Well, it was fun while it lasted … wait, it’s not over?
There’s somehow at least four games left in a UCLA football season that feels like it’s already exhausted its story arc and run out of acts.
Act I: The fall of a proud Bruin.
Act II: The rise of a proud (Fresno State) Bulldog-turned-Bruin.
Act III: A 50-point implosion that sucked the air out of the season and didn’t please any Bruin.
What’s left after an 0-4 start that included the firing of a coach followed by a three-game winning streak and a 56-6 loss to one of the nation’s top teams? Somehow, there’s still at least a third of a season to go.
A victory over Nebraska on Saturday evening at the Rose Bowl could essentially put the Bruins right back where they were a few weeks ago, giving interim coach Tim Skipper another chance to reclaim the hearts of the college football world with an upset of top-ranked Ohio State the following weekend.
But first they have to get past a Cornhusker team missing its biggest kernel. Nebraska quarterback Dylan Raiola is out for the season with a broken leg, forcing the team to turn to a true freshman who was throwing passes for Orange Lutheran High this time last year.
Don’t expect TJ Lateef or any of his teammates to walk into the Rose Bowl waving a white flag.
“It would just be so average to go out there and be like, well, we’ve got a freshman quarterback and it is what it is,” Nebraska coach Matt Rhule told reporters this week. “Like, no, we’re not doing that. We’ve got TJ Lateef and we’re going to rally around him.”
Here are five things to watch when the Bruins (3-5 overall, 3-2 Big Ten) face the Cornhuskers (6-3, 3-3) in a game that starts at 6 p.m. PST and will be televised by Fox:
Quarterback quandary
Nebraska quarterback TJ Lateef hands off the ball to running back Emmett Johnson during the second half against USC.
(Bonnie Ryan / Associated Press)
Lateef is about to become just the fourth true freshman quarterback to start a game for Nebraska since 1950.
Will it be a performance for the ages?
Lateef didn’t wow in relief of Raiola last weekend against USC. He completed five of seven passes as the Trojans rallied for a 21-17 victory, those completions going for a grand total of seven yards — 1.4 yards per completion. Lateef might be more dangerous as a runner than a passer, having averaged 4.5 yards and scored two touchdowns in his 11 carries.
Skipper said the Bruins would watch Lateef’s high school game footage to get a fuller understanding of his potential.
“We know we’re going to get some unscouted looks, unscouted plays,” Skipper said. “I’m sure there’s things that he does well that they’re gonna want to do that they haven’t really shown. He kind of had to do the game plan and scheming that they had up for Dylan and his reps [against USC], so we’ll have to adjust as the game goes.”
On the other hand . . .
Nebraska’s uncertainty at quarterback likely means more opportunity for its running game.
And the Cornhuskers have a good one.
Emmett Johnson has already topped 100 yards rushing in five games this season, totaling 1,002 yards and 10 touchdowns on the ground. Against USC, he ran for 165 yards and a touchdown while averaging 5.7 yards per carry.
“We’re going to need to know where he is at all times,” Skipper said. “He does a great job of just making people miss, I’m really impressed by how he plays. You know, I come from a family of running back coaches, and I’ve watched a lot of backs, and he’s one of the top guys I’ve ever seen.”
Another mantra
Skipper could keep a custom T-shirt shop busy with all his slogans.
He’s told his players to strain. He’s asked them whether they were one-hit wonders. He’s implored them to uphold the standard they had established.
Over the two weeks that followed his team’s 56-6 loss to Indiana, he’s delivered a new message.
“We’re just getting back to the basics,” Skipper said. “It’s about fundamentals and little details. That’s kind of been what we’ve been really preaching.”
Linebacker Jalen Woods said plenty of time has been spent on tackling after the team experienced significant slippage in that area against the Hoosiers. Offensive tackle Garrett DiGiorgio said players ran between drills to quicken the tempo of everything they were doing.
With an extra week to prepare for the Cornhuskers after a bye, the Bruins have tried not to let the disappointment they experienced in their last game linger.
“Don’t let it carry over into the next game,” Woods said of the team’s collective mindset.
A line redrawn
Eugene Brooks celebrates a UCLA touchdown against Penn State.
(Marcio Jose Sanchez / Associated Press)
UCLA guard Eugene Brooks was back at practice this week, a significant development for an offensive line that had struggled in his absence.
The Bruins ran for just 88 yards — 60 by running backs — and allowed three sacks with Brooks sidelined against Indiana.
It appears they’ll be back at full strength against a Nebraska defense that’s allowing only 289.9 yards per game, ranking No. 13 nationally.
Skipper said the Cornhuskers create confusion using multiple defensive fronts with hybrid players who either rush the quarterback or drop into coverage.
“They’re going to create a lot of havoc that way with the people that they use,” Skipper said. “They create a lot of turnovers. They’re very good on third down. They don’t give up big plays in the passing game. They’re really good at keeping people in front of them.”
Another boost
Running back Anthony Woods also returned to practice after missing the Indiana game.
His ability to run the ball and catch passes out of the backfield could help an offense that did not score a touchdown for the first time this season when it faced the Hoosiers.
Running back Jalen Berger said the success UCLA had on the ground during its three-game winning streak, when it averaged 236.7 yards rushing per game, was largely a result of an increased emphasis on its ballcarriers.
“I’d say it’s more of a commitment,” Berger said of an approach the Bruins had to abandon after falling behind big against Indiana. “Just being run-first, you know?”
This summer, Netflix’s animated hit “KPop Demon Hunters” might have created the most popular K-pop girl group in America. And seemingly the only people unaware of that distinction are its members.
“Is that what it is?,” asks Rei Ami, who with fellow artists Ejae and Audrey Nuna forms the film’s fictional trio Huntr/x. “Is that what it’s being labeled as?”
The stats are behind them: “Golden,” a contender for the Oscar for original song, hit No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 for more than eight consecutive weeks, with three other numbers earning a place in the Top 10. As a result, the film’s soundtrack hit No. 1 on the Billboard 200 and recently went platinum. With success has come an array of other opportunities as well. The group have since made a cameo on “Saturday Night Live” and performed on “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon.”
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But as Ejae points out, theirs has not been the usual route to K-pop stardom. A former K-pop trainee herself, she notes that many hopefuls spend years developing their craft and chemistry with future group members. “We were all individually our own person. They had their music career, and I have my career as a songwriter,” she says. “[Becoming a K-pop group] later is unheard of with K-pop training. You do it when they’re kids, before anything [can develop], so they can shape them together, whereas we’re our own individuals coming together. Having this synergy is incredibly rare.”
That’s what singing in the most-watched Netflix film of all time will do for you. Premiering in August, “KPop Demon Hunters” propelled the members of Huntr/x — all of them already established in the industry, Nuna and Ami as artists and Ejae, who recently released her first solo single, as a songwriter for K-pop groups — into a new intensity of spotlight. (Ejae also wrote several tracks for the film, including “Golden,” with co-writers Mark Sonnenblick, Ido, 24 and Teddy.)
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1.Rei Ami is the singing voice for Zoey.2.Ejae is the singing voice for Rumi.3.Audrey Nuna is the singing voice for Mira.(Justin Jun Lee / For The Times)
“We were thrown together, basically,” says Nuna. “I’ve seen photos of us and I [thought], ‘Damn, we look like we were perfectly calculated to be in this group.’ The balance is nuts. But to think how serendipitous it was that this happened — we didn’t audition in rooms or go through multiple rounds of pairings to find each other… It just speaks to the beauty of the universe and how things go and when things just happen.”
In fact, the singers did not even meet until nearly five months ago, on the carpet at the film’s premiere. They recorded their parts separately with executive music director Ian Eisendrath, who then worked with the music team to edit them all together.
Ami was the last to record her part, which meant she got to hear “This Is What It Sounds Like” in its entirety with all the voices meshed together. The moment recalled the film’s final scene, in which Huntr/x — whose members double as the demon hunters of the title — reunites to fight the main villain to the sounds of the very same song, when “This Is What It Sounds Like” plays.
“I got to hear the song in full and all of our harmonies for the first time,” she recalls. “I was completely moved. I knew in my heart that this was going to be great.”
Still, they never expected the film to become a global phenomenon, resulting in their now chaotic schedules filled with press interviews, panel engagements, media appearances and special performances. Ami smiles, “We’re doing our best.”
Through it all, they’ve hyped each other’s achievements and held hands while expressing their appreciation for each other.
“These women have worked so hard on their journeys individually,” says Ami. “The industry has been so tumultuous, and the amount of pain, struggle, blood, sweat and tears that we’ve individually had to deal with … These two girls are the only ones in the world who will fully understand what I’m going through. I can’t talk to anyone else about this. Only they understand, and I feel so supported and not alone.”
They all clasp hands, with Ami telling the others, “I love you guys.”
And, for all the challenging moments, they are immensely grateful for the chance to fulfill their dreams. They all express their gratitude for the opportunity, as it has always been their dream.
“Literally, a month before the movie came out, I was doubting myself as a songwriter,” Ejae explains. “My goal was to get No. 1 on the Hot 100. I was going to do that — move to California, write so many sessions, and get No. 1. It felt impossible.”
“Those are all things we have on our bucket list,” Ami, right, says of the prospect of performing at the Oscars or Grammys.
(Justin Jun Lee / For The Times)
Ami becomes emotional about the film’s success when she talks about its impact on her career.
“I’m so blessed,” she says, holding back tears. “It’s really introduced me to more fans and new fans. This whole experience has taught me a lot about myself and what I want to do as an artist. My dreams are coming true.”
That hasn’t necessarily been the experience for her groupmates, though. “It takes a very long time [for me] to process and metabolize emotions,” Nuna says of her own lack of waterworks. “I’ve never wanted somebody to cry so much in my life,” Ami chimes in, laughing. “Feel something!”
The “instant chemistry” displayed in their interview was recently on display when the three were asked to perform “Golden” together for “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon” — their first as a group. And the more they rehearsed, the more they cohered. Just like a real K-pop group.
“It’s really wild and weird,” says Nuna. “Honestly, the mesh of our voices just felt so intuitive. It was very organic and easy. The song is not easy, but the mesh and connecting were. It was literally our first time singing together, and I feel like we were hearing overtones in our harmonies and stuff, because they’re just really locked in.”
Awards buzz, for both the Oscars and the Grammys, has come as a surprise to the group, but it leads to questions about reuniting Huntr/x onstage at the biggest pop culture events of the year.
“[Performing at the Oscars or Grammys] would be the biggest deal,” says Ami. “I think we can all relate. That’s probably one of the highest accolades and achievements you can accomplish as an artist, songwriter, and producer. Those are all things we have on our bucket list.”
The trio hasn’t thought far enough ahead about an actual performance on either stage, as they’ve only recently begun rehearsing together.
“Jimmy Fallon will be a good practice,” Ejae laughs. “Good warm-up preparation.”
Indeed, though they have joked about forming a (real-life) K-pop group, all three are busy with individual projects — at least for now.
“If we were to get together, the charts better watch out!” Ami shouts. “You might not ever see another name other than us.”
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?
Welcome to Screen Gab, the spooky newsletter for everyone who loves scares, thrills, tricks and treats.
Happy Halloween! Whether you plan to stay home or don a costume and hit the town, at some point this weekend, it’s worth putting on a movie or show to fit the theme of the season. The great thing is that there’s something for everyone, as our guide to Halloween programming shows. Whether you prefer something kid-friendly like “Is It Cake? Halloween” or something more sinister like the newly released HBO series “It: Welcome to Derry,” which expands Stephen King’s horror universe (more on that below), there’s plenty to choose from. And if you‘re in L.A., film editor Joshua Rothkopf and reporter Mark Olsen have compiled a guide to local theaters hosting screenings of classic horror films like “Black Sabbath” and “Bride of Frankenstein.” (If you can’t snag a ticket, their list also doubles as a great reference for films to watch at home, as many are available to stream.)
If that’s not enough, we have more recommendations that you can add to your queue, including a special episode of a (sadly) recently canceled Apple TV series and the pair of “It” films that led to the creation of “Welcome to Derry.” Additionally, Jovan Adepo, who plays Leroy Hanlon on the prequel series, which dropped its second episode on HBO Max in time for Halloween, spoke to us about some of the real-life themes of horror the show covers.
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Rhea Seehorn stars in the new Apple TV series “Pluribus.”
Forget ‘I’m too old for this’: Women over 60 are redefining action stardom: The growing army of 60-ish women who kick ass, take names and rarely complain about getting too old for anything has been joined by Emma Thompson’s Zoë Boehm in “Down Cemetery Road” and the menopausal punk rockers of “Riot Women.”
That this period comedy, on my best of 2024 list, failed to complete a second season is one of the great television tragedies of this year. (Star and co-creator Noel Fielding stopped showing up partway through production, reportedly due to health issues.) It has nevertheless left us this one extra, excellent, just-released Halloween-appropriate episode. A mysterious creature (see title) has been attacking coaches along the highway, leaving Dick (Fielding), the notorious English highwayman, and his motley crew without anything to rob. Although technically about a criminal, its hero is good-hearted — essentially a version of the Fielding one sees co-hosting “The Great British Baking Show” — and its approach to monsters trends more to understanding than horror. (A recommendation in itself.) Continuing in the All Hallows Eve spirit, you’ll find more paranormal doings in the series’ still-available first season, including witches, warlocks and a cursed coach. And you may want to carry on (and should) to its equally fine twin sister, “Renegade Nell” (Disney+) — another period supernatural comedy about an early 18th century highwayman (or woman, as the case may be), which adds a feminist twist. — Robert Lloyd
Bill Skarsgård as Pennywise in “It: Chapter Two.”
(Brooke Palmer/Warner Bros. Pictures)
“It” and “It: Chapter Two” (HBO Max)
The Halloween season is in full swing, and there are few things more terrifying than a demonic clown with a red balloon. HBO has just launched “It: Welcome to Derry,” the prequel to “It” and “It: Chapter Two,” the recent hit film adaptations of Stephen King’s 1986 epic novel featuring Pennywise, the deadly clown who preys on children and adults. Co-created by Andy Muschietti, who directed the films and directs on the series, the drama is set in the early 1960s in the fictional town of Derry, Maine, and takes on an even more nightmarish quality in delving into the origins of the notorious villain. Bill Skarsgård, who played Pennywise in the films, reprises the role in “Derry.” Before more episodes are released, viewers should get their scare on by revisiting the films or watching them for the first time. The first film is particularly chilling, and Pennywise will give you the shivers. Be afraid. — Greg Braxton
Guest spot
A weekly chat with actors, writers, directors and more about what they’re working on — and what they’re watching
Jovan Adepo as Maj. Leroy Hanlon in HBO’s “It: Welcome to Derry.”
(Brooke Palmer / HBO)
The monster at the center of Stephen King’s “It” remains one of horror’s most terrifying figures. The author’s novel provided readers with the original tale of a group adolescents who battled a demonic clown, but it wasn’t until 1990 that we got an onscreen adaptation via the ABC miniseries that starred Tim Curry as the story’s terrifying villain, Pennywise. His devilish clown was merciless, preying on children and taunting them with bursts of blood, dead loved ones and a frightening set of sharp teeth. And while those things were scary, what made the adaptation horrifying was how it made mundane things like storm drains, old pipes and red balloons appear much more sinister.
Nearly two decades later, the feature films introduced a whole new generation to the terrors of “It,” and now with “Welcome to Derry,” we get a new story that adds more layers and aims to show who or what It really is. The HBO series, which will have a three-season arc, begins in 1962 with the story of the Hanlons, a Black military family that moves to Derry. The patriarch, Air Force Maj. Leroy Hanlon, played by Adepo, is a respected war hero who almost immediately has to battle a different kind of demon: bigotry. It’s a central theme and shows how “these horrors keep haunting us,” according to Barbara Muschietti, who alongside her brother Andy, spoke recently about the series to senior reporter Greg Braxton.
Adepo is no stranger to stories where race and bigotry are explored, having starred in series like Netflix’s “When They See Us,” a dramatization about the Central Park Five, and HBO’s “The Watchmen,” in which he played Hooded Justice. He stopped by Guest Spot this week to talk about the kinds of horrors “Welcome to Derry” portrays, what helped him unwind after filming and how he turns to a pair of TV comedies for comfort. — Maira Garcia
“It” has been adapted for the screen before. How familiar were you with King’s universe and “It” before taking on this role? Had you read the book or watched the films or miniseries?
I hadn’t read the book in the years before, but I was quite familiar with the recent two films, as well as the classic miniseries. Taking on the role of Leroy gave me a special opportunity to dive deeper into the lore and to also explore some of my own choices for how Leroy was portrayed.
“Welcome to Derry” begins by giving us some of the back story for Mike Hanlon’s family — a key character in “It.” In Episode 1, we’re introduced to your character, Leroy Hanlon, Mike’s grandfather, an Air Force major who encounters overt racism almost immediately when arriving on base in Derry. You’ve explored themes of race in previous roles — what was it like to explore it in the context of this show and the time period it’s set in, the ‘60s?
I think it’s the perfect lens through which to tell this story within the context of the era, because it adds another layer of life challenges for the Hanlons. It explores the struggle of dealing with prejudice and oppression among the members of the community, who are being tormented in a completely different way. That dynamic already creates an interesting environment that only deepens when you add the individual obstacles these characters face.
I’m compelled by an idea that this series brings forth: Monsters are terrifying, but the real world — with war, racism, genocide and so forth — is frightening enough. Did that resonate with you and your character at all?
Yes, in fact, I think that idea runs through the veins of a few characters here. I truly think this genre — and what Andy and Barb have brought to this season — beautifully showcases a very relatable experience of fear, one rooted in real historical moments and woven into a much more sensational element. Along with [co-showrunners Jason] Fuchs and [Brad Caleb] Kane, they’ve created space for viewers to connect with characters’ lives before the monster really begins to engage.
Working on such heavy material, how would you unwind after shoots?
I spent a lot of time at home recharging — watching films, exploring my neighborhood on walks with my dog, and so on. Building a routine of going shopping at the market, visiting my butcher shop, and going out to eat with my castmates was also quite relaxing. Most of us lived close to each other, so I saw everyone quite often.
What have you watched recently that you are recommending to everyone you know?
I’m a creature of habit, so on my off days I usually recharge by watching previously released shows or films. I think the last thing I brought up in conversation on set was the HBO show “Animals” [HBO Max].
What’s your go-to “comfort watch,” the movie or TV show you go back to again and again?
Oh, man. Comfort watching, to me, is something I can put on in the background after a long day on set. I’d have to give it to “Family Guy” [Hulu] or “The Office” [Peacock].
Tuesday is election day, and, as usual, the pundits are breathless, the predictions are dubious and the consultants are already counting their retainers. But make no mistake: Off-year elections matter. Tuesday’s results will shape the political landscape for 2026 and beyond.
Let’s start in California, where Gov. Gavin Newsom has decided to fight Texas Republican gerrymandering with a little creative cartography of his own.
Proposition 50, which began as the “Election Rigging Response Act,” wouldn’t just help level the playing field by handing Democrats five House seats; it would also boost Newsom’s presidential ambitions. Polls suggest it’ll pass.
When it comes to elections involving actual candidates, the main attractions are in New York, New Jersey and Virginia.
In the New York City mayoral contest, Zohran Mamdani — a 34-year-old democratic socialist who seems like the kind of guy who probably buys albums on vinyl — is leading both former Gov. Andrew Cuomo (running as an independent) and Republican Curtis Sliwa.
One thing is for certain: Mamdani is already a symbol. If he wins, he’ll be evidence for progressives that politics can still be interesting, exciting and revolutionary. To conservatives, he’ll be evidence that Democrats have gone insane.
If you’re paying attention, these arguments are not mutually exclusive.
Across the Hudson, New Jersey Democratic Rep. Mikie Sherrill (whose resume includes having been a naval officer and a federal prosecutor) is a very different kind of politician — the “I’m a competent adult, please clap” variety.
Her gubernatorial opponent, Jack Ciattarelli, is an ex-state legislator who radiates the kind of energy usually found at bowling alleys and diners. He’s the grandson of Italian immigrants, the son of blue-collar workers and the spiritual heir of every guy in a tracksuit yelling at a Jets game.
Ciattarelli came dangerously close to winning the governorship in 2021, which should be cause for concern for Sherrill, who’s sitting on a slim lead.
Trump’s termination of the Gateway Tunnel project didn’t help either. It’s one thing to be loud and populist; it’s another to cancel something that would make voters’ commutes slightly less horrible.
Speaking of commutes, a few hours south, down I-95, Virginia will also elect a new governor. Here, Democrat Abigail Spanberger — former CIA officer, former U.S. representative, professional moderate — is coasting toward victory against Republican Winsome Earle-Sears, the lieutenant governor.
Earle-Sears, a Marine, trailblazer and gadfly, is about to add “failed gubernatorial candidate” to her resume.
Her biggest headline was firing her campaign manager (a pastor who had never run a campaign before), which sounds like a metaphor for today’s GOP. Her best attack on Spanberger involved attempting to tie her to something someone else (the Democratic attorney general nominee) did (sending a violent text about a Republican politician).
Virginia has a history of electing governors from the party that opposes the sitting president, and Trump’s DOGE cuts (not to mention the current government shutdown) have outsize importance in the commonwealth.
Depending on how things shake out in these states, narratives will be set — storylines that (rightly or not) will tell experts and voters which kinds of candidates they should nominate in 2026.
For example, if Mamdani, who represents the progressive wing, wins, but Sherrill and/or Spanberger lose, the narrative will be that cautious centrism is the problem.
If the opposite occurs, the opposite narrative (radicalism is a loser!) will take root.
The postmortems write themselves: “Progressive Resurgence,” “Year of the Woman” and/or “The Return of the Center.” The problem? It’s unwise to draw too many conclusions based on Tuesday’s election results.
First, it’s misguided to assume that what works in New York City could serve as a national model.
Second, even if Sherrill and Spanberger both win, it’s impossible to know if they simply benefited from 2025 being a good year for Democrats.
Still, what happens on Tuesday will have major repercussions. Within a day of the election, everyone with a stake in the midterms and future elections will claim the outcome means what they want it to mean. Within a week, narratives will have congealed, while heroes and scapegoats will have been assigned.
And the rest of us will be right here where we started — anxious, exhausted — and dreading the fact that the 2026 midterm jockeying starts on Wednesday.
Dodgers catcher Ben Rortvedt connects for a double against the Cincinnati Reds during Game 2 of the National League Wildcard Series at Dodger Stadium on Oct. 1.
(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)
Neither Alex Call nor Ben Rortvedt had appeared in a playoff game until this season. And though neither Dodger reserve got off the bench in the first two games of the World Series, they’re a lot closer to the action then they expected to be before the July trades that brought them to Los Angeles.
“It’s really cool. I’m just soaking it all in,” said Call, who came over from the Washington Nationals at the deadline.
“It’s been a whirlwind,” added Rortvedt, who was acquired from the Tampa Bay Rays, then spent most of the summer in triple A before being called up when Will Smith got hurt in early September. “I’ve been taking it more day by day, so it hasn’t kind of struck me as much as people think it would. Definitely when this is done I’m really going to reflect and kind of realize how crazy it has been to kind of be on this team and be where we are now.”
Call, 31, who also played with the Cleveland Guardians in a five-year big-league career, appeared in one game in each of the Dodgers’ first three playoff series, going three for four with two walks, getting hit by a pitch and scoring a run.
“It’s kind of crazy because it feels like it should have been harder,” Call said of reaching the World Series. “With the Nats, it’s like we were going to have to grind our way all the way to the top. And then you get to come over the Dodgers and you’re the favorites, World Series champs. You’ve got probably the best roster ever assembled, with amazing stars up and down the lineup, and then they’re like, ‘Oh yeah, we want Alex Call on our team.’
“That’s kind of an amazing compliment.”
Rortvedt, 28, who also played with the Yankees and Minnesota Twins in four seasons, started the first four games of the postseason and hit .429.
“If I pinch myself, it’s kind of like I’m not sure [I’m here,]” he said. “I just try to be as prepared as I can, understand the magnitude of things, and just try to be prepared and try to slow everything down and do my best.”
Welcome to Screen Gab, the newsletter for everyone who wore out their remote’s fast-forward button while watching the Season 9 finale of “Love Is Blind.”
In the wake of the news that Lauren Speed-Hamilton and Cameron Hamilton, the inaugural couple to get engaged on “Love is Blind,” welcomed their first child earlier this month (raising the already high bar their rom-com coded relationship had set), the latest season of Netflix’s addictive and maddening social experiment concluded with a dramatic first in the reality franchise’s history. And while the “Sparkle Megan” nickname reveal early in the season still feels like the biggest shock to our system, the outcomes of this season’s weddings will hopefully make next week’s reunion special interesting to watch. But maybe our “Love Is Blind” correspondent Kaitlyn Huamani was onto something when she chose to add some intrigue to her binge of the show. She leaned into the mystery the singles experience in the pods by obscuring her screen and strictly listening to the participants during that critical phase of the experiment to test her assessment of the matches.
But don’t fret, lovers of love. “Nobody Wants This” is back for its second season to help maintain Adam Brody’s grip on GIF-able kisses. For the uninitiated, the L.A.-set series revolves around the will-they/won’t-they relationship between Joanne (Kristen Bell), a woman who often regales about her single life on a podcast, who falls in love with Noah (Brody), a progressive rabbi. But can their relationship make it past hurdles that include their careers, family and religion? The new season takes us on their ongoing journey to figure that out. But there’s another complicated relationship coming into focus too. Joanne’s sister and podcast co-host, Morgan (Justine Lupe), has a boundary-pushing friendship with Noah’s married brother, Sasha (Timothy Simons), that continues to cause tension with his longtime wife, Esther (Jackie Tohn) — and unlocks some other issues about their union in process. Simons stopped by Guest Spot to discuss his character’s approach to marriage and platonic friendships.
Also in this week’s Screen Gab, our recommendations are a light comedy caper that’s a spinoff of the long-running British crime series “Death in Paradise,” and a documentary that gives an intimate look at the life and career of award-winning Deaf actor Marlee Matlin.
ICYMI
Must-read stories you might have missed
Actor Aidan Delbis, photographed in Beverly Hills in October. Delbis has a breakout role in Yorgos Lanthimos’ upcoming “Bugonia.”
Recommendations from the film and TV experts at The Times
Kris Marshall as Humphrey Goodman and Zahra Ahmadi as DS Esther Williams in “Beyond Paradise.”
(Joss Barrett / BritBox / Red Planet Pictures)
“Beyond Paradise” (BritBox)
The third season of this spinoff from the island-set “Death in Paradise” has arrived. Following tall, awkward detective inspector Humphrey Goodman (Kris Marshall), transplanted from the Caribbean back to a small seaside town in Devon, England, trading blue skies for gray, it’s the coziest of cozy mysteries. Comedy and romance thread their way among its apparently impossible murders, always solved with a sudden inspiration in the final minutes of an episode. Sally Bretton plays Martha, Humphrey’s possibly permanent fiancee, who has moved her cafe to larger quarters; they’re still hoping to foster a child. Meanwhile, Martha’s previous fiance, Archie (Jamie Bamber), a well-heeled wine merchant, has crept back into the story, projecting a vibe of “I’m not your rival, rival” toward Humphrey. (I don’t trust him.) At the police station, in an old church, we find Zahra Ahmadi as Sgt. Esther Williams (not awkward), Dylan Llewellyn as PC Kelby Hartford (a puppy dog), and the great Felicity Montagu (known for playing Alan Partridge’s long-suffering assistant Lynne) as office manager Margo, uninhibited. Watch with a cup of something warm, with a shot of something stronger. — Robert Lloyd
Marlee Matlin in “Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore.”
(Courtesy of Sundance Institute)
“Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore” (PBS.org)
She didn’t set out to be a groundbreaker or an activist, but Matlin became both. This intimate documentary directed by Shoshannah Stern (who is Deaf like Matlin) that premiered at Sundance earlier this year provides a showcase for a talented woman whose star rose quickly, thanks to a breakout performance in 1986’s “Children of a Lesser God.” The role won her an Oscar, making her the youngest person to receive the actress award at 21 — a distinction she still holds — and the first Deaf performer to win an Academy Award. (Her “CODA” co-star Troy Kotsur would become the second, 35 years later.) The film examines her upbringing in a hearing family; how a meeting with Henry Winkler led to a lifelong friendship and a path to Hollywood; and how she became a spokesperson and activist for the Deaf community after her Oscar win. (Matlin lobbied Congress for closed captioning on televisions; the first time she watched “The Wizard of Oz” with captions, she says, was a “revelation.”) While she garnered success, she struggled to get more acting roles despite her Oscar win, but more came over time, including parts in “Picket Fences,” “Seinfeld” and, later, “The West Wing.” The film also details her battle with addiction and leaving an abusive relationship with actor William Hurt, her “Children” co-star. However, what makes the film unique is how it places its Deaf subject first, largely using sign language and captions to communicate to viewers. It’s an inclusive look at one of America’s most inspiring actors. — Maira Garcia
Guest spot
A weekly chat with actors, writers, directors and more about what they’re working on — and what they’re watching
Timothy Simons as Sasha and Justine Lupe as Morgan in Season 2 of “Nobody Wants This.”
(Netflix)
Can men and women be just friends? It’s a question that has long been dissected, debated and downplayed by couples and friends — and in plenty of movies and TV shows. “Nobody Wants This,” the Netflix romantic comedy, offers its own complex and controversial portrayal of such a dynamic. While the show swirls around the hurdles in the love journey of its main characters — Joanne (Bell) and Noah (Brody) — the relationship triangle that’s been brewing between its supporting players comes more sharply into focus in Season 2, now streaming. As Sasha, Noah’s brother who is played by Timothy Simons, tries to place better boundaries with Joanne’s sister, Morgan (Lupe), their friendship places a strain on his marriage to wife Esther (Tohn), leading to more hard truths. Simons stopped by Guest Spot to discuss what interests him about exploring a lived-in marriage at a breaking point, his go-to L.A. spots for a perfect day and the unconventional movie picks on his comfort-watch roster. — Yvonne Villarreal
The season dives into the tough decisions or sacrifices people make when being part of a relationship, and the potential long-term resentments or buried feelings that may resurface later. In this challenging time in Sasha and Esther’s marriage, we get more insight into what those issues are for them. What intrigues you about exploring the rough patches of a lived-in relationship?
I think there’s something interesting about examining those challenges for both actor and audience because it reflects broadly what a lot of people go through as they age in a relationship. People grow and change and can learn to grow and change together, and it’s hard to ask a question like, “Would I choose this person or this life if I met them now,” because what if the answer is no? That’s a rough one to face. Falling in love is somewhat easy, but staying in love is hard. Specific answers to Esther and Sasha aside, I think it’s interesting for an audience to grapple with that question, cause they’ve probably asked some form of it in their real lives.
The bond between Sasha and Morgan has been controversial from the start, with viewers wondering if it was going to evolve into an affair or remain a questionable approach to a platonic relationship. What do you think is going on there and what has it revealed to you about Sasha and what he’s seeking or lacking at this stage in his life? Are there things Sasha and Morgan do or discuss that would be a hard no for you as a married person?
I think that there is a kinship with Morgan and Sasha that, despite very different upbringings, is based on a similar worldview and station in their respective families. I think they get each other in a lot of ways despite not fitting in with most of the world. They are misfits and I think they connect in that. As long as the communication is good and boundaries aren’t crossed, finding someone to discuss issues or seek advice from, I don’t think is a betrayal.
The show is set in L.A. What are three go-to spots you’d recommend to an out-of-towner for the perfect day in L.A.?
Oh man. A lot of ways to go here, but taking a hike in Elysian Park and then going to Jitlada and Jumbo’s Clown Room would be a fun day for everyone. I think with those three you get a wonderful cross-section about what makes the city so rad to live in day-to-day.
You appeared in the final season of “The Handmaid’s Tale” as loathsome Commander Bell. When I spoke with the showrunners, they said when they conceived that character, they used your “Veep” character, the incompetent and insufferable Jonah Ryan, as a model. What’s it like to be synonymous with a character like Jonah and to see how his name gets invoked in discussions of both fictional and real life matters of governance?
Hopefully I can convince people that I’m not as big of a scumbag in real life as those characters, and I love that I got to be a part of something that people hold as fondly in their hearts as I do. That was an incredible experience and a wonderful ensemble of writers, actors and crew all working together. It’s wild, though, to live in a world where Jonah Ryan seems somewhat aspirational.
What have you watched recently that you are recommending to everyone you know?
It’s horror movie season, so I’ve been recommending everyone watch “Pieces”(1982) [AMC+], which is my favorite slasher. A truly wild film with the best ending to any horror movie I’ve ever seen (and that includes “Sleepaway Camp” [Peacock, Prime Video, Tubi]). Also, no surprise here that I’m quite high on “One Battle After Another,” which I’ve seen three times and will go back for a fourth cause I haven’t been able to see it in VistaVision yet.
What’s your go-to “comfort watch,” the movie or TV show you go back to again and again?
Comfort films are an odd thing for me because I find myself rewatching movies like “Sicario” [Peacock] and “Zero Dark Thirty” [Paramount+], which you can’t argue are comforting in their subject matter. But they are so perfectly constructed, shot and performed that it’s comforting to watch them.
In recent weeks, American politics have stopped resembling a democracy and started looking more like a Manson family group chat, with a flag emoji right next to the “pile of poo” emoji in our bio.
First it was the Young Republicans (you know, the nerds who used to wear ill-fitting sports jackets and drone on about budgets) who were caught on Telegram saying things such as “I love Hitler,” calling Black people “watermelon people,” and joking about gas chambers and rape. Hilarious, right?
Then came Paul Ingrassia, Trump’s now-aborted nominee to head the Office of Special Counsel, who texted that he has “a Nazi streak” and that Martin Luther King Jr. Day belongs in “the seventh circle of hell.”
But the moral rot isn’t exclusive to Republicans. Not to be outdone, Democrat Jay Jones (who is currently running for attorney general in Virginia) was caught with texts from 2022 saying another Virginia lawmaker should get “two bullets to the head,” and that he wished the man’s children would “die in their mother’s arms.”
Charming.
Meanwhile, in Maine’s race for the U.S. Senate, old posts on Reddit reveal that Democrat Graham Platner — oysterman, veteran and self-described communist — said that if people “expect to fight fascism without a good semi-automatic rifle, they ought to do some reading of history.”
What we are witnessing is a trend: Bipartisan moral collapse. Finally, something the two parties can agree on!
Keep in mind, these are not randos typing away in their parents’ basements. These are ambitious young politicos. Candidates. Operatives. The ones who are supposed to know better.
So what’s going on? I have a few theories.
One: Nothing has really changed. Political insiders have always done and said stupid, racist and cruel things — the difference is that privacy doesn’t exist anymore. Every joke is public, and every opinion is archived.
It might be hard for older generations to understand, but this theory says these people are merely guilty of using the kind of dark-web humor that’s supposed to stay on, well, the dark web. What happened to them is the equivalent of thinking you’re with friends at a karaoke bar, when you’re actually on C-SPAN.
For those of us trying to discern the difference, the problem is that the line between joking and confession has gotten so blurry that we can’t tell who’s trolling and who’s armed.
Two: Blame Trump. He destroyed norms and mainstreamed vulgarity and violent rhetoric. And since he’s been the dominant political force for a decade, it’s only logical that his style would trickle down and corrupt a whole generation of politically engaged Americans (Republicans who want to be like him and Democrats who want to fight fire with fire).
Three (and this is the scary one): Maybe the culture really has changed, and these violent and racist comments are revelatory of changing hearts and worldviews. Maybe younger generations have radicalized, and violence is increasingly viewed as a necessary tool for political change. Maybe their words are sincere.
Indeed, several recent surveys have demonstrated that members of Gen Z are more open to the use of political violence than previous generations.
According to a survey conducted by the group FIRE, only 1 in 3 college students now say it is unacceptable to use violence to stop a speaker. And according to the 2025 Edelman Trust Barometer, “53 percent of those aged 18-34 – approve of one or more forms of hostile activism to bring about change.” This includes “threatening or committing violence, and damaging public or private property.”
Of course, it’s possible (and probably likely) that some combination of these theories has conspired to create this trend. And it comes on the heels of other trends, too, including the loss of trust in institutions that began somewhere around the Nixon administration and never reversed.
Put it all together, and we’ve arrived at a point where we don’t believe in democracy, we don’t believe in leaders, and we barely believe in each other. And once you lose trust, all that’s left is anger, memes and a primal will to power.
Worse, we’ve become numb. Every new scandal shocks us for approximately 15 minutes. Then we scroll to another cat video and get used to it.
Remember the Charlie Kirk assassination? You know, the gruesome murder that freaked us all out and led to a national discussion about political violence and violent rhetoric? Yeah, that was just last month. Feels like it was back in the Eisenhower administration.
We’re basically frogs in a pot of boiling political sewage. And the scariest part? We’re starting to call it room temperature.
“I’m in a huge, massive town I don’t really know,” he says, “and I’m looking for the movie district. And inevitably all the theaters are closed down. They’re all closed down. That’s what the dream is.”
I’m visiting Carpenter at his longtime production house in Hollywood on one of L.A.’s unjustly sunny October afternoons. A vintage “Halloween” pinball machine and a life-size Nosferatu hover near his easy chair. I tell him I don’t think Freud would have too much trouble interpreting that particular dream.
“No, I know,” he says, laughing. “I don’t have too much trouble with that either.”
Nonetheless, it truly haunts him — “and it has haunted me over the years for many dreams in a row,” he continues. “I’m either with family or a group, and I go off to do something and I get completely lost. [Freud] wouldn’t have too much trouble figuring that out either. I mean, none of this is very mysterious.”
Carpenter is a gruff but approachable 77 these days, his career as a film director receding in the rearview. The last feature he made was 2010’s “The Ward.” His unofficial retirement was partly chosen, partly imposed by a capricious industry. The great movie poster artist Drew Struzan died two days before I visited — Carpenter says he never met Struzan but loved his work, especially his striking painting for the director’s icy 1982 creature movie “The Thing” — and I note how that whole enterprise of selling a movie with a piece of handmade art is a lost one.
“The whole movie business that I knew, that I grew up with, is gone,” he replies. “All gone.”
John Carpenter with John Mulaney, appearing as a part of “Everybody’s in L.A.” at the Sunset Gower Studios in May 2024.
(Adam Rose / Netflix)
It hasn’t, thankfully, made him want to escape from L.A. He still lives here with his wife, Sandy King, who runs the graphic novel imprint Storm King Comics, which Carpenter contributes to. He gamely appeared on John Mulaney’s “Everybody’s in L.A.” series on Netflix and, earlier this year, the Los Angeles Film Critics Assn. gave him a Career Achievement Award — a belated lovefest for a veteran who was sidelined after “The Thing” flopped, cast out into indie darkness and was never personally nominated for an Oscar.
The thing that does keep Carpenter busy these days (other than watching Warriors basketball and playing videogames) is the thing that might have an even bigger cultural footprint than his movies: his music. With his adult son Cody and godson, Daniel Davies, Carpenter is once again performing live concerts of his film scores and instrumental albums in a run at downtown’s Belasco this weekend and next.
The synthy, hypnotic scores that became his signature in films like “Halloween” and “Escape from New York” not only outnumber his output as a director — he’s scored movies for several other filmmakers and recently made a handshake deal in public to score Bong Joon Ho’s next feature — but their influence and popularity are much more evident in 2025 than the style of his image-making.
From “Stranger Things” to “F1,” Carpenter’s minimalist palette of retro electronica combined with the groove-based, trancelike ethos of his music (which now includes four “Lost Themes” records) is the coin of the realm so many modern artists are chasing.
Very few composers today are trying to sound like John Williams; many of them want to sound like John Carpenter. The Kentucky-raised skeptic with the long white hair doesn’t believe me when I express this.
“Well, see, I must be stupid,” he says, “because I don’t get it.”
“The true evil in the world comes from people,” says Carpenter. “I know that nature’s pretty rough, but not like men.
(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)
Carpenter is quick to put himself down. He always says that he scored his own films because he was the only composer he could afford, and that he only used synths because they were cheap and he couldn’t properly write music for an orchestra. When I tell him that Daniel Wyman, the instrumentalist who helped program and execute the “Halloween” score in 1978, praised Carpenter’s innate knowledge of the “circle of fifths” and secondary dominants — bedrocks of Western musical theory that allowed Carpenter’s scores to keep the tension cooking — he huffs.
“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Carpenter says, halfway between self-deprecation and something more rascally. “It all comes, probably, from the years I spent in our front room with my father and listening to classical music. I’m sure I’m just digging this s— out.”
Whether by osmosis or genetics or possibly black magic, Carpenter clearly absorbed his powers from his father, Dr. Howard Carpenter, a classically trained violinist and composer. Classical music filled the childhood home in Bowling Green and for young John it was all about “Bach, Bach and Bach. He’s my favorite. I just can’t get enough of Johann there.”
It makes sense. Bach’s music has a circular spell quality and the pipe organ, resounding with reverb in gargantuan cathedrals, was the original synthesizer.
“He’s the Rock of Ages of music,” says Carpenter, who particularly loves the fugue nicknamed “St. Anne” and the Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. “Everybody would go back to Mozart or Beethoven. They are astonishing — Beethoven is especially astonishing — but they’re not my style. I don’t feel it like I do with Bach. I immediately got him.”
Carpenter was also a film score freak since Day 1. He cites the early electronic music in 1956’s “Forbidden Planet” and claims Bernard Herrmann and Dimitri Tiomkin as his two all-time favorites. Just listen, he says, to the way Tiomkin’s music transitions from the westerny fanfare under the Winchester Pictures logo to the swirling, menacing orchestral storm that accompanies “The Thing From Another World” title card in that 1951 sci-fi picture that Carpenter remixed as “The Thing.”
“The music is so weird, I cannot follow it,” he says. “But I love it.”
Yet Carpenter feels more personally indebted to rock ‘n’ roll: the Beatles, the Stones, the Doors. He wanted to be a rock star ever since he grew his hair long and bought a guitar in high school. He sang and performed R&B and psychedelic rock for sororities on the Western Kentucky campus as well as on a tour of the U.S. Army bases in Germany. He formed the rock trio Coupe de Villes with his buddies at USC and they made an album and played wrap parties.
He also kept soaking up contemporary influences, listening to Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” while location scouting for “Halloween.” Peter Fonda later introduced Carpenter to Zevon and he wanted the director to adapt the song into a film that never happened (starring Fonda as the werewolf, but “this time he gets the girl,” Carpenter recalls). In the ’80s he blasted Metallica with his two boys and he still loves Devo.
It’s incredibly rare for a film director to score their own films, rarer still for one to spend decades on stage as a performing musician. The requisite personalities would seem diametrical.
“My dad was a performing musician, so it was just part of the family,” Carpenter says. However, until 2016, when Carpenter first toured with his music, he was consumed with stage fright. “I had an incident when I was in a play in high school,” he says. “I went up and I forgot my lines. Shame descended upon me and I had a tough time. I was scared all the time.”
The director credits his touring drummer, Scott Seiver, for helping him beat it.
“Your adrenaline carries you to another planet when that thing starts,” he sighs with pleasure. “You hear a wall of screaming people. It’s a big time.”
He pushes back against the idea that directors “hide behind the camera.”
“The pressure, that’s the biggest thing,” Carpenter says. “You put yourself under pressure from the studio, you’re carrying all this money, crew, you want to be on time.”
He remembers seeing some haggard making-of footage of himself in post-production on “Ghost of Mars” in 2001 and thinking: Oh my God, this guy is in trouble. “I had to stop,” he says. “I can’t do this to myself anymore. I can’t take this kind of stress — it’ll kill you, as it has so many other directors. The music came along and it’s from God. It’s a blessing.”
John Carpenter is grateful but he doesn’t believe in God. He believes that, when we die, “we just disperse — our energy disperses, and we return to what we were. We’re all stardust up there and the darkness created us, in a sense. So that’s what we have to make peace with. I point up to the infinite, the space between stars. But things stop when you die. Your heart stops, brain — everything stops. You get cold. Your energy dissipates and it just… ends. The End.”
This is not exactly a peaceful thought for him.
“I mean, I don’t want to die,” he adds. “I’m not looking forward to that. But what can you do? I can’t control it. But that’s what I believe and I’m alone in it. I can’t put that on anybody else. Everybody has their own beliefs, their own gods, their own afterlife.”
He describes himself as a “long-term optimist but a short-term pessimist.”
“I have hope,” he says, “put it that way.” Yet he looks around and sees a lot of evil.
“The true evil in the world comes from people,” says Carpenter, who has long used cinematic allegories to skewer capitalist pigs and bloodthirsty governments. “I know that nature’s pretty rough, but not like men. You see pictures of lions taking down their prey and you see the face of the prey and you say: ‘Oh, man.’ Humans do things like that and enjoy it. Or they do things like that for power or pleasure. Humans are evil but they’re capable of massive good — and they’re capable of the greatest art form we have: music.”
The greatest?
“You don’t have to talk about it. You just sit and listen to it. It’s not my favorite,” he clarifies, alluding to his first love, cinema — “but it’s the one that transcends centuries.”
Music has always been kinder to him than the movie business. That business recently reared its ugly head when A24 tossed his completed score for “Death of a Unicorn.” (At least he owns the rights and will be putting it out sometime soon.) In addition to the high he gets from playing live, he is currently working on a heavy metal concept album complete with dialogue. It’s called “Cathedral” and he’ll be playing some of it at the Belasco.
It’s essentially a movie in music form, based on a dream Carpenter had. Though not one he finds scary. What scares Carpenter, it seems, is not being in control.
That happened to him in the movie world, it’s happening more and more as what he calls the “frailties of age” mount and it happens in that nightmare about getting lost in a big city and not finding any theaters.
“But I can’t do anything about it,” he says. “What can I do? See, the only thing I can do is what I can control: music. And watching basketball.”
Among the small army of prospects who’ve eyed the California governorship, none seemed more qualified than Toni Atkins.
After serving on the San Diego City Council, she moved on to Sacramento, where Atkins led both the Assembly and state Senate, one of just three people in history — and the first in 147 years — to head both houses of California’s Legislature.
She married that expertise with the kind of hardscrabble, up-by-her-bootstraps backstory that a calculating political consultant might have spun from whole cloth, had it not been so.
Atkins grew up in rural Appalachia in a rented home with an outdoor privy. Her first pair of glasses was a gift from the local Lions Club. She didn’t visit a dentist until she was 24. Her family was too poor.
Yet for all of that, Atkins’ gubernatorial campaign didn’t last even to 2026, when voters will elect a successor to the termed-out Gavin Newsom. She quit the race in September, more than eight months before the primary.
She has no regrets.
“It was a hard decision,” the Democrat said. “But I’m a pragmatic person.”
She couldn’t and wouldn’t keep asking “supporters and people to contribute more and more if the outcome was not going to be what we hoped,” Atkins said. “I needed sort of a moonshot to do it, and I didn’t see that.”
She spoke recently via Zoom from the den of her home in San Diego, where Atkins had just returned after spending several weeks back in Virginia, tending to a dying friend and mentor, one of her former college professors.
“I was a first-generation college kid … a hillbilly,” Atkins said. She felt as though she had no place in the world “and this professor, Steve Fisher, basically helped turn me around and not be a victim. Learn to organize. Learn to work with people on common goals. … He was one of the first people that really helped me to understand how to be part of something bigger than myself.”
Over the 22 months of her campaign — between the launch in January 2024 and its abandonment on Sept. 29 — Atkins traveled California from tip to toe, holding countless meetings and talking to innumerable voters. “It’s one thing to be the speaker or the [Senate leader],” she said. “People treat you differently when you’re a candidate. You’re appealing to them to support you, and it’s a different conversation.”
She heard plenty from business owners and, especially, put-upon residents of red California, who griped about Sacramento and its seeming disconnection from their lives and livelihoods. “I heard in Tehama County … folks saying, ‘Look, we care about the environment, but we can’t have electric school buses here. We don’t have any infrastructure.’ ”
Voters seemed to be of two — somewhat contradictory — minds about what they want in their next governor.
First off, “Someone that’s going to be focused on California, California problems and California issues,” Atkins said. “They want a governor that’s not going to be performative, but really focused on the issues that California needs help on.”
The challenge, Atkins suggested, is “convincing people … you’re absolutely going to fight for California values and, at the same, that you’re going to be focused on fixing the roads.”
Maybe California needs to elect a contortionist.
Given her considerable know-how and compelling background, why did Atkins’ campaign fizzle?
“I hoped my experience and my collaborative nature and my ability to work across party lines when I needed to … would gain traction,” Atkins said. “But I just didn’t have the name recognition.”
Or, more pertinently, the huge pile of cash needed to build that name recognition and get elected to statewide office in California.
While Atkins wasn’t a bad fundraiser, she simply couldn’t raise the many tens of millions of dollars needed to run a viable gubernatorial race.
That could be seen as a referendum of sorts. If enough people wanted Atkins to be governor, she theoretically would have collected more cash. But who doubts that money has an unholy influence on our elections?
“I’ve lost parents, but it’s been decades,” she said. “And to lose Steve” — her beloved ex-college professor — “I think I’m going to take the rest of the year to reflect. I’m definitely going to stay engaged … but I’m going to focus on family” at least until January.
Atkins remains optimistic about her adopted home state, notwithstanding her unsuccessful run for governor and the earful of criticisms she heard along the way,
“California is the place where people dream,” she said. “We still have the ability to do big things … We’re the fourth-largest economy. We’re a nation-state. We need to remember that.”
At a car lot just off the 405 in the San Fernando Valley, there is more than meets the eye.
Galpin Motors sells new and used Fords — touting itself as one of the largest dealerships in the world. But next door, it also displays exotic rides: Shelby Cobras. A vintage purple Rolls-Royce. Sylvester Stallone’s Harley from “The Expendables.”
And then there’s the on-site diner, the Horseless Carriage, where the vinyl-covered booths have hosted generations of Valley power brokers and men who have shaped the policies of the Los Angeles Police Department for decades.
Bert Boeckmann, owner and president of Galpin Motors, stands with new Fords in his showroom.
( Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Former Galpin boss Herbert “Bert” Boeckmann was an influential figure in local politics and a member of the city’s Board of Police Commissioners, the civilian panel that oversees the LAPD. A longtime lawyer for car dealer, Alan Skobin, also served on the commission.
Now, another member of the Galpin Motors family is poised to carry on the legacy.
The City Council is scheduled to vote Wednesday on whether Jeffrey Skobin, a vice president at Galpin, will follow in his father Alan’s footsteps and join the commission.
Appointed by Mayor Karen Bass, the younger Skobin, 45, already serves on an advisory board that gives the mayor input on issues facing the Valley. He did not respond to an interview request from The Times.
Skobin cleared one hurdle last week, when the council’s public safety committee approved his nomination by a 3-1 vote.
Several committee members professed to knowing Skobin’s family, with one lauding him for the “good stock you come from.”
Skobin said he wouldn’t take the role of commissioner lightly. The five-member panel acts like a corporate board of directors, setting LAPD policies, approving its budget and scrutinizing police shootings.
“I recognize the seriousness of this role and the gravity of this responsibility,” Skobin told the committee. “My story is deeply tied to Los Angeles.”
A mega-dealership with five franchises, Galpin has long wielded influence as a source of jobs and tax revenue for the city. It was Boeckmann who established the business as a powerful player in local politics.
Rare classic Porsche sports cars on display in the Galpin Hall of Customs during the LA Auto Show’s opening day at Los Angeles Convention Center in 2021.
(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
Boeckmann was a self-made millionaire who started out as a car salesman in 1953, seven years after Galpin opened. He eventually bought out the company’s founder, Frank Galpin.
In the decades that followed, he amassed a large corporate empire in the Valley that also included vast land holdings and a film production company.
Boeckmann and his wife, Jane, longtime publisher of the Valley magazine, backed George W. Bush for president, Gray Davis for governor and Antonio Villaraigosa for mayor.
Galpin’s website features a picture of Boeckmann and his wife meeting California Gov. Ronald Reagan in 1974. “When I think about what’s right in America, I will always think of men like Bert Boeckmann,” said the future president, according to the company.
Samantha Stevens, a Los Angeles political consultant and former legislative staffer, said candidates routinely made pilgrimages to the Galpin lot on Roscoe Boulevard to court Boekmann.
“Everybody would go and ask for their support, not just the money. You wanted the name on the endorsement list,” Stevens said.
Although Boeckmann leaned conservative, she said, he was also a force behind the scenes in L.A.’s left-leaning City Hall and seemed to put aside politics when he found causes or candidates that he believed in — including a failed push for the Valley to break away and form its own city.
Ford Explorers on a Galpin storage lot on Woodley Avenue near Van Nuys Airport.
(Los Angeles Times)
“I remember sending my liberal Democrat candidates to meet with them, and they would get donations,” Stevens said.
First appointed to the Police Commission by then-Mayor Tom Bradley in 1983, Boeckmann served two stints under three mayors.
During his 17 combined years on the panel, Boeckmann gained a reputation as its most conservative member — with critics calling him an apologist for former Chief Daryl Gates.
He sat on the commission during two of the darkest chapters in LAPD history: The fallout of the 1991 beating of Black motorist Rodney King and the Rampart corruption scandal, which uncovered cops planting evidence, dealing drugs and committing other crimes.
Boekmann died in 2023 at age 93, but the company still maintains close ties with both the LAPD and City Hall.
Campaign finance records show that Galpin and its employees, including Jeffrey Skobin, have made contributions to numerous local, state and politicians, though not Bass’ mayoral campaign.
Yet when Bass announced the possibility of laying off city workers earlier this year, she chose Galpin as the backdrop of her news conference to rally support.
Last November, less than a week after taking over as LAPD chief, Jim McDonnell held a meet- and-greet at the company’s gleaming showroom of exotic cars across the street.
Galpin twice supported McDonnell’s campaigns for Los Angeles County sheriff, with records showing tens of thousands of dollars in donations during his successful run in 2014 and his failed re-election bid four years later.
In years’ past, the company came under scrutiny after it was revealed that Boeckmann leased city land and sold cars to the city. A controversy arose when the City Council spent $2.4 million to help buy a 239-acre parcel from Boeckmann in Mandeville Canyon. For a time, the LAPD stored some undercover vehicles on Galpin properties.
Those deep ties have led to questions about whether Skobin can be an effective police watchdog. The mayor’s office scrutinized Skobin’s business for any conflicts of interest before putting forward his nomination, city officials said.
LAPD Capt. Johnny Smith said Galpin has given to countless charitable causes and regularly provides meeting space for community groups.
“Their support has always come from a place of partnership, grounded in the belief that together, we can do better for this city we all love,” said Smith, who said he has known the Skobin family for years.
Alan Skobin, 74, told The Times his work on the police commission, on which he served from 2003 to 2012, gave his son a unique window into how the department functions — and what it takes to provide police oversight.
An auto enthusiast views the Batmobile, which was formerly a Ford Futura, on display at Galpin Hall of Customs.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
“Number one, don’t take things that are brought to you at face value. Look beyond the surface,” he said. “Always remember you are a representative of the public, and keep that perspective. Continue to be a good listener of various views.”
The elder Skobin recalled how his teenage son once came home upset over a traffic stop that occurred while he was driving to school with a friend, who was Black. The teens felt they were pulled over for no reason — and the incident left a lasting impression about discrimination by law enforcement, Skobin said.
“One thing I know about LAPD is things slip,” he said. “And Jeff is the kind of person that will look into those things.”
The only vote against the younger Skobin when he appeared before the council’s public safety committee last week came from Hugo Soto-Martinez, who peppered him with questions about his reaction to the Trump administration’s ongoing immigration raids.
“Heartbreaking,” Skobin said, noting that roughly half of Galpin’s employees are of Mexican descent. He is also married to a Mexican American woman.
The license plate data allows law enforcement to track the movements of Angelenos in their vehicles without court orders, and some worry that they could potentially be used to track people for deportation.
“I think I would take a position to seek to understand the legality of that, what options there are,” Skobin said.
Imagine losing your home and belongings to a wildfire, then losing your best friend when he was killed by a suspected driver under the influence, all happening within months of each other.
Max Meier, a star defensive tackle for Loyola High who has committed to Stanford, dealt with that kind of awful adversity this year, losing his family home in the Palisades fire, then losing classmate Braun Levi in May when he was hit by a car while walking on a Manhattan Beach street.
To hear Meier’s response and wisdom while dealing with two tragedies offers hope for the future.
“I think in this life, everyone has demons in the closet,” Meier said. “Everyone has bad things that happen But we realize in these moments, as horrible as they are, losing your things in a fire, they’re replaceable, but losing someone who was like an older brother, can’t replace that. He’s somebody I’ll be be chasing to live like he did. As a teenager it was tough, but you learn about life and how every day you have to give it your all. I’ve actually started to live my life more fully and started to live every day the best I can.”
Stanford-bound defensive lineman Max Meier of Loyola is the guest on Friday Night Live on Thursday at 5 p.m. via X. Here’s a clip talking about losing his house to the Palisades fire and losing good friend Braun Levi to a DUI driver. pic.twitter.com/QAa9flbe0f
As a football player, at 6 feet 5 and 250 pounds, Meier is enjoying his best season as a senior with 9 1/2 sacks, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Loyola lost close to a dozen players who abandoned the program one by one in the offseason. They gave up, thinking the Cubs were not going to be good or leaving because they disliked something. Those who stayed had to place their trust in themselves.
“There’s no better motivator knowing every single person left and you’re the ones left,” he said. “This summer, we’re like, ‘There’s 10 games left and you’re either going to give up or let’s show everyone what we got and why they wrote us off.’ We have some problems. Every team does. We’re really motivated to show what we can do.”
Playing at SoFi Stadium on Oct 19 and coming away with a 13-10 upset victory over Gardena Serra was a moment Meier and his teammates will cherish. The Cubs lost to Bishop Amat 30-14 on Friday night and are 4-4 and 1-2 in the Mission League.
“Warming up under all those seats is just ridiculous,” he said. “I thought it was the most awesome thing. That turf was super fast. You could hear things super loud and it gave you an idea what a college stadium might feel like, I thought it was the best experience all time. It was a thing on my bucket list. Getting a sack at SoFi never thought of something I want to do, but I did it. It was cool.”
Since Meier lost his home, he was eligible to switch schools this year and play immediately. His two sisters graduated from Palisades. He has friends at Palisades. But he was never leaving Loyola.
“After the fires, I realized how special it is,” he said. “All that’s left in my closet is from Loyola. They’re the most amazing people to me.”
So understand what you’re getting each time you face Loyola this season — a team dedicated to each other and having each other’s backs. And in Meier, the Cubs have someone who’s going to represent Loyola values for years to come.
“Breathing on this earth is a humble thing,” Meier said.
Brad Ingelsby knew after the breakout success of HBO’s “Mare of Easttown” — a crime drama about a police detective (Kate Winslet) investigating the murder of a teenage girl in a fictional working-class town — he didn’t want his next series to be another whodunit.
“That’s Mare’s thing,” he says on a recent late afternoon. “So, you start to go, if you’re going to write another story in the crime genre, what would get the audience to keep clicking to the next episode? I just thought, ‘Well, maybe a collision course show, where [in] every episode, we get a little closer, a little closer, a little closer, until things collide.’ ”
In “Task,” which concluded Sunday on HBO, Mark Ruffalo stars as Tom Brandis, a priest-turned-FBI agent leading a task force investigating a series of robberies in Delaware County, Pa., an area commonly referred to as Delco that was also the setting for “Mare of Easttown.” (And with references to Wawa and Scrapple, along with visits to Rita’s Water Ice, it slips into its role of expanding the universe.) It leads Tom to Robbie Prendergast (Tom Pelphrey), a sanitation worker who robs drug houses at night to provide for his family. Both men are emotionally tortured by life events — Tom’s wife was murdered by their adopted son, who is incarcerated; Robbie’s brother was killed by a member of a motorcycle gang — that have set them each on different, but destructive paths.
In “Task,” Mark Ruffalo, left, Alison Oliver, Thuso Mbedu and Fabein Frankel portray law enforcement officers who are part of an FBI task force investigating a string of robberies.
(Peter Kramer / HBO)
“ ‘Mare’ was about the moms — the damage that all the guys have caused and the women are kind of having to pick up the pieces of that,” Ingelsby says. “This [show] is all about the fathers and being left behind, seeing the damage they’ve done to their kids, how they’re going to fix that in their lives — or not be able to fix it. The guys who are actually doing the damage without knowing.”
Ingelsby says his uncle, who was an Augustinian priest, helped inspire the throughline of the series.
“I’ve always been very intrigued by his idea of faith in God over the years, and how it’s changed over time, and what he believed once and what he believes now,” he says. “I was intrigued by the idea of a guy who, everything he held as truth, all the pillars of his life, have come crumbling down. And Robbie has a much different faith. And it’s through the gauntlet of the story, how their lives intersect, that they both get to navigate their own journeys of faith.”
Over dinner at a West Hollywood hotel, The Times sat down with Ingelsby, Ruffalo and Pelphrey to discuss their faith journeys, economic inequality, fatherhood — and Wawa, too. Here are edited excerpts from the conversation, which contains spoilers about the finale.
After the success of “Mare of Easttown,” creator Brad Ingelsby wanted his follow-up, “Task,” to feel connected, but not repetitive: “ ‘Mare’ was about the moms,” he says. “This [show] is all about the fathers and being left behind, seeing the damage they’ve done to their kids, how they’re going to fix that in their lives — or not be able to fix it.”
(Bexx Francois/For The Times)
The themes of the show involve forgiveness and faith. Every person has experienced something in life that has tested those ideas. How has your own relationship to faith and forgiveness evolved as you’ve lived more life or taken on roles that ask you to live different experiences?
Pelphrey: My faith, to me, is when I got sober. God willing, Oct. 1, which is three days from now, it’ll be 12 years. That’s truly by the grace of God — you hear that phrase, but I genuinely, I mean that. That’s how I’ve experienced faith, through my sobriety. I was raised Catholic, but the experience I had at 31 was like in a different dimension to what I thought of religion or ideas. It’s one thing to have an idea, it’s another thing to have your heart opened. It’s definitely an important part of my life. And I think Brad did such a beautiful job conveying that. My grandma used to have one of these things when I was a kid — not a real gem, but like a glass cut thing so if you put it in the window, the sun shines through a million different ways, and the color goes everywhere. I feel like you [Brad] did that with some themes in the show where you’re like, “Let me just hold it up, and we’ll just look at it a few different ways.”
Ruffalo: My journey with faith is probably very similar to Tom’s. When you get a job or something, it can take you on a journey that you’re ripe to take. It touches your life at a very moment where you need it. I’d say, after my brother died, the whole notion of faith just went out the window for me. But oddly enough, I have a lot of addiction, alcoholism in my family. I say, either you are one or you love one. When you love somebody who’s struggling with that, it takes a lot of faith to let them go and to trust it will be OK. My friend says to me, “They got a God and you ain’t it.”
My faith has been renewed, actually, through Tom [the character] — he is an alcoholic. It’s touched my life in so many ways, even with my brother, that it’s like where I lost my faith and where I gained my faith again has been through this journey with alcoholism and drug addiction. And I waver. You look at the world and you’re like, “Where is God in this? Please show yourself. ” But the thing about faith is it requires you to believe without any evidence of its existence. I’d rather believe in that than nothing. Although, I fought him [Brad] all the time. I was like, “He’s [Tom] not really praying here. He’s trying to pray. He’s going through the actions of praying, but he can’t quite get to the opening sentence, which is “ … God …” He does pray, eventually, but it’s a journey.
There’s the powerful moment in that car when Tom and Robbie finally meet in Episode 5. Robbie says, “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced God in my life.” This is a man that hasn’t felt hope, and he has this glimmer of it with this goal of escaping to Canada. Tom, how was it getting into the mindset of this guy just trying to get out of this life?
Pelphrey: It’s heartbreaking. We’re articulating an American dream that far too many people don’t get to experience, and maybe are starting to lose the hope of ever experiencing it. That’s a very real thing — unfortunately, way too real and increasingly way too common. It was just constantly reminding myself: What does this character want? And at the end of the day, regardless of how extreme some of the things Robbie’s doing, he just wants a decent life for his kids. And the fact that he’s having a hard time getting it is heartbreaking.
That scene and in the car, the first time I read it, I was like, “Oh, he’s [Brad] got some balls.” You have so much s— boiling over — the plot lines, the violence, the stakes are through the roof for everyone now in the show, and we are going to sit in a car for half an episode? And two dudes are gonna talk?
In Episode 5, Robbie Prendergast (Tom Pelphrey), left, and Tom Brandis (Mark Ruffalo) finally meet.
(HBO)
Ruffalo: There’s no chase! And when they finally face each other, they’re not even [actually] facing each other! They’re both pushed to the edge and you don’t know where it could go. Tom certainly doesn’t know where it will go. Tom’s kind of at that point, like, “F— it. Go ahead.” We talked about it a lot, I was like, “I think Tom should die.”
[They break into laughter]
Ingelsby: Every single day he was pitching it.
Ruffalo: I was pitching Tom should have a heart attack at the end and he literally sees God and he says to God, “I’m ready.” He finally finds his faith. It’s finally paid off and he says [gasping], “I’m … reaaady.”
Ingelsby: Enough people die here. But that particular episode has always been very special to me. That’s when the show is operating at the peak of its powers. It just felt like, how do we subvert the expectations of the audience and do that in a way that still feels true to who these characters are? I remember talking to you [Tom] about this. You were like, “As soon as I know Cliff’s done, I’m on a one-way street. I have a plan.” But with you [Mark], once they get out of the car and you feel like you’re going to die, you’re like, “I want to call my family.” That’s when you get activated in a way. You’ve been going through the motions in life, but that’s when it gets very real.
Ruffalo: It’s like being reborn. It opens his heart. He sees how life can be taken away.
We’re in a political and cultural moment where the mood of the country is simmering — there’s anger and rage on all sides, and a lot of it stems from class and systemic issues that are in place that put people in certain positions. There’s that layer, but there’s also the grief element both these men are facing.
Ingelsby: With Robbie in particular, I was interested in a guy that felt really stuck. What I liked about Robbie was, if he didn’t take action, what would happen to Robbie? He’d be a trash man in too deep his whole life. Who cares about Robbie and his family? Nobody. He was left behind. In early versions of the script, I very explicitly said, “He wants his bite of the apple.” There are lots of people like that now. I loved writing Robbie because it felt like he was raging against being left behind and and I felt, in many cases, in the script, why wouldn’t you do something? Whether you agree with the actions or not —
Pelphrey: He had his f— life stolen from him. What he’s going after is a very specific thing. He’s not lashing out blindly against anybody to get any money at any cost. He’s like: “I’m gonna take it from these mother f—, who are bad dudes.” Even within that, he has principles. No one’s gonna die — obviously, the rules all go out the window Episode 2, but we’re not going to take the drugs, we’re not going to sell the drug. We’re going to destroy the drugs. We’re going to take the cash. Even within his brand of lashing out, he actually has a set of principles that he’s operating by.
Mark Ruffalo, left, and Tom Pelphrey star as two troubled men on a collision course in “Task.” Ruffalo portrays an FBI agent recovering from a family tragedy, while Pelphrey plays a garbage collector and criminal involved in a series of robberies. (Bexx Francois/For The Times)
Mark and Tom, as sons and fathers, how did you think about the father-child relationships of these two men and the collateral damage of their choices?
Ruffalo: It’s so hard to be a father, especially now because this generation is like, “We’re not going to do it the way our parents, our fathers did. We see that there’s another way to do it. We’re actually talking about it.” At the same time, we don’t exactly know what it is that we should do differently, plus we have the responsibility of, financially, keeping it together. It’s obviously hard to be a mom too. These guys are doing the best they can.
Pelphrey: Becoming a dad two and a half years ago now, it’s just the most f— awesome, wild, intense, crazy s— I’ve ever experienced in my life. It’s like getting struck by lightning. I’m so in love and I feel so vulnerable and I feel so happy — it’s all the feelings. Then suddenly, when you’re thinking about how you feel, you go, “How do I balance this? How do I protect her, but make sure that she’s brave and experiencing things? And you quickly realize there is so much to this that I will have no power over and the realization of that, in the deepest sense — and I’ve already had moments of that and we’re just getting started here. You imagine what it’s like, when you don’t have kids, but you have no f— clue. One of the things I could say without blinking, ever, is, “I totally understand why he’s doing what he’s doing.”
Was there a version where Robbie lived?
Ingelsby: No, I felt like structurally what needed to happen was Tom had to witness Robbie’s kindness, then his sacrifice. It felt very necessary to be like, “Oh, wait. Robbie — he went up to the woods…” Because he’s always like, “What’s the plan?” Tom realizes, “Oh, I know what the plan was. He went there to die.” Part of Tom’s journey to getting rid of the anger and to believing in something at the end, was to have witnessed the goodness in Robbie. He [Robbie] also gets in so deep eventually, he has pushed himself into such a corner and there’s no good way out of this. What’s an audience gonna think if he gets out of this unscathed? Even if he were to survive, he’s gonna be in jail for the rest of his life. The idea of sacrifice would speak to Tom as a character and get him to his ultimate decision to give the boy [Sam] up, but also forgive his own son and, quite literally, get the house ready for him.
Mark, how did you feel about the statement that Tom winds up giving at the hearing in the finale?
Ruffalo: He had to sit down and write that. I don’t think he really knew what he was going to be writing. He’s taking stock of his life and his son’s life and the story of the life. It’s connecting him to the whole story. It’s not just the loss of my wife, but also we raised that boy. We made this life together and, even in the hard part of it all, that’s where we learned what love is. Then when he gets in there, he doesn’t even know that he’s gonna say it. He doesn’t know he’s going to confront him with it and say [to his son], “Look at me.” But the whole journey, leads us there.
There’s something, too, about his composure in that moment.
Ingelsby: That’s the genius of Mark. That was the first or second take, what we used.
How many versions of it did you write? Was there an overly emotional or dramatic version?
Ingelsby: There was a longer version. But I think what was important about it was — and Mark does such a beautiful job — was that he had to be honest about how hard it was. I was always worried it would be a bit maudlin, if he just went in and said straight away, “I love you.” It was almost like he had to be really honest with everybody, like, “Hey, this was f— horrible.” And the shame of changing your name —
Ruffalo: Yes. To be that honest and to say that I pretended like I wasn’t his father. It’s so shameful. It’s so honest.
Ingelsby: I think because he’s so honest, it makes the forgiveness even more impactful. When he says, “I forgive you,” you believe because he’s earned the trust in the speech by admitting the things that were so shameful .
Ruffalo: It doesn’t just go one way — forgiveness. There’s a lot of shame on it on the other side, that’s where the anger comes from. There’s always this question: What could I have done? The backstory was I left, knowing that he was in an episode, but I had to go. I left her with him, thinking it would blow over. And it didn’t. He has to also be honest about his part in it. What dad says, “That’s not my kid. You’re in retreat already.”
Ingelsby: That’s what we want the ending to be. It’s not that everything’s going to be easy. I think the same for Mare — it wasn’t like Mare’s life was so great at the end of the show. There was a lot of going on.
Ruffalo: She’s going to an AA meeting. Tom and Mare can meet at an AA meeting.
Tom Pelphrey as Robbie Prendergrast, a garbage collector trying to avenge his brother’s death by hitting trap houses belonging to a local gang before getting caught in a deadly standoff. (HBO)
Mark Ruffalo, Silvia Dionicio and Phoebe Fox in “Task.” Ruffalo plays a priest-turned-FBI agent who hasn’t confronted his feelings about the murder of his wife at the hands of their adopted son. (HBO)
To that point, was there thought about whether to incorporate “Mare” characters in this show, if they’re in the same universe?
Ingelsby: It’s funny you say that. [In] one of the early scripts, we had a scene where Emily (Silvia Dionicio), at the end of the show, went to a concert with her boyfriend, Leo, the guy that’s a magician. And Mare’s daughter, Siobhan (Angourie Rice), was playing. And there was another connective piece I’m missing. I think Leo’s brother was in the band. And they had a moment together, because I felt like Emily and Siobhan were very, very similar. That they had the weight of the world on their shoulders in some way, Emily especially —
Ruffalo: They’re well suited for each other. They could just sink to the bottom of the lake together.
He’s got a crossover season mapped out for you.
Pelphrey: If we hold hands, we can sink faster.
Ingelsby: But we did have something connecting them. But I’m glad HBO read it and were like, “Is it a bit much?” It felt like maybe we were reaching to do something that the story didn’t require. And when we took it out, I felt like this story exists on its own, and we didn’t need that. If we had threaded it through the story in a more interesting way, maybe it would have worked, but it would have felt really tacked on and kind of just fan service for the sake of fan service, which I didn’t want.
Can we talk about the Phillies cup? It’s seems like such an obscure detail, but that cup triggered me. I know it well. A father trying to hide his vice.
Ingelsby: That’s another detail of my own life that I can repurpose, steal. That’s my dad. He drinks out of that. He watches every Phillies game. There’s 162 games. And if he can’t watch, he’s listening to it in a radio in the car. I feel like we always talk about in the specific, is the universal. And Mark did the swirly thing.
Ruffalo: That’s what made me want to do the show. That he was drinking out of that. And then he swirled his hand. I said, “This guy is writing character like nobody is doing that I’ve seen in television.” I only read the first episode and I was like, “I want to go. I trust this journey with him.” And it was from that nuance thing. I know that guy. He’s a priest who swirls his vodka and tonic with his finger. In a Phillies cup. And he thinks he’s pulling it over. That’s my family. It’s so honest.
The accent was such a feature of “Mare of Easttown.” I imagine that had its own expectations or pressure for this show.
Ingelsby: “Mare” was more a community — very, very specific community. I felt like, in that show, we had to go all in and Kate did. A lot of Mark’s character was driven by my uncle, who has no accent at all. Because he went to the seminary, then he went to Merrimack College, he was a teacher — he bounced around. And even me, there’s a couple words I’ll say that you can’t pick up a heavy accent. There’s a couple words, where maybe you could pick it up.
Ruffalo: We tried. I tried it. I kept kicking it out, it just didn’t feel right. He does hit some of those words. He does say wooder — cheery wooder ice. We kept some of it in, but we didn’t go as hard at it because he goes another way. I feel like he might have ended up in South America at some point. I was thinking he traveled the world.
Did you pay many visits to Wawa? I remember Kate telling me about her Wawa experiences.
Pelphrey: I grew up going to Wawa. I was Wawa all the time because I was living out in the suburbs.
Ingelsby: I think Kate ate hoagies or something.
Pelphrey: They make a good sandwich.
Ruffalo: Oh, bro. I started with a fat suit and then I had to take it off. I just kept getting fatter. My wife saw me and she’s like [to the kids], “huh, your father’s eating his way through Philly.” But, man, I’d be like, “How about a sandwich for the scene?” [Mimics scarfing down a sandwich.] Like a troll.
Ingelsby: He is an amazing sandwich eater. We were talking about it.
Pelphrey: We were.
Ruffalo: Oh, I knew I was going to be eating a sandwich that day [in a scene], so I starved myself so I could just plow that thing.
Are you interested in a Season 2, Brad?
Ruffalo: No one wants a Season 2. [the trio laughs] No, I’m kidding. That would be amazing.
Ingelsby: It would be amazing. If people respond and we get a chance to do it.
Could we get that “Task”-”Mare” crossover?
Ingelsby: A lot could happen.
Ruffalo: Some “Mare” people could show up. There could be a love affair.
LAS VEGAS — Aaron Mahan is a lifelong Republican who twice voted for Donald Trump.
He had high hopes putting a businessman in the White House and, although he found the president’s monster ego grating, Mahan voted for his reelection. Mostly, he said, out of party loyalty.
By 2024, however, he’d had enough.
“I just saw more of the bad qualities, more of the ego,” said Mahan, who’s worked for decades as a food server on and off the Las Vegas Strip. “And I felt like he was at least partially running to stay out of jail.”
He’s no Trump hater, Mahan said. “I don’t think he’s evil.” Rather, the 52-year-old calls himself “a Trump realist,” seeing the good and the bad.
Here’s Mahan’s reality: A big drop in pay. Depletion of his emergency savings. Stress every time he pulls into a gas station or visits the supermarket.
Mahan used to blithely toss things in his grocery cart. “Now,” he said, “you have to look at prices, because everything is more expensive.”
In short, he’s living through the worst combination of inflation and economic malaise he’s experienced since he began waiting tables after finishing high school.
Views of the 47th president, from the ground up
Las Vegas lives on tourism, the industry irrigated by rivers of disposable income. The decline of both has resulted in a painful downturn that hurts all the more after the pent-up demand and go-go years following the crippling COVID-19 shutdown.
Over the last 12 months, the number of visitors has dropped significantly and those who do come to Las Vegas are spending less. Passenger arrivals at Harry Reid International Airport, a short hop from the Strip, have declined and room nights, a measure of hotel occupancy, have also fallen.
Mahan, who works at the Virgin resort casino just off the Strip, blames the slowdown in large part on Trump’s failure to tame inflation, his tariffs and pugnacious immigration and foreign policies that have antagonized people — and prospective visitors — around the world.
“His general attitude is, ‘I’m going to do what I’m going to do, and you’re going to like it or leave it.’ And they’re leaving it,” Mahan said. “The Canadians aren’t coming. The Mexicans aren’t coming. The Europeans aren’t coming in the way they did. But also the people from Southern California aren’t coming the way they did either.”
Mahan has a way of describing the buckling blow to Las Vegas’ economy. He calls it “the Trump slump.”
::
Mahan was an Air Force brat who lived throughout the United States and, for a time, in England before his father retired from the military and started looking for a place to settle.
Mahan’s mother grew up in Sacramento and liked the mountains that ring Las Vegas. They reminded her of the Sierra Nevada. Mahan’s father had worked intermittently as a bartender. It was a skill of great utility in Nevada’s expansive hospitality industry.
So the desert metropolis it was.
Mahan was 15 when his family landed. After high school, he attended college for a time and started working in the coffee shop at the Barbary Coast hotel and casino. He then moved on to the upscale Gourmet Room. The money was good; Mahan had found his career.
From there he moved to Circus Circus and then, in 2005, the Hard Rock hotel and casino, where he’s been ever since. (In 2018, Virgin Hotels purchased the Hard Rock.)
Mahan, who’s single with no kids, learned to roll with the vicissitudes of the hospitality business. “As a food server, there’s always going to be slowdowns and takeoffs,” he said over lunch at a dim sum restaurant in a Las Vegas strip mall.
Mahan socked money away during the summer months and hunkered down in the slow times, before things started picking up around the New Year. He weathered the Great Recession, from 2007 to 2009, when Nevada led the nation in foreclosures, bankruptcies soared and tumbleweeds blew through Las Vegas’ many overbuilt, financially underwater subdivisions.
This economy feels worse.
Over the last 12 months, Las Vegas has drawn fewer visitors and those who have come are spending less.
(David Becker / For The Times)
With tourism off, the hotel where Mahan works changed from a full-service coffee shop to a limited-hour buffet. So he’s no longer waiting tables. Instead, he mans a to-go window, making drinks and handing food to guests, which brings him a lot less in tips. He estimates his income has fallen $2,000 a month.
But it’s not just that his paychecks have grown considerably skinnier. They don’t go nearly as far.
An admitted soda addict, he used to guzzle Dr Pepper. “You’d get three bottles for four bucks,” Mahan said. “Now they’re $3 each.”
He’s cut back as a result.
Worse, his air conditioner broke last month and the $14,000 that Mahan spent replacing it — along with a costly filter he needs for allergies — pretty much wiped out his emergency fund.
It feels as though Mahan is just barely getting by and he’s not at all optimistic things will improve anytime soon.
“I’m looking forward,” he said, to the day Trump leaves office.
::
Mahan considers himself fairly apolitical. He’d rather knock a tennis ball around than debate the latest goings-on in Washington.
He’s not counting on much. “I’m never convinced of anything,” Mahan said. “Until I see it.”
Something else is poking around the back of his mind.
Mahan is a shop steward with the Culinary Union, the powerhouse labor organization that’s helped make Las Vegas one of the few places in the country where a waiter, such as Mahan, can earn enough to buy a home in an upscale suburb like nearby Henderson. (He points out that he made the purchase in 2012 and probably couldn’t afford it in today’s economy.)
Mahan worries that once Trump is done targeting immigrants, federal workers and Democratic-run cities, he’ll come after organized labor, undermining one of the foundational building blocks that helped him climb into the middle class.
“He is a businessman and most businesspeople don’t like dealing with unions,” Mahan said.
There are a few bright spots in Las Vegas’ economic picture. Convention bookings are up slightly for the year, and look to be strengthening. Gaming revenues have increased year-over-year. The workforce is still growing.
“This community’s streets are not littered with people that have been laid off,” said Jeremy Aguero, a principal analyst with Applied Analysis, a firm that provides economic and fiscal policy counsel in Las Vegas.
“The layoff trends, unemployment insurance, they’ve edged up,” Aguero said. “But they’re certainly not wildly elevated in comparison to other periods of instability.”
That, however, offers small solace for Mahan as he makes drinks, hands over takeout food and carefully watches his wallet.
If he knew then what he knows now, what would the Aaron of 2016 — the one so full of hope for a Trump presidency — say to the Aaron of today?
Mahan paused, his chopsticks hovering over a custard dumpling.
Welcome to Screen Gab, the newsletter for everyone who spent the week belting “You Don’t Own Me” with the same gusto as an empowered ex-wife dressed in white.
Diane Keaton died this week at age 79 at her Los Angeles home. The L.A. native had a career that spanned more than five decades and included a wide-ranging and indelible list of performances in films such as “The Godfather” saga, “Annie,” Baby Boom,” “Father of the Bride” (and its sequel), “The First Wives Club,” “Something’s Gotta Give,” “The Family Stone” — the list goes on and on. Take a moment to read film editor Joshua Rothkop’s illuminating snapshot of Keaton’s life. Of course, her legacy goes far beyond the performance. Times film critic Amy Nicholson wrote how Keaton showed us how to dress up our insecurities and embrace the kooky. And if you want to take a dive into her oeuvre, we have a roundup of 10 Keaton performances worth watching. Pluto TV is featuring an on-demand collection called “Remembering Diane Keaton,” with 15 of her most beloved films available to stream anytime.
And speaking of women who leave a lasting impression — this week saw the return of Keri Russell as Kate Wyler, the highly competent seasoned foreign service officer, with the arrival of “The Diplomat’s” third season. The Netflix series has spent its time tracking the career diplomat’s journey being primed to assume the role of vice president. Its backdrop storyline of an aging president who is expected to pass the torch to a younger female vice president — and the chaos that ensues when the plan is upended — may have real-world parallels, but the show’s creator, Debora Cahn, whose other credits include “The West Wing” and “Homeland,” insists the series is not a commentary. She stopped by Guest Spot to discuss the political thriller.
Also in this week’s Screen Gab, our streaming recommendations are an eclectic pair: a documentary that chronicles the 60-year movement to convert abandoned railroads into public spaces around America and, for those looking to make their viewing of Guillermo Del Toro’s take on “Frankenstein” a double-feature kind of night, we make the case for a ‘90s gory horror-comedy twist on the legend.
ICYMI
Must-read stories you might have missed
Diane Keaton arrives at a news conference at the 40th Cannes Film Festival to introduce her feature directorial debut, “Heaven,” in 1987.
Recommendations from the film and TV experts at The Times
A view of the Island Line Trail in “From Rails to Trails.”
(PBS)
“From Rails to Trails” (PBS.org)
Trains ran close to where I grew up, and I’m still stupidly excited whenever I see one in action. There are fewer now than there were then, but part of their romance is the alternative routes they carved through the land. “From Rails to Trails” documents the 60-year movement to transform abandoned rail lines — which is to say, most rail lines — into paths for biking and hiking, turning them into linear public parks, making the countryside accessible but also remaking urban spaces. It’s a movement not without its opponents, its reversals and consequences, including the gentrification that can follow them. But this often moving hour-long documentary is a paean to old-fashioned coalition building and community activism — needed now more than ever — and the success of a new idea many now take for granted. Former Vermont governor Howard Dean and former Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg chime in. New voice of the everyman Edward Norton narrates. — Robert Lloyd
“Frankenhooker” (Pluto TV, Tubi)
The lament of “The Bride of Frankenstein” is that the heroine herself is only onscreen for a few minutes. Get your fix by watching Frank Henenlotter’s “Frankenhooker.” This sleazy-brilliant 1990 romp is so clever it ranks (severed) head and shoulders with the black-and-white classics. An inventor, Jeffrey (James Lorinz), is bereft over losing his fiancée Elizabeth (Patty Mullen) to a freak lawnmower accident. He vows to rebuild his future bride — but hotterr. “I can make you the centerfold goddess of the century,” Jeffrey says with a leer. The real vanity is his. He wants a sexy, mindless babe. Henenlotter (also of the schlock hit “Basket Case”) claimed he didn’t think deeply about the subtext of his horror movies, a feint that dates back farther than George A. Romero pretending “Night of the Living Dead’s” martyred Black hero wasn’t a comment on race. They’re both fibbers. “Frankenhooker” is a giddy, popcorn-chomping comment on the disposability of women, especially the sex workers Jeffrey murders for spare parts. But what brings it to life is Mullen’s uproarious resurrected sexpot. Stomping around wearing a purple bra and a ghastly sneer, she belongs to no man — ring on her finger or not. Make it a double feature with Guillermo Del Toro’s terrific new “Frankenstein” in theaters this week. — Amy Nicholson
Guest spot
A weekly chat with actors, writers, directors and more about what they’re working on — and what they’re watching
Allison Janney as Grace, Rufus Sewell as Hal Wyler and Keri Russell as Kate Wyler in Season 3 scene from “The Diplomat.”
(Alex Bailey / Netflix)
Will the U.S. ever be ready for a female president? Time will tell. But “The Diplomat” has provided its contribution to the list of fictional ones. The Netflix drama, a fast-paced look at the art of diplomacy, stars Keri Russell as Kate Wyler, a newly-appointed U.S. ambassador to the United Kingdom who is tapped from the ranks of career diplomats to be quietly prepped to become vice president. The plan, of course, hasn’t gone as expected. In the whirlwind final moments of last season, the president dies and suddenly the person Kate was enlisted to push out, Vice President Grace Penn (Allison Janney), is whisked into duty — just as Kate has discovered the VP is responsible for hatching a terrorist plot. The show returned for its third season earlier this week and explores the aftermath as Penn is sworn in as president. Here, creator Debora Cahn shares what she was interested in unpacking in Season 3’s marriage dynamics, orchestrating a “West Wing” reunion and the time she met former Vice President Kamala Harris. There are some mild spoilers ahead, so bookmark for later if you haven’t begun the season! — Yvonne Villarreal
What did you want out of Kate’s journey this season? Her professional ambitions are once again tested by her marriage. Hal keeps claiming it’s Kate’s time to be in the spotlight and yet he manages to steal it.
We wanted to look at how it happens that someone like Hal winds up in the spotlight even when he’s desperately trying not to; the circumstances that surround decisions like this, which make it such that even the people in the middle of them don’t really have any control over it. You can look at what Grace is doing, and you can understand why she thinks Kate is fantastic, but that the choice, in terms of what’s going to make it easier for her to get through the day, is Hal. And we didn’t want to have a science fiction White House where there are two women happily running the country. That’s just not the world that we’re living in. And it felt like the most honest thing that we could do is tell a story about what it means to be really qualified and really experienced and really ready, and then watch it all slip away at the last second.
The season includes a delightful “West Wing” reunion, a show you wrote for. Allison Janney returns as VP-turned-President Grace Penn and Bradley Whitford portrays her husband, Todd. What was it like to see them back together onscreen? And what did you want their marriage dynamic to say?
It was like first day of school jitters for the first day that each of them was on set. We really wanted to make sure that this was something new and it wasn’t a reference to the work that we’d done together in the past. And the second they started, it was just clear that we were watching a new relationship that these two great actors were building together and informed by the fact that they know each other quite well and that they’ve been good friends for 20 years, but using that to create something new and fresh and really, really satisfying.
This is a marriage that has some very similar structural dynamics to Kate and Hal, but there are some fundamental differences, which is, there was never an assumption that Todd’s career could continue to function alongside Grace’s once she became vice president; and certainly when she becomes president, there’s no question that will become the focus for both of them. And so there are dynamics that Kate and Hal still wrestle with, which we see are kind of absolved with Todd and Grace. And in some ways that helps, and in some ways it doesn’t help.
We’re looking at a couple that’s 10 years farther down the road in their marriage and have made, in some ways, a more pragmatic decision about what it means to have two smart, capable people with careers existing at the same time. Their decision is that one of them isn’t going to exist right now. I think the thing that I enjoy most about both Hal and Todd is that these are people who really, really, really love their wives and really want to be supportive and they still fail or they struggle so, so mightily. We’ve talked about this before: I don’t like writing villains. I don’t want to write politicians that have bad values or selfish goals. I also don’t want to write people in a marriage who don’t give a s— about each other. I would much rather look at the much larger problem, which is, you do really care about each other. You do really want the best for each other, and you still can’t manage to make it happen.
Allison Janney as President Grace Penn and Bradley Whitford as First Gentleman Todd Penn in “The Diplomat.”
(Clifton Prescod / Netflix)
“The Diplomat” premiered in a different political climate from the one it’s in now. The show is not a direct commentary on what’s happening now, but how does the current reality, particularly as it relates to what those in civil service are facing, inform how you think about or build stories moving forward? What sorts of questions are you asking now of people who work in the government?
We write a story two years before the audience watches it, so we we don’t want to be making a direct commentary. Even if we did, the world is moving so fast, we couldn’t try and keep up. But we do want to be in the foreign policy headspace that the world is in, and try to be looking at what are the bigger questions and bigger conflicts that face people who are working in this field. We think a lot about the fact that 300,000 people were fired from the federal government. We think a lot about what it’s like to work for this administration and — I’m trying to figure out what to say without getting into Season 4, which I don’t want to do. It doesn’t inform the specifics of any of the stories that we’re telling, but it does inform the worldview and the bigger questions that face people in this field as the field changes. As the world changes.
You’re writing about people whose job it is to make hard decisions every day. What was the hardest decision you had to make for this third season — either in the writing phase or the production phase?
We moved the base of production from the UK back to New York. The first two seasons we were based in the UK, and then for Season 3, we did half and half. There were a lot of really good reasons for that. It also meant that we had a crew that grew this organism with us — and we were very close to them; they had huge influence on the show — and leaving them behind was really, really terrible. It’s a tough time in the film and television industry right now, and we felt pretty good about bringing jobs back to this community. That was something that was important to us and we really wanted to do. So, we are comfortable with the decision that we made, but, boy, it sure wasn’t fun making it and going through it. It’s people’s livelihood. It’s not a small thing.
Former Vice President Kamala Harris recently released a book chronicling her whirlwind and brief campaign as a 2024 presidential candidate. Have you read it?
I have not read it. But did I tell you about when we met her?
No. Tell me. You were also filming this third season during the election, right?
We were we were shooting it during the election. We were writing it during the election. And we we were worried about how it was going to look. We didn’t want it to look like a commentary on this presidency. But we did have a female vice president that we liked a whole lot, and a male president that we really loved and was of a certain age and didn’t make it through the process — the dynamics kept getting more and more troubling.
Keri and I were at the [White House Correspondents’] Dinner. And there was a receiving line, and we met and shook hands with the president and the first lady and the vice president and the second gentleman. And I said, “Ma’am, I’m writing a story about what it’s like for a woman who’s really experienced and really smart and really capable and really ready to do a job who then gets passed over for someone who is perhaps less qualified.” And she laughed. Then she said, “Call me.”
Have you called?
I have not called. I felt like she had some stuff going on. I didn’t really want to bother her and say, “Heyyyyy … let’s talk about how that went …”
What have you watched recently that you are recommending to everyone you know?
“Dying for Sex” [Hulu, Disney+]. It was brutal and intense and very funny and extremely well-written. And I just thought what they did from a public health service perspective, sharing practical information about what it actually means to go through the process of death, I thought it was just a huge public service.
What’s your go-to “comfort watch,” the movie or TV show you go back to again and again?
“Postcards from the Edge” [VOD] — it is just so smart and so funny and both Shirley MacLaine and Meryl Streep are just absolutely to die for.
Historians looking back at UCLA’s 2025 football season will peg the Penn State game as the Bruins’ first victory.
In ways both large and small, they will be wrong.
When Tim Skipper first took over the team a month ago, he placed a new opponent on the schedule: the locker room. The interim coach showed players pictures of how it should look, including the lockers and the surrounding floor.
They scrubbed the place and it’s been spotless ever since. Sort of like the Bruins’ play starting with that Penn State game.
“I think a clean locker room makes you a lot happier,” Skipper explained this week. “It shows team discipline and it shows you can win off the field, so now you can go ahead and get on the field.”
Skipper’s other primary motivational device — besides his highly transmissible energy — has been slogans. He started by telling his players to strain, to give everything they had in the pursuit of winning. After the Bruins beat Penn State, he asked players whether they were one-hit wonders. Now, his players having established they know what it takes to win following a smackdown of Michigan State, he’s asking them to maintain their approach.
At their Sunday meeting, the Bruins saw their new mantra — the standard is the standard — on a big screen.
“We have identified a style of play that we want to be, and it’s our job now to keep the standard the standard, you know, play with that fanatical effort, play with fundamentals, being smart, you know, all those things we just have to continue to do,” Skipper said. “But it’s not like something that’s just going to show up on Saturday. You have to practice about it. You have to work on it and not just talk about it.”
Can the Bruins keep it up after two consecutive victories? Here are five things to watch Saturday afternoon at the Rose Bowl when UCLA (2-4 overall, 2-1 Big Ten) faces Maryland (4-2, 1-2):
Until recently, no one would have mistaken Arianna Barrios for a wokosa.
The Orange city council member comes from O.C. Republican royalty. Her grandfather, Cruz, was a Mexican immigrant and civil rights pioneer who registered with the GOP in the late 1940s after Democratic leaders wouldn’t help him and other activists fight school segregation against Mexican American students in Orange County. Her second cousin, Steve Ambriz, was a rising GOP star serving on the Orange City Council when he was killed by wrong-way driver in 2006.
The 55-year-old has helped Republicans on policy and handled communications for the Orange County Taxpayers Assn. and the Richard Nixon Foundation. Friendly, smart, quick-witted and a total goodie-goodie, she corrected me last fall when I introduced her to my Chapman University history students as a Republican. To my surprise, the Orange native proclaimed that she has never been a Republican — she started out as a Democrat and is now an independent.
And that’s not the first surprise she’s sprung on me. Her recent rise as one of O.C.’s most vocal politicians opposing President Trump’s deportation machine has been unexpected — and welcome.
She called out her council colleagues in July for not approving a resolution that would have required federal immigration agents to remove their masks and wear IDs within city limits. She connects young activists to legal and financial resources and has participated in neighborhood patrols alerting people that la migra is coming. She has accompanied Orange residents to hearings at Adelanto’s immigration court and hosted a two-part video series for the civic affairs group Orange County Forum on how the U.S. got to this moment in immigration.
Why, Barrios has become so radicalized that she used the hash tag #brownwar throughout the summer and into the fall when posting immigration-related stories on Facebook. That stopped after her husband, an anti-Trump Republican, suggested it was a bit much.
You would expect this of a politician from an O.C. city with a progressive streak, like Santa Ana, Anaheim or even Laguna Woods. But not from Orange, whose city fathers have long cast it as a slice of small-town Americana free from big-city problems or national issues.
And definitely not from Barrios, whose demeanor is usually more baseball mom than strident activist.
“I’ve been asked multiple times, ‘What’s up with Arianna? This is not her,’” said Orange Councilmember Ana Gutierrez, who has seen ICE agents invade her street twice. “Well, when she cares about something, she’s loud.”
Working with Barrios on pro-immigrant actions is “like talking to a young person,” said 20-year-old Chapman student Bianey Chavez, who belongs to a local youth activist group. The two connected at a protest in their hometown’s picturesque Orange Circle. “It’s fresh air for someone of her age and power to be so open-minded and helpful.”
Anaheim Councilmember Natalie Rubalcava, who has known Barrios for over a decade, said she had “never heard Arianna speak on any issue like this in the past. But it’s great. Maybe she just felt empowered at this point. Maybe anger just boiled up in her, and she couldn’t be quiet anymore.”
That’s exactly what happened, Barrios told me over breakfast at a Mexican café in Old Towne.
The immigration raids that have rocked Orange County as hard as L.A. “just hit all of those buttons,” she said. Wearing a blouse decorated with orange poppies, the bespectacled Barrios looked every bit the polite pol that O.C. leaders had taken her to be. “Not only is it just patently unfair, it’s just so wrong. And it’s so inhumane.
“And one of the things that I can’t stand — and one of things I taught my kids — is if you see a kid being bullied, my expectation of you is that you go up to that kid and you go protect them.”
Councilmember Ariana Barrios holds up a vest and hat she bought from Amazon while arguing about the dangers of ICE imposters.
She credits what her father jokes is “an overactive sense of justice” to her grandparents, who ran a corner store in Santa Ana in the 1940s. Barrios Market became a meeting place for the families who helped organize the 1946 lawsuit that ended Mexican-only schools in California.
Their granddaughter didn’t know any of that history until her 20s, because her upbringing in 1980s Orange County was “like a John Hughes movie.”
“We didn’t even really think of ourselves really as, like, Hispanic — I mean, we all were, but it wasn’t the end-all be-all,” Barrios said. “We were all trying to be Valley girls.”
Living in Nacogdoches, Texas, for a few years in the 1990s “woke her up” to anti-Latino racism. But after returning home to find county and state officials passing anti-immigrant laws, she didn’t join the resistance, as many Latinos of that era did. Instead, Barrios focused on starting on her career in communications and later raising two sons.
“I remember even having my own stereotypical thoughts about [illegal immigration], not really understanding what the experience was, how people got here,” she said.
Things began to change as Barrios worked for school districts “making sure that kids had access. I didn’t care about their status.” It became personal once she was appointed to the Rancho Santiago Community College District Board of Trustees in 2011 and met refugees as well as recipients of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, which grants a reprieve from deportation to some immigrants who came to the U.S. as children. She hired some at her PR firm.
The council member brought up the 1986 immigration amnesty that Ronald Reagan signed and an unsuccessful 2001 bill co-sponsored by the late U.S. Senator Orrin Hatch (R-Utah) that would have created a pathway to citizenship for people who came to this country without papers as minors.
“That’s what’s so odd about where we are right now,” Barrios said. “The two biggest programs, to get people to protected status and to legal resident status, came out from under Republicans.”
After winning another four-year term in 2024, Barrios figured she’d spend her time trying to fix Orange’s fiscal crisis, especially because she thought “so much of what [Trump] was promising on immigration was rhetoric.”
An onslaught of federal immigration raids in the L.A. area starting in June made her realize things would be different. What finally sparked her furor was when federal agents handcuffed U.S. Sen. Alex Padilla after he crashed a June news conference featuring Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem.
“All of this garbage about [Noem claiming], ‘I didn’t know who he was and he didn’t identify himself’ was bulls—,” she said. “It was just bulls—. But if you’re willing to do that, you’re willing to do anything. There are no limits.”
She admits to sometimes “los[ing] my cool” while speaking out against Trump and his deportation deluge, arguing it’s necessary to spark change in a place like Orange, which has a long history of anti-Latino sentiment. Within walking distance from her home is a former movie theater where Latinos were forced to sit in the balcony into the 1950s. In 2010, the City Council tried to ban day laborers and voted to support an Arizona law that made it legal for local law enforcement to question people about their immigration status.
It’s history Barrios knows and cites now but that barely registered with her back then.
“If people want to be nasty to me, I can’t stop them,” she said. “But I can try and explain where I’m coming from so that, as I told my sister once, it’s not for the person I’m talking to, it’s [for] everybody who’s watching the fight.”
Her husband — who joined her at a No Kings rally during the summer and will join her this weekend at one she helped organized — feels “nervous” about her newfound advocacy, she said.
But her late grandfather and her father, a Democrat who was the first Latino elected to the Orange Unified school board, wouldn’t have hesitated to protest against Trump’s cruelty, she said. “They wouldn’t even think twice about it.”
Barrios asked for a to-go box for her chorizo and eggs, which she barely touched during our hourlong chat. Then she reached into a cream-colored Kate Spade purse to pull out red cards.
“Know Your Rights,” they read, delineating what people can and can’t do if la migra asks them questions.
“I carry these all the time,” she said, leaving some on the table. “I see people and go, ‘Here you go. Just take some, OK?’”
BALTIMORE — Oriole Park at Camden Yards, the home of the Baltimore Orioles, is located a short walk from M&T Bank Stadium, where the Rams began an extended road trip on Sunday with a 17-3 victory over the Baltimore Ravens.
For much of this week, the baseball stadium will serve as the Rams’ home away from home as they prepare for Sunday’s game against the Jacksonville Jaguars at Wembley Stadium in London.
This is not the first time that the Rams have played an away game and then remained in the city before traveling abroad.
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Gary Klein breaks down what went right for the Rams in their 17-3 win over the Baltimore Ravens as they prepare to play the Jaguars in London on Sunday.
In 2017, coach Sean McVay’s first season, the Rams defeated the Jaguars in Jacksonville, Fla., and then stayed in town before traveling to defeat the Arizona Cardinals at Twickenham Stadium in London.
Two years later, the Rams beat the Falcons in Atlanta, and then remained there for a few days before traveling to London and defeating the Cincinnati Bengals at Wembley Stadium.
Several players said they would rely on the Rams’ training staff to help them modify weekly routines that include massage, acupuncture and other bodywork sessions with California providers outside of the organization.
Rams safety Quentin Lake noted that last season, the Rams stayed in Arizona for a few days before they played the Minnesota Vikings in an NFC wild-card game that was moved from SoFi Stadium because of wildfires in Pacific Palisades and Altadena.
“You’re in an unfamiliar environment and … it’s just the team and staff,” Lake said Sunday, adding, “Nothing truly is going to change in terms of our routine. … Honestly I love it because it’s fun.
“It’s fun for us to be in a different environment and really just lock in on football and focus on the task at hand.”
Last week, McVay and several players said that while adjustments were necessary for a long trip, none were too onerous.
The Rams are practicing this week at Oriole Park at Camden Yards in Baltimore before heading to London.
(Terrance Williams / Associated Press)
During the Rams’ first two trips abroad, McVay was neither married nor a father. This time, McVay said that his wife, Veronika, who has roots in the region, and son, Jordan, would make the trip to Baltimore.
“I’ll keep it as normal as possible,” McVay said. “What I like about these things is you get a chance to be around the guys a little bit more because of the nature of what this trip entails. … I try to keep a normal rhythm and routine.
“You just might be in a different location, but we have the film, we have the field and most importantly, we have the players. We’ll be in good shape.”
For quarterback Matthew Stafford “the biggest thing is not being in your own house, not having your family around, all that kind of stuff,” he said.
“I won’t be sleeping in my own bed and I won’t be doing some of the things that I’m accustomed to doing,” he said. “I just change location, really. What I would do maybe at home I’ll do wherever our setup is when we stay there.”
Receiver Davante Adams, a 12th-year pro in his first season with the Rams, said that he once was part of an extended trip that included a game in New Orleans and then a stay in Sarasota, Fla., before playing in Jacksonville. But this will be the first time Adams will be on an extended trip that includes a game in London.
It will be different, Adams said, because he has “a lot of different checkpoints and things throughout the week that I do locally. It’s going to be different for me for sure.”
Especially being away from family.
“The main thing for me is just being away from my kids, honestly more than anything,” he said. “That’s a big part of my healing process and mentally throughout the week just resetting, going home, spending time with them and my wife. Not having that element. … I mean, we’ll get through it.”
This will be the first extended trip that will end in London for defensive lineman Kobie Turner and other young players. Turner said he and his wife grew up about an hour outside Baltimore, so they were looking forward to spending time this week with his wife’s family.
“It will be interesting to see how it all plays out,” he said.
When Diane Keaton was 11, her father told her she was growing into a pretty young woman and someday, a boy would make her happy. She was horrified. One boy? Keaton — then going by her birth name of Diane Hall — needed to be loved by everyone. It was an early sign that she was meant to be an actor.
“Intimacy meant only one person loved you, not thousands, not millions,” Keaton wrote decades later in her 2011 memoir “Then Again.” Like drinking and smoking, she added, intimacy should be handled with caution.
“I wanted to be Warren Beatty, not date him,” Keaton confessed, romancing fellow artists as long as their relationship was mutually stimulating and then after that, remaining friends. “I collect men,” she jokingly told me when I interviewed her a decade ago, referring to a photo wall in her Los Angeles home of fellows she admired, including Morgan Freeman, Abraham Lincoln, Gary Cooper and John Wayne. She wanted an excuse to add Ryan Gosling and Channing Tatum, so I suggested a love-triangle comedy as a twofer. “No! Not one movie!” Keaton exclaimed. “I want to keep my career going.”
Just as she hoped, millions of us did fall in love with Keaton, who died Saturday at age 79. She captivated us for over 50 years, from awards heavy-hitters to a late-career string of hangout comedies that weren’t about anything more than the joy of spending time with Diane Keaton, or in the case of her 2022 body swap movie “Mack & Rita,” the thrill of becoming Diane Keaton.
In her final films, including “Summer Camp” and the “Book Club” franchise, Keaton pretty much only played variations of herself, providing reason enough to watch. I looked forward to the moment her character fully embraced looking like Diane Keaton, writing in my otherwise middling review of “Mack & Rita” that the sequence in which she “picks up a kooky blazer and wide belt is presented with the anticipation of Bruce Wayne reaching for his cowl.”
I wanted to be Diane Keaton, even if she wanted to be Warren Beatty.
The contradiction of her career is that the things we in the audience loved about her — the breezy humor, the self-deprecating charm, the iconic threads — were Keaton’s attempts to mask her own insecurities. She struggled to love herself. Even after success, Keaton remained iffy about her looks, her talent and her achievements. In interviews, she openly admitted to feeling inadequate in her signature halting, circular stammers. That is, when she’d consent to be interviewed at all, which in the first decade of her career was so rare that Keaton, loping across Central Park in baggy pants to the white-on-white apartment where she lived alone, was essentially a movie star Sasquatch.
Journalists described her as a modern Garbo. “Her habit is to clutch privacy about her like a shawl,” Time Magazine wrote in 1977, the year that “Annie Hall” and “Looking for Mr. Goodbar” established Keaton as a kooky sweetheart with serious range. I love that simile because she did refer to her wardrobe as an “impenetrable fortress.” The more bizarre the ensemble — jackets over skirts over pants over boots — the less anyone would notice the person wearing it.
Odd ducks like myself adored the whole package, including her relatable candor. She showed us how to charge through the world with aplomb, even when you’re nervous as heck.
Once young Keaton decided she wanted to perform, she set about auditioning for everything from the church choir and the cheerleading squad to the class play. But her school had a traditionally beautiful ingenue who landed the leads. This was Orange County, after all. Keaton would go home, stare at the mirror and feel disappointed by her reflection. She dreamed of looking like perky, platinum blond Doris Day. Instead, she saw a miniature Amelia Earhart. (She’d eventually get a Golden Globe nomination for playing Earhart on television in 1994.)
Keaton stuck a clothespin on the tip of her nose to make it smaller, and acted the part of an extrovert: big laugh, big hair and, when she stopped liking her hair, big hats. By age 15, she was assembling the bold, black and white wardrobe she’d wear forever and her taste for monochrome clothes was already so entrenched that she wrote Judy Garland a fan letter wondering why Dorothy had to leave Kansas for garish Oz. She might have been the only person to ever ask that question.
Not too long after that, Keaton flew across the country to New York where several things happened in short succession that would have puffed up anyone else’s ego. The drama coach Sanford Meisner gave her his blessing. The Broadway hit “Hair” gave her the main part (and agreed she could stay fully clothed). And “The Godfather,” the No. 1 box office hit of 1972, plucked Keaton from stage obscurity to give the fledgling screen actor its crucial final shot, a close-up.
Keaton made $6,000 for “The Godfather,” less than a quarter of her salary for the national deodorant commercial she’d shot a year earlier. Her memories from the set of the first film were uncharacteristically terse. Her wig was heavy, her part was “background music” and the one time Marlon Brando spoke to her, he said, “Nice tits.”
Nevertheless, Keaton’s Kay is so soft, friendly and assured when she first meets the Corleone clan at a wedding, sweetly refusing to let her boyfriend Michael dodge how the family knows the pop singer Johnny Fontane, that it’s heartbreaking (and impressive) to watch her become smaller and harder across her few scenes. But Keaton says she never saw the finished movie. “I couldn’t stand looking at myself,” she wrote in “Then Again.”
Woody Allen put the Keaton he adored front and center when he wrote “Annie Hall.” He wanted audiences to fall in love with the singular daffiness of his former girlfriend and it worked like gangbusters. It’s my favorite of his movies and my favorite of hers, and there’s just no use in pretending otherwise, as obvious of a pick as it is. Even now that I know the Annie Hall I worship is a shy woman putting on a show of being herself, the “la-di-dah” confidence she projects makes her the most precious of screen presences: the icon who feels like friend.
But I wonder if Allen also made “Annie Hall” so that Diane Keaton could fall in love with Diane Keaton just as he had. Maybe if she saw herself through his eyes, it could convince her that she really was sexy, sparkling and hilarious. But Keaton only watched “Annie Hall” once, in an ordinary theater well after it opened, and she found the experience of staring at herself miserable. She never absorbed her lead actress Oscar win. “I knew I didn’t deserve it,” she said. “I’d won an Academy Award for playing an affable version of myself.”
Nearly herself, that is. The onscreen version of Keaton is stumped when Alvy Singer brings her a copy of the philosophical tome “Death and Western Thought.” But a decade later, Keaton directed “Heaven,” an entire documentary about the subject, in which she asked street preachers and Don King and her 94-year-old grandmother how they imagined the afterlife. (As in Allen’s movie, her grandmother actually was named Grammy Hall.)
“Heaven” is an experimental film that’s heavy on dramatic shadows and surreal old movie footage, the sort of thing that would play best on an art gallery wall. It flopped, as test screenings warned it would, cautioning Keaton that her directorial debut only appealed to female weirdos — people like her. Keaton isn’t a voice in the film. Yet, that she made it at all makes every frame feel personal, and you hear her affection for the cadence of her occasionally tongue-tied subjects. Her first interviewee stutters, “Uh, heaven, heaven is, uh, um, let me see.” Exactly how Annie Hall would have put it.
Today more than ever, I’m wishing Keaton had been comfortable turning her camera on herself. I’d have liked to watch her explain where she thinks she’s gone, however adorably flustered the answer. But in her four memoirs, she safely bared all in print, openly confronting her harsh inner critic, her battle with bulimia, and — yes, Alvy — her musings on death.
“I don’t know if I have the courage to stare into the spectacle of the great unknown,” Keaton wrote in 2014’s “Let’s Just Say It Wasn’t Pretty,” sounding as apprehensive as ever. “I don’t know if I will make bold mistakes, go out on a blaze of glory unbroken by my losses, defy complacency, and refuse to face the unknown like the coward I know myself to be.”
At last, a sliver of confidence peeks out. “But I hope so.”
More than two decades after their peak, the music of Yellowcard is a pop punk message in a bottle. The note that washed ashore from a simpler time describes the image of a young, sharply-dressed band full of aspirations, thrashing on their instruments — violin included — in the echoey tomb of an underground parking garage in the music video for “Ocean Avenue” as the chorus kicks into overdrive.
“If I could find you now, things would get better, we could leave this town and run forever, let your waves crash down on me and take me away,” frontman Ryan Key sang ecstatically at the top of his lungs.
That hit song, the title track of 2003’s “Ocean Avenue,” created a tidal wave of success that changed the course of their career from struggling artists to a world-touring headliner and darlings of MTV’s Total Request Live.
“The first time it happened, we were really young,” Key said, gingerly grasping a spoon with his heavily tattooed hand while stirring a cup of hot tea. “We were quite literally a garage band one minute, and then we were playing on the MTV Video Music Awards and David Letterman and whatever else the next minute.”
It’s a moment that hasn’t escaped his memory 22 years later. Now, he and his bandmates — violinist Sean Mackin, bassist Josh Portman and guitarist Ryan Mendez — are far from the ocean but not too far from water as they look out at a sparkling pool from the window from a suite at the Yaamava’ Resort and Casino in Highland. A couple hours from now, the band will play a splashy pool party gig for 98.7 ALT FM. The set will include a raft of all the old hits, including “Ocean Avenue” of course, as well as their first new songs in almost a decade.
Before the release of the first singles for the new album, “Better Days,” it might’ve been easy to write off their 11th album as another release destined to be overshadowed by their early catalog. However, with the right amount of internal inspiration and outside help from Blink 182 drummer Travis Barker, who produced and played all the drums on the album, the result was a batch of new songs that haven’t simply been washed out to sea. Quite the opposite, actually.
Prior to the album’s release, the title track “Better Days” reached No. 1 on the Billboard Alternative Airplay chart. This achievement came after a 22-year wait since their first appearance on the chart with the “Ocean Avenue” single “Way Away.” Key also notes that it’s the first time fans are using the band’s new music for their TikTok videos instead of “Ocean Avenue.”
“That’s crazy,” Key said. “Everyone is using ‘Better Days.’ I don’t think we’re alone in that. I think for bands in our scene, new music is getting a lot of love and a lot of attention again, and it’s amazing to see.”
It’s been about three years since the band reemerged to play a reunion set at RiotFest in Chicago, following their 2017 farewell show at the House of Blues in Anaheim. At the point they were ready to call it quits, the band was struggling to sell enough tickets to their shows to keep the dream alive. For Mackin, fatherhood forced him to also consider his family’s financial stability, prompting him to enter the corporate workforce as a sales rep and eventually becoming a service director for Toyota. At one point, he was responsible for managing 120 employees. “I just thought that was going to be what I was going to do to take care of my family for the next 20 years,” Mackin said.
After Yellowcard’s hiatus, Key continued playing music in several projects that distanced themselves from the pop punk sound — including recording solo work under his full name William Ryan Key, touring with bassist Portman at his side. Key also produced a post-rock electronic-heavy project called Jedha with Mendez, and the pair also does a lot of TV and film scoring work. For a long time, Key and his bandmates mourned the loss of what they had with Yellowcard. It was the most important thing in Key’s life, though he said he didn’t realize how much the band truly shaped him until it was over.
During their hiatus, band members took day jobs. One member managed 120 Toyota employees before the 2022 Riot Fest reunion reignited their passion.
(Joe Brady)
“Ungrateful is not the word to use about how I felt back then. It’s more like I didn’t have the tools to appreciate it, to feel gratitude and really let things happen and and stay in the moment and stay focused. Because I was so young, I was so insecure about my place, my role in all of it,” Key said.
But after some time away, the raucous 2022 Riot Fest reunion show relit the band’s fire in a way they hadn’t expected. They followed up with a 2023 EP “Childhood Eyes” that pushed the band to take things further with a new full album. Along with these plans came the stunning news that Barker would sign on to produce and play drums for them on the project. For a band that grew up idolizing Blink 182 and Barker specifically as the band’s red-hot engine behind the kit who spent the last 20 years evolving into a music mogul, it was a surreal experience.
“We look at him like a general. It was never lost that the best drummer of our generation is playing drums with us,” Mackin said. “We know him as Travis now, but man, this guy is just oozing talent — he’s doing all these amazing things and he doesn’t seem overrun by it, not distracted one bit. While we were recording, he was right there with us.”
Key says he was initially intimidated singing in front of Barker in the studio and had a few moments where negative, self-conscious thoughts were getting the better of him in the vocal booth during recording. Instead of getting annoyed, he says Barker helped ease his anxiety with a few simple words.
“Travis came into the booth, closed the door, put his hand on my shoulder, and he said, ‘You’re gonna do this as many times as you need to do it. I’m gonna be here the whole time.’” Barker was truly speaking from experience. He told Key at the time that he’d just recorded 87 rough takes of his parts on “Lonely Road,” his hit song with Jelly Roll and MGK. “That was a real crossroads for me,” Key said.
The aspect of the album that feels most akin to “Ocean Avenue” was that Barker never really allowed them to overthink anything when it came to songwriting, a skill the band had unwittingly mastered as kids back in the “Ocean Avenue” days by writing songs on the fly in the studio with little time to care about how a song might end up before they recorded it.
“There’s something about the way we did this record with Travis, where we would walk in and did it in a way we haven’t done in 20 plus years with him saying ‘We’re gonna write and record a song today,’” Key said. “ It was a return to that style of songwriting where you have to kind of get out of your comfort zone and just throw and go.”
The final product moves swiftly over 10 songs, the track list starts with a flurry of energy from the bombastic opening drums of “Better Days” that propel a song on inner reflection on the past. It moves on to the high-energy heartbreak of “Love Letters,” featuring Matt Skiba of Alkaline Trio. Avril Lavigne lends her soaring vocals to the unrequited love song “You Broke Me Too.” Songs like “City of Angels” and “Bedroom Posters” track episodes in Key’s life where his band’s hiatus took a negative toll on his outlook on life but also about looking for a way back to rediscovering himself. The album wraps with the acoustic lullaby “Big Blue Eyes,” which Keys wrote as a tribute to his son.
Though the songs on “Better Days” frequently wrestle with self-doubt and uncertainty, the response from fans has been surprisingly supportive, Key said.
“I cannot recall seeing this level of overwhelming positive feedback. People are just flipping out over these songs,” the frontman said. “The recording was such a whirlwind. When I listen to it, it’s still kind of like ‘When did I write that song?’ It happened so fast, and we made the record so fast, but I’m glad we just did it.” Despite the success, Key is hesitant to label the band comeback kids, “probably because we are officially passed kids label,” he said.
“Maybe it’s the return of the gentlemen?” Mackin joked.
Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker produced the album, helping the band recapture the spontaneous energy that defined their 2003 breakthrough “Ocean Avenue.”
(Joe Brady)
Whatever they call themselves, coming back to the band after so many years of different experiences has made Yellowcard’s second shot at a career feel all the more rewarding.
“Because you feel like you know you’re capable of something other than being in this band, capable of connecting with your family in a way that you couldn’t when you were on the road all the time,” Mackin said. “There’s things that happened in that break that set us up for success as human beings, not just as creative people.”
For Key, it’s about taking all the lessons they’ve learned as a band and applying them to their future, realizing that the album’s title refers not just to the past behind them, but what lies ahead.
“This record needed to be the ultimate revival, the ultimate redemption song for our band,” Key said. “And so far it’s, it’s proven to be that.”
