violence

A solitary man believes he’s been wronged by a vast, overarching system. Feeling helpless to take it on directly, he picks up a gun and violently confronts the most powerful person he can think of who embodies his grievance.

It is a chilling dynamic that keeps repeating itself in American culture, and one at the heart of “American Hostage,” a dramatic miniseries making its debut Sunday on MGM+.

The eight-episode series re-creates the true story of Tony Kiritsis, an Indianapolis man who, in 1977, kidnapped Richard O. Hall, a mortgage broker whose family Kiritsis blamed for his own financial hardships.

The standoff lasted 63 hours, during which Kiritsis kept a shotgun attached by wire to Hall’s neck, and it became a national media spectacle. Throughout the crisis, Kiritsis made live calls to Fred Heckman, a local AM radio news broadcaster, pleading to listeners for the justice he believed he was due.

A half-century after this incident, not even the creators and stars of “American Hostage” can say for certain why we find stories like this so compelling — or why they keep happening in real life.

“We haven’t quite figured this situation out,” said Jon Hamm, who plays Heckman in “American Hostage” and is one of its executive producers.

Jon Hamm plays Fred Heckman, a radio news broadcaster, in “American Hostage” and is an executive producer.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

The “Mad Men” star — no stranger to period pieces — said that beneath its retro production values and wide lapels, “American Hostage” is fundamentally about how people who feel voiceless in our society fight to be heard, even if the means is violence.

“There’s a lot that really resonates in the current media landscape and culture 50 years down the road, that people can still really connect with,” Hamm said.

Hamm and his colleagues hardly need to argue that point when the nation has been fixated on the case of Luigi Mangione, who in August pleaded guilty to federal charges in the December 2024 killing of Brian Thompson, the chief executive of UnitedHealthcare.

Though work on “American Hostage” had begun before Mangione’s crimes and the show was not inspired or motivated by them, series co-creator Shawn Ryan said that audiences have a boundless fascination with these types of stories — with or without any counterparts in current events.

“Dramatically, it’s always very interesting to see somebody do the wrong thing for the right reason,” Ryan said.

The TV series originated with a 2022 scripted podcast, produced by Criminal Content and also called “American Hostage,” on which Hamm also played the role of Heckman. It told of how Kiritsis, an Army veteran, enacted the kidnapping on his belief that the Hall family had swindled him on his mortgage — a loan for land where he had hoped to build a shopping center.

While Kiritsis sought to use Hall’s life as a bargaining chip for prosecutorial immunity, he also portrayed himself as an underdog taking on powerful financial interests. On the other end, Heckman wrestled with the moral predicament of giving airtime to a potential murderer while hoping to keep Hall alive. (Hall survived the ordeal and Kiritsis, acquitted of his crimes by reason of insanity, was later institutionalized.)

In the spring of 2022, Hamm approached Ryan, the creator of TV thrillers like “The Shield” and “The Night Agent,” with the idea of adapting the “American Hostage” podcast into a miniseries.

Ryan created the TV adaptation with Eileen Myers, a collaborator of his on shows like “Last Resort” and “Mad Dogs.” They both saw in the source material a story that was a combination of classic 1970s films like “Network” and “Dog Day Afternoon.”

(In a parallel development, Kiritsis’ story was also adapted into the Gus Van Sant film “Dead Man’s Wire,” which was a box-office disappointment earlier this year.)

Ryan and Myers said they were fascinated with how the American news media covered the kidnapping in instantaneous fashion and in an era long before the internet. In the 1970s, Ryan said, “There were fewer journalists and they were better and more trusted, and if Walter Cronkite said something, you believed it.”

Shawn Ryan, Jon Hamm and Eileen Myers executive produce the TV adaptation of “American Hostage.” Hamm approached Ryan, who brought in Myers to co-create and co-showrun the series.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

The question that journalists like Heckman were confronted with, Myers said, was, “Do you allow a man who’s got a shotgun to somebody’s head dictate the terms of whether you’re going to put them on the air or not?”

Hamm, who has played alluring if ultimately disreputable characters on “Mad Men” and now Apple TV’s “Your Friends & Neighbors,” said he appreciated that “American Hostage” gave him a character who an audience can feel good about rooting for.

“I thought, I’m 55 years old,” Hamm said. “I was close to Fred’s age when this all went down. It was fun to play somebody morally conflicted that is actually on the good side.”

With some hesitation, Hamm pointed to the career trajectory of Bryan Cranston, who followed his celebrated heel turn on “Breaking Bad” with projects like “All the Way,” the play and TV film about President Lyndon B. Johnson.

“I don’t want to draw a comparison that’s stretching the bounds of reality,” Hamm said, “but Bryan went from Walter White to LBJ. You go, ‘All right — he’s still morally conflicted, but at least he’s on the right side of things.’”

“American Hostage” also benefited from the casting of Giovanni Ribisi (“Saving Private Ryan,” “Avatar,” “Sneaky Pete”), who brings a blend of volatility and humanity to the role of Tony Kiritsis.

Hamm recalled how Ribisi was in the midst of shooting another project — the upcoming Prime Video miniseries “The Greatest,” about Muhammad Ali — when he agreed to do a reading for “American Hostage” over Zoom.

“He brings value to every project he does, and he’s picky, as he should be,” Hamm said. “He’s a phenomenal DP — he might just go be a camera person or something if he wants to do it. So we were lucky to get him.”

Giovanni Ribisi plays Tony Kiritsis, the man who kidnapped Richard O. Hall. “So we were lucky to get him,” Hamm said.

(Steven Ackerman / MGM+/Sony Pictures Television)

There are of course unavoidable parallels between the stories of Kiritsis and Mangione, including the fact that both men were celebrated as folk heroes by some people who identified with their broader resentments.

But Hamm drew a crucial distinction between the two cases: Mangione “killed a guy,” he said. “He shot a man in cold blood. Like, I don’t care how good your point is. That’s not how we do it.”

Going back to the Boston Tea Party, Hamm said, every era of American history has had its dissidents who feel “wronged and done over by a system that is stacked against you” and are willing to take aggressive actions against it.

Hamm said that feeling persists and thrives today. “I think this is a big part of the rise of Trumpism,” he said. “I think this is a big part of the rise of the MAGA mentality, of ‘I have been done wrong and no one is hearing my complaints.’”

When those feelings go unaddressed for long enough, Hamm said, people will come to accept a certain amount of lawlessness from the figures they feel can solve their problems.

“We have a guy in the Oval Office right now who thinks that the laws don’t apply to him and a Supreme Court that said, ‘Yeah, they don’t — you can do whatever you want,’” he said.

For supporters of President Trump, Hamm said, “I think it’s fun for them to be able to flout the law and say, ‘Who cares?’ and all the things that they’re currently saying, but it’s not the principles that we were founded on.”

Hamm and Ryan make no secret of the fact that they’d like to keep “American Hostage” going as an anthology series and explore more of what Hamm called “these watershed moments of American life, to see how they rippled and how we got here from there.”

One could certainly imagine other events that would fit the show’s interest in real-life hostage crises that became media spectacles — the 1974 abduction of Patty Hearst; the 1963 kidnapping of Frank Sinatra Jr. — though Hamm kept any specific plans for the series close to the vest.

Perhaps the upper limits they face are the hours in a day to make and to broadcast the show.

“We’re living in great times right now for television,” Hamm said. “There’s so many opportunities to tell stories. Almost too many.”

NEW YORK CITY: About 4,100 Palestinians have been displaced across the West Bank so far this year as a result of demolitions and settler violence, UN deputy spokesperson Farhan Haq said on Thursday.

He warned of a sharp rise in demolitions in the Masafer Yatta area of the southern West Bank in recent days. The Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs said Israeli authorities demolished 20 homes and other structures, including a water cistern and solar panels, in two Palestinian herding communities there on Tuesday.

This activity, and demolitions in a nearby third community on Wednesday, displaced nearly 60 people, half of them children, and affected a further 30 seasonal residents. Many of the destroyed properties were built with donor support, Haq said.

Masafer Yatta is home to about 1,200 Palestinians in 13 communities, all of whom have been under pressure to leave after Israeli authorities designated the area a “firing zone.”

Haq said humanitarian officials have reported increased violence by Israeli settlers targeting those communities following the establishment in recent years of settlement outposts nearby.

Representatives of the UN and its humanitarian partners visited Masafer Yatta on Tuesday to speak with displaced residents who are receiving emergency shelter, food, hygiene items, baby products and psychosocial support, Haq said.

Across the West Bank, he added, about 1,500 Palestinians have been displaced so far this year as a result of demolitions, and more than 2,600 have been displaced by settler violence and related access restrictions.

WASHINGTON — An armed assailant charged toward the Democratic candidate for Ohio governor, Amy Acton, on Sunday during a campaign stop at the Canfield Fair, injuring several people before he was stopped by troopers, the Ohio State Highway Patrol said.

The Highway Patrol said in a statement that a man it identified as Patrick Havas, 38, forced his way through a crowd, knocking over members of the audience as he moved toward Acton, the state’s former public health director. He had a taser and two pistols, the statement said.

The Mahoning County Sheriff’s Office said two handguns and a set of brass knuckles were recovered after his arrest, and “no weapons were ever brandished or even removed from their holsters.”

Havas was taken to the county jail and booked on charges of disorderly conduct and two counts of assault, the Highway Patrol statement said, adding that no other details were available pending an investigation. Online court records didn’t yet list the case, and it wasn’t clear as of Sunday night whether Havas has an attorney.

Republican Gov. Mike DeWine said in a statement that the man “tried to forcefully push himself” toward Acton as she was speaking at the fair in Canfield, in northeastern Ohio.

“Violence or the threat of violence at political or public events is always unacceptable,” DeWine added.

The attack is the latest act of political violence to roil the United States. The Ohio gubernatorial contest is one of the most high-profile races this year as the campaigns enter the final six weeks of campaigning before the election in November.

Acton is facing Republican Vivek Ramaswamy, who has parlayed his national name recognition from his 2024 presidential run, tech industry connections and alliance with President Trump into a record fundraising haul that he is tapping for advertising spots. He is using campaign rallies and advertising to criticize Acton.

Ramaswamy’s campaign called Sunday’s attack unacceptable.

“Candidates should be able to meet with voters without having to worry about threats or violence. What happened today is completely unacceptable and has no place in politics, and we hope that no one was hurt,” Ramaswamy’s communications director, Connie Luck, said in a statement Sunday.

Addie Bullock, communications director for Acton’s campaign, said in a statement that the assailant lunged at Acton. She said the candidate “will always stand up to the chaos, hate and vitriol that pits us against one another.”

The incident brought condemnation from Ohio Republican Sen. Jon Husted, who said on X that he and his wife were “disturbed by the attempted attack on Amy Acton today at the Canfield Fair. We are grateful for law enforcement’s quick response. There is no place for this kind of behavior, and it must never be tolerated.”

The country has seen a rise in political violence over the last decade, including assassination attempts against Donald Trump at a rally in 2024 and at the White House Correspondents Assn. dinner in April, and the Jan. 6, 2021, riot by a pro-Trump mob at the U.S. Capitol.

Other examples include a 2017 shooting at a Republican congressional baseball team practice in Alexandria, Va., a 2022 hammer assault on then-Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s husband at the couple’s San Francisco home, and the fatal shootings last year of a Democratic Minnesota state lawmaker and her husband and of conservative commentator Charlie Kirk in Utah.

Federal political committees spent more than $40 million on expenses labeled as security during the 2023-24 campaign cycle, the most recent one for which data are publicly available, according to a report released in April from the Public Service Alliance, a nonpartisan group that focuses on security for public officials.

Before running for governor, Acton had been recruited by DeWine in 2019 to lead the Ohio Department of Health while serving as an associate professor of public health at Ohio State University. As the COVID-19 pandemic ramped up in early 2020, she was thrown into the state and national spotlight — becoming a source of comfort to many viewers of the governor’s daily news conferences.

For her service as health director, Acton earned the John F. Kennedy Library Foundation’s Profile in COVID Courage Award, the Columbus Foundation’s Spirit of Columbus Award and Ohio State’s highest alumni honor, the Alumni Medalist Award.

Her position as the face of the DeWine administration’s aggressive stance against the coronavirus also earned Acton many enemies, among them statehouse Republicans and conservative Ohioans who opposed pandemic public health restrictions.

Fields writes for the Associated Press. AP writer Ryan J. Foley in Iowa City, Iowa, contributed to this report.

A pair of top executives are out at Good Good Golf less than two weeks after the content creator and apparel brand posted, then deleted, an ad that has been highly criticized for making light of violence toward women.

Good Good chief executive officer Matt Kendrick and president Joe Flannery have left the company, multiple media outlets reported Wednesday. Business Insider published an internal staff memo from chief operating officer Alex Puchala that announced the departures without mentioning the controversial ad for the Good Good Callaway Quantum Driver.

Kendrick was one of the co-founders of the company, which started as a YouTube channel in 2020, and has since become one of golf’s biggest content creators. He told Front Office Sports late last month that he did not see the video before it was posted and added that he wasn’t in the practice of approving every one of the company’s social media posts.

Flannery was a recent hire whose first day on the job was Aug. 21, the same day the ad dropped.

“Effective today, Matt has decided to step down as CEO of Good Good and Joe has chosen to part ways as well,” Puchala wrote. “This is a difficult day for the entire Good Good family. Matt helped build something extraordinary that exceeded all expectations and continues to bring countless new fans to the sport. What began as a small group of friends playing golf is now a growing global community.”

Company co-founder Nahid Giga will serve as interim CEO, Puchala wrote. Neither Puchala nor Good Good immediately responded to requests for comment.

The ad depicted a man, played by Good Good co-founder Garrett Clark, shoving a woman to the ground as she reaches for one of his golf clubs. “Do not touch my new driver,” he says as he stands over her. Clark remains with the company as part of the creator team, according to Puchala’s memo.

Both Good Good and Callaway issued apologies for the ad in the days following its deletion. Clark also posted a lengthy video on social media in which he apologized for “the worst ad known to man.”

“This is not at all what we stand for,” Clark said. “… I want everyone to know that I do not support [domestic violence], abuse or any of that of any kind.”

On Aug. 27, Callaway announced it had cut ties with Good Good after a three-year business relationship and committed $1 million “to support organizations working to prevent violence against women, provide resources to survivors, and advance education and awareness efforts.”

The next day, Kendrick criticized Callaway in a post on his X account.

“Interesting that @CallawayGolf asks us to make an ad then approves it then asks us to take the fall then drops us in a coordinated media blitz and covers it up by giving a million dollars away thinking everyone will be ok with it,” Kendrick wrote.

He took a much more reserved approach related to the split with Callaway when talking to Front Office Sports the same day.

“They severed ties with us. We completely understand that position and this is a situation no one wants to be in,” Kendrick said. “And we apologize to everyone for being in this position, and I apologize to Callaway that all of us are here. I understand everyone’s position and I get it.

“We loved being with Callaway for a long time. They were nothing but great to us the entire time we were together. I just hate that this is how it ended.”

Long gone are the days of Mexican Americans’ alienation from Mexico — at least, if the Mexican government can help it.

On Sunday, hundreds of spectators gathered inside the Orpheum Theatre in downtown Los Angeles to watch the United States semifinals for “México Canta,” a binational music competition for rising artists from the U.S. and Mexico, organized by the latter’s Ministry of Culture.

Seven participants of Mexican descent from across the U.S. braved the stage with original songs, in what can only be described as a heartfelt singing contest, without the scorn of nitpicky judges or behind-the-scenes melodrama, but rather a zealous crowd made up of all age groups.

Voting was handed over to the public, as the segment broadcast live on public television across the United States and Mexico. Over 300,000 individuals tuned in to cast a vote to advance the top three contestants: Tiffany Galaviz, Joshua Soto and Rosalba Valdez. They will go on to compete in the grand finale of México Canta on Sept. 13 at the Auditorio Nacional in Mexico City for a chance at a record deal.

“There’s always that saying that if you’re Mexican American, you’re not Mexican enough, but I think that’s wrong,” said 18-year-old Soto, a Bronx native whose musical theater background and deep R&B groove gave depth to the bilingual country-corrido “Terco Callejero.”

“Ever since I was little, my parents always showed me my culture, my roots. It’s in my blood. It’s in the traditions that I follow and the music that I listen to every day,” added Soto, who is enrolled in New York University’s vocal performance program in music theater.

For 27-year-old semifinalist Valdez — a Chicagoan whose signature red hair and bedazzled fringe fit distinguished her onstage, as she sang her merengue-infused tune “Por Bonita” — being Mexican American is both a huge privilege and responsibility.

“When I was younger, I used to think the opposite, because of what our community went through,” said Valdez. “Now I see it as a superpower. [Being Mexican American is] something that I want more people to understand has power. We can create a lot of change when we realize the power that we have.”

Over 300,000 individuals tuned in live to cast a vote for the top three contestants: Joshua Soto, Tiffany Galaviz and Rosalba Valdez

(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)

Speaking to The Times, Mexico Secretary of Culture Claudia Curiel de Icaza, stressed the importance of binational programming — adding that she believed that the singing contest can unite young people across the U.S.-Mexico border.

“We cannot think that we are merely divided by territory. Culture transcends borders, music transcends borders,” she said. “We are separated, but ultimately there is an extremely intimate and rich cultural development because culture has been the space of resistance, of resilience.”

As host and singer, Majo Aguilar — granddaughter of Mexican film and music legends Antonio Aguilar and Flor Silvestre — ushered vocalists on and off the stage. Large screens lit up with educational stories of the legacy of Mexican nationals, such as Pedro J. González, one of the first Spanish radio broadcasters in the U.S.

The show also paid homage to American-born individuals who have elevated Mexican music: including Texas-born Gloria Ríos, who helped pioneer rock ’n’ roll in Mexico in 1956 and Arizona-born Linda Ronstadt, whose 1987 album “Canciones de Mi Padre” became the bestselling non-English language record in U.S. history.

This year, the contest placed an emphasis on música mexicana. According to Spotify, global streams of the genre have grown by 295% since 2021; in the U.S. alone, its popularity has grown by 162% since 2021.

In large part, its popularity has been driven by corrido tumbados, or songs which blend traditional Mexican folk with trap, often underscoring street life, “the hustle” and the riches that can follow.

Its most prominent acts include Junior H, Fuerza Regida and Peso Pluma. These were the biggest streaming Latin musicians in the U.S. in 2024, just below reggaeton superstar Bad Bunny — yet none of these popular música mexicana artists were recognized during the competition.

“Mexican music is among the most consumed worldwide and it’s a matter of choosing a genre where young people feel identified and music that transcends borders,” said Curiel de Icaza. “And no, we are not censoring it.”

México Canta began in 2025 as state-sponsored programming to promote musical narratives beyond themes of violence and drug-trafficking.

Besides banning the use of artificial intelligence and other audio alterations, the contest did not permit “songs that glorify violence or drug use.” Failure to comply with the rules would result in disqualification for contestants.

“More than banning, it’s about educating, guiding, and getting young people to stop listening to that music,” President Claudia Sheinbaum said in a news conference last year when the program was first introduced.

President of Mexico Claudia Sheinbaum speaks during the daily morning briefing at Palacio Nacional on Aug. 6, 2025, in Mexico City.

(Manuel Velasquez / Getty Images)

The singing competition comes at a time when 10 out of 32 Mexican states have implemented bans or limitations on corridos in public spaces; namely narcocorridos, or ballads that recount or glamorize elements of drug culture or organized crime.

Some lawmakers assert that the lyrics in these songs promote violence, including Mexico City lawmakers who, in May, passed a law barring the songs from being played at public events.

“The bans, which come amid President Trump’s hyper-focus on drug trafficking in Mexico, have sparked debates here about freedom of expression and state censorship and have raised provocative questions: Do narcocorridos merely reflect reality in a nation gripped by powerful drug gangs? Or do they somehow shape it?” wrote Times correspondent Kate Linthicum in a May 2025 article.

In May, the second edition of México Canta was announced during Sheinbaum’s daily news conference, generating online buzz when famed corrido tumbado singer Junior H vocalized support for the contest — while also lamenting his past musical choices.

“In my initial [career], some of the stories that I shared in my music didn’t add to the positive message that reflect my current compositions,” said Junior H, whose real name is Antonio Herrera Pérez, in the news conference. “I kept growing and I learned that music, besides being a form of expression, also implies a responsibility when millions of people hear you worldwide.”

The 25-year-old rose to fame through popular narcocorridos such as 2023’s “El Azul,” which is believed to be about Sinaloan drug lord Juan Jose Esparragoza Moreno; as well as his 2022 banda-fused track, “El Hijo Mayor,” which some speculate to be about the son of Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán.

“When you grow up, you have a career path and you see that you have an impact on young people, you start to mature and evolve your career,” Curiel de Icaza said of Junior H. “And you realize you want to go in a different direction, that’s when he understood and decided that it was better to focus on something else.”

During the news conference, Sheinbaum denounced the idea that the music contest was a form of censorship. Curiel de Icaza also refuted those claims: “We’re not prohibiting anything. Music will continue to exist, different voices exist and we’re not prohibiting or censoring songs.”

To help amplify the values of México Canta, organizers enlisted the help of Los Tigres del Norte, one of the most successful regional Mexican acts in the U.S. The night before the semifinals in L.A., Los Tigres performed with Gustavo Dudamel at the Hollywood Bowl.

The band closed Sunday’s competition with a performance of “México Sigue De Pie,” a new song that underscores the grit of the Mexican community. “They’re legendary,” Curiel de Icaza said of the band.

Coincidentally, the esteemed guests were early pioneers of narcocorridos: including their 1974 song “Contrabando y Traición,” which details a fictional drug trade tale of Emilio Varela and Camelia la Texana, as well as their 1978 track “La Banda del Carro Rojo,” which describes cocaine trafficking across the state lines.

But over the last decade, the band, too, has been advised by concert organizers in Mexico to avoid playing these types of songs when performing in certain venues, leading them to voice concern over the criticism of corridos — which they argue provide listeners with details over real-life truths, in the same way journalists engage in storytelling.

“We’re narrators of people’s lives,” bandleader Jorge Hernández told El País last year.

Fallout continued Thursday for content creator and apparel brand Good Good Golf over an ad that was supposed to promote a new Callaway driver but ended up being criticized for portraying violence against women.

Good Good announced it would no longer be the title sponsor of a new PGA Tour event in Austin, Texas, in the fall, saying in a statement that the decision came “after thoughtful discussions with the PGA Tour and careful reflection.”

“We recognize that we have work to do as an organization, and our focus right now is on our team, our culture and ensuring we learn from this situation,” the company wrote. “We are grateful for our relationship with the PGA Tour and appreciate their partnership over the years. We remain committed to earning back trust, and we hope to work together again in the future.”

The controversial ad for the Good Good Callaway Quantum Driver depicted a man, played by Good Good co-founder Garrett Clark, shoving a woman to the ground as she reaches for one of his golf clubs. “Do not touch my new driver,” he says menacingly as he stands over her.

The ad was posted on Friday and deleted hours later. Both companies issued apologies days ago, and Callaway announced Thursday it had cut ties with Good Good after a three-year business relationship.

Callaway also said it had “taken appropriate internal corrective actions and significantly strengthened” its content approval procedures and committed $1 million “to support organizations working to prevent violence against women, provide resources to survivors, and advance education and awareness efforts.”

“These actions do not undo the harm caused or excuse our role in it,” Callaway wrote. “We sincerely apologize to everyone who was hurt, disappointed, or offended by this incident.”

A day earlier, Clark posted a lengthy video on social media in which he apologized for “the worst ad known to man.”

“I personally want to apologize for playing the role in this skit, in this ad, at the magnitude that I did,” Clark said. “And then on Good Good marketing team’s behalf, I wanted to say an apology as well because this is not at all what we stand for. … I want everyone to know that I do not support [domestic violence], abuse or any of that of any kind.”

He added at the end: “Hopefully we can move on and grow the women’s side of golf.”

The PGA Tour has expressed disappointment over the video. Chief Executive Brian Rolapp told reporters on Tuesday that Good Good initially did not accept enough accountability for the matter.

Earlier this week, the Golf Channel postponed the premiere of reality show “Big Break x Good Good” because one of the sponsors wanted out. Also, Dick’s Sporting Goods and subsidiary Golf Galaxy removed Good Good’s merchandise from their stores.

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

The advertisement, which was released online last week before being pulled, prompted calls for a boycott of Callaway products.

Golf equipment giant Callaway has issued an apology, although largely in vain, after facing an immense backlash for an advertisement depicting violence against women, which has since been removed.

The commercial, which was released online last week before being pulled, showed a male golfer shoving a female player to the ground when she reaches for his new driver, and prompted calls for a boycott of Callaway products.

Callaway issued an apology for the advertisement, and Callaway chief executive Chip Brewer said in a statement on Tuesday that the company had launched an investigation into how the advertisement — produced by golf media firm Good Good Golf — had been approved.

“Last week Good Good Golf and Callaway posted a video to promote a co-branded driver,” Brewer said in a statement.

“While the video was produced by Good Good, it was approved by Callaway prior to posting. That approval should never have happened. Mistakes were made and we are taking the matter very seriously.

“As we deal with the consequences of our mistake and complete our investigations, I want to make it clear that we sincerely apologize for the video.

“The content was inappropriate and does not reflect our values. To be clear: we are unequivocally against discrimination, domestic violence or threatening behaviour of any kind … I assure you we will learn from this and do better.”

The online advertisement showed Good Good cofounder Garrett Clark shoving Epson Tour professional player Alexis Miestowski to the ground when she attempted to reach for his driver, before warning her: “Do not touch my new driver.”

Good Good Golf, which centres its business around a successful YouTube channel aimed at bringing a younger audience to the sport, had already apologised for the controversial advertisement.

“We posted a video to our channels that ultimately depicted actions that are not aligned with our values as a brand,” Good Good said in a statement.

“We have since taken that content down. And sincerely apologize. Good Good has always stood for making the game of golf more inclusive to all, and we will continue to ensure that is our mission moving forward.”

Good Good’s rise will see the company be the title sponsor for the PGA Tour’s inaugural Good Good Championship in Austin, Texas in November.

PGA Tour chief executive Brian Rolapp said on Tuesday the circuit was dismayed by the advertisement and Good Good’s handling of the controversy.

“I think what we saw was concerning, is clearly not aligned with PGA Tour values. We take it very seriously,” Rolapp said.

“I think their initial response was disappointing. It was a bit defensive and late.

“But I think the responses are getting better. We’ve seen some things this morning, we’ve had some conversations with them, so we’ll continue to monitor and work with them going forward. But no, we were disappointed with what we saw.”

Apology ‘isn’t good enough’

Online criticism has been aimed at representation, accountability, and decision-making surrounding the advertisement, in addition to domestic violence being promoted.

Social media users have questioned how the advertisement was greenlit to begin with, with many infuriated that it was removed only after backlash and not because either company realised how controversial it was.

One woman golfer on social media said the advertisement was a significant setback for women looking to break into the male-dominated sport, with many emphasising that the apologies from Callaway and Good Good Golf did not come across as genuine.

Several Callaway customers publicly renounced their loyalty to the brand after being appalled at the advertisement.

The backlash for the deleted video spilled over to other Instagram posts from both companies, where social media users continued to demand accountability and a more meaningful apology.

Island nation grapples with violence as it seeks to hold first elections in more than a decade.

At least 30 people have been killed as a new wave of violence grips Haiti.

A powerful gang coalition mounted the deadly attack on a farming community in Kenscoff, south of the capital, Port-au-Prince, late on Sunday, officials reported. The flare-up in violence comes as Haiti hopes to hold its first general election in more than a decade.

Jean Massillon, Kenscoff’s mayor, said armed men “sowed chaos” as they set homes on fire and killed residents.

He said gang members targeted a church and homes, including that of Jean William Pape, a leading public health expert.

Massillon blamed the attack on members of Viv Ansanm, a group that was designated as a “foreign terrorist organisation” by the United States government last year.

Gangs control an estimated 70 percent of Port-au-Prince. Viv Ansanm has repeatedly targeted Kenscoff, which occupies a strategic position overlooking routes into Petion-Ville, where several embassies, upscale hotels and ⁠the temporary seat of government are located.

A United Nations-backed gang suppression force is mandated to help police fight the gangs and restore order, but it has not yet reached its full capacity of 5,500 members.

According to the UN, gang violence has displaced 1.5 million people across Haiti. The violence has persisted despite efforts to rein it in. More than 3,100 people were reported killed and 1,189 injured from January to June as gangs continued a reign of terror in Port-au-Prince that sparked international concern last year.

Haiti’s prime minister’s office on Monday condemned the “heinous attack” and sought to reassure Haitians that security forces were on high alert and reinforcements were being deployed.

“Kenscoff will not be abandoned,” a statement read. “The government’s authority will be restored, ⁠without weakness and without delay.”

Haitians have been registering to vote in elections planned in January, but experts have warned it’s currently too dangerous to hold the vote.

The group exhibition “To Share a Stomach” is a bit like the children’s game Telephone, in which a phrase, whispered from person to person, inevitably comes out a bit garbled. Urgently conceived by curator Aram Moshayedi in March, on the heels of the latest U.S.-Israeli attacks on Iran, it features works envisioned by 25 Iranian artists that were fabricated with varying degrees of collaboration by 24 counterparts here in the U.S.

Hampered by significant internet blackouts, displacements and the loss of studios and artwork in Iran, as well as an extremely compressed timeline (just five months), the results are understandably rangy and uneven. Yet the show, now on view at the Brick through Sept. 19, is an achingly beautiful meditation on the difficulty of communication and the shared goodwill that intermittently, imperfectly, surmounts it.

Sina Ghadaksaz and John Ziqiang Wu, “What the Clouds Remember and the Mountains Forget,” 2026; Carmen Argote, “Aram’s sneakers: Mount Eynali,” August 6, 8–1030p.m., 2026; Mohammadreza Jahanshir, “Glory / 50904020,” 2026; Maryam Lashkari, Hodjat Salimi, and Oscar Tuazon, “Can You S…?,” 2026; Kelly Akashi and Mimi Amini with David Gutierrez, Matt Rademacher and Kazuki Takizawa, “The Anatomy of a Postponed Intent: The Glass Blade,” 2026; Fatemeh Kazemi and Olivia Mole, “The Conference of the Birds,” 2026, can be seen in the exhibition “To Share a Stomach,” at the Brick in Los Angeles.

(Ruben Diaz 2026)

None of the works address the recent bombardments directly, although the precarious context of ongoing threat, instability and struggle can be felt in almost all of them. Ducking into Maryam Lashkari, Hodjat Salimi and Oscar Tuazon’s interactive sculpture — an enormous cardboard tube lying on its side — feels like entering a culvert or a bomb shelter. Inside, one lies on a crude bed of felt blankets and dons a set of headphones; the sounds of jet planes, a party, conversations and emergency sirens are interspersed with an imperious voice reading a guided meditation on how to be present in one’s body during a bombing. The harsh realities of war are woven into the textures of everyday life, warping and fraying into something absurd. Viewers may scan a QR code for their own copy of the audio track, which deteriorates in sound quality with every download.

Slow disintegration also appears in a triptych of videos by Ismail Ghanbari (facilitated by Tala Madani but not credited as a collaboration). In the largest central one, we see Ghanbari holding two nearly destroyed boxing gloves as he explains how he trained so intensely for a performance in which he boxed for five hours that the gloves began to fall apart. Their tattered remnants, barely held together with patches and stitching, are poignant metaphors for a battered will that keeps fighting even as protections wear thin.

Vulnerability and violence also co-exist in Mimi Amini and Kelly Akashi’s collaboration: a sword made of clear glass. Hanging from the rafters, the tip of its blade points down ominously over viewers’ heads, emphasizing both the danger of the weapon and its fragility. If it fell, would it pierce one’s skull or shatter into bits? It exists suspended between latent violence and the risk of its own annihilation.

Fatemeh Kazemi and Olivia Mole, “The Conference of the Birds,” 2026; Fatemeh Kazemi, “What the Birds Did Not Tell Upon Their Return,” 2026, in the exhibit, “To Share a Stomach,” at the Brick in Los Angeles.

(Ruben Diaz 2026)

These impressions are responses to the works as they exist in the gallery, but the show has another layer, revealed in an accompanying booklet that reproduces the initial emails or texts from the Iranian artists to the curator. Interwoven with stories of life during wartime are proposals or instructions, allowing viewers to assess for themselves how much the works in the gallery reflect the artists’ original ideas. For example, the tube-bunker was initially envisioned as a “completely dark space” twinkling with a variety of malfunctioning countdown clocks. Ghanbari’s video appears in lieu of the gloves themselves, and Amini’s original digital rendering of the glass sword is much more detailed and intricate than the comparatively “low-res” version on view.

If we think of an artwork as an intentional, carefully wrought creation that comes directly from an artist, what are we to make of these incomplete, unfaithful interpretations? I was reminded of the reality TV show “Nailed It!,” in which amateur bakers fail spectacularly to reproduce complex cakes. I cackle at the distance between perfection and utter collapse, but I also feel a pang of tenderness: I am moved by their effort.

Artists, of course, are no strangers to things not going to plan. While the exhibit is enabled by the entwined ubiquity of the English language and the internet, the artists know these technologies aren’t transparent. Most of the Iranian artists left their instructions generously open-ended, inviting the interpretations and transmutations of their U.S. peers. In some cases, it seems the partners did not continue the conversation; whether due to disagreement, bombardment or government-imposed internet blackouts (described to chilling effect in an essay by Negar Karimkhani) is unclear. The U.S. artists were constrained by a very compressed timeline (and presumably budget and space) to fabricate and display the works. Even without these limitations, to hand over one’s vision to someone else, and conversely, to shoulder the responsibility for realizing it are both touching acts of trust.

Ali Ansari and Renée Petropoulos, “Between Entries”, 2026; Salman Khoshroo and Daid Roy, “Defensive Wall,” 2026; Ismail Ghanbari, “Proxy (Neyabati) 1,” “Proxy (Neyabati) 2,” “Proxy (Neyabati) 3,” 2026, on view as part of the exhibition, “To Share a Stomach,” at the Brick in Los Angeles.

(Ruben Diaz 2026)

Viewers must exert themselves a little too. Understanding who is responsible for what work and to what degree requires consulting a floor plan, a checklist and the booklet: an awkward juggling act that would have been eased by some wall labels. Still, as I shuffled papers, I became part of the buffering, incomplete chain of communication. As Amini wrote of the glass blade, “the perfection of this form is preserved only with the mental space shared between the conceptualizing artist and the interpreting artist.” I venture to add the viewer to that space, thinking of Yoko Ono’s instruction artworks (across town at the Broad) which short-circuit any physical acts of making to take shape only in our minds.

This kind of intimacy — thinking, envisioning, constructing together — is rare when it comes to American intersections with Iran. I was previously unfamiliar with the Iranian artists in the show, and I’m sure I missed many cultural and linguistic references in their works. My focus on pieces evoking violence predictably reflects my limited knowledge of Iran as other than a locus of U.S. antagonism (the result of a different information blackout).

Yet, “To Share a Stomach” lays down — gingerly, gently — an alternate connective thread, spun from a mutual recognition of fallibility. In his introductory essay, curator Moshayedi reveals that the show’s title is his mistranslation of the Farsi word for “empathy.” (The correct translation is “to share a heart.”) He goes on to confess that after many years’ study, he finally gave up on learning the language. We will never understand each other perfectly; I am still moved by the effort.