”) concerns a formerly engaged man and woman who reunite at a restaurant to sift through the past with calm, friendly, objective detachment. What could possibly go wrong? This MCC Theater production, directed by Zhailon Levingston (“Cats: The Jellicle Ball”) features Gail Bean, Biko Eisen-Martin and Michael Rishawn in a play the New York Times described as “comfort food” that “satisfies a genuine craving.”
– Charles McNulty
Wednesday through Dec. 7. Geffen Playhouse’s Gil Cates Theater, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood. geffenplayhouse.org

The week ahead: A curated calendar

FRIDAY
Halloween
What better way to experience “All Hallows’ Eve” than by gorging on John Carpenter’s 1978 horror classic and its chillingly insistent piano score with a group of like-minded souls. Jamie Lee Curtis laid the groundwork for the generations of scream queens to follow.
4:15 and 7 p.m. Vidiots, Eagle Theatre, 4884 Eagle Rock Blvd. vidiotsfoundation.org

SATURDAY
Bluebeard’s Castle
The Odyssey Theatre Ensemble presents the American debut of this dark musical thriller laced with romance and horror. A hit in Europe and based on a medieval French fairy tale, it was written and directed by Sofia Streisand and features music by Sergey Rubalsky and Artem Petaykin; lyrics by Elena Hanpira; and choreography by Irina Lyahovskaya, with songs adapted for the English production by Nancy Magarill and Terra Naomi.
8 p.m. Friday and Saturday; 2 p.m. Sunday; through Nov. 23. Odyssey Theatre, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd. odysseytheatre.com

Día de Los Muertos
The Wallis delivers its first Family Fest of the season with a free celebration of the holiday featuring story time with Lil’ Libros authors, plus arts, crafts and learning activities; altar-building workshops with Self Help Graphics & Art; face painting by Color Me Face Painting; and a dance workshop and performance by the Pacifico Dance Company, highlighting traditional styles.
11 a.m. The Wallis, 9390 N. Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills. thewallis.org

The People’s Party
Civics Is Sexy and the NAACP bring together artists, activists and community leaders for two days of film, music and comedy featuring Yasmin Elhady, Chris Dowd of Fishbone, Nic Novicki, Peyton Edmonds and many more.
11 a.m.-6 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. NAACP Hollywood Bureau, 5757 Wilshire Blvd. peoplesparty.civicsissexy.co

Pony Cam
The experimental Australian collective presents “Burnout Paradise,” in which four performers on treadmills attempt to complete a series of increasingly difficult, boundary-testing tasks in a comedic absurdist interpretation of overachievement.
8 p.m. Saturday; 6 p.m. Sunday. UCLA Nimoy Theater, 1262 Westwood Blvd. cap.ucla.edu

“What we lost in the Ocean,” 2022 (video still) by Ann Le.

(Ann Le)

A Tender Excavation
Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions presents a group show of artists working from historical and familial photographic archives to create transformative new stories from Afro-Latinx, African American, Chinese American, Gabrielino/Tongva Nation, Korean American, Iraqi American, Latinx, Mexican, Mexican American, Peruvian American, Thai, Turkish American and Vietnamese American cultures and communities.
Opening reception, 2-5 p.m. Saturday; noon-5 p.m. Tuesday-Friday, through Feb. 21, 2026. Cal State L.A., Luckman Gallery, 5151 State University Drive. theluckman.org

Faye Webster performs Saturday and Sunday at Walt Disney Concert Hall.

(Michael Blackshire / Los Angeles Times)

Faye Webster
The Atlanta-based singer-songwriter, backed by the 40-piece Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, conducted by Thomas Wilkins, performs her indie-folk, alt-country and jazz R&B-infused songs.
8 p.m. Saturday; 7:30 p.m. Sunday. Walt Disney Concert Hall, 111 S. Grand Ave., downtown L.A. laphil.com

SUNDAY
Written On Heaven
A musical portrait of Emahoy Tsege-Mariam Gebru, an Ethiopian nun and composer who died in 2023, featuring performances by pianists Thomas Feng and Gloria Cheng.
8 p.m. Sunday and Monday. Shatto Chapel at First Congregational Church of Los Angeles, 540 S. Commonwealth Ave. mondayeveningconcerts.org

MONDAY

Actor Jeff Goldblum.

(Scott A Garfitt / AP)

An Evening with Jeff Goldblum
A conversation with the popular actor, musician and raconteur is followed by a 4K screening of Robert Altman’s 1976 country and gospel music epic “Nashville.”
7 p.m. Academy Museum, 6067 Wilshire Blvd. academymuseum.org

TUESDAY
Moulin Rouge! The Musical
This Tony-winning jukebox spectacle inspired by the 2001 Baz Luhrmann movie, adapted for the stage by John Logan featuring anachronistic pop hits Elton John, Beyoncé, Madonna, Rihanna, Katy Perry and more, focuses on the star-crossed romance between a songwriter from a Ohio and the star of the titular nightclub.
7:30 p.m. Tuesday-Thursday; 8 p.m. Friday; 2 and 8 p.m. Saturday; 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sunday, through Nov. 16. Hollywood Pantages Theatre, 6233 Hollywood Blvd. broadwayinhollywood.com

WEDNESDAY
Listening by Moonrise
This seasonal series returns for an evening of music, culture and community with performances by Azucar LA, Juan Gabriel impersonator Marco Ortiz and King Dance.
6:30-9 p.m. Wednesday. Los Candiles Night Club, 2100 Cypress Ave., Glassell Park. clockshop.org

Mariology
The West Coast premiere of this collaboration between playwright Nancy Keystone and Critical Mass Performance Group explores all things Virgin Mary in a fifth-grade classroom that erupts into fantasy and rebellion.
7:30 p.m. Wednesday, through Dec. 7 (check days and times). Boston Court Pasadena, 70 N. Mentor Ave. bostoncourtpasadena.org

THURSDAY
Marilyn Minter
A solo exhibition of the artist’s work features paintings from four separate but related bodies of work: large-scale portraits (including Nick Cave, Jane Fonda, Jeff Koons and Cindy Sherman), the “Odalisque” and “After Guston” series, and a selection of Minter’s signature magnified mouths.
Opening, 6-8 p.m. Thursday; 10 a.m.-6 p.m. Tuesday–Saturday, through Dec. 20. Regen Projects, 6750 Santa Monica Blvd., Los Angeles. regenprojects.com

Music Restored
Violinist Adam Millstein and pianist Dominic Cheli perform works by Martinů, Kaprálová, Smetana and Schulhoff.
7 p.m. Colburn School, Thayer Hall, 200 S. Grand Ave., downtown L.A. colburnschool.edu

New Original Works (NOW)
REDCAT’s annual festival of experimental performance kicks off with a program of works by Maylee Todd, Jacob Wolff, Diana Wyenn and Ammunition Theatre Company. NOW 2025 continues with additional programming Nov. 13-15 and Nov. 20-22.
8 p.m Thursday-Saturday. REDCAT, 631 W. 2nd St., downtown L.A. redcat.org

Culture news and the SoCal scene

Alan Edmunds, a psychologist, is the librettist and writer of “Perfect World,” a musical that tells the story of literary child prodigy Barbara Follet, at the El Portal Theatre.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

A ‘Perfect’ mystery
The little-known story of a child literary prodigy named Barbara Follett — who published her first novel at 12 and disappeared without a trace at 25 — is the subject of a world-premiere musical, “Perfect World,” at El Portal Theatre. I sat down with librettist and co-lyricist Alan Edmunds to talk about his interest in Follett’s story, and how a deep dive into her archives at Columbia University led him to believe it would be a good candidate for the stage.

Pasadena Playhouse classes ramp up
A bustling theater school is rising on the century-old campus of the Pasadena Playhouse. More than 400 students per semester are now participating in 14 classes tailored for kids as young as 4 years old, as well as adults in their 80s and everyone in-between. “Education is as core to us as the shows on stage,” producing artistic director Danny Feldman told me in a recent interview.

LACMA unionizes
Employees at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art announced earlier this week that they are forming a union, LACMA United, representing more than 300 workers from across all departments, including curators, educators, guest relations associates and others. The move comes just six months before the museum is scheduled to open its new $720-million David Geffen Galleries.

Suntory time for Dudamel
Times classical music critic Mark Swed flew to Tokyo to watch Gustavo Dudamel and the Los Angeles Philharmonic perform two concerts of works by John Adams, Stravinsky and Mahler in Suntory Hall. The stop was part of an Asian tour that also includes Seoul and Taipei.

Manuel Oliver is photographed at the Kirk Douglas Theatre in Culver City on Tuesday, September 2, 2025. Oliver lost his son Joaquin “Guac” Oliver in the Parkland shooting. Manuel Oliver is now bringing his love of his son and his gun-reform activism to the stage in a one-man show called “Guac.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

A father grieves
Times theater critic Charles McNulty caught a performance of “Guac” at the Kirk Douglas Theatre. Manuel Oliver’s powerful one-man show examines the death — and celebrates the life — of his son, 17-year-old Joaquín Oliver, who was one of 17 people killed in the 2018 mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla. “The production, written and performed by Oliver, turns a parent’s grief into a theatrical work of activism,” writes McNulty.

Theater hot spot
If you know, you know — that’s the verdict on tiny New Theater Hollywood, which has lately taken on an outsize presence on formerly sleepy Theatre Row. “Opening post-pandemic, at a time of rising costs, dwindling audiences and little financial aid, New Theater Hollywood feels like an anomaly. It’s an intricate support system for practitioners to hone their craft in a space dedicated to original theatrical work,” writes Times contributor Emma Madden.

The girl is still having fun
A new musical adaptation of the 1988 film “Working Girl” is premiering at La Jolla Playhouse with score by ‘80s pop icon Cyndi Lauper. Ashley Lee has the scoop.

Wine meets art
The Donum Estate is home to 60 monumental sculptures by artists including Jaume Plensa, Louise Bourgeois, Ai Weiwei, Yayoi Kusama, Keith Haring, Doug Aitken, Robert Indiana and Anselm Kiefer, making it quite possibly “the largest private sculpture collection of any winery in the world,” writes Times contributor Sam Lubell in a story about the unique vineyard in California’s Carneros wine region.

La Jolla Playhouse

(File)

La Jolla, launchpad of musicals
La Jolla Playhouse announced its 2026/2027 season, featuring three world-premiere musicals: The Playhouse-commissioned “The Family Album” (book by Sam Chanse and music and lyrics by MILCK, a.k.a. Connie Lim); “GRIM” (book by Joey Orton and Brad Silnutzer, music and lyrics by Petro AP, Scott Hoying, Joey Orton and Brad Silnutzer): and David Henry Hwang’s “Particle Fever,” with music and lyrics by Bear McCreary and Zoe Sarnak, directed by Tony Award nominee Leigh Silverman.

D.C. arts purge continues
The White House fired all six members of the Commission of Fine Arts earlier this week, according to an exclusive in the Washington Post. That independent federal agency would have reviewed a number of President Trump’s construction projects, “including his planned triumphal arch and White House ballroom.”

Nobel laureate stripped of visa
The first African writer to win the Nobel Prize for literature has been stripped of his U.S. visa by the Trump administration. The Nigerian author and playwright, Wole Soyinka, received notice of the decision from a U.S. consulate in Lagos on Oct. 23, calling it a “rather curious love letter.”

— Jessica Gelt

And last but not least

Happy Halloween! Looking for something truly scary to watch? Try Game 6 of the World Series, which takes place in Toronto tonight.

This castle in Wales has been compared to the Leaning Tower of Pisa and is said to be ‘like stepping into a giant storybook filled with knights and kings’

Brimming with history and overflowing with character, this Welsh castle has captured the hearts of visitors who’ve compared its splendour to some of the globe’s most iconic landmarks.

Caerphilly Castle is a medieval fortress dating back to the 13th century and, after a two-year restoration, has reopened its doors to the public. Visitors can now wander through the Great Hall and inner castle ward whilst exploring cutting-edge digital exhibitions inside. It was originally built by Gilbert de Clare as part of his strategy to maintain control of Glamorgan – then Wales’s most populous and industrialised county.

With the Prince of Wales’s influence rapidly expanding, he needed to establish his authority swiftly. To achieve this, construction began in 1268 on what became the nation’s largest castle and second only to Windsor Castle across the entire UK.

Spanning more than 30 acres with massive walls and gatehouses, alongside extensive water defences, it’s fair to say his ambitions were realised. One visitor shared their impressions on TripAdvisor, saying: “A sprawling site that is quite impressive.

“The large site minimises crowding, so you should be able to enjoy the site at your leisure – we certainly did. Limited amount of interiors remaining but still well worth the visit.”

To grasp just how enormous this fortress truly is, it’s three times larger than the Principality Stadium, Wales’ rugby headquarters. Many have likened it to Italy’s iconic Leaning Tower of Pisa, thanks to its own tilting tower which makes it all the more distinctive.

One visitor said: “Caerphilly Castle is like stepping into a giant storybook filled with knights and kings. From the moment you lay eyes on its towering walls, impressive moat and imposing towers, you are transported back in time.”

Another highlighted the tower as their standout feature, saying: “This is one of the most beautiful castles in the UK. It is very pretty, especially the leaning tower.”

Located in South Wales, Caerphilly Castle sits just 30 minutes by car from Cardiff city centre. It’s also conveniently positioned less than an hour from Swansea and within 90 minutes of Gloucester.

Entry to the castle is reasonably priced, with adult tickets at £11.90 and family passes at £38.10, whilst disabled visitors and children under five can enter free of charge. Commenting on the admission cost, one guest remarked: “I have paid more for far less at other mansion houses, etc, and this was so worth the entrance fee.”

“Who are you really? What is real happiness? What do you actually need for happiness?” Rhea Seehorn murmurs.

It’s an otherwise ordinary Wednesday afternoon, steps away from bookshelves stuffed with works like “East of Eden” by John Steinbeck and the “A Court of Thorns and Roses” series by Sarah J. Maas, when she casually lists these big life questions aloud while leaning over a vegan brownie and cup of tea at a small table inside Village Well Books & Coffee in Culver City. I’m still questioning whether I read the street parking signs correctly. But these are queries Seehorn has given hard thought to in recent months.

That’s what happens when you’re headlining a Vince Gilligan show. Existential reckonings are part of the gig.

Seehorn is at least familiar with the deep internal struggles that swirl within Gilligan’s protagonists. For six seasons on “Better Call Saul,” AMC’s hit prequel spinoff to “Breaking Bad” that told the backstory of Walter White’s smarmy lawyer Saul Goodman a.k.a. Jimmy McGill (Bob Odenkirk), Seehorn played Kim Wexler. The fan-favorite type A lawyer with a perfectly-positioned ponytail was McGill/Goodman’s principled but increasingly conflicted girlfriend who got caught up in his elaborate schemes and paid a price for his crimes.

In his first follow-up to the “Breaking Bad” universe, Gilligan opted to forgo revolving another series around a tormented man in favor of one that let the shades of Seehorn’s talent fill the screen.

Gilligan says that in “Better Call Saul,” which he co-created with Peter Gould, he saw in Seehorn what he had observed in Aaron Paul years before on “Breaking Bad” — an actor whose performance propelled a side character, wayward junkie Jesse Pinkman, into a figure that commanded viewers’ attention and became integral to the story.

“Aaron made that character indispensable,” Gilligan says over video call. “It was like déjà vu with Rhea Seehorn. I hate saying I wasn’t aware of her prior to us auditioning and casting her. But she was just fantastic from Day 1. What Peter and I saw in her was a potential to take a show that, at the beginning, was about one character and make it a two-hander. And I just knew very, very quickly in the early life of ‘Better Call Saul’ that I wanted to work with her again after it was over.”

So he set out to create a story where she was No. 1 on the call sheet.

How did Seehorn process that news?

“I just cried,” she says.

It’s not, as some may have hoped, a Kim Wexler spinoff — though, she’s still open to that: “I’ll do it. I’ll do it. Anything. A series. A film. A Staples commercial,” she says.

Rhea Seehorn as Carol in Apple TV’s “Pluribus.”

(Apple TV)

“Pluribus” has been a tightly-guarded project for Apple TV with a strict embargo on details that makes it difficult to provide a lot of context to its premise. Here’s what can be said: Seehorn plays Carol, a fantasy romance author who, despite a successful career and seemingly loving relationship with her partner, is described as “the most miserable person on Earth.” After a signal from space changes the world in a significant way, she must save humankind from happiness. The nine-episode drama premieres with two episodes on Nov. 7; new episodes will be released weekly after that.

For a while, Seehorn only had the first script to make her assessments about the world Gilligan was building. She eventually got her hands on two more before 2023’s dual Hollywood strikes kicked in. When she finished reading through them, one thought came to mind: “‘Wow, this is a lot of me,’” she says, launching into laughter. “He had warned me — ‘You’re going to be in almost every scene’ — but then you read it and you’re like, ‘Oh … oh.’”

Careful to be as vague as possible, she continues: “I can’t spoil it. There’s a lot of time I spend completely on my own. I’m not giving away anything am I? Make sure I’m not!” Aside from the way she has to be coy about the series, she’s appealingly unguarded in her enthusiasm for the journey it sent her on as an actor.

“‘Better Call Saul’ was its own animal, but it had the mothership,” she says. “With this, in our conversations, it felt like Vince wanted to push things to the limit — it’s genre-defying, tone-defying. It’s hilarious and then gut-wrenchingly upsetting. It’s scary in a variety of ways. It really makes you think: What would you do in this situation?”

Seeking to playfully lean into the show’s interest in exploring happiness and the human condition, in scheduling our meet-up I asked that Seehorn pick a location that makes her happy, which led us to this bookstore near her home. “I buy books constantly,” she says. Her most recent purchase was Rachel Kushner’s spy thriller “Creation Lake.” But lately, she’s been prioritizing William T. Harper’s book, “Eleven Days in Hell: The 1974 Carrasco Prison Siege at Huntsville, Texas,” which chronicles the true story of the standoff between inmates and law enforcement. At the time of this sit-down, Seehorn is days away from beginning production in Texas on a film adaptation of the book that will also star Taylor Kitsch and Diego Luna.

She lights up as the conversation veers into the stuff she watched to unwind while shooting “Pluribus”: “I’m obsessed with ‘Chicken Shop Date,’” she says. “Do you watch? Can we please use this article to get me on that show? This is my campaign.”

Rhea Seehorn, who stars in the new Apple TV series “Pluribus,” says the show is genre-defying: “It’s hilarious and then gut-wrenchingly upsetting. It’s scary in a variety of ways. It really makes you think: What would you do in this situation?”

(Anthony Avellano / For The Times)

She wrapped production on “Pluribus” last December. Since then, she‘s shot an indie film, “Sender,” with “Severance’s” Britt Lower, had a brief family vacation and helped the eldest of her two stepsons get settled in for his first year of college. They’re the kind of life moments, she says, that feed into those big questions discussed earlier and what the show confronts.

“It’s about this reckoning — a big exploration of who you are. It got me thinking about how we handle really difficult emotions,” Seehorn says. “There was a constant through line for me about this feeling of anxiety that we all know. When we have those nightmares where you’re running around telling everyone that the barn is on fire and they all keep saying, ‘It’s fine.’ And you’re screaming that it’s not.

“You find yourself thinking, how do I measure success?” she continues. “About everything — relationships, career, talent, ambition. There’s reasons we make armor, sometimes long-term, sometimes short-term. There are choices that are survival skills, that are good for you at one time, that later are no longer the crutches and tools they used to be. The performance Carol is giving at the beginning — where she hates the life she’s living and questions the people who like her work because it’s not impressive enough — Vince and I had some deep-dive talks about that as people in the arts.”

Of course, the philosophy of self and purpose and happiness was not something Seehorn considered much while growing up. Deborah Rhea Seehorn — she went by Debbie until her early teens — was born in Norfolk, Va., but spent her childhood in places like Arizona and Japan because of her father’s job as an agent for the Naval Investigative Service, later known as NCIS when it added “Criminal” to its name. “My dad was not Mark Harmon,” she jokes. After her parents divorced when she was 12, the family stayed in the Virginia Beach area.

On paper, Seehorn wasn’t primed for a life of acting. But she felt a creative pull: Her mother did musical theater in high school; her father and paternal grandmother painted. And Seehorn and her sister began sketching from a young age. Seehorn initially had ambitions of pursuing a career in design or art — she majored in painting while a student at George Mason University. She thought maybe she’d land a job doing exhibition design or art restoration at the Smithsonian or one of the other museums around town. But when she was required to take an elective course her freshman year, she saw an opportunity to try something that otherwise felt out of reach to her.

“At the time, at least to me, American television and film had people who looked like models,” she says. “I didn’t. I thought I would get made fun of mercilessly if I said I wanted to be an actor. It felt the same as saying I wanted to be a supermodel. But I knew immediately, with the first class I took, that acting was it for me.”

It was taught by Lynnie Raybuck, a teacher and actor who remains a mentor to Seehorn. This is where — in life and in this conversation — it becomes clear Seehorn revels in the technique of acting. She grows animated referencing Practical Aesthetics, the acting technique developed by David Mamet and William H. Macy for the Atlantic Theater Company, and detailing her fondness for in-depth script analysis.

“To me, it blew my mind the first time I realized that it isn’t magic fairy dust on some people — that they’re just talented and you’re not,” she says. “That there is a way to work toward that. As soon as somebody said there was a way to study that and there was a way to get closer and closer to inviting that audience in to go with you on a journey and make it believable, I just was like, ‘Well, this is what I’m doing for a living.’”

Rhea Seehorn starred as Kim Wexler opposite Bob Odenkirk’s Saul Goodman/Jimmy McGill in “Better Call Saul.” (Greg Lewis/AMC/Sony Pictures Television)

She knew it wouldn’t pay the bills right away. She ushered, worked the box office, read stage directions for new plays — she had days jobs, too, like working at TGI Fridays — “By the way, they just offered me suspenders since I never got them.” (She was underage and unable to serve alcohol at the time, so she was a hostess who did expo for the waiters.)

She eventually landed in New York, working at Playwright Horizons, an off-Broadway theater. After a few years, the pull of L.A. led her west. She was cast in the ABC sitcom “I’m With Her,” starring Teri Polo and loosely based on writer Chris Henchy’s marriage to Brooke Shields. It didn’t last long, but other roles would come along with varying degrees of steadiness. She had a recurring role as an assistant DA in the legal dramedy “Franklin & Bash” and played the best friend of Whitney Cummings’ fictionalized version of herself in NBC’s “Whitney,” which ran for two seasons from 2011 to 2013.

Then, as “Better Call Saul” was coming together, the casting directors working on the project were familiar with Seehorn, who had auditioned for them many times over the years, and what she could deliver.

“The first time I met her was for the producer sessions and there were three actresses who were reading for Kim with me,” Odenkirk says by phone. “The other two actresses were absolutely fantastic. But Rhea and I had chemistry, and we all knew it. We all felt it. It was undeniable and it was easy.”

She was cast as Kim, before a last name was even assigned to the character, and with no inkling for how essential she would become to the story. And it quickly becomes clear how she dissects her characters. (Both Odenkirk and Gilligan, without prompting, say that her scripts were often heavily marked up with scribbled notes, highlights and tabs.)

“I only have one line of dialogue in that first episode, other than the intercom,” Seehorn says, still able to recite it by memory. “They told me later it wasn’t on purpose that I have almost no contractions in the first couple of episodes and other people do. And I was like, should I ask them if it’s OK to elide ‘want to’ to ‘wanna’ or ‘do not’ to ‘don’t.’ But then I was like, ‘No! What if I just try to figure out who talks like this?’ It started to be this thing of ‘Who is this controlled person? And why would she be this controlled?’ She became so important to me because I had largely built her out of subtext and this private part of her that mostly the audience was my biggest confidant.”

Rhea Seehorn on starting her acting career: “I thought I would get made fun of mercilessly if I said I wanted to be an actor. It felt the same as saying I wanted to be a supermodel. But I knew immediately, with the first class I took, that acting was it for me.” (Anthony Avellano/For The Times)

Odenkirk admiringly references Seehorn’s level of attention and their shared approach in defending the emotional intelligence of their characters. He notes the predicament the “Better Call Saul” writers sometimes faced in placing Jimmy/Saul and Kim, who knew each other so well, in dramatic situations that ordinarily would require more obliviousness or willing unawareness.

“When Kim and Jimmy were together, there were times — not many, but a few — where one of them was lying to the other one,” he says. “And it was always a challenge. We’d be like, ‘Saul knows he’s being lied to’ or ‘Kim knows Saul is lying.’ And we’d have to find a way around it. Or we’d have to let go — she’s [Rhea] good at that too … I just love her seriousness of purpose. And her love for losing herself in the dream.”

It’s why he’s not surprised Gilligan wanted her to lead his next series.

“She is formidable in nature,” Odenkirk says. “Her strength on screen is great, her dynamic range is incredible. She has the strength of character of a leading man — I’m just going to say it. She has the backbone and the steely determination of a leading man.”

In fact, when the idea for “Pluribus” began tugging at Gilligan years ago, in the midst of “Better Call Saul,” he initially envisioned it having a male protagonist.

“But I would take these long walks during our lunch breaks in the writers room and, I can’t remember when exactly, but it dawned on me on one of those walks that I really like this young lady, Rhea Seehorn,” he says. “She’s a really good actor. And I started thinking, ‘Why does the main character of my next show have to be a guy? ‘ I was about to say I kind of tailored the role to Rhea, but the truth is, I don’t know if that’s true. Rhea has so many strengths as an actor, I know she can do anything I threw at her — just like I knew many years before that Bryan Cranston could do anything. She makes it look easy.”

When Seehorn and I speak again a few weeks after our initial meeting, she is video-calling from a nondescript room during a break from production on “Eleven Days.” She has already fiddled through a number of jigsaw puzzles and “Paint by Numbers” — her activities of choice when she needs to turn down her actor brain — in the time since we last spoke; she reaches for the painting of plants she recently completed as proof. We eventually return to the idea of happiness. What makes her happy right now?

“It is my family and my friends, but it’s also my work,” she says. “Carol, on paper, has many of the things that I want, that many of us want. Success at work, especially in a career in the arts. But she won’t believe the hype. Her mocking of her work and her fans is just a mocking of herself. It’s self-loathing — like she’s trying to beat people to the punch.

“For me, I realized I fully own and will not be embarrassed about the fact that a third leg on that stool for my happiness is my work,” she continues. “It is intrinsically a part of who I am and I am a better mom to my stepsons and a better partner to my fiance because I get to do what I love.”

And she’s finding new ways to do more of it. She has become an executive producer on Katja Meier’s Swiss TV show “$hare” and made her episodic directorial debut with “Better Call Saul” — “I would like to try to direct again. There’s a couple of projects and people I’m talking to about directing on their show. People are like, ‘Why didn’t you direct the first season [of ‘Pluribus’]?’ I’m like,’I was trying to remember to brush my teeth with all I had going on.’”

She references the children’s book “Archibald’s Next Big Thing,” written by actor Tony Hale, whom she shared screen time with on “Veep.” It’s about embracing the journey you’re on.

“You’re constantly moving your goal post and all it is doing is just s— on yourself and where you are now,” she says. “Carol missed things until they were taken away. She could have stopped judging everything and judging herself.”

It was a reminder to embrace the freedom to think outside the box with her performance. The first episode is a high-wire balancing act; at one point, there’s a 12-minute stretch that has her character twisting through confusion, fear, grief, anger and frustration like pretzel dough being looped into a knot — on her own, yet not alone.

“Everything made me nervous about Carol,” she says. “As soon as Vince sent me the script, I was like, ‘This is bananas.’ You’re on your way to work and you just think, ‘What if I just took this off-ramp and I fled the scene and it would be all over?’ But then you’re like, ‘You know what, I’m gonna show up and do my best. Believe me, I did some takes that I’m sure were embarrassing, but I was just like, ‘When else are you going to try? The time is now.”

In other words, she says, “Don’t be a Carol.”

In the world of child prodigies, novelists are the rarest breed. Barbara Newhall Follett, born in Hanover, N.H., in 1914, fit the bill. By the time she was 9 years-old she had completed her first novel, a subsequent draft of which was published by Knopf when she was 12. Two years after that, she released her second novel. Both were met with critical acclaim, and Newhall became a celebrity in the publishing world.

Nearly a decade later, after a fight with her adulterous husband, the 25-year-old Follett left her apartment in Brookline, Mass., with $30 in her pocket and a notebook. She was never seen or heard from again. The mystery of the vanished former child genius has pulled at the public imagination ever since, resulting in a number of books and articles about her life and disappearance, including a 2019 essay in the Los Angeles Review of Books speculating that Newhall had committed suicide by ingesting barbiturates.

Barbara Follett, a child literary prodigy, is the subject of a new musical titled “Perfect World.”

(Courtesy of Stefan Cooke / Farksolia.org)

A world-premiere musical can now be added to the growing list of Newhall-themed explorations. “Perfect World,” written by Alan Edmunds and composed by Richard Winzeler, with lyrics by both men, opens Saturday at the El Portal Theatre in North Hollywood, running through Nov. 9.

The project marks Edmunds’ debut as a librettist. The retired psychologist — who specialized in gifted children — hit upon the idea of creating a musical about Follett’s life after a deep dive into her archives at Columbia University almost 15 years ago.

“As I’m reading through this, I start to feel the tragedy of what really happened to her,” Edmunds said during an interview at the theater over the pounding of hammers and the buzzing of drills as the detailed set was put together. “I thought this is the hero’s journey. Unfortunately, it’s not a happy ending.”

Edmunds was so inspired by the 15 boxes of archival material, including hundreds of hand-typed letters that Follett wrote to dozens of relatives and acquaintances, and endless lyrical descriptions of the imaginary world of Farksolia at the heart of her debut novel, “The House Without Windows,” that he drafted his initial outline for the musical on his knee while taking the subway from Columbia to Broadway to see “La Cage aux Folles.”

The show’s team took creative license in the retelling of Follett’s story, but for the most part Edmunds adhered to the broad strokes of her short, vibrant life. The musical hops back and forth between two story lines: Follett’s experiences up until her disappearance, and the nationwide investigation that unfolded afterward, led by the dogged Capt. Stahl and forever pushed forward by her grieving mother, Helen Thomas Follett.

Follett’s childhood was marked by unhappiness, Edmunds said, noting that Helen, who wrote for a commercial shipping company, and Follett’s father, a Knopf literary editor named Wilson Follett, fought often.

“They were at each other hammer and tongs,” Edmunds said. “And even when they wrote about Barbara, subsequently, you could feel the animosity between them.”

This made sense because about a year after the publication of Barbara Follett’s first book, Wilson left Helen for a much younger woman, moving in with her in Greenwhich Village. Her father’s desertion dealt a crushing blow to Barbara, who adored him. She subsequently embarked on a sailing journey with Helen from New York to Barbados and then on through the Panama Canal. Barbara became seriously ill during the journey — the result of nerves and depression, Helen thought.

Barbara Follett, a child literary prodigy, is the subject of a new musical titled “Perfect World.”

(Courtesy of Stefan Cooke / Farksolia.org)

Around that time, Follett met and fell in love with a 25-year-old sailor named Edward Anderson. Helen did not approve, and Edmunds said she conspired to get Anderson fired from his position as second mate. The loss of Anderson was the second major blow in Follett’s life, Edmunds said, and it’s a thread that runs through the musical, leading to Follett’s meeting with a recent Dartmouth graduate named Nickerson Rogers — the man who would become her husband, and who would eventually leave her after having an affair with her best childhood friend.

The couple shared a love of nature, and before they were married, spent months hiking and camping together along the Appalachian Trail. Photos from the early 1930s show a slender, bare-legged Follett with short-cropped hair, sitting beside an open fire with a cooking pan and an old tin coffee pot.

Follett’s life was filled with crushing disappointment and near-constant stress, but nature provided a release. This is likely why she conjured up the perfect world of Farksolia at such a young age. It was an escape, and Follett packed it with as much detail as possible, including its own system of mathematics, its own language — Farksoo — and its own alphabet.

The heroine of “The House Without Windows” is a young girl named Eepersip who runs away from home to live contentedly with her animal friends in the woods. If it sounds simple, it was. But that was also its genius.

Critics loved it and it sold more than 20,000 copies upon its initial printing.

“I can safely promise joy to any reader of ‘The House Without Windows.’ Perfection,” wrote the English author of children’s books, Eleanor Farjeon, in a review.

Barbara Follett, a child literary prodigy, is the subject of a new musical titled “Perfect World.”

(Courtesy of Stefan Cooke / Farksolia.org)

There are many theories about what happened to the adventurous and headstrong young woman after she vanished, including that she was killed by her husband, who had demanded she stop writing and failed to report her missing until two weeks after she left. Others think she simply moved far away, changed her name and continued to write under a pseudonym. Then there is the recently surfaced idea that she went to a family-owned cottage in the woods and swallowed enough barbiturates to end her life. That theory holds that a body discovered in the late 1940s was misidentified as another woman, when it was actually Follett.

Edmunds has given the matter extensive thought and believes that Follett loved life too much to kill herself. The idea that appeals to him the most comes from a crumb of a clue in Follett’s archives — a letter from the sailor Anderson that Follett received a short time before her disappearance. It could be surmised from her letters that she never stopped loving Anderson. Could it be that she went to find him when her husband’s affair became known to her?

Edmunds ultimately decided not to go down the rabbit hole of speculation about Follett’s demise, opting instead to focus the musical on Follett’s life, “What she did, how she rescued herself, how she was so engaged and connected to nature, and how she wanted people to take care of each other and be good to each other,” Edmunds said. “How we could have a better world.”

The first inaugural Gaza International Festival for Women’s Cinema premiered the docudrama, ‘The Voice of Hind Rajab’ which recounts the final few hours of the Palestinian girl’s life.

Do you wish that discovering shows playing at live theaters around Los Angeles was as easy as finding movies in local cinemas? Now it is. A new nonprofit called Theatre Commons L.A. — founded by some of the city’s most prominent theater leaders — launched earlier this week with easy-to-navigate local theater listings for more than 100 houses big and small.

The listings can be filtered by date, neighborhood and genre, and users can simply click on links to buy tickets. I’ve tried it and am happy to report that it takes all the guesswork and Googling out of finding a show that fits your schedule and suits your interests. It also introduced me to a whole host of new shows that I didn’t even realize were playing.

“Theatre Commons LA is about making it easier to make theatre in Los Angeles — and easier for people to find and enjoy it,” wrote Pasadena Playhouse producing artistic director Danny Feldman in an email. “By connecting artists, companies, and audiences, we’re working to build a more connected ecosystem for LA’s bold, local, living theatre.”

That connection is key. Because Los Angeles is a tough city to get a handle on. I’m old enough to remember getting hopelessly lost when I first moved here — crying in my old Toyota Corolla on freeway offramp, clutching a Thomas Guide that I could not make heads or tails of. Ironically, given the subject of this newsletter, I was trying to get to a theater downtown.

Visitors to L.A., and even plenty of seasoned Angelenos, often find the city sprawling and fragmented. The vast landscape is carved up by thriving neighborhoods, each with singular identities molded by unique cultural, business and arts offerings. TCLA aims to bring these diverse theaters together under a common umbrella to pool resources, and promotional and engagement opportunities, as well as to expand a sense of community in a difficult moment for the art form.

“It is no secret that the last few years have been particularly hard for theater in LA from the pandemic to the recent wildfires and curfews,” Center Theatre Group’s artistic director Snehal Desai wrote in an email. “What has become clear during this period is that the Los Angeles theater community is rich in artists, talent and leadership but our resources are scattered and there is not a consolidated place for information and outreach,” he continued. “Theatre Commons LA is a way to bridge those gaps — to share knowledge, opportunities, and support so that everyone, from small ensembles to major institutions, can thrive together. It creates the space our community has been asking for — where artists, institutions, and audiences can come together to imagine what Los Angeles theatre can be next.”

A volunteer steering committee, including Desai and Feldman, launched TCLA and its listings website with the financial support of the Nonprofit Sustainability Initiative. Last month, the Perenchio Foundation made a substantial investment meant to sustain the organization’s future growth, including the hiring of an executive director. (Please see the photo caption above for a list of the other steering committee members.)

Earlier this week also marked The Times’ launch of “The 52 best places to see plays and musicals in Southern California,” curated and written by Times theater critic Charles McNulty, assistant entertainment editor Kevin Crust (who also edits this newsletter) and me. The list contains short summations of each theater’s defining traits and connects to a map that plots each theater in its own pocket of the city. It was a real labor of love and I urge you to use it in conjunction with the new TCLA website to plan your next night out.

I’m arts and culture writer Jessica Gelt, mulling over more than a dozen entertainment options for the weekend. All of them good. Here’s this week’s arts and culture news.

On our radar

Complexions Contemporary Ballet comes to the Music Center on Friday and Saturday.

(Rachel Neville)

Complexions Contemporary Ballet
The New York-based company celebrates its 30th anniversary with “Retro Suite,” a collection of works from 1994 to the present, created by co-founding artistic director and principal choreographer Dwight Rhoden. Complexions is known for its high-energy mashup of traditional ballet with hip-hop and street dance, as well as for the multicultural makeup of its troupe and its novel approach to incorporating visual art and theater into its choreography.
— Jessica Gelt
7:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday; 2 p.m. Sunday. Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave., downtown L.A. musiccenter.org

Children make art at the 2024 Grand Ave Arts: All Access event.

(John McCoy)

Grand Ave Arts: All Access
A day of free art, music and culture along downtown Los Angeles’ cultural corridor. Participating institutions include the Broad, Center Theatre Group, Classical California KUSC, Colburn School, Dataland, Gloria Molina Grand Park, L.A. Opera, the L.A. Phil, Los Angeles Central Library, Los Angeles Master Chorale, Metro Art, MOCA, the Music Center and Redcat.
11 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturday. Grand Ave. from Temple to 6th Street, downtown L.A. grandavearts.org

Cyndi Lauper wrote the music and lyrics for the new musical “Working Girl,” based on the 1988 movie.

(Larsen & Talbert / For The Times)

Working Girl
This musical adaption of the 1988 film — directed by Mike Nichols, written by Kevin Wade and starring Harrison Ford, Sigourney Weaver and Melanie Griffith — has assembled an all-star team of its own. The music and lyrics are by Cyndi Lauper, Theresa Rebeck has written the book and Christopher Ashley directs. The Wall Street Cinderella story centers on a Staten Island secretary who, tired of being misused, underestimated and passed over, cunningly takes her corporate future into her own hands in a revenge tale that has everyone rooting for the underdog. Yet another La Jolla Playhouse world premiere that has “Broadway hit” written all over it.
— Charles McNulty
Tuesday through Nov. 30. La Jolla Playhouse, Mandell Weiss Theatre, 2910 La Jolla Village Drive. lajollaplayhouse.org

The week ahead: A curated calendar

FRIDAY
Tiago Rodrigues
In “By Heart,” the Portuguese playwright and actor invites 10 audience members onto the stage to learn a poem as he shares stories of his grandmother and explains the connections created by the words.
8 p.m. Friday and Saturday. UCLA Nimoy Theater, 1262 Westwood Blvd. cap.ucla.edu

SATURDAY
John Giorno
“No Nostalgia,” an exhibition devoted to the late poet, artist and activist (1936-2019) who turned words into performance, sound installation and painting. The show includes a select group of Giorno’s work ranging from early prints to his black-and-white text and rainbow paintings, a selection of materials from Giorno’s archive showing how he pieced together his poems and his 1969 work Dial-A-Poem.
11 a.m.-6 p.m., Tuesday through Saturday, through April 25, 2026. Marciano Art Foundation, 4357 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles. marcianoartfoundation.org

The Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra performs Saturday at Zipper Hall in downtown L.A. and Sunday at the Wallis in Beverly Hills.

(Brian Feinzimer for LACO)

Romantic Resonance
When a talented 19th century French pianist named Louise Farrenc became tired of giving concerts accompanying her flutist husband, she founded Éditions Farrenc in Paris, which became one of the country’s leading music publishing houses. She also gained a smallish reputation as a composer of mainly salon pieces for piano. But she had far greater ambitions nearly impossible for a woman at that time to realize. Farrenc composed three large-scale symphonies that are only now, more than a century after her death in 1875, being noticed. Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra’s music director, Jaime Martín, is one of her champions, and he is pairing Farrenc’s impressive Schumann-esque “Second Symphony,” written in 1845, with Brahms’ “First Piano Concerto,” featuring the dauntingly virtuoso pianist Marc-André Hamelin.
— Mark Swed
7:30 p.m. Saturday. Zipper Hall, 200 S. Grand Ave., downtown L.A.; 4 p.m. Sunday. The Wallis, 9390 N. Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills. laco.org

Night of Ritual and Revelry
LACMA hosts this after-hours party with a focus on plants. The evening includes open galleries, plant-themed activities, a costume contest, food and drink, plus an outdoor screening of the 1986 cult classic “Little Shop of Horrors” hosted by Meatball. Guests must be 18 or older to attend.
7 p.m. Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Smid Welcome Plaza, 5905 Wilshire Blvd. lacma.org

Ragamala Dance Company performs Saturday at Broad Stage.

(Three Phase Multimedia)

Ragamala Dance Company
Ragamala Dance Company — founded and run by the mother-daughter trio Ranee, Aparna and Ashwini Ramaswamy — brings Aparna’s most recent work, “Ananta, the Eternal,” to BroadStage with live music accompaniment. The company specializes in the South Indian dance form Bharatanatyam, and the troupe is known for its soulful embodiment of classical dance techniques and its bold and beautiful traditional costumes.
— Jessica Gelt
7:30 p.m. BroadStage, Santa Monica College Performing Arts Center, 1310 11th St., Santa Monica. broadstage.org

Songs of Emerging Endangerment
This sound installation by artist TJ Shinn, commissioned by the local multidisciplinary arts organization Clockshop, is set to sound hourly from dawn to dusk. The project features a 30-foot-tall sculptural air raid siren that mimics bird calls to map systems of global migration.
Opening Saturday, 2-4 p.m., and through Feb. 22, 2026. Los Angeles State Historic Park. 1245 N. Spring St. clockshop.org

SUNDAY
Colburn Orchestra
Grammy Award-winner Carlos Miguel Prieto conducts the flagship ensemble from the Colburn School of Music in a program featuring Ravel, Dvořák and Schoenberg.
3 p.m. The Saroya, 18111 Nordhoff St., Northridge. thesoraya.org

The Heart Sellers
Lloyd Suh, author of “The Far Country,” a finalist for the 2023 Pulitzer Prize for drama, examines the deracinating effects of immigration in his work. In “The Heart Sellers,” two immigrants, one Filipino, the other Korean, strike up a friendship after a chance meeting at that quintessential American crossroads: the supermarket. Set in 1973, after the 1965 Hart-Celler Act abolished the national quota system that restricted immigration from non-European countries, they bond over what they left behind, the strange universe they’ve entered and the challenge of cooking a frozen turkey. Jennifer Chang directs this comedy about the power of friendship to redefine the idea of home.
— Charles McNulty
Through Nov. 16. South Coast Repertory, Julianne Argyros Stage, 655 Town Center Drive, Costa Mesa. scr.org

MONDAY
Bright Harvest: Powering Earth From Space
This documentary follows Caltech professors Harry Atwater, Ali Hajimiri and Sergio Pellegrino on their quest to provide an endless supply of clean sustainable energy for the 2023 launch of the Space Solar Power Demonstrator. Followed by a Q&A with the three professors and filmmaker Steven Reich. Admission is free; reservations recommended.
7:30 p.m. Beckman Auditorium, Caltech, 332 S. Michigan Ave., Pasadena. caltech.edu

TUESDAY
Carrie
A screening of Brian De Palma’s 1976 adaptation of the Stephen King horror novel, starring Sissy Spacek, Piper Laurie, John Travolta, Amy Irving and William Katt, hosted by drag entertainer Jackie Beat.
7:30 p.m. Tuesday. Vidiots, Eagle Theatre, 4884 Eagle Rock Blvd. vidiotsfoundation.org

WEDNESDAY
Pacific Jazz Orchestra’s Big Band With Jane Monheit
Step into the elegant past for a program of timeless swing music, big band standards and seductive ballads.
7 and 9:30 p.m. Wednesday and Thursday. Blue Note L.A., 6372 W. Sunset Blvd. bluenotejazz.com

THURSDAY

Lon Chaney in 1925’s “The Phantom of the Opera.”

(Universal Pictures)

The Phantom of the Opera
L.A. Opera’s tradition of presenting classic silent horror films for Halloween continues this year with the 1925 version of “Phantom” starring Lon Chaney. Frank Strobel conducts the L.A. Opera Orchestra performing Roy Budd’s original score live.
8 p.m. Thursday and Oct. 31. The United Theater on Broadway, 929 S. Broadway, downtown L.A. https://www.laopera.org/performances/2026/phantom-of-the-opera

Mark Ryden
The new solo exhibition “Eye Am” envisions a lurid, mischievous world via twelve paintings and a selection of drawings.
Opening reception 5-8 p.m. Thursday; book signing, 1-3 p.m. Oct. 31; exhibition continues through Dec. 20. Perrotin, 5036. W. Pico Blvd. perrotin.com

Nicole Scherzinger
Just months removed from her Tony Award-winning triumph as Norma Desmond in “Sunset Boulevard” on Broadway, the former Pussycat Dolls singer makes her Walt Disney Concert Hall debut.
8 p.m. Thursday. Walt Disney Concert Hall, 111 S. Grand Ave., downtown L.A. laphil.com

Culture news and the SoCal scene

The Laura Gardin Fraser “Lee-Jackson Monument” at the “Monuments” exhibit at MOCA.

(Carlin Stiehl / Los Angeles Times)

Los Angeles is home to the “most significant American art museum show right now,” writes Times art critic Christopher Knight in his review of “Monuments,” which opened Thursday at the Brick and the Museum of Contemporary Art’s Geffen Contemporary. Featuring nearly a dozen, mostly Confederate, statues that have been toppled or removed from public spaces over the past decade, the show “pairs cautionary art history with thoughtful and poetic retorts from 20 artists, including a nonprofit art studio,” writes Knight.

I wrote a preview of the show, which includes a few backstories about the people featured in the decommissioned statutes. Men like “newspaper owner Josephus Daniels, who helped foment the 1898 Wilmington massacre in which a mob of more than 2,000 white supremacists killed as many as 300 people in the course of overthrowing the city’s duly elected biracial government.”

Times theater critic Charles McNulty wrote a column examining the ways that various playwrights are engaging with the idea of AI in their work. For examples, he digs into two plays, Lauren Gunderson’s “anthropology,” which is staging its North American premiere in a Rogue Machine Theatre production; and Jordan Harrison’s “Marjorie Prime,” which is having its Broadway premiere this fall. “Gunderson and Harrison are looking ahead to see how AI might be super-charging our disembodiment. To anyone paying attention, business as usual is no longer an option. The very basis of our self-understanding is on the line,” McNulty writes.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha” at Pasadena Playhouse, created and performed by Julia Masli and directed by Kim Noble.

(Jeff Lorch)

McNulty also attended opening night of performance artist and comedian Julia Masli’s one-woman show, “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,” at Pasadena Playhouse. He describes the 75-minute improvisational work as “less a traditional comedy show than an experiment in collective consciousness. It doesn’t take much to transform a room of jaded strangers into a representative slice of compassionate humanity.” That’s because Masli devotes her time in the spotlight to solving audience members’ problems, finding their shared empathy in the process.

Times classical music critic Mark Swed has been chronicling the departure of the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s beloved musical and artistic director, Gustavo Dudamel. In a recent column, Swed writes about the hoopla on display during the “first three love-fest weeks of Dudamel’s final season.” There was lots of “Gracias Gustavo” merch, and a daylong “Gracias Gustavo” block party at Beckmen YOLA Center in Inglewood, which included a performance by rapper D Smoke. And let’s not forget Tuesday night’s “Gustavo’s Fiesta” at Walt Disney Concert Hall. Dudamel also gave “four soul-searching performances of Mahler’s Symphony No. 2,” Swed writes. “His Mahler is neither overly exuberant nor constrained by grief and Berliner decorum. This performance heralds a new Dudamel, conductor of prophetic grandeur.”

A rendering of a still image from Refik Anadol’s giant LED wall, “Living Paintings Immersive Editions,” at Jeffrey Deitch.

(From Refik Anadol Studio)

Last September, I wrote a feature on immersive media artist Refik Anadol and his plans to open the world’s first museum of AI arts, called Dataland, in downtown’s Grand L.A. complex across the street from Walt Disney Concert Hall. Anadol hoped to open the museum — which features five distinct galleries in a 20,000-square-foot space — this year. But this week, the artist announced that the project is now set to debut next spring. Anadol also released a first look at one of the galleries called Infinity Room. You can watch the teaser, here.

Everybody is talking about the brazen jewel heist at the Louvre. You can almost hear the key-clacking of dozens of hopeful screenwriters already drafting their spec scripts. The story is too outrageous to feel true — masked men cutting through a window in broad daylight and entering a gallery full of people before escaping without a trace on a pair of motorcycles. The value of the precious jewels they got away with is estimated to be about $102 million. If you have been living under a rock for the past week, you can read all about it, here.

— Jessica Gelt

And last but not least

Did you know that L.A. is experiencing a golden age of pizza? Neither did I. Fortunately, Times food critic Bill Addison has compiled a list featuring 21 of the city’s best slices.

Fortunately for avid bibliophiles, Harper Lee was an inveterate pack rat. Born in rural Monroeville, Ala., in 1926, the author of “To Kill a Mockingbird” — whose first name is Nelle, her grandmother Ellen’s name spelled backward — spent much of her adult life in Manhattan after moving there in 1949.

First, she lived in a cold-water flat on the Upper East Side (subsisting on peanut butter sandwiches and meager bookstore and airline ticket agent salaries); then in a room in a Midtown hotel where Edith Wharton and Mark Twain once resided; a third-floor York Avenue walk-up ($20 a month for five years, where “Go Set a Watchman” and “To Kill a Mockingbird” were written); and, finally four decades at 433 E. 82nd St. There, amid “piles of her correspondence and practically every pay stub, telephone bill and canceled check ever issued to her, were notebooks and manuscripts” and eight previously unpublished early short stories and eight once-published essays and magazine articles. Those writings, discovered in her New York City apartment after she died in her Alabama hometown nine years ago, have been gathered into the welcome hybrid compendium “The Land of Sweet Forever.”

The short stories take up the first half of the collection, but it’s an unusual selection in the second half, “Essays and Miscellaneous Pieces,” that may reveal as much about the burgeoning author as the fictional juvenilia. In a contribution to “The Artists’ & Writers’ Cookbook” (1961), along with entries by Lillian Hellman, William Styron and Marianne Moore, Lee offered a one-page recipe for crackling bread, complete with the authorial observation, “some historians say by which alone fell the Confederacy.” The opening instruction is, “First, catch your pig.” After that, the ingredients (water-ground white meal, salt, baking powder, egg, milk) and directions might just as well function as an analogy for the process of writing and editing a manuscript.

In her introduction, Lee’s appointed biographer Casey Cep observes that it “takes enormous patience and unerring instincts to refine a scrap of story into something … keen and moving.” Lee admits to being “more of a rewriter than a writer.” In a 1950 letter to one of her sisters, she outlines her typical writing day, working through at least three drafts:

From around noon, work on the first draft. By dinnertime, I’ve usually put my idea down. I then stop for a sandwich or a full meal, depending on whether I’ve got to think more about the story or just finish it. After dinner, I work on a second draft, which involves sometimes tearing the story up and putting it together again in an entirely different way, or just keeping at it until everything is like I want it. Then I retype it on white paper, conforming to rules of manuscript preparation, and run out & mail it. That sounds simple, but sometimes I have worked through the night on one; usually I end up around two or three in the morning.

It’s all rather like testing, perfecting a recipe. If the product was these eight short stories, then “yes, chef” has baked a perfect loaf.

Each story illuminates Lee’s quintessential talents as the “balladeer of small-town culture” and the chronicler of city life. They display narrative skills, an acute ear for dialogue (especially the vernacular), development of fully rounded characters and vivid descriptions of settings. They also introduce subjects and significant themes — family, friendship, moral compass — that reappear in her nonfiction and novels.

Country life imposes restrictions on childhood characters in the first three stories. In “The Water Tank” anxious 12-year-old Abby Henderson, reacting to schoolyard rumors, believes she’s pregnant because she hugged a boy whose pants were unbuttoned. Anti-authoritarian first grader Dody (one of Harper’s nicknames) in “The Binoculars” is chastised for not tracing but writing her name on the blackboard. Early glimpses of “Mockingbird’s” Scout and Atticus Finch appear in the amusing “The Pinking Shears” when third grader “little Jean Louie” (without the later “s”) undermines gender rules when she whacks off a rambunctious minister’s daughter’s lengthy locks.

In New York City, where “sooner or later you meet everybody you ever knew on Fifth Avenue,” urban stress leads to a shocking monologue with an incendiary conclusion about feuding neighbors in “A Roomful of Kibble,” a frivolous kind of parlor game involving movie titles in “The Viewer and the Viewed,” and a humorous parking incident when one friend agrees to help another with lighting for a fashion show in “This Is Show Business?”

The closing title short story, “The Land of Sweet Forever,” adeptly merges locations and themes. It opens with a satirical nod to Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”: “It is a truth generally acknowledged by the citizens of Maycomb, Ala., that a single woman in possession of little else but a good knowledge of English social history must be in want of someone to talk to.” When adult Jean Louise (now with the “s”) leaves the city for home, she has a hilarious church encounter with someone she hadn’t seen since they were children, 21-year-old Talbert Wade, now with the taint of three years as an economics major at Northwestern University and a patina full of Europe, looking “suspiciously as if he had returned from a tour and had picked up a Brooks Brothers suit on the way home.” Together, they are trying to understand why the doxology, always sung “in one way and one way only” suddenly has been “pepped up” with an energetic organ accompaniment. Before it’s resolved there is an amusing anecdote about a cow obituary in verse and a concluding bow to Voltaire’s “Candide” when Jean Louise concedes that “all things happen for the best in this, the best of all possible worlds.” The story is a resounding example of Lee’s scintillating sense of wry humor.

Big themes of love, family and friendship recur in the eight previously published essays and articles (from 1961 to 2006) that appeared in Vogue, McCall’s, an American Film Institute program (about Gregory Peck), a Book of the Month Club newsletter (on the “little boy next door” Truman Capote and “In Cold Blood”), Alabama History and Heritage Festival, and O, the Oprah Magazine (a letter about the joy of learning to read). In addition to the crackling bread recipe that serves as a fingerpost to Lee’s writing process, the standout essay “Christmas to Me” details how she received a generous gift that changed her life, allowing her to become an accomplished, published writer. In 1956, best friends, lyricist-composer Michael Brown and his wife, Joy, surprised her with an envelope on the tree with a note, “You have one year off from your job to write whatever you please. Merry Christmas.” That meant $100 every month, covering more than five times her rent.

Juvenilia is tricky. It can be evanescent, exposing weaknesses or revealing strengths and talent. “The Land of Sweet Forever” reinforces Lee’s indelible voice, contributing a rewarding addition and resource to the slim canon of her literary legacy.

The recipe for crackling bread:

First, catch your pig. Then ship it to the abattoir nearest you. Bake what they send back. Remove the solid fat and throw the rest away. Fry fat, drain off liquid grease, and combine the residue (called “cracklings”) with:

1 ½ cups water-ground white meal
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 egg
1 cup milk

Bake in very hot oven until brown (about 15 minutes).

Result: one pan crackling bread serving 6. Total cost: about $250, depending upon size of pig. Some historians say by this recipe alone fell the Confederacy.

Papinchak, a former English professor, is a freelance book critic in Los Angeles. He has also contributed interviews to Bon Appetit.

Ajike “AJ” Owens was a dedicated 35-year-old mother of four when she was shot and killed by her 58-year-old neighbor, Susan Lorincz, in June 2023. The tragedy, which rocked the otherwise peaceful, tight-knit community of Ocala, Fla., followed years of Lorincz making habitual calls to the police to report neighborhood kids, including Owens’, for playing in a vacant lot next to her home. Lorincz, who is white, claimed that the children — most of whom are Black and were under 12 — were a threat, citing one of the nation’s many “stand your ground” laws, which allow individuals to use deadly force to protect themselves if they feel their life is in danger.

Now award-winning filmmaker Geeta Gandbhir, with the support of producer-husband Nikon Kwantu and such nonfiction luminaries as Sam Pollard and Soledad O’Brien, has chronicled the two years leading up to Owens’ death in “The Perfect Neighbor,” premiering Friday on Netflix after an Oscar-qualifying theatrical run. Composed almost entirely of police body camera footage, the moving and powerful verité documentary uses the case to depict the perils of such laws, which are all too easily misused or abused in a society where not every claim of self-defense is treated equally.

A jury convicted Lorincz of manslaughter in August 2024, but the repercussions of her erratic and violent behavior continue to impact the Owens family and their neighbors. Gandbhir, whose sister-in-law was a close friend of Owens, hopes “The Perfect Neighbor” will honor Owens’ memory while showing how our nation’s growing fear of “the other” and the proliferation of “stand your ground” laws are a deadly combination.

Initially, you weren’t planning on making a film about this tragic killing, but you were documenting the aftermath of the crime. Why?

We got a call the night Ajike was killed, and we immediately jumped into action to try to help the family. We stepped in to be the media liaisons. They looked to us to try to keep the story alive in the media, just because they were worried [it would be overlooked]. This is Ocala, Fla., the heart of where “stand your ground” was born. Susan wasn’t arrested for four days because they were doing a “stand your ground” investigation. We were not thinking about making a doc, really. We were just terrified that there would be no justice.

That’s happened before …

Yes, Trayvon Martin’s case being the most notorious.

But in Ajike’s case, there’s reams of footage and audio recordings that captured what happened. How were you able to obtain so much of that material from the police department?

Anthony Thomas, who works with [civil rights attorney] Benjamin Crump, had sued the police department through the Freedom of Information Act and got them to release all of the material that they had pertaining to the case. That’s how we got the footage. What came to us was the police body camera footage, detective interviews, Ring camera footage and cellphone footage. There was also all the audio calls that Susan had made to the police, and then after the night of the [killing], the calls the community had made. There was basically a plethora of stuff that we were handed, in a jumble, and Anthony was like, “Sort this out. See if you can find anything that makes sense for the news, like snippets we can share.”

I was surprised at how much material there was, and I’m just talking about what made it into the film.

It speaks to how much Susan called the police. Basically, the body cam footage [was a result of those calls]. What’s interesting is the reaction when we screened the film for the community. They agreed to be part of this so we wanted to show them before it came out. We’re very concerned with participant care and the ethics of this. They said that they didn’t think that we had everything, because Susan [allegedly] called the police sometimes, like, 10 times a day. They [said they] think the police gave us maybe what they could organize, where they don’t look terrible. But they don’t think that that’s everything.

Ajike “AJ” Owens, pictured on the poster, was shot and killed by her neighbor in 2023. The crime is at the center of Geeta Gandbhir’s new documentary “The Perfect Neighbor.”

Ajike’s mother, Pamela Dias, has been a major force in keeping her daughter’s memory alive — and seeking justice. How did she feel about you making this film?

I went to Pamela and said I could make a movie and maybe we could make a change. It’s quite an endeavor to try to change gun laws or the “stand your ground” law, but maybe we can reach people. She said yes. This is a woman who by her own admission was blinded by grief [when Ajike was killed], who said she couldn’t see two feet in front of her. But she knew even then that her daughter’s story had to be told. She said her daughter died standing up for her kids, and she felt it was her turn to stand up.

I told her the material was graphic. But Pam was inspired by Emmett Till and how his mother had an open-casket funeral and told the photographers to take pictures because she wanted the world to know what had happened to her baby. Plus, we thought about George Floyd and [how footage of his killing] sparked a movement. It is a terrible thing to bear witness, but if we let these things continue to happen in the shadows, then they will happen forever. It’s only by bearing witness that things might change.

What about your own emotional well-being while making this film?

See all my gray hair? [Laughs.] I realized later it was grief work for me, because I needed to know what happened. I had to know what happened. I couldn’t understand how someone could pick up a gun and kill their neighbor over children playing nearby. How did we get here? So many questions were just eating me, so the work was in some ways cathartic. Then once we had it all strung out and I thought it was a film, I brought on Viridiana Lieberman, who’s our editor. We had a similar sensibility about what we wanted this to be and we really committed to living in the body camera footage.

“Body camera footage is a violent tool of the state,” Gandbhir says. “It’s often used to criminalize us, particularly people of color. It’s used to dehumanize us, to surveil us, to protect the police. What I wanted to do with this material was flip that narrative and use it to humanize this community.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Why not use narration?

I worked for 12 years in narratives and scripted before I segued into documentary. I learned that the best vérité documentaries are show and not tell. If you tell people what they’re seeing, there’s some room for doubt or for your bias or some questioning around it. But to me, this footage plays like vérité. There’s no reporter on the ground. There’s no one influencing what’s happening in the neighborhood, other than the police who are coming in and asking questions. I felt that made the footage and the story undeniable. No one could say that we were down there asking provocative questions. And the body camera footage is so incredibly immersive, I wanted people to have the experience of what the community experienced.

How would you describe what they went through?

Their experience felt a bit like a horror film. You have this beautiful, diverse community living together with a strong social network, taking care of each other and each other’s kids. What was so powerful to me in the body camera footage is you really got to see this community as they were before [the tragedy], and you never get that. There’s horrible shootings all the time, and we see the aftermath, right? We see the grieving family, we see the funeral. We have to re-create what their lives were like before. And in this, you see this beautiful community thriving and living together, and that was so profound. I wanted to rebuild their world so everyone could see the damage done by one outlier with a gun. How she was the only one who was repeatedly calling the police and seeing threats where there were none.

We’re used to seeing police body cam footage used as evidence following a police brutality incident, or as entertainment in true crime shows. It’s used to tell a very different story in your film.

I wanted to subvert the use of body cam footage. Body camera footage is a violent tool of the state. It’s often used to criminalize us, particularly people of color. It’s used to dehumanize us, to surveil us, to protect the police. What I wanted to do with this material was flip that narrative and use it to humanize this community.

Why do you think that Susan was not seen as a threat by the police?

She’s a middle-aged white lady. She weaponized her race, her status, and she kept trying to weaponize the police against the community. The fact that she was using hate speech against children [she allegedly called them the N-word]. She was filming them. She was throwing things at them. She was cursing at them. But the police didn’t flag her as more than just a nuisance…. After the third time she called and it was unfounded and not about an actual crime, there should have been some measure taken to reprimand her. They didn’t tell the community that they could file charges against her: “She’s harassing you all. She’s harassing your children.” It was systemic neglect. And honestly, should the police be a catch-all for everything? Probably not. But they were not equipped. They didn’t take the necessary steps and the worst outcomes happened, which is that we lost Ajike, and Susan is in prison for the rest of her life. I’m sure that’s not the outcome she wanted.

There’s a moment in the film where a policeman knocks on Susan’s sliding glass door. She doesn’t know it’s a cop. She opens the curtain and screams at him in a terrifying, almost demonic voice. It’s quite a switch from her nervous, genial 911 calls.

Yeah, the jump scare. That was one of the moments where I was like, “Oh, there she is.” And the 911 call, after she shot Ajike. She was hysterical. Then her voice changes when she says, “They keep bothering me and bothering me, and they won’t f— stop.” I felt my heart clench, because it’s like, “Oh, there she really is.” She has this way of going between victim and aggressor. A little Jekyll and Hyde. It’s frightening.

The victim/aggressor dynamic is part of what makes “stand your ground” laws so dangerous. They can be weaponized.

“Stand your ground” policy was born in Ocala and now it’s in around 38 states, in different forms. It’s a law that emboldens people to pick up a gun to solve a dispute. If you can other-ize your neighbor to the extent of [killing] them, the question is, what else will you do? What else will we tolerate? As human beings, how we show up in our communities is a reflection of how we show up in the world. This film takes place on this tiny street, but it is a microcosm of what is happening today. Susan represented the dangers, and that little community represented the best of what’s under threat.

Toy Story graced the movie screens all the way back in 1995, but people are only just realising one hidden detail in the first film which shaped the entire Pixar universe

It’s been 30 years since the first Toy Story movie was released back in 1995. The adventure comedy, which features the voices of Tom Hanks, Tim Allen and more, follows a group of toys who prepare to move into a new house with their young owner Andy.

But trouble arises when Sheriff Woody, the leader of the pack, fears Andy will soon replace him when he receives a new toy, Buzz Lightyear, on his sixth birthday. Then things escalate further during a family trip for dinner at Pizza Planet where Woody accidentally knocks Buzz out of the window, making the others believe he killed him.

Buzz confronts Woody leading to a brawl and a fall out of the car where the two are left behind, fending for themselves. Since the first iconic instalment in the 90s, Toy Story returned for four sequels with the fifth set for release in 2026.

Now one movie fan couldn’t help but notice a tiny detail in the first film which shaped the rest of the sequels and even the entire Pixar universe.

Ivan Mars, known as the ‘Movie Detective’, boasts 962,000 followers on Instagram where he spots hidden details in films. And most recently, he was mind-blown after noticing one Toy Story detail.

He said: “It took me 20 years to notice something hidden in Pixar movies… something that started in Pixar’s very first work: Toy Story. In that movie, Woody and Buzz are lost and their only chance to get back to Andy is to the Pizza Planet truck.

“Without it, the story might have ended right there and because of this, the Pizza Planet truck became a symbol appearing in every Pixar movie from Ratatouille to Cars.

“In Wall-E, it’s the only abandoned vehicle on Earth. And more recently in Elio, it appears in a blink and you’ll miss it scene. So this means it actually became Pixar’s secret thread because it saved the very first characters giving birth to the entire Pixar universe. Mind-blowing…”

People were equally floored by the revelation as the post garnered a lot of attention pretty quickly. One said: “WHAAATTTT!” Another added: “Omg so cool.” A third pointed out: “Yes it’s one of the common Easter egg of Pixar movies!”

Others claimed there were other hidden details as someone commented: “The Pixar lamp is in every movie also I believe.”

Toy Story 5 is set to be released on June 19, 2026. Buzz, Woody and the rest of the gang’s job will get harder when they go head-to-head with a new threat to playtime.

Many actors talk about process but Ethan Hawke has made the act of creation central to his work. He’s played musicians and writers and when he’s gone behind the camera, he’s focused on the stories of composers, novelists, movie stars and country singers both famous and forgotten. Sometimes, it feels like he’s the unofficial patron saint of art suffering, fixated on the glory and anguish of putting yourself out there in the world.

So Hawke’s portrayal of Lorenz Hart, the brilliant but troubled lyricist responsible for beloved tunes like “My Funny Valentine,” in a story set shortly before his death would seem to be just the latest chapter of a lifelong obsession. But “Blue Moon,” Hawke’s ninth collaboration with director Richard Linklater, cuts deeper than any of his previous explorations. Imagining Hart on the night of his former collaborator Richard Rodgers’ greatest triumph — the launch of “Oklahoma!” — Linklater offers a wistful look at a songwriter past his prime. But the film wouldn’t resonate as powerfully without Hawke’s nakedly vulnerable portrayal.

It is March 31, 1943, eight months before Hart’s death at age 48 from pneumonia, and Hart has just gruffly left the Broadway premiere of “Oklahoma!” Arriving early at Sardi’s for the after-party, he plants himself at the bar, complaining to bartender Eddie (Bobby Cannavale) that the show will be a massive success — and that it’s garbage. Eddie nods in a way that suggests he’s often lent a sympathetic ear to Hart’s rantings, allowing him to unload about the show’s supposedly banal lyrics and corn-pone premise and, worst of all, the fact that Rodgers will have his biggest smash the moment he stops working with Hart after nearly 25 years. “This is not jealousy speaking,” Hart insists, fooling no one.

As played by Hawke, Hart adores holding court, entertaining his captive audience with witty put-downs and gossipy Broadway anecdotes. Begging Eddie not to serve him because of his drinking problem, which contributed to the dissolution of his partnership with Rodgers, this impudent carouser would be too much to stand if he also wasn’t such fun company. But eventually, Rodgers (Andrew Scott) and his new lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney) are going to walk through that door and Hart will have to swallow his pride and pretend to be happy for them. From one perspective, “Blue Moon” is about the beginning of “Oklahoma!” as a pillar of American theater. From another, it’s Hart’s funeral.

Set almost exclusively inside Sardi’s, “Blue Moon” has the intimacy of a one-man stage show. After Hart vents about “Oklahoma!,” he readies himself for the arrival of Elizabeth (Margaret Qualley), a gorgeous Yale undergrad he considers his protégée. (He also claims to be in love with her, which baffles Eddie, who rightly assumed otherwise.) If the universal acclaim of “Oklahoma!” will force Hart to confront his professional irrelevance, maybe Elizabeth’s beaming presence — and the promise of them consummating their feelings — will be sufficient compensation.

Linklater, the man behind “School of Rock” and “Me and Orson Welles,” has made several films about creativity. (In a few weeks, he’ll debut another movie, “Nouvelle Vague,” which focuses on the making of Jean-Luc Godard’s epochal “Breathless.”) But what distinguishes “Blue Moon” is that, for once, it’s about someone else’s achievement — not the main character. Fearing he’s a has-been, the diminutive, balding Hart slowly succumbs to self-loathing. He can still spitefully quote the negative reviews for his 1940 musical “Pal Joey.” And he nurses a paranoid pet theory that Rodgers decided to collaborate with Hammerstein because he’s so much taller than Hart. (“Blue Moon” incorporates old-fashioned camera tricks to help Hawke resemble Hart’s under-five-feet frame.) Linklater’s movies have frequently featured affable underdogs, but by contrast, “Blue Moon” is an elegy to a bitter, insecure man whose view of himself as a failure has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Of the many artists Hawke has honored on screen, he has never depicted one so touchingly diminished — someone so consumed with envy who nonetheless cannot lie to himself about the beauty of the art around him. Turning 55 next month, Hawke shares with Hart an effusive passion for indelible work but also, perhaps, a nagging anxiety about the end of his creative usefulness. If he were younger, Hawke would have come across as self-regarding. Here, there’s only a poignantly egoless transparency, exposing the lyricist’s personal flaws — his drunkenness, his arrogance — while capturing the fragile soulfulness that made those Rodgers and Hart tunes sing.

Apropos of his relaxed approach, Linklater shoots “Blue Moon” with a minimum of fuss, but one can feel its enveloping melancholy, especially once the next generation of artists poke their head into the narrative. (Sondheim diehards will instantly identify the brash young composer identified only as “Stevie.”) But neither Linklater nor Hawke is sentimental about that changing of the guard.

That’s why Hawke breaks your heart. All of us are here for just a short time: We make our mark and then the ocean comes and washes it away. In an often remarkable career, Hawke has never embraced that truth so completely as he does here. Ultimately, maybe the work artists leave behind isn’t their most important contribution — maybe it’s the love they had for artistry itself, a passion that will inspire after they’re gone. That’s true of Lorenz Hart, and it will hopefully prove true of Hawke and this understated but profound film for years to come.