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Tom Stoppard, dead?

Surely, someone has made a hash of the plot. Yes, he was 88, but the Czech-born, British playwright, the true 20th century heir to Oscar Wilde, would never have arranged things so banally.

“A severe blow to Logic” is how a character describes the death of a philosophy professor in Stoppard’s 1972 play “Jumpers.” But then, as this polymath wag continues, “The truth to us philosophers, Mr. Crouch, is always an interim judgment … Unlike mystery novels, life does not guarantee a denouement; and if it came, how would one know whether to believe it?”

Few people were more agnostically alive than Stoppard, who loved the finer things in life and handsomely earned them with his inexhaustible wit. A man of consummate urbanity who lived like a country squire, he was a sportsman (cricket was his game) and a connoisseur of ideas, which he treated with a cricketer’s agility and vigor.

Stoppard announced himself with “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead,” an absurdist lark that views “Hamlet” from the keyhole perspective of two courtiers jockeying for position in the new regime. The influence of Samuel Beckett was unmistakable in the combination of music hall zaniness and existential ruthlessness that characterized the succession of early plays that merged the Theatre of the Absurd with a souped-up version of Shavian farce.

Simple wasn’t Stoppard‘s style. The Fellini-esque profusion of “Jumpers” includes warring philosophy professors, a retired chanteuse and a chorus of acrobats, set within the frame of murder mystery that owes a debt to the gimlet-eyed social satire of Joe Orton. “Travesties,” Stoppard’s 1974 play, is built on the coincidence that James Joyce, Dadaist Tristan Tzara, and Vladimir Lenin all happened to be in Zurich during World War I — a cultural happenstance that paved the way for a dizzying alternative history, in which art faces off against politics. (Art, no surprise, wins.)

Wordplay, aphorisms and bon mots were Stoppard’s signature. Not since “The Importance of Being Earnest,” a play that Stoppard revered the way a mathematician would regard the world’s most elegant proof, has the English stage experienced such high-flying chat. Yet he acquired a reputation as a dandy, a clever humorist and an intellectual showman, distinctly apolitical and seemingly a man of no convictions.

The latter charge he no doubt would have taken as a compliment. He prided himself on having a mind unstained by certainties. But he was aware of the criticism of his work as intellectually brilliant but emotionally brittle. Virtuosity, in language and dramatic structure, was his great strength. But also perhaps his weakness — a weakness for which many lesser writers would no doubt sell their souls.

“Rosencrantz and Guildenstern” and “Travesties were indeed master manipulations of plot and language. They were also breaths of fresh air that won Tony Awards for best play and established Stoppard as a transatlantic force. It would have been perfectly natural for him to continue in this vein, but his writing took a more personal turn in “The Real Thing,” a play about a playwright learning both to write about love and to take in and appreciate its complex reality.

New York Times theater critic Frank Rich called “The Real Thing” “not only Mr. Stoppard’s most moving play, but also the most bracing play that anyone has written about love and marriage in years.” The 1984 Broadway premiere, starring Jeremy Irons and Glenn Close under the direction of Mike Nichols, won Tony Awards for its leads, Nichols’ direction, Christine Baranski’s featured performance and best play. It was Stoppard’s third such honor, and it would not be his last.

But the criticism didn’t end there. (Is it any surprise that in “The Real Inspector Hound,” his 1968 one-act, Stoppard imagined a scenario in which a critic is killed by the play he’s reviewing?) Stoppard’s cleverness, while the source of his fame and prestige, was intimidating to some and off-putting to others. Not everyone goes to the theater to be wowed by verbal pyrotechnics or daredevil plot high jinks. The blinding brilliance of his plays left theatergoers still squinting to see whether his work had much of a heart.

Stoppard ranged freely over a variety of dramatic modes. (It was this ability that made him such a valuable screenwriter and script doctor, earning him not only wealth but also a shared Oscar for the screenplay “Shakespeare in Love.”) But he had no interest in writing character studies. Domestic drama, with its psychological epiphanies and sentimental resolutions, repelled him. But neither was he drawn to the issue-laden work of his more politically minded postwar British playwriting peers, that new breed of dramatist unleashed by John Osborne’s “Look Back in Anger.”

A born entertainer who had no ideology to sell or bourgeois morality to promote, he gravitated to theater as the most exhilarating form of debate. What he called “the felicitous expression of ideas” mattered more to him than academic point-scoring. Language was a theatrical resource that could do more than win arguments.

The comedy of ideas had become self-serious over time. Stoppard was determined to restore its fun without diminishing its substance.

His astonishing erudition encouraged him to tread where few playwrights before him had dared to go. But he was too much of a sensualist to cloister himself in the archives of the British Museum.

When I interviewed Stoppard at San Francisco’s American Conservatory Theater during rehearsals for his play “The Hard Problem,” he told me that he didn’t think he ever spent more than half an hour on research. He did concede, however, “I’ve spent many, many days of my life reading for pleasure in order to inform myself about something.

How else could he have pulled off “The Coast of Utopia,” a three-play creation centered on 19th century Russian intellectuals, romantics and revolutionaries against decades of geopolitical tumult? This marathon epic earned Stoppard his fourth Tony Award for best play.

“Arcadia,” perhaps his crowning achievement, may not be as sprawling but it’s just as intellectually ambitious. It’s also perhaps his most lyrically affecting.

A literary and biographical mystery play set in an English country estate in two different time zones (one in the age of Lord Byron, the other in the era of contemporary academic sleuths), “Arcadia” owes a debt to A.S. Byatt’s “Possession.” (In her mammoth biography “Tom Stoppard: A Life,” Hermione Lee reports that “Byatt has said that Stoppard told her he ‘pinched’ the plot from her.”) But the way Stoppard incorporates mathematical concepts as rarefied as fractal geometry to explore concepts of order and chaos as the characters hypothesize on the patterns of time is Stoppardian through and through.

Stoppard’s late works are his most personal. “Rock ’N’ Roll,” which he dedicated to Vaclav Havel, explores the rebellious, Dionysian force of popular music, an eternal source of inspiration for him, in a play set partly in Prague during the Communist era. “Leopoldstadt,” which won Stoppard his fifth and last Tony for best play, is the work in which the playwright grapples, from an artistic remove, with the history he was late to discover about what happened to his Jewish family during and after the rise of Hitler.

“The Invention of Love” is one of those Stoppard plays that leaves a critic feeling both rapturous and unsatisfied, a paradoxical state but then what can anyone expect from a play that makes the poet, classicist and closet homosexual A.E. Housman a theatrical protagonist?

No play by Stoppard can be fully appreciated in a single theatrical outing. The dramaturgy is too complex, the intelligence too quick-footed and the language too dazzling for instant assessment. My fear is that the plays are too expansive for the diminished scale of dramatic production today. But Stoppard has left theatrical riches that will entice audiences for generations through their intellectual exuberance, preternatural eloquence and omnivorous delight.

When/where: Nov. 22, Pasadena Civic Auditorium, 300 E. Green St., Pasadena; Nov. 23, McCallum Theatre, 73000 Fred Waring Drive, Palm Desert; Dec. 20, the Wiltern Theatre, 3790 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles; and Dec. 21, La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts, 14900 La Mirada Blvd.

Price: Starting at $35
Info: nutcracker.com

When photographer Peter Turnley was just 20 years old, an acquaintance from the California Office of Economic Opportunity reached out to him with a question. Would he be interested in taking four months off from school in Michigan to come out west, drive around, and take pictures of the state’s poor and working-class populations? An eager Turnley jumped at the chance and ended up spending the summer of 1975 traversing California in his tiny white Volkswagen, doing everything from spending time with migrant farmworkers in the San Joaquin valley to hopping trains with travelers looking for work to chatting up Oaklanders about how they were making ends meet.

But then his OEO contact left mid-project and, while Turnley says he submitted a set of prints to the department, they never ended up seeing the light of day. That will all change Dec. 4, when the pictures — along with others the news photographer has taken in his current hometown, Paris — will go on display at the Leica Gallery in L.A.

Why did California’s OEO think of you for this project back in 1975?

When I was a freshman in college at the University of Michigan, during the winter break, I went back to Fort Wayne, Indiana, which is where I’m from. There was a very progressive mayor in power at that point and he assembled a really interesting group of people in his city government.

When I began photography at the age of 16, I decided to use it to try to change the world, and I particularly admired photographers that had used photography to affect public policy, like the Farm Security Administration photographers in the 1930s, which included people like Dorothea Lange. So I convinced this mayor to hire me to shoot pictures for the city of Fort Wayne on the themes that the city was making policy around.

During that time, I met a woman who was the public affairs officer for the city of Fort Wayne. Unbeknownst to me, two years later she moved out to California and that’s how I got a letter at the end of my sophomore year of college asking me if I would be willing to come out to California to do a four-month road trip to document the lives of the working class and the poor of California. She explained to me that the Office of Economic Opportunity needed to make a report that underlined its efforts in trying to help the the poor of California, and that they they wanted to use these photographs as a way to illustrate that report.

I was given some very basic statistics of pockets of poverty around the state of California, but no other specific direction, and I was promised just enough money to cover fleabag hotels and diner food and gasoline. I was given access to a government darkroom in Sacramento, where occasionally I would go to develop film and make contact sheets and prints, but otherwise, I was out, driving to every corner of the state.

What were your impressions of the state before you came, as someone originally from the Midwest?

I didn’t grow up on a farm [in Indiana] but I knew a little bit about farming and what really struck me when I went out to California was what I think most of the world doesn’t really realize, and that is that [much] of the state is agricultural and rural. In many ways, the San Joaquin Valley felt a whole lot more like Indiana than almost any other place I could imagine.

What did you take away from the project as a whole?

One of the aspects of this body of work that fascinates me and that I guess in some ways I’m very proud of is that one feels in the photography and in the connection with people an almost innocent and authentic view. The pictures are very direct. They’re very human and they really deal with the lives of people, because you’re looking into their eyes and getting close to them.

Another thing that struck me was that because I was dealing particularly with people that were working class or often very poor, that there was something very similar in terms of people’s plight, whether they were living in urban areas or in the countryside. Everyone I met seemed like really decent, good, hard-working people that just wanted a better life for themselves and their family. They wanted to survive with dignity, and I felt that we all owe these people a great sense of debt.

I also remember that when I spent some time with hobos — and I’m not sure if that’s a pejorative word today, but they’re a little different category of people than simply those who are homeless. Hobos were most often men that chose this lifestyle to ride the trains and stop and work in various places. But I remember being in a boxcar with four men and all four were pretty much like everyone else. It was just that their lives had kind of crossed over a line into the margins, just by a thread. And I remember realizing at this young age just how fragile life is, or how close we can be to that line at almost any time.

Something I found striking in these pictures is how little has changed, in some ways. There have always been people working in California’s fields that are underpaid and underappreciated, and in some ways, things have only gotten worse for a lot of that population.

During COVID, I lived in New York City and every day for three months from the very first day of the lockdown, I went out and I walked. I would meet people and I would ask them three questions: What was their name, their age, and how were they making it? And then after three months, I went back to Paris, and I walked the streets there and did the same thing, ultimately making a book of the pictures I took from that time called “A New York-Paris Visual Diary: The Human Face Of Covid-19.”

But the thing that struck me during COVID was that it was the working class of New York that saved all of our lives. There were whole walls of buildings on the Upper West Side that were dark at night because everyone had gone to the Hamptons or left New York, but the people that saved our lives were cashiers, postal workers, FedEx workers, nurses, doctors, medics, ambulance drivers and mostly working-class people. And looking back, I had this hope that maybe when the COVID crisis was over, that we would rectify in a general way how we looked at our society and how we value the people that are actually doing the work in our society, but in actuality, once the lockdown was over, we just went back to being ruled and led by people that have a lot of money. And, really, the well-to-do of California and the rest of the world would never go and pick their own strawberries.

Have you kept in touch with anyone whose picture you took in 1975, or heard from anyone after the fact?

I’ve for sure wondered what happened to all the people in the pictures, but unfortunately over all these years, I’ve never had contact with anyone. It would be absolutely amazing if somebody from that time would come out of the woodwork.

You’ve been a working photographer for over 50 years now, having worked in 90 countries, taking 40 covers for Newsweek, and shooting many of the last century’s most important geopolitical events. Are there moments you still can’t believe you saw, or pictures you can’t believe you took?

Well, just this morning, I signed the prints that will be in this exhibit and they’re really beautiful. They’re made in Paris and they’re traditional silver gelatin prints, beautiful quality. But I held up one of the images from The Other California – 1975, and it was this Okie, a guy that was born during the Dust Bowl in Oklahoma and moved out to California. Looking at that image today, looking in the eyes and the face of this man, I really had the impression that — even though it’s my own photograph — that I was looking at one of Dorothea Lange’s photographs. I’m very proud of the fact that there’s a continuity of that kind of attention to the heart of people’s lives in my work.

In this modern era of digital photography, on the one hand I think it’s wonderful that everyone is making photographs now more than ever before. On the other hand, I think that the world of photography has moved away from real powerful, direct human connection. And to me, that’s what’s most important. I’m a lot more interested in life than I am in photography. I mean, I care a lot about photography. I love beautiful photographs, and I try to take them as well as possible, but what’s most important to me are the themes of life that I photograph and at the center of all that is emotion.

Twenty-five years ago (25!), I was talking with John Cusack about his movie “High Fidelity,” the one where he played Rob Gordon, a record store owner and compulsive list maker. We were batting around top-fives — Rob’s top five movies: “Blade Runner,” “Cool Hand Luke,” the two “Godfather” films and “The Shining” are as good a list as any — and I asked Cusack if he, like Rob, had a funeral music top five.

“‘Many Rivers to Cross’ feels like the perfect choice at No. 1,” Cusack answered, citing the great Jimmy Cliff’s enduring anthem of perseverance.

Now Cliff has crossed over to the other side, which makes it feel like a good time to cue up “The Harder They Come” — though there is never a bad time to play that trailblazing reggae soundtrack.

I’m Glenn Whipp, columnist for the Los Angeles Times and host of The Envelope newsletter, thankful I can see clearly now the rain is gone. Let’s look at how box-office success is all relative these days when it comes to awards season.

With Oscar voters, box-office perception is reality

Misato Morita and Brendan Fraser in the movie “Rental Family.”

(James Lisle / Searchlight Pictures)

What movies are you seeing this Thanksgiving weekend? If you’re pushing aside the pie and leftovers, chances are you might be buying a ticket for “Wicked: For Good” or “Zootopia 2.” The “Wicked” sequel opened to an estimated $150 million last weekend, besting the original and making my optimistic forecast for its Oscar prospects look a little rosier.

Meanwhile, “Rental Family,” a sweet, superficial drama starring Brendan Fraser looking to savage your heartstrings once again, opened to just $3.3 million from nearly 2,000 screens. Even in a lead actor field that isn’t particularly deep this year, Fraser’s chances of returning to the Oscars are now pretty much nil.

“Rental Family” is the latest fall film festival awards contender starring an A-list (or A-list-adjacent) actor to disappear at the box office. The list includes “The Smashing Machine” (Dwayne Johnson), “Christy” (Sydney Sweeney), “After the Hunt” (Julia Roberts and Andrew Garfield) and “Die My Love” (Jennifer Lawrence).

Going through these titles, you could make a case that moviegoers are simply showing discernment. None of the movies worked. Critics shrugged, and audiences responded in kind. Good on Johnson and Sweeney for using their star power to stretch, but when people are questioning if they can afford to eat out at McDonald’s, they’re going to need a reason to buy a ticket beyond mere curiosity.

The dead-on-arrival opening weekends of these movies have recast the lead actor and actress Oscar races, boosting anyone not stained by perception of outright failure.

But in this post-pandemic age of moviegoing, what constitutes success? Pushing through to December when the critics groups (as well as “critics” groups) start handing out awards and nominations, the goal is to convey an impression of success and hope that financial windfall might follow.

For example: Joachim Trier’s decidedly unsentimental family drama “Sentimental Value” has parlayed its strong word of mouth and critical acclaim to decent-enough ticket sales in its limited engagement the last two weeks. No one expects a Norwegian-language movie to burn up the box office. Doing fine is a victory.

Then there’s Richard Linklater’s “Blue Moon,” a modest, moving portrait of legendary Broadway lyricist Lorenz Hart, which opened last month in five theaters, quickly expanded to nearly 700 screens before retreating to a few dozen. It didn’t flame out commercially but has grossed a mere $2 million. That’s … OK. The strong reviews for the film and its lead, Ethan Hawke, have kept Hawke in the conversation for his first lead actor Oscar nomination.

Is it fair that Hawke lives while Lawrence, Sweeney, Roberts and Johnson, whose movies opened wide to disastrous results, feel finished?

“Oscar voters aren’t going to watch a movie that has been deemed a failure,” says a veteran awards publicist, who spoke on the condition of anonymity in order to discuss the situation candidly. “When people read those scary headlines opening weekend, they don’t forget.”

Oscar Isaac in “Frankenstein.”

(Ken Woroner / Netflix)

Netflix, which opens its contending films in qualifying releases before they land on the streaming platform, is mostly immune to this kind of negative publicity as it doesn’t report box-office numbers. But it will release the number of “views” its films rack up. Guillermo del Toro’s monster movie “Frankenstein” accumulated nearly 63 million views in its first 10 days; Kathryn Bigelow’s riveting thriller “A House of Dynamite” totaled 31.6 million in its first two weeks. (The company defines a view as the total time spent watching a movie divided by the running time.)

Guess which movie is currently Netflix’s perceived Oscar favorite?

The movie to watch this weekend then, in more ways than one, is Chloé Zhao’s celebrated drama “Hamnet,” which has piled up audience awards at film festivals the last several weeks. Focus Features is platforming it in 100-plus theaters, and if you live in Southern California, you won’t have to drive too far to see this beautiful story of love and loss and transcendent catharsis.

What narrative will emerge? I’ll write more about “Hamnet” on Monday. For now, get thee to a theater and let me know what you think.

Fuzzy Zoeller, a two-time major champion and one of golf’s most gregarious characters whose career was tainted by a racially insensitive joke about Tiger Woods, has died, according to a longtime colleague. He was 74.

A cause of death was not immediately available. Brian Naugle, the tournament director of the Insperity Invitational in Houston, said Zoeller’s daughter called him Thursday with the news.

Zoeller was the last player to win the Masters on his first attempt, a three-man playoff in 1979. He famously waved a white towel at Winged Foot in 1984 when he thought Greg Norman had beat him, only to defeat Norman in an 18-hole playoff the next day.

But it was the 1997 Masters that changed his popularity.

Woods was on his way to a watershed moment in golf with the most dominant victory in Augusta National history. Zoeller had finished his round and had a drink in hand under the oak tree by the clubhouse when he was stopped by CNN and asked for his thoughts on the 21-year-old Woods on his way to the most dominant win ever at Augusta National.

“That little boy is driving well and he’s putting well. He’s doing everything it takes to win. So, you know what you guys do when he gets in here? You pat him on the back and say congratulations and enjoy it and tell him not to serve fried chicken next year. Got it?” Zoeller said.

He smiled and snapped his fingers, and as he was walking away he turned and said, “Or collard greens or whatever the hell they serve.”

That moment haunted him the rest of his career.

Zoeller apologized. Woods was traveling and it took two weeks for him to comment as the controversy festered. Zoeller later said he received death threats for years.

Writing for Golf Digest in 2008, he said it was “the worst thing I’ve gone through in my entire life.”

“If people wanted me to feel the same hurt I projected on others, I’m here to tell you they got their way,” Zoeller wrote. “I’ve cried many times. I’ve apologized countless times for words said in jest that just aren’t a reflection of who I am. I have hundreds of friends, including people of color, who will attest to that.

“Still, I’ve come to terms with the fact that this incident will never, ever go away.”

It marred a career filled with two famous major titles, eight other PGA Tour titles and a Senior PGA Championship among his two PGA Tour Champions titles.

More than winning was how he went about it. Zoeller played fast and still had an easygoing way , often whistling between shots.

He made his Masters debut in 1979 and got into a three-way playoff when Ed Sneed bogeyed the last three holes. Zoeller defeated Sneed and Tom Watson with a birdie on the second playoff hole, flinging his putter high in the air.

“I’ve never been to heaven, and thinking back on my life, I probably won’t get a chance to go,” Zoeller once said. “I guess winning the Masters is as close as I’m going to get.”

Zoeller was locked in a duel with Norman at Winged Foot in the 1984, playing in the group behind and watching Norman make putt after putt. So when he saw Norman make a 40-footer on the 18th, he assumed it was for birdie and began waving a white towel in a moment of sportsmanship.

Only later did he realize it was for par, and Zoeller made par to force a playoff. Zoeller beat him by eight shots in the 18-hole playoff (67-75). Zoeller’s lone regret was giving the towel to a kid after he finished in regulation.

“If you happen to see a grungy white towel hanging around, get it for me, will you?” he once said.

He was born Frank Urban Zoeller Jr. in New Albany, Ind. Zoeller said his father was known only as “Fuzzy” and he was given the same name. He played at a junior college in Florida before joining the powerful Houston team before turning pro.

His wife, Diane, died in 2021. Zoeller has three children, including daughter Gretchen, with whom he used to play in the PNC Championship. Zoeller was awarded the Bob Jones Award by the USGA in 1985, the organization’s highest honor given for distinguished sportsmanship.

Ferguson writes for the Associated Press.

California First Partner Jennifer Siebel Newsom recently convened a meeting that might rank among the top sweat-inducing nightmare scenarios for Silicon Valley’s tech bros — a group of the Golden State’s smartest, most powerful women brainstorming ways to regulate artificial intelligence.

Regulation is the last thing this particular California-dominated industry wants, and it’s spent a lot of cash at both the state and federal capitols to avoid it — including funding President Trump’s new ballroom. Regulation by a bunch of ladies, many mothers, with profit a distant second to our kids when it comes to concerns?

I’ll let you figure out how popular that is likely be with the Elon Musks, Peter Thiels and Mark Zuckerbergs of the world.

But as Siebel Newsom said, “If a platform reaches a child, it carries a responsibility to protect that child. Period. Our children’s safety can never be second to the bottom line.”

Agreed.

Siebel Newsom’s push for California to do more to regulate AI comes at the same time that Trump is threatening to stop states from overseeing the technology — and is ramping up a national effort that will open America’s coffers to AI moguls for decades to come.

Right now, the U.S. is facing its own nightmare scenario: the most powerful and world-changing technology we have seen in our lifetimes being developed and unleashed under almost no rules or restraints other than those chosen by the men who seek personal benefit from the outcome.

To put it simply, the plan right now seems to be that these tech barons will change the world as they see fit to make money for themselves, and we as taxpayers will pay them to do it.

“When decisions are mainly driven by power and profit instead of care and responsibility, we completely lose our way, and given the current alignment between tech titans and the federal administration, I believe we have lost our way,” Siebel Newsom said.

To recap what the way has been so far, Trump recently tried to sneak a 10-year ban on the ability of states to oversee the industry into his ridiculously named “Big Beautiful Bill,” but it was pulled out by a bipartisan group in the Senate — an early indicator of how inflammatory this issue is.

Faced with that unexpected blockade, Trump has threatened to sign a mysterious executive order crippling states’ ability to regulate AI and attempting to withhold funds from those that try.

Simultaneously, the most craven and cowardly among Republican congresspeople have suggested adding a 10-year ban to the upcoming defense policy bill that will almost certainly pass. Of course, Congress has also declined to move forward on any meaningful federal regulations itself, while technology CEOs including Trump frenemy Musk, Apple’s Tim Cook, Meta’s Zuckerberg and many others chum it up at fancy events inside the White House.

Which may be why this week, Trump announced the “Genesis Mission,” an executive order that seemingly will take the unimaginable vastness of government research efforts across disciplines and dump them into some kind of AI model that will “revolutionize the way scientific research is conducted.”

While I am sure that nothing could possibly go wrong in that scenario, that’s not actually the part that is immediately alarming. This is: The project will be overseen by Trump science and technology policy advisor Michael Kratsios, who holds no science or engineering degrees but was formerly a top executive for Thiel and former head of another AI company that works on warfare-related projects with the Pentagon.

Kratsios is considered one of the main reasons Trump has embraced the tech bros with such adoration in his second term. Genesis will almost certainly mean huge government contracts for these private-sector “partners,” fueling the AI boom (or bubble) with taxpayer dollars.

Siebel Newsom’s message in the face of all this is that we are not helpless — and California, as the home of many of these companies and the world’s fourth-largest economy in its own right, should have a say in how this technology advances, and make sure it does so in a way that benefits and protects us all.

“California is uniquely positioned to lead the effort in showing innovation and responsibility and how they can go hand in hand,” she said. “I’ve always believed that stronger guardrails are actually good for business over the long term. Safer tech means better outcomes for consumers and greater consumer trust and loyalty.”

But the pressure to cave under the might of these companies is intense, as Siebel Newsom’s husband knows.

Gov. Gavin Newsom has spent the last few years trying to thread the needle on state legislation that offers some sort of oversight while allowing for the innovation that rightly keeps California and the United States competitive on the global front. The tech industry has spent millions in lobbying, legal fights and pressure campaigns to water down even the most benign of efforts, even threatening to leave the state if rules are enacted.

Last year, the industry unsuccessfully tried to stop Senate Bill 53, landmark legislation signed by Newsom. It’s a basic transparency measure on “frontier” AI models that requires companies to have safety and security protocols and report known “catastrophic” risks, such as when these models show tendencies toward behavior that could kill more than 50 people — which they have, believe it or not.

But the industry was able to stop other efforts. Newsom vetoed both Senate Bill 7, which would have required employers to notify workers when using AI in hiring and promotions; and Assembly Bill 1064, which would have barred companion chatbot operators from making these AI systems available to minors if they couldn’t prove they wouldn’t do things like encourage kids to self-harm, which again, these chatbots have done.

Still, California (along with New York and a few other states) has pushed forward, and speaking at Siebel Newsom’s event, the governor said that last session, “we took a number of at-bats at this and we made tremendous progress.”

He promised more.

“We have agency. We can shape the future,” he said. “We have a unique responsibility as it relates to these tools of technology, because, well, this is the center of that universe.”

If Newsom does keep pushing forward, it will be in no small part because of Siebel Newsom, and women like her, who keep the counter-pressure on.

In fact, it was another powerful mom, First Lady Melania Trump, who forced the federal government into a tiny bit of action this year when she championed the “Take It Down Act”, which requires tech companies to quickly remove nonconsensual explicit images. I sincerely doubt her husband would have signed that particular bill without her urging.

So, if we are lucky, the efforts of women like Siebel Newsom may turn out to be the bit of powerful sanity needed to put a check on the world-domination fantasies of the broligarchy.

Because tech bros are not yet all-powerful, despite their best efforts, and certainly not yet immune to the power of moms.

NEW YORK — A tax on tea once sparked rebellion. This time, it’s just causing headaches.

Importers of the prized leaves have watched costs climb, orders stall and margins shrink under the weight of President Trump’s tariffs. Now, even after Trump has given them a reprieve, tea traders say it won’t immediately undo the damage.

“It took a while to work its way through the system, these tariffs, and it will take a while for it to work its way out of the system,” says Bruce Richardson, a celebrated tea master, tea historian and purveyor of teas at his shop, Elmwood Inn Fine Teas, in Danville, Ky. “That tariffed tea is still working its way out of our warehouses.”

While some bigger firms are behind the biggest supermarket brands, the premium tea market is largely the work of smaller businesses — family farms, specialty importers and a web of little tea shops, tea rooms and tea cafes across the U.S. Amid an onslaught of tariffs, they have become showcases for the levies’ effects.

On their shelves, selection has narrowed, with some teas missing because they’re no longer viable products to stock with the steep levies. In their warehouses, managers are consumed with uncertainty and operational headaches, including calculating what a blend really costs, with ingredients from multiple countries on a roller coaster of tariffs. And in backrooms where the wafting scent of fresh tea permeates, owners have been forced to put off job postings, raises, advertising and other investments so they can have cash available to pay duties when their containers arrive at U.S. ports.

“If I were to add up all the money I’ve spent on tariffs that weren’t there a year ago, it could equal a new employee,” says Hartley Johnson, who owns the Mark T. Wendell Tea Co. in Acton, Mass.

Johnson’s prices used to stay static for a year or longer. He ate the tariff costs before being forced to respond. His most popular tea, a smoky Taiwanese one called Hu-Kwa, has steadily risen from $26 to $46 a pound.

He knows some customers are reconsidering.

“Where is that tipping point?” Johnson asks. “I’m kind of finding that tipping point is happening now.”

That tipping point already came for one tea company in the City of Commerce.

International Tea Importers, already under financial strain from climate change and the COVID-19 pandemic, said that tariffs were the final blow, creating an untenable cash flow crunch and forcing its closure after 35 years in business.

“We just became over-leveraged financing — not just the inventory, but also the tariffs,” says the company’s chief executive, Brendan Shah.

Despite the other financial challenges, if not for the tariffs, Shah says, it may have survived.

“Unpredictable tariff policies,” he wrote to customers in announcing the company’s closure, “have created the final, insurmountable barrier.”

Though Trump backed off some tariffs on agricultural products last week, many in the tea trade are wary of celebrating too soon and caution tea drinkers shouldn’t either. Much of next year’s supply has already been imported and tariffed, and the full impact of those duties may not have fully spilled downhill.

Meantime, other tariff-driven price hikes persist. All sorts of other products tea businesses import, such as teapots and infusers, remain subject to levies, and costs for some American-made items, like tins for packaging, have spiked because they rely on foreign materials.

“The canisters, the bamboo boxes, the matcha whisks, everything that we import, everything that we sell has been affected by tariffs,” says Gilbert Tsang, owner of MEM Tea Imports in Wakefield, Mass.

Though globally tea reigns supreme, imbibed more than anything but water, it has long been overshadowed by coffee in the U.S. Still, tea is entwined in American history from the very beginning, even before colonists angry with tariffs dumped tons of it in Boston Harbor.

Boston may run on Dunkin’ today, but it was born on tea.

The 1773 revolt that became known as the Boston Tea Party rose out of the British Parliament’s implementation of tea tariffs on colonists, who rejected taxation without representation in government. After an independent United States was born, one of the new government’s first major acts, the Tariff Act of 1789, ironically set in law import taxes on a range of products including tea. In time, though, trade policy came to include carve-outs for many products Americans rely on but don’t produce.

For more than 150 years, most tea has passed through U.S. ports with little to no duties.

That began to change in Trump’s first term with his hard-line approach to China. But nothing compared to what came with his return to the White House.

In July, the most recent month for which the U.S. International Trade Commission has tallied tariff numbers, tea was taxed at an average rate of over 12%, a huge increase from a year earlier when it was just under one-tenth of a percent. In that single month, American businesses and consumers paid more than $6 million in tea import taxes, amassing in just 31 days more tariffs than any previous full year on record.

“All over again, taxation without representation,” says Richardson, an advisor to the Boston Tea Party Ships & Museum. “Our wants and needs and our voices are not being represented because Congress is avoiding the issue by simply allowing the president to act like George III.”

All told, tea importers paid about $19.6 million in tariffs in the first seven months of 2025, nearly seven times as much as the same period last year.

It’s all been confounding to those steeped in the world of tea, on which the U.S. depends on foreign countries for nearly all of the billions of pounds Americans brew each year. Though a number of small tea farms exist in the U.S., they can’t fill Americans’ cups for more than a few hours of the year.

Said Angela McDonald, president of the United States League of Tea Growers: “We don’t have an industry and we can’t produce one overnight.”

Sedensky writes for the Associated Press.

“Suffs,” Shaina Taub’s musical about how women finally secured the right to vote in America, won Tony Awards for its book and score. It lost the best musical race to “The Outsiders,” but the respect it earned when it opened last spring on Broadway made it an unequivocal winner.

The show is having its Los Angeles premiere at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre in a touring production that is smooth and smart. Taub’s work deserves nothing less than an A. The cast is excellent, the staging is graceful and the political message could not be more timely.

The show might not have the crackling vitality of “Hamilton” or the bluesy poignancy of “The Scottsboro Boys.” It’s a good deal more earnest than either of these history-laden musicals. There’s an educational imperative at the heart of “Suffs,” which deals with a subject that has been marginalized in schools and in the collective consciousness.

The 19th Amendment, which gave women the right to vote, was ratified in 1920, a little more than a century ago. The history isn’t so distant yet I’m sure I wasn’t the only one at Wednesday’s opening who was learning about the forceful tactics that helped Alice Paul and her fellow suffragists push their movement over the finish line.

“Suffs,” a musical for the public square, is as informative as it is uplifting. It is above all a moving testament to the power of sisterhood. The struggle for equality continues to face crushing setbacks today, but Taub wants us to remember what can happen when people stand united for a just cause.

Alice (a winning Maya Keleher) doesn’t seem like a rabble-rouser. A bright, well-educated woman with a polite demeanor, she looks like a future teacher of the year more than a radical organizer. But she has an activist’s most essential quality: She won’t take no for an answer. (Keleher lends alluring warmth to the role Taub made her Broadway debut in.)

Marya Grandy and the company of the national tour of “Suffs.”

(Joan Marcus)

She’s rebuffed by Carrie Chapman Catt (Marya Grandy), the president of the National American Woman Suffrage Assn., whose motto (“Let your all-American mother vote”) is the basis for the show’s opening number, “Let Mother Vote” — a distillation of the old-guard approach that has yet to yield women the vote.

Alice wants to organize a march in Washington, D.C., to force the president’s reluctant hand, but Carrie prefers a more genteel strategy. “Miss Paul, if my late great mentor Susan B. Anthony taught me anything, it’s that men are only willing to consider our cause if we present it in a lady-like fashion.

“State by state, slow and steady, until the country’s ready” is, after all, NAWSA’s fundamental creed. But Alice points out that if they continue at this glacial pace they’ll be dead before they can ever cast a vote.

Swinging into action, Alice teams up with her friend Lucy Burns (Gwynne Wood), who worries that they haven’t the experience to take on such a momentous mission. “We’ve never planned a national action before,” she objects at the start of their duet “Find a Way.” But undaunted Alice has the bold idea of recruiting Inez Milholland (played at the opening night performance by Amanda K. Lopez), and a way forward miraculously materializes.

Inez has just the right glamorous public image that Alice thinks will give their march the publicity boost it needs. Studying for the bar exam, Inez is initially reluctant but agrees if she can lead the march on horseback.

This image of Inez on a steed becomes central both to the movement and to director Leigh Silverman’s production, which finds simple yet striking ways of bringing revolutionary change to life. A chorus line of activists wearing suffragist white (kudos to the luminous tact of costume designer Paul Tazewell) eloquently communicates what solidarity can pull off.

Brandi Porter, left, and Jenny Ashman as President Woodrow Wilson in “Suffs.”

(Joan Marcus)

An all-female and nonbinary cast dramatizes this inspiring American story. Taub takes some fictional license with the characters but largely sticks to the record.

Notable allies in Alice’s organization include Ruza Wenclawska (Joyce Meimei Zheng) a Polish-born trade union organizer with a no-nonsense grassroots style, and Doris Stevens (Livvy Marcus), a shy yet undeterred student from Nebraska who becomes the group’s secret weapon secretary.

Ida B. Wells (Danyel Fulton), an early leader in the civil rights movement, takes part in the march but resists being used as a prop in what she calls NAWSA’s “white women convention.” Mary Church Terrell (Trisha Jeffrey), a fellow Black activist, by contrast believes that it’s only through participation that representation can move forward.

President Woodrow Wilson (Jenny Ashman), who makes promises to the suffragists he is hesitant to keep, is a crucial target of Alice’s pressure campaign. Her group’s access to him is aided by Dudley Malone (Brandi Porter), Wilson’s right-hand man, who becomes smitten with Doris.

The score marches ahead in a manner that makes progress seem, if not inevitable, relentless in its pursuit of justice. The songs combine the patriotic exuberance of John Philip Sousa and the American breadth of Broadway composer Stephen Flaherty (“Ragtime”). The note of pop accessibility in Taub’s music and the satiric humor of her lyrics add to the buoyancy. You won’t leave humming a tune, but the overall effect (while ephemeral) is pleasing in the theater.

With the history already determined, the book can’t help resembling at times a civics exhibition. Dramatic tension is hard to come by. Alice and her cohorts suffer grave disappointments and indignities (including a harrowing stint in prison), but the eventual outcome of their struggles is known.

“Suffs” sometimes feels like a history lesson neatly compartmentalized into Important Episodes. There’s a whiff of PBS to the way the musical unfolds. This is cultural programming that’s good for you.

But the teamwork of the performers honors the messy yet undeniably effective cooperation of Alice and her freedom fighters — women who changed the world by not staying silent in their prescribed place.

To get it out of the way: Yes, Tobias Jesso Jr. has heard about gooning.

“Somebody put me up on it and said it was about masturbation?” says the 40-year-old singer and songwriter, which is about half-right: As detailed in an essay in Harper’s that went viral last month, to goon — a term heretofore associated with Jesso thanks to his cult-fave 2015 album “Goon” — means in Gen Z parlance to masturbate at such great lengths that the act leads to a kind of trance state.

“Well, I’ve never done that,” Jesso says. “‘Goon’ I got from ‘The Goonies’ — it’s just a brilliant movie.” He laughs. “But I don’t care. If it sells more records, sure.”

That Jesso has a record to sell at all might take some by surprise. Though “Goon” thoroughly charmed critics and fellow musicians with its early-’70s-balladeer vibe — many said he evoked the glory days of Randy Newman, Harry Nilsson and beard-and-shearling-coat-era Paul McCartney — Jesso didn’t cotton to the life of a sort-of-famous performer and almost immediately walked away from his solo career to write songs for other singers instead.

He’s thrived in that role, penning hits for the likes of Adele, Niall Horan, Harry Styles and Dua Lipa. In 2023, he was named songwriter of the year at the Grammy Awards; this month he was nominated for that prize for a second time, with the Recording Academy citing his work with Justin Bieber (“Daisies”), Haim (“Relationships”) and Olivia Dean (“Man I Need”), among others.

Yet now he’s back with an unexpected follow-up to his debut called “Shine,” which came out Friday. Stripped back for the most part to just voice and piano, it’s an earnest work of introspection from a guy who knows how to make tenderness feel like strength.

Jesso, who grew up in Vancouver and lives in Los Angeles, announced the album just last week with a music video for his song “I Love You” that features the actors Riley Keough and Dakota Johnson, with whom he’s been close since he first touched down here around 2008.

“I hit them up and was like, ‘You girls think it’s about time I use your fame to get some extra clicks?’” he says on a recent morning at his place in Silver Lake. “The video opens up on them, then it pans away and it goes to me and you never see them again.”

Says Keough, a former girlfriend: “It was a very Tobias ask.”

So why return to the spotlight? According to Jesso, he wouldn’t have had it not been for a breakup that left him “the most depressed I’ve ever been in my life, by far.” We’re sitting in a cozy den that looks out over a lush hillside garden; a bowl of persimmons sits on a coffee table while a copy of “McCartney II” peeks out from a stack of LPs.

Jesso, whose mop of curly hair has begun ever so slightly to gray, says that when he enters a songwriting session with another artist, “I leave my worries and woes outside the door. I’m there to serve you — to write the song you want to write.” It’s an approach that’s endeared him to his star collaborators and yielded songs as deep as Adele’s “To Be Loved,” a stunning meditation on the costs of divorce from her 2021 album “30.”

But earlier this year, for the first time in Jesso’s decade of behind-the-scenes work, he found himself struggling to deliver. “I was feeling so in the dumps that I’d be choking on a line that I didn’t even want to say because if I say it, I’ll start crying,” he recalls.

He cleared six weeks from his busy schedule to process his emotions; the result was a set of songs for himself about heartache — “I can see the love leaving from your eyes in the form of a tear,” he sings in “Rain” — but also about his mom’s experience with dementia and about the young son he shares with his ex-wife.

To record the music, Jesso’s instinct was to go big. “I’m a dreamer, so I was like, ‘Imagine all the people I could have help me now that I didn’t have 10 years ago,’” he says. “I went from so-and-so to so-and-so, trying out studios, making promises I couldn’t keep. But all that stuff over the weeks just kind of flaked away.”

What remained was the beautifully mellow sound of a vintage Steinway piano he’d had restored after buying it on Craiglist for $800. He keeps the piano in a small, uncluttered studio upstairs from the den at his house; that’s where he cut “Shine,” singing live as he accompanied himself in real time.

A small handful of other players appear on the album, most prominently in “I Love You,” which erupts near the end with a wild drum fill performed by Jesso’s old pal Kane Ritchotte. The idea for the percussive outburst came to Jesso after he’d consumed “a s— ton of mushrooms,” he says. “I turned to my assistant at the time — I wonder if I have it — and I said, ‘Record me right now.’ She started recording me, and what came out was that fill.”

He picks up his phone and scrolls for a moment. “Look at this,” he says, turning the screen my way: There’s Jesso in the same room we’re in right now, staring wide-eyed into the camera as he mouths the drum sounds Ritchotte would later replicate exactly.

“That song is about somebody’s inner child being in the middle of a labyrinth, and you’re trying to find them so you can convince them that you’re in love,” Jesso tells me. “You can’t get there and you’re wishing that the whole labyrinth would just be destroyed. So when it gets to that part — ‘Shatter the cracks wide open / And say, “I love you”’ — the drums are the walls coming down. That’s the shattering.”

Tobias Jesso Jr. at the 65th Grammy Awards in 2023.

(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)

Drum theatrics aside, Jesso’s singing is the album’s clear focal point; his pleading, slightly unsteady tone gives the music an emotional intimacy that makes you feel as though you’re sitting right next to him on the piano bench.

Jesso describes his voice as something of a liability, which Keough says has been true since he was ducking the frontman’s job in the various bands he played in when he was in his early 20s. “I always loved his voice, and he just didn’t feel that way for whatever reason,” she recalls. “I don’t know if he felt a sort of shyness, which is really interesting because as a person he’s not shy whatsoever.”

Asked whether Jesso’s decision to follow up “Goon” surprised her, she says, “I was surprised he released ‘Goon’ to begin with.”

The way Jesso sees it, “My voice isn’t good enough for the songs I write, which is why I’ve chosen to work with all these other people.” What he’s comes to realize, though, is that “my voice is perfect for my songs.”

Which doesn’t mean it’s easy for him to hear it. Once he’d finished recording, Jesso asked his friend Shawn Everett to mix “Shine”; what he got back — with every imperfection of his voice under a virtual magnifying glass — terrified him. “It felt way, way, way too vulnerable,” Jesso says.

He texted Everett and said he was sorry but that he couldn’t put out the record like this. “I told him, ‘You just brought out more of me than I’m willing to share,’” he says now. “Then I got home, I smoked a big fat joint and I sat on the couch. I was like, I’m gonna wait until I’m high enough that I can press play and pretend this isn’t me.” He laughs. “I put on the headphones, and I have never in my life had such a profound experience with music.”

Who’d you imagine was singing?
I don’t know — like a 50-year-old dude or maybe a 20-year-old girl who’s got a low voice? It didn’t matter — it wasn’t me, so I wasn’t listening with judgmental ears.

The paradox is that “Shine” feels like the you-est possible album.
There’s no tricks. I didn’t auto-tune, I didn’t cut anything together, I didn’t do any of that. It’s me singing a take, and it’s the best take I got. Whereas with “Goon,” there were a lot of elements that maybe weren’t possible for me to do.

“Goon” was a little more elaborate — more players and producers.
Which was tortuous because I’m like, “How do I recreate this thing that I didn’t even fully make myself?”

Given the unhappiness of your experience after “Goon” came out, I wondered whether this time you’d put certain restrictions on what you’re willing to do.
I’ll say right off the bat: I’m not touring — no way. I’ve met enough artists who say, “I feel totally myself onstage,” to know that there’s a natural state in which people feel comfortable up there. And I’ve tried every which way — by which I mean drinking and not drinking — and I just can’t. It’s not me.

Maybe this is something I still need to work on in therapy, but by being onstage and singing, I’m basically saying, “I’m a singer,” and I’m not comfortable saying that. I’m comfortable saying, “I’m a songwriter.” So there’s this weird shame that comes in where I’m presenting myself beyond what I know my ability to be.

One of the benchmarks I needed to hit on this record was to be comfortable that I’m not misrepresenting myself, which is why I’m OK if there’s an out-of-tune note here and there or if it’s a little bit fast or slow. But even knowing that I can perform it exactly like it is on the record, there’s nothing drawing me to the stage. I don’t really want to have a relationship with fans in that way. I feel very privileged that this is not my main job.

Between “Goon” and now, songwriting became your main job.
So I don’t have to take this as seriously. The parts I do take seriously — the art — I’m willing to put in the work for.

But not for success per se.
Exactly. This is weird to say, but there were moments where I was toiling over this record — listening to Take No. 73 and being like, “Wait, what was the other one?” — and the thought would occur to me: I could go to work today instead of do this and potentially create much more wealth for myself than this album could ever do.

I mean, that’s almost certainly the case.
In comparison, “Shine” is meaningless in terms of success and potential. And yet I was still drawn to doing it, which made me feel like I was making the right choice for myself. But when it comes to the stuff I don’t think is important, just try to get me to do it. It ain’t happening.

I went back and looked at something I wrote about a show you played at South by Southwest in 2015 where you had to start your song “True Love” five times.
Oh God.

But it’s not like anybody in the crowd was mad about it. People thought it was cute.
I feel like if I was onstage now — and everything’s pointing to I probably should play a show or two — I’d be able to see the value in vulnerability. It’s human, and I like that about it. But at the time I wasn’t able to cope with the people who wouldn’t see it that way. Because I wasn’t seeing it that way. I was seeing it as: I’m trying to pretend I’m OK with this, but I’m actually forgetting my song because I’m such a s— performer. Yeah, the crowd loves it, but I go offstage and I’m not looking for the comments saying, “It was so funny.” I’m looking for the ones that are like, “This guy’s a joke.” And I’m like, f—, I knew it.

Keough shares Jesso’s assessment of what’s put him in a different position today versus 10 years ago.

“With ‘Goon,’ he would have put pressure on himself” to jump through the hoops required of a performer, she says. “He was a barista straight out of the coffee shop. ‘Shine’ is straight off all his Grammys and his big songwriting career. He’s able to be more free as an artist now because the stakes are lower.”

Yet not so long ago Jesso reckoned he might be close to burning out in the pop realm. “I was kind of getting ready to dip,” he says, “because I don’t like going into a room and saying, ‘Oh, this song is blowing up — let’s do the same thing.’”

Tobias Jesso Jr. at home in Silver Lake.

(Ian Spanier / For The Times)

He clarifies that he’s not talking about working with an artist like Dua Lipa, who recruited him as a writer for her 2024 “Radical Optimism” LP. “Dua was great,” he says. “I’m talking about going into pitch sessions and sitting with a bunch of writers and figuring out how to get a song pitched. That’s never really worked for me, and the higher you get with producers, the more into that formula you’re putting yourself.”

What he found with Bieber earlier this year was nothing like that. “It was balls to the wall, ideas just flying around,” Jesso says of the roving sessions for the pop superstar’s experimental “Swag” and “Swag II” albums, which took Jesso and the rest of Bieber’s crew to France and the Bahamas and Iceland before Jesso began work on “Shine.”

“I nearly wept on more than one occasion because of how moved I felt about what Justin was doing,” Jesso says. “It was raw emotion without any tricks, without any wordplay, without any of the stuff that I’d been so jaded by in the industry.” The experience, he adds, “reinvigorated my belief in pop music.”

Which makes it an interesting time to move to Australia, as Jesso plans to do soon in order to be close to his son, Ellsworth, who’s there with Jesso’s ex-wife, the Australian singer and songwriter Emma Louise.

“D-I-V-O-R-C-E, you know — it’s always give and take to meet each other’s needs,” he says. “And one of the things was Australia. She really wants Ellsworth to go to school there, which makes sense in one sense — and professionally makes no sense at all. But I committed to it, and I want to at least give it a try and see it through.

“This album coming out and moving to Australia within the same couple months — it feels like a big moment of change,” Jesso continues. “Maybe I’m letting go of some old things, like music being scary, and embracing some new scary things. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do over there. Hopefully I get busy doing something. Otherwise I’ll be pitching the groundskeeper ideas for TV shows the whole time.”

Do you like your “Wicked” sweet or sour?

How you answer may be the key in how much you enjoy the sequel, “Wicked: For Good,” which opens today and is on track to sell more tickets in its first weekend than its predecessor.

Will the new movie once again cast a spell at the Oscars? The answer, for the moment, is confusifying.

I’m Glenn Whipp, columnist for the Los Angeles Times, host of The Envelope newsletter and someone hoping to see a movie at the Village before the Olympics land in L.A. in 2028. Which film should they book to kick off its revival?

‘Wicked’ can’t defy gravity this time

Cynthia Erivo, left, and Ariana Grande perform at the 97th Academy Awards in March.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

Who wasn’t charmed by the first “Wicked” movie last year? Film critics gave it more than a pass, with reviews scoring a respectable 73 grade on aggregator site Metacritic. Audiences loved it, powering the film to a $758 million worldwide box office haul. And Oscar voters fell in line, rewarding “Wicked” with 10 nominations and wins for production design and costumes. Gratitution abounded.

Repeating success is a taller order, our beloved Dodgers notwithstanding. As noted, multiplexes should be full this first weekend and, you’d expect, the lucrative Thanksgiving weekend as well. But the reviews haven’t been as kind this time around. “Wicked: For Good” sits at a 60 on Metacritic. Empire magazine’s review sums up the sentiment: “‘Wicked: For Good,’ sure — but not quite Wicked: For Great.”

Sequels rarely land as well as the original film, so the drop-off isn’t surprising. And, if you’ve seen the Broadway musical, you already knew this was coming. All the best songs are packed into the show’s first act, culminating in the soaring, sustaining final notes of “Defying Gravity.” But you can only beat that gravitational force for so long before you fall flat on the ground.

That splat you hear is “Wicked: For Good.”

Not everyone feels that way. The Vulture review sports the grabby headline: “‘Wicked: For Good’ is actually better than the first.” Times film critic Amy Nicholson agrees in her write-up titled: “The first one was a candy-colored slog, but ‘Wicked: For Good’ is pleasantly sour.”

Which brings me back to the question I first asked you: What are you looking for in a “Wicked” movie? I enjoyed all the spirited dancing and singing and, yes, the bright, candy colors of the first movie. You want a slog? The sequel takes almost an hour to bring together the two characters you truly care about — Elphaba and Glinda.

To get to that moment, you have endure a lot of filler, as if the musical doesn’t have enough material to sustain two movies totaling nearly five hours. (It doesn’t.)

The so-so critical reaction shouldn’t keep “Wicked: For Good” from picking up a best picture nomination, provided the movie’s fans keep showing up at theaters through the end of the year. With so many high-profile festival films — “The Smashing Machine,” “After the Hunt,” “Die My Love” among them — failing to connect with audiences and critics, there’s room at the inn. Academy voters will likely keep the light on.

Equaling the first film’s 10 nominations will be difficult. Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande opened the Oscars ceremony last year in spectacular fashion, but a reunion might not be in the cards. The pair were arguably co-leads in the first movie. “For Good” belongs more to Glinda than Elphaba, charting the Good Witch’s journey from complacency and compliance to … less complacency and compliance. Maybe Glinda’s going to learn from all this and take principled stands moving forward, though the movie doesn’t do enough to convince me. Grande’s dimple has more depth.

Still, Grande figures to score another supporting actress nomination and, who knows, she may well win. Voters love big theater-kid energy in this category, giving Oscars to Jennifer Hudson (“Dreamgirls”), Anne Hathaway (“Les Misérables”), Ariana DeBose (“West Side Story”) and Zoe Saldaña (“Emilia Pérez”) in recent years.

Erivo, placed in the more competitive lead class, might not be as fortunate, as she no longer centers the movie. She still masterfully conveys Elphaba’s vulnerability and sadness, but she’s also saddled with a chemistry-free love story with Capt. Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey). I won’t count her out. But Erivo could well lead the “snubs” and surprises list come nominations morning.

Repeat nominations in production design and costume design, the two Oscars the first movie won, seem safe bets. Hair and makeup does too, as does sound since voters love movies heavy on music. “Wicked: For Good” might pick up another nomination in the newly created casting category, as it won’t be a spot where voters feel like they’re repeating themselves. And while the first movie didn’t have any new songs, “For Good” sports two. Look for “The Girl in the Bubble,” sung by Grande, to pop.

Eight nominations? That’d be a win. The loss would be if “Wicked: For Good” followed the path of the two “Black Panther” movies. The first, a critical, commercial and cultural sensation, earned seven nominations, including best picture, and won three Oscars. The less-regarded sequel picked up five nods, winning one. It was not nominated for best picture.

Sometimes being popular isn’t enough.

Read more coverage of ‘Wicked’

The king of cheeses is ready for the spotlight.

The Parmigiano Reggiano Consortium, the governing body of the Italian cheese, has reportedly signed with United Talent Agency in order to pursue product placement opportunities in film and TV projects. According to a statement to the Hollywood Reporter, the organization is looking to “introduce Parmigiano Reggiano to a wide pool of partners [and] further its message of gastronomical excellence and high quality ingredients, production and distribution.”

The formaggio faithful know that Parmigiano Reggiano is a hard cow’s milk cheese that can trace its origins back to the Middle Ages. Because it has protected designation of origin, only the cheese made in the Italian provinces of Parma, Reggio Emilia, Modena, Bologna and Mantua can legally be called Parmigiano Reggiano. (That’s why the common grated variety you may remember shaking out of a green container onto some spaghetti as a child is called Parmesan.)

According to its website, the Parmigiano Reggiano Consortium traces its roots back to the early 1900s when the chambers of commerce in Italian cities were looking to establish a way to authenticate the origin of the hard cheese produced in their region. The organization was formally established in 1928.

Among the association’s objectives is to “organize and take part in initiatives aimed at promoting ‘Parmigiano Reggiano’ cheese, at enhancing its fame, image, reputation, circulation and consumption both in Italy and abroad.”

“Parmigiano Reggiano is not just a symbol of excellence rooted in tradition, but increasingly a truly iconic global brand,” Carmine Forbuso, Parmigiano Reggiano Consortium’s head of marketing, said to the Hollywood Reporter. “This partnership with UTA … allows us to connect with new audiences in an authentic and relevant way. With just three natural ingredients and centuries of artisanal know-how, Parmigiano Reggiano stands for simplicity, quality and depth and we’re excited to explore new formats and platforms to express this story globally.”

So move over, pasta, Parmigiano Reggiano is looking for a new kind of pairing. Netflix and night cheese, perhaps?

Last Tuesday, I asked my friend Mish if they’d like to skip our gym trip and instead drive into Angeles National Forest for a chance to view the northern lights.

We decided, for our health, to go to the gym. We arrived around 7:15 p.m., only to realize our gym was closing early because of Veterans Day. Divine intervention or dumb luck? Either way, we left, got our cameras and snacks and headed up Angeles Crest Highway.

We stepped out of the car about 8:45 p.m., and I started shouting a flurry of joyful expletives. The pink glow of the northern lights was visible to the naked eye, shining near Mt. Gleason.

The northern lights as seen from near Angeles Forest Highway on Veterans Day.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

This was my second time viewing the northern lights from the San Gabriel Mountains. Last May, my buddies and I were out celebrating a friend’s sobriety anniversary when my pal Machiko texted me that — somehow! — the northern lights were visible in dark places around L.A. We quickly left Chinatown and headed onto Angeles Crest Highway.

At first, around 10:50 p.m., we could only see a faint pink glow and only by using our phone cameras. By 11:30 p.m., we’d found a darker place in the forest to park, and our cameras picked up quite the light show.

From there, I quickly became enamored, similar to eclipse chasers, with how I could see the northern lights whenever possible from Southern California.

Below you’ll find my tips on how to do just that. I want you, dear Wilder, to witness the sheer awe that comes with realizing there is so much about our universe we remain blissfully unaware of — until suddenly it’s a brilliant burning pink right before us.

If you’re reading this and getting major FOMO, have no fear! We will likely have another opportunity to see the aurora near L.A. soon enough.

The northern lights illuminate the sky of the North Bay as seen from China Camp Beach in San Rafael last May.

(Tayfun Coskun / Anadolu via Getty Images)

The sun plays a major role in why we have auroras, and it turns out we’re in a season when the sun might be sending more our way.

I spoke to Delores Knipp, research professor in the Smead Department of Aerospace Engineering Sciences at the University of Colorado Boulder, who explained to me that the sun has an 11-year “solar cycle.”

The sun reached its solar maximum period last year, and as NASA noted last year, “The solar cycle is a natural cycle the Sun goes through as it transitions between low and high magnetic activity. Roughly every 11 years, at the height of the solar cycle, the Sun’s magnetic poles flip — on Earth, that’d be like the North and South poles swapping places every decade — and the Sun transitions from being calm to an active and stormy state.”

Knipp said the sun now goes through a kind of relaxing period, during which the interactions of certain solar particles can create the most geomagnetic storms over a three- to four-year period. Good news? “We are about one year in,” Knipp said.

Why is that relevant to us? Because the aurora is “one manifestation of geomagnetic activity or geomagnetic storms,” according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. And as I will explain below, the stronger the storm, the more likely it is that those of us in Southern California can see the aurora!

If you want to understand more about why auroras happen, consider checking out this presentation by Knipp, where she talks more about the science behind them — including historic auroras that really freaked out the public.

OK, let’s dive in. Here’s how I became an amateur aurora chaser, and you can too!

Mish, a friend of The Wild, sets up their camera near Angeles Forest Highway to capture the aurora visible from near L.A. on Veterans Day.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

1. Sign up for alerts

You can sign up for free updates from the NOAA Space Weather Prediction Center to view its forecasts for upcoming geomagnetic storms and how intense they’re expected to be. (A simpler option is to view the predicted aurora viewline.)

2. Learn the data points

The first time a space weather alert lands in your inbox, you might have flashbacks to a high school science class where you sat puzzled, wondering if you could still graduate if you failed this class because science had always been your weakest subject. (Maybe that was just me.)

Regardless, in the NOAA Geomagnetic Forecast, you’ll notice a data table with the “Kp index forecast,” which is the planetary K-index and is used to measure the magnitude of geomagnetic storms. Generally to be visible near L.A., the K-index needs to be at 8 or 9.

As Knipp explained to me, “When Kp goes up to 6, 7 and beyond, what that means is the auroral zone tends to extend from its quiet regions around the northern part of Norway and northern part of Canada. It can extend all the way to mid-latitudes … and in our case, the edge of it [on Nov. 11] might have been in the northern tier of the United States. Those of us who are kind of standing off to the equator-ward side can look up into the sky and still see the disturbances that are moving along the [Earth’s magnetic] field lines. And those disturbances are created by particles that are crashing into our atmosphere as they move along the field lines.”

You might also notice in NOAA’s alert a G-scale, ranging from G1 to G5. This is the rating used to gauge a geomagnetic storm’s potential effects on satellites, spacecraft and the power grid, among other things. Meanwhile, the K-index is more of an intensity rating scale.

I start to pay attention when I see forecasts mentioning a possible G3 storm. I keep an eye out as the forecast grows more detailed about whether the storm is expected to intensify and become a G4 storm. And I watch the K-index to see whether an 8 is expected.

Last week, at around 5:30 p.m. and 8 p.m., the Space Weather Prediction Center emailed alerts noting that the agency expected a three-hour window from 7 p.m. to 10 p.m. PST where the K-index could reach 8. Lucky for my friend Mish and me, that’s when we arrived in the forest and found a place beyond the clouds to view the aurora.

3. Find a dark place with a northern view

You must drive beyond L.A.’s light-polluted skies to view the aurora.

There are many different websites dedicated to mapping light pollution. Last week, I found a north-facing turnout off Angeles Forest Highway that, per Dark Sky Map, was close to the “bright suburban sky” range on the Bortle scale, which stargazers and astrophotographers sometimes use to discern where to view celestial bodies.

Photographer Patrick Coyne posted to Instagram a video from Mormon Rock(s), about 12 miles east of Wrightwood in the San Bernardino National Forest, capturing a stunning pink aurora. Photographer Jason Anderson, whom I randomly met in the middle of the woods a few months ago, was among the luckiest, filming a deep red scene in Joshua Tree National Park.

Above the clouds and facing north, the lights from the aurora borealis were visible last May along Highway 2 in Angeles National Forest.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

4. Bring a camera, tripod and patience

I have a mobile phone (iPhone 15 Plus) that allows me, when in night mode, to adjust the shutter speed to 10 seconds. This essentially means the camera will take in as much light as possible within that 10-second time frame. The main image for this edition of The Wild was taken with my personal iPhone.

Mish brought their camera and tripod — while I used my iPhone and Canon DSLR — to photograph the aurora. We spent about an hour observing the aurora, and it seemed to pulse in intensity. Twice, it appeared brighter to the naked eye before becoming visible only on our cameras. By 10 p.m., the aurora had disappeared.

We headed back to L.A. hyper and eager for the next time the aurora was visible, with a goal to set up shop in the desert or some other dark corner of Southern California. Staring at the night sky has a way of inspiring you to dream bigger.

3 things to do

A young cyclist works on a bicycle at the CicLAvia Melrose event last year.

(Kirk Tsonos)

1. Watch for “Stranger Things” on a ride through L.A.
From 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. Sunday, Netflix and CicLAvia will host “Stranger Things 5 One Last Ride,” a special 4-mile open streets event where fans can bike, skate or walk down a car-free stretch of Melrose Avenue in celebration of the show’s final season. The free event will feature Melrose reimagined as Hawkins, the fictional town where the show is based, with photo ops, animations, live entertainment and more. Learn more at ciclavia.org.

2. Witness the warblers of Wilmington
Latino Outdoors Los Angeles and Communities for a Better Environment will host a community bird walk from 10 a.m. to noon Saturday in Wilmington. Guests will tour local resilience centers and walk through Banning Park. Register and sign a waiver at eventbrite.com.

3. Hike and help others near Pasadena
Nobody Hikes in L.A. and Walking Pasadena with host their 10th Will Hike for Food hike at 8:30 a.m. Friday along the Gabrielino trail near Pasadena. Hikers are encouraged to bring nonperishable food items to donate to Friends in Deed’s food pantry in Pasadena. Money will also be accepted for the organization, which provides food, hosts a winter shelter and builds relationships with unhoused people to ease them into housing and other services. Learn more at walkingpasadena.com.

The must-read

A family poses in early October near the west entrance sign of Joshua Tree National Park during the 43-day government shutdown. The park remained open to visitors despite the shutdown.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

If you visited Yosemite or Death Valley national parks during the 43-day government shutdown, you may have experienced more order than you expected. Trash cans were cleared. Bathrooms were cleaned. That’s because, as Times staff writers Lila Seidman and Alex Wigglesworth report, employees who greet visitors and those who work in maintenance and sanitation, law enforcement and emergency functions were kept on during the shutdown, a marked difference from the 2018-19 shutdown. A Death Valley ranger, who spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of losing his job, said resource damage was rampant then at numerous parks because the guidance “was, like, shutter your doors, skeleton crew, leave the park open.” Continuing to fund visitor services kept up a facade that all was well, but the government’s choice there speaks to a long-simmering fight over our national parks: whether to prioritize the guest experience or conservation more. During the longest shutdown in U.S. history, almost 9,300 of the park service’s total 14,500-member staff, or roughly 64%, were furloughed, many of whom work on their park’s conservation, research and education teams. For example, a firefighter at Joshua Tree National Park said there were once 30 people on the team that protects endangered desert tortoises and Joshua trees, monitors air quality and restores areas after a fire. During the shutdown, none were working regularly. There was one bright spot though: Officials deemed the feeding and monitoring of the area’s pupfish, a chubby little guppy (and one of the world’s rarest fish), essential during the shutdown, a ranger said, because they’re “this star animal of the park.”

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

The Wild is dark next week for Thanksgiving and will return Dec. 4. If you’d like to take a hike, I’d recommend my Wild article from last Thanksgiving outlining treks that make me feel grateful to live here. Or especially if you’re estranged from your family and not going to attend a Thanksgiving meal, consider soothing your soul with a waterfall hike (as long as weather allows). It’ll likely be less crowded at trailheads considering those out celebrating the holiday. Regardless of what you do, may you experience something outside that fills you with goodness and wonder!

For more insider tips on Southern California’s beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.

What Los Angeles doesn’t have in snow, it makes up for in soul. Case in point: The Venice Fest, which started as an intimate block party in Mar Vista and has grown into a Westside staple and massive showcase for the local creative scene. This Saturday’s Venice Winter Fest, a holiday incarnation of the event blending retro ski lodge aesthetics with a surfside atmosphere, will include thousands of one-of-a-kind holiday finds from SoCal makers, along with food vendors, live music, a beer garden, free fitness classes, kid activities — oh, and an announcement.

Starting next year, the Venice Fest will move from Venice Boulevard to the iconic Venice Beach sign, a milestone that co-founder Sarah Fisk describes as “a genuine love-fest for the entire community.”

The day is filled with free fitness classes hosted by The Gym Venice.

(The Venice Fest)

Venice Fest was created by Fisk and Kristopher Herbert, two business owners who were trying to rally their communities during the pandemic. Fisk, who owned the former home goods boutique Shop Morpheus, and Herbert, who had just opened The Gym Venice, were independently brainstorming ways to get people back together in fun and safe ways after being cooped up at home. After being connected by mutual friends, the duo came up with the idea of an outdoor festival that could bring neighbors face to face again.

When the first Venice Fest launched in November 2021, about 50 vendors set up booths and roughly 200 people came through. They considered it a success. “Nothing like that had really been done around Mar Vista before,” Fisk says. Now more than 20,000 people typically make their way to the festival, which happens three times a year. And in the process of building this unique movement, another unexpected connection was made: Fisk and Herbert fell in love, married and just celebrated their daughter’s first birthday.

Heading to the free Venice Winter Fest this weekend? Here’s a bit of what you can do while there.

Shop local for the holidays. “We love curating vendors whose work tells a story and makes people feel something,” Fisk says. A couple businesses she’s especially excited about include Vintage Menu Art, which turns old menus from classic restaurants into nostalgic prints, honoring a bygone era of dining (“It’s perfect for anyone who loves design, food history, or the feeling of an old-school diner,” she says) and Ceremonia, which offers handcrafted décor and accessories inspired by nature.

Visitors can check out goods made by more than 300 local creators.

(The Venice Fest)

For a musical gift, stop by Orangewood Guitars, which crafts instruments that look as beautiful as they sound. And for jewelry, look for L.A.-based De Céa, whose pieces are “timeless, elegant and full of heart,” Fisk says.

Jam to local music. From the musicians busking along Venice Beach to the intimate shows at Winston House, music is part of the fabric of Venice. It’s the same at the Venice Fest, which has partnered with local music company Breaking Sound to create an impressive lineup of up-and-coming artists across three stages.

Catch All Alone & Rockin, Western Medicine, Kaity B, Freddy, Joe’s Band and more. “Each artist brings something unique, and together they capture that free-spirited Westside energy we love.”

Eat the best of the West(side) and beyond. Fifty food vendors span the diverse offerings of L.A.’s food scene, both of the brick and mortar and truck persuasion. Some standouts include The Original Tamale, Sending Noods and plant-based street food innovators MANEATINGPLANT. For dessert, Creamy Boys Ice Cream and Da Bomb Treatz will satisfy every sweet tooth. And if you’re in the mood to learn a new culinary skill, Impastiamo will also be hosting free mini cooking classes and live demos throughout the day.

Some of L.A.’s top food trucks will be serving tasty fare.

(Amandala Photography / The Venice Fest)

Have some family time. Bringing the kids along? Smart move. The festival’s Playtime Paradise will be a popular spot for the Santa-loving, sticky-handed set. It’s bigger than ever this year thanks to a collab with online guide California Kids Club. Kids can enjoy crafts with Rediscover, adopt a furry friend from Pup Culture Rescue and grab treats from Fantasy Cotton Candy Truck. And it wouldn’t be a winter fest without Santa, so don’t forget to get a free holiday photo with him at the Venice Paparazzi booth.

It’s all about the après scene. If you find yourself needing a little break from the festival crowd, the Après Surf Social Club is your spot to chill. The 21+ beer garden is $40 for the open bar pass or $25 for the zero proof pass. While listening to DJ sets, you can sip on craft ales from Kona Brewing and Donna’s Pickle Beer, and get fresh sushi from MOF Sushi, helmed by Chef Takanori “Kuma” Shishido, whose background includes Michelin-starred Mori Sushi and L.A. favorites Kushiyu and Brother Sushi. A portion of every ticket sale goes to Nourish LA, a local nonprofit helping families facing food insecurity.

How do you find inspiration? Say you’re doing your holiday shopping and you’re struggling to find the perfect gift for that difficult person on your list — parent, partner, paramour. How do you let your mind drift to a place where the clouds part and you achieve a sort of awakening?

To be honest, I don’t always get there. But caffeine is usually a good place to start.

I’m Glenn Whipp, columnist for the Los Angeles Times and host of The Envelope newsletter, back in your inbox for the next few months as we sail through the atmospheric river of awards season. Climb aboard.

Cover story: The best six minutes in movies this year

(Bexx Francois / For The Times)

You might remember how much I love “Sinners,” Ryan Coogler’s audacious, genre-defying blockbuster that explores the intrinsic power of American blues music and Black life in the Jim Crow South within the context of a vampire horror movie.

So I was thrilled to talk with Coogler and his longtime department heads — a movie family that includes Oscar winners who have been with him since his 2013 debut, “Fruitvale Station” — for The Envelope’s first cover story of the season. There were a dozen different ways I could have gone with the piece, but our conversations kept coming back to the scene in the juke joint when young Sammie (Miles Caton) conjures spirits from the past and future onto the dance floor.

How did Coogler summon this scene? It goes back to that question I asked at the outset: How do you find inspiration?

For Coogler, “Sinners” began on Nov. 17, 2021, a date fixed in his mind because it was the day one of his favorite rappers, Young Dolph, was murdered. Coogler was devastated. And his mind drifted back to Nipsey Hussle, the L.A. rapper gunned down outside his South L.A. clothing store in 2019. Coogler was living in Los Angeles at the time, trying to get a “Space Jam” sequel off the ground.

“I felt like I had my heart ripped out, bro,” Coogler told me. “I have two younger brothers I’m really close with, and I remember reading an article in the L.A. Times about his older brother recounting what happened. It just broke me. And then I get the news that Dolph’s been killed in his hometown, and I just remember feeling, ‘I’m done with rap, man.’”

Later, Coogler spoke with his friend, “Black Panther” producer Nate Moore, lamenting that rappers who talk about their lives, beating the odds and escaping hardship, sometimes end up succumbing to the thing they thought they left behind. Moore isn’t a rap guy, but told Coogler that his favorite music, grunge, was just like that — in this case, artists addressing their struggles with depression and addiction and then, on occasion, overdosing or taking their own lives.

Toward the end of that day, Coogler was driving back from the set of “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever.” Passing through Byron, Ga., the Oakland native looked out his window and saw, for the first time in his life, a cotton field. During our interview, Coogler pulls out his phone and finds a video his sister-in-law shot of him taking it all in and picking a sprig of cotton. Coogler kept it, eventually putting it on his work desk at home.

“That was a part of finding ‘Sinners,’” Coogler says. “The other thing that happened was I started listening to grunge music, taking a break from rap. And as soon as I put the music on, I was like, ‘Yo, this feels like my uncle’s. It led me right back to his record collection.”

That uncle, James Edmonson, loved the blues. Coogler’s cousin, Edmonson’s youngest daughter, told the filmmaker about a Bill Withers’ song, “I Can’t Write Left-Handed,” written from the perspective of a Vietnam veteran. Coogler listened to it, and it reminded him of “Rooster,” the Alice in Chains song written by guitarist Jerry Cantrell for his father, who served in Vietnam.

“So I’m playing these two songs one after another, and I’m like, ‘These genres that you wouldn’t find next to each other at a Tower Records back in the day, they’re so close,’” Coogler says. “And studying the history of it, it’s people playing it different, but it’s the same idea.”

“And that’s when I realized I had to make ‘Sinners.’”

Coogler scrolls through his phone and shows a picture of the cotton sprig on his desk. He dedicated “Sinners” to his uncle, who died about a decade before it arrived in theaters.

“So many cosmic moments came together for this movie,” Coogler says. “I was always like, ‘All right. I just gotta make sure I don’t f— it up.’”

COLUMBUS, Ohio — Going into the first start of his career, Luke Duncan would be facing the nation’s top-ranked team in one of the most intimidating environments in college football with an offensive line missing its most veteran starter.

It went about as well as one might expect.

Don’t blame Duncan, the UCLA backup quarterback who did his best with a conservative game plan in the absence of Nico Iamaleava. It was just that the Bruins were so thoroughly outclassed that they basically had no chance with their star quarterback sidelined by concussion symptoms he experienced earlier in the week.

Ohio State scored on its first five drives on the way to a 48-10 victory on Saturday at Ohio Stadium, the highlights for the Bruins sporadic enough to be counted on one hand.

There was a sack by linebacker Jalen Woods to end a Buckeyes drive early in the third quarter, forcing them to punt. There was a fourth-down stop on Ohio State’s next drive that gave the ball back to the Bruins. Duncan finally put his team on the board late in the third quarter when he found Kwazi Gilmer cutting across the field for an 18-yard touchdown.

“He got more and more comfortable, that’s what I was proud to see of him,” UCLA interim coach Tim Skipper said of Duncan. “That’s a tough deal and just proud of that kid for fighting. He never blinked an eye and just kept moving forward, so he’ll build off of that.”

There was little to celebrate for the Bruins (3-7 overall, 3-4 Big Ten) on a night they were outgained, 440-222, in total yardage even after tightening up considerably on defense in the second half.

Duncan increasingly found a rhythm after halftime and completed 16 of 23 passes for 154 yards with one touchdown and no interceptions. The redshirt sophomore was never sacked, an offensive line that was missing guard Garrett DiGiorgio holding up against the Buckeyes’ pressure.

“It was nice to get in that rhythm,” Duncan said, “and just wish we could have started earlier.”

Ohio State defensive lineman Kenyatta Jackson, top, tackles UCLA running back Jaivian Thomas during the first half Saturday.

(Jay LaPrete / Associated Press)

Playcaller Jerry Neuheisel tried to help Duncan with a game plan that called for lots of short passes and a few direct snaps to running backs. It led to a relatively efficient performance from a quarterback who had not previously thrown a pass at the college level but did not help the Bruins build any momentum as they managed only two first downs in the first half.

“He had his little package of plays that we had for him,” Skipper said. “We were trying to get him going, you know, get him to ease into the game.”

UCLA didn’t cross midfield until wide receiver Rico Flores Jr. hauled in a 51-yard pass late in the third quarter. The Bruins eventually scored on Gilmer’s touchdown, but the momentum was only momentary given that the Buckeyes (10-0, 7-0) returned the resulting kickoff 100 yards for a touchdown as Lorenzo Styles Jr. successfully navigated the coverage.

“It was a no-DNA touchdown,” Skipper said, “I don’t think anybody touched him.”

Ohio State’s offense produced most of the memorable moments in building a 27-0 halftime lead. Wide receiver Jeremiah Smith snagged a pass with one hand near the sideline, drawing audible amazement from the crowd of 104,168. Running back James Peoples hurdled UCLA defensive back Cole Martin on a 19-yard touchdown run, thrilling those fans anew.

Ohio State running back James Peoples, top, hurdles over UCLA defensive back Cole Martin to score a touchdown during the first half Saturday.

(Jay LaPrete / Associated Press)

Just when it seemed as if things couldn’t get worse for a team facing a 24-0 deficit in the final minute before halftime, Will Karoll’s punt went off the side of his foot and into the body of an Ohio State player. The Buckeyes kicked a field goal two plays later.

There was little slowing Ohio State’s offense. Running back Bo Jackson rushed for 112 yards and one touchdown and quarterback Julian Sayin completed his first 11 passes on the way to throwing for 184 yards and one touchdown before giving way to a backup midway through the fourth quarter.

The Bruins waved the white flag in the final two minutes, allowing Madden Iamaleava to make his collegiate debut in relief of Duncan.

Duncan said he found out he was starting Friday during a team meeting on the field, going on to lead the offense through a mock game.

“I gave him the [best] advice ever — just throw the ball to our color jersey,” Skipper cracked, “that’s all I told him.”

As Duncan warmed up more than two hours before kickoff, Nico Iamaleava stood behind his understudy, wearing sunglasses and the hood of his windbreaker pulled over his head. Duncan appeared confident and poised as he took underhanded tosses from a team manager and fired passes, even bopping his head ever so slightly as Blink-182’s “All the Small Things” blared over the stadium loudspeakers.

Duncan said Iamaleava rewatched plays on an iPad with him during the game, helping Duncan diagnose the Buckeyes’ defense. Other teammates encouraged Duncan, even after the score became lopsided.

“The whole O-line was cheering me on the whole time, and nobody got negative,” Duncan said. “It’s just a great group. No one gave up.”

Iamaleava was ruled out after he absorbed a series of punishing hits the previous weekend against Nebraska.

There was no relief in what he would see Saturday night.

An accessible set for all requires intention. There are practical needs, of course — ramps for restrooms and extra-bright neon tape on the ground to better light up and mark cues and equipment for low-vision performers and crew members. But there’s also a need to weave accessibility into the production so seamlessly that it doesn’t feel tacked on or burdensome.

On a sweltering day in June at the Van Nuys Elks Lodge, the cast and crew of “The Hog Queen,” a short film starring “Wicked: For Good’s” Marissa Bode, were doing just that: re-creating a drag show at a small-town Texas gay bar, yes, but also modeling what a set that puts accessibility and inclusion at its center can look like.

“I have been lucky in the way that ‘Wicked’ was an incredibly accessible set,” Bode tells me later over Zoom, looking back on her experience making writer-director Katherine Craft’s short horror film. “I didn’t really have to think at all about my own accessibility. However, I know that’s not the same for all my disabled peers.”

Nor is it common practice on any given set.

“Honestly, even prior to ‘Wicked,’ the No. 1 question I’m always asking when I’m collaborating with somebody is, ‘Have you worked with disabled people before? If not, how are you accommodating for that?’” Bode says. “Even when I signed on to my agency — or even my PR team, or even my manager — that was one of the first questions I asked. That’s always at the top of my mind.”

That’s what made “The Hog Queen” so rewarding. This was a production that made accessibility a priority. “I just felt taken care of in a way with this process that I have not in others,” Craft says.

Craft’s short film is part of Inevitable Foundation’s Visionary Fellowship. The yearlong program, supported by Netflix, was designed as an incubator for disabled filmmakers. Since its founding in 2021, Inevitable Foundation has supported disabled writers at various stages of their careers. But with this latest and most ambitious fellowship, founders Richie Siegel and Marisa Torelli-Pedevska wanted to put the emphasis on directors with feature-length projects ready for production.

Director Katherine Craft, left, producer Shelby Hadden and assistant director CJ Palmisano go over logistics for a scene on the set “The Hog Queen.”

(Carlin Stiehl / Los Angeles Times)

Each of the projects selected has been carefully scaled down to a short length to guarantee they could be produced within the yearlong fellowship; all five are set to be unveiled at a showcase in November.

Craft and the other members of the fellow inaugural Visionary cohort — Zayre Ferrer, Monica Lucas, Filipe Coutinho and Alys Murray — each received $55,000 in funding for their respective short films, including a production grant, health insurance, access to an experienced crew as well as marketing support and financial aid for access and travel.

Rather than merely focusing on mentorship, networking or community-building, the Visionary Fellowship was designed to give these filmmakers the production experience they’ll need to thrive in the industry. More than just a pipeline, the 12-month program is an explicit investment in disabled filmmakers and the stories they’re eager to tell. And to arm them, in turn, with an encouraging environment that aims to reframe the way accessibility is often understood.

“I think there’s this misconception that making a set accessible is going to be a huge pain in the ass, that it’s going to cost a ton of money, and it’s going to slow you down,” Craft, who has low vision, explains. “I don’t think any of that has to be true. The other thing is people think of it as something that is going to benefit someone else. But when you start looking at it through a lens of accessibility and inclusivity, you’re benefiting everyone.”

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1. Bode makes her way onto the set. 2. Christian Zamudio performs during a drag show scene. 3. The slate lights up with a digital time code. (Carlin Stiehl / Los Angeles Times)

Siegel and Torelli-Pedevska knew they needed to bake that philosophy into their process. That meant setting money aside for any accommodations early and having a line item for accessibility in the budget templates they were creating to make sure it was something they could anticipate, measure and track.

“A lot of it goes to starting early,” Siegel says. “But more importantly, it’s about rejecting the belief that [accessibility] comes at the expense of the creativity in the final product. Saying the opposite, in fact, which is: if everyone feels like this is a safe set and they can do their best work, the work will just be better.”

Bode agrees — and sees Inevitable Foundation’s approach as one that can be replicated across the industry.

Before shooting, the entire cast and crew of “The Hog Queen” received a form that sought to garner information about their needs. “It asked about everything under the sun in terms of disability,” Bode explains. “‘Do you get overstimulated? Would you need a room to go to if you do get overstimulated? What are your physical access needs? Do you need a ramp? Do you need this? Do you need that?’

“I really think that should just be standard on sets. I don’t think disability accommodations are a luxury. I think everybody should be taken care of.”

To watch “Trifole” is to fall in love with Langhe, a gorgeous section of the Piedmont region of northern Italy. Famed for its farming, cheeses and wine, this hilly, rural countryside feels cut off from modernity: an agrarian past perfectly preserved in an uncertain present. Among Langhe’s hallmarks is its rich tradition of truffle foraging, which becomes the centerpiece for director Gabriele Fabbro’s gentle drama about an aging truffle hunter, his restless granddaughter and a way of life vanishing before their eyes. Unfortunately, this heartfelt film resonates most strongly through those majestic landscapes, not via the story that unfolds.

Constructed with the elemental purity of a fable, “Trifole” introduces the viewer to Dalia (Ydalie Turk), who’s in her late 20s and visiting her grandfather Igor (Umberto Orsini). The trip is a reluctant one for Dalia. Prompted by her anxious mother Marta (Margherita Buy), she’s taking a break from her stalled life in London to check in on him due to Marta’s concern that his failing memory may require him to abandon his beloved crumbling cottage and enter a nursing home. When Igor initially mistakes Dalia for his daughter — Dalia’s mother — his confusion validates Marta’s worries.

Happy to live out the rest of his days in his remote paradise alongside his loyal dog Birba, who ably assists him in his truffle hunts, Igor is displeased that Dalia has rejected her family roots for the big city. Indeed, Dalia has trouble with her Italian, and when she offers to help him find truffles, he insists his granddaughter doesn’t have the instincts or the calloused hands necessary for the job. But Igor isn’t just adept at sniffing out truffles — he quickly deduces that she’s emotionally lost. (A writing career hasn’t materialized as she’d hoped.) Both of them are at a crossroads, neither sure what the future holds.

Turk and Fabbro, who co-wrote the screenplay, did extensive research on the region, incorporating locals’ stories into the narrative. No matter how fantastical “Trifole” eventually becomes, the filmmakers insist the plot points derive from tales they collected. (To that end, there actually is an Igor, Birba is a real truffle-hunting dog and there’s a 2020 documentary, “The Truffle Hunters,” that correlates with much of what we see.) Not surprisingly, this melancholy picture celebrates and mourns Langhe, a region imperiled by global warming and encroaching industrialization that threaten the once-fecund practice of truffle gathering. Igor’s fading memory proves to be an apt, albeit obvious metaphor for a vocation slowly losing its connection to its past as truffles have emerged as a hot gastronomic trend.

In its early stretches, “Trifole” is almost rudimentary in its storytelling, establishing a familiar generational conflict between Dalia and Igor, who live under the same roof but can’t see eye to eye. When she tries to compliment his picturesque farmland, he curtly responds, “It’s nothing like the soil I knew when I was young.” The tension only escalates once Dalia discovers he’s terribly behind on his mortgage, owing hundreds of thousands he doesn’t have. Igor’s only hope is to find an elusive (and valuable) white truffle that could save him from foreclosure. But he is now too frail to brave the deep woods. Dalia, guided by Birba, must take up the quest.

The film’s themes are simply drawn and easy to follow. Dalia may reside in cosmopolitan London but is, of course, miserable, with wise old Igor immediately diagnosing the cause of her malaise. “You don’t love anything,” he advises sagely. “This will end up hurting you a lot.” Consequently, Dalia’s journey to find the mythical white truffle will also be an opportunity to locate a sense of purpose, coming to appreciate her grandfather in a more profound way. Turk conceives her character as a collection of insecurities and hesitant expressions, making Dalia the perfect candidate to be metaphorically reborn through an unlikely forest adventure in which magical events will occur.

In his sophomore feature, Fabbro, who previously directed the 2021 romantic thriller “The Grand Bolero,” juxtaposes the quiet grace of Igor’s modest life with the cacophony and commercialism of contemporary truffle auctions. But Fabbro’s wistful salute to bygone traditions has significant limitations, especially noticeable in the reductive design of his diametrically opposed main characters. Now in his early 90s, Orsini (best known for Luchino Visconti’s 1969 drama “The Damned”) projects a fragile but resilient gravitas that’s quite affecting, but Igor is reduced to a noble symbol — a simplification that also undercuts Dalia, who is little more than a stand-in for a younger generation ignorant of its country’s history.

Only when Fabbro trains his camera on the Langhe skies, the land stretching off into the distance, does “Trifole” suggest the weight and majesty of a culture in danger of disappearing. You can almost touch the sacred soil of Igor’s youth, a world that he alone remembers.

I stood atop a lookout point in the heart of Los Angeles County watching the sunset paint downtown L.A. a deep orange.

I was amazed to be alone in the outdoors just before 5 p.m. in America’s second-largest city. I took in more of the panoramic view before me. I could see Mt. Baldy turning a hazy pink as the sun coated the rest of the San Gabriel Mountains in a scarlet hue. I spotted thick clouds moving in over the South Bay. It’d be foggy later.

I’d usually need to travel to Griffith Park or Debs Park for similar views, but that evening’s location was the lesser-known Elephant Hill Open Space, a rolling landscape in El Sereno that local activists hope becomes L.A.’s next great park. But that’s only if they can save it in time.

Mt. Baldy is visible in the distance from a hiking trail in Elephant Hill Open Space in El Sereno.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Elephant Hill Open Space is a 110-acre plot of undeveloped land in El Sereno that residents have advocated, for more than 20 years, to be developed into a public park like nearby Debs Park or Ascot Hills with hiking trails, benches and overlook points.

For years, local activists have beat back developers who wanted to build luxury homes, tried to curb illegal dumping and attempted to persuade off-road enthusiasts who have (illegally) carved deep scars into the hillsides to recreate elsewhere.

Their final challenge, though, if the entire 110 acres is to be saved from development, is persuading about 200 different land owners to sell their parcels of Elephant Hill to a public agency — and at fair market rate.

Newly installed steps near the Elephant Hill test plot lead hikers toward panoramic views of L.A. County.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

About 25 acres are owned by government agencies. Mountains Recreation & Conservation Authority, a local government agency focused on protecting open spaces, manages 8.37 acres at Elephant Hill and is in the process of buying another 2.4 acres. The city of L.A. owns about 15 acres after buying around 20 acres in a 2009 settlement with a developer who wanted to build luxury homes on the hillsides. (The city later sold five acres to MRCA.)

In recent years, MRCA has received about $4.2 million, including $2 million last month from the Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy, to research and buy more land, build a 0.75-mile trail to bring in more hikers, and install gates and boulders to prevent illegal off-roading.

Sarah Kevorkian, deputy chief of wildfire resilience at MRCA, said her agency is required by law to buy land at fair market rate, making it hard to compete in a “cutthroat” market with private developers who can offer landowners more money.

“The number of individual landowners is an added layer of complexity, and I don’t think that exists in other places, not like this,” Kevorkian said.

A view looking east from Elephant Hill’s new hiking trail.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Still, she remains optimistic, regularly checking land sales websites to see whether any Elephant Hill owners have posted their properties. Community members are quick to call her if they see a “for sale” sign go up.

“I immediately will call,” Kevorkian said. “I called this one person, and they said, ‘Yeah, we have an offer, we’re going with it.’ … I said, ‘If anything changes, call me back.’ They didn’t, but I just had a feeling.”

The land was next to the hiking trail that MRCA was installing. It’d be such a perfect parcel to snag.

Kevorkian called the property owner back a few weeks later, and they told her the deal had fallen through. “It was such an awesome win,” she said.

Mt. Wilson is visible from the Elephant Hill Open Space in El Sereno.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

And anyone who visits can easily see why.

I first visited Elephant Hill a few weeks ago with Elva Yañez and Hugo Garcia, co-founders of Save Elephant Hill. They started their efforts in late 2003 to try to fight off private developers. Both live within walking distance of the open space.

We started our hike on the western side of Elephant Hill, with an aim of seeing the beginnings of Elephant Hill’s first official hiking trail, which MRCA expects to complete next year with way-finding signage, boulders and more.

We headed up the steep terrain, quickly passing the latest disputed development — a truck garden that’s drawn the ire of Save Elephant Hill and other conservation groups for its owner’s choice to chop down protected native trees, as reported by L.A. Taco.

A tree canopy provides shade over the hiking trail in Elephant Hill Open Space in El Sereno.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

We took the trail’s switchbacks and then paused to catch our breaths in the shade of hollyleaf cherry, black walnuts and other trees creating a dense canopy. There, the hills blocked the noise from the roads and city. It’d be the perfect place for a picnic table, bench or both.

Next, we walked down newly installed steps to reach the Elephant Hill test plot, a lush experimental restoration garden where volunteers have planted hundreds of native flowers and shrubs and close to 100 trees. The land looks grateful.

Bees buzzed around the sugar bush and coyote brush. Unlike other parts of the park that remain overwhelmed with invasive mustard, trees of heaven and castor bean, this area is thriving with drought-tolerant and, in some cases, fire-resistant native plants.

A native sunflower in the test plot garden, from left, a shaded path in Elephant Hill, and a white-crowned sparrow perched in the test plot garden.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Yañez said during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, she and Garcia realized they needed to expand their list of allies for Elephant Hill. “We’re not naturalists. We’re not traditional environmentalists. We’re not native plant people,” she said. “We realized at a certain point that we have to activate this space. We have to get people on it to start building that support.”

Joey Farewell, an estate planner who lives nearby and manages the test plot, said, with Yañez and MRCA’s blessing, the test plot volunteers installed the garden in fall 2022 and have seen it thrive, largely without watering outside of what’s needed to first establish new growth.

The test plot started as 3,000 square feet and has expanded to 10,000 square feet of native plant, said Jennifer Toy, director of nonprofit Test Plot, which has 16 experimental gardens around L.A. At Elephant Hill, volunteers have cleared about 20,000 square feet of invasive species, she said.

“It’s not a huge area, but each year we think about” what they can do next, Toy said. “It’s a work in progress.”

And it’s a powerful proof of concept of what Elephant Hill could look like with investment.

Farewell, who is the conservation co-chair of the L.A. and Santa Monica Mountains chapter of the California Native Plants Society, said most people don’t realize what a dynamic landscape Elephant Hill is, including its water features.

“My kids would play by the brook” after heavy rains, Farewell said. “You could reach your hand into one of the springs that fed the stream and feel the water bubbling out of the ground.”

The view of downtown L.A. from a high point at the Elephant Hill Open Space in El Sereno.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Yañez wants more local children to have similar experiences. Elephant Hill sits among a neighborhood plagued by environmental racism, she said. Green space isn’t readily available, but with the development of Elephant Hill into a park, it could be.

Yañez said she understands the need for more housing in L.A., but Elephant Hill has repeatedly proven an unsafe option. In the late 1980s, townhouses in a nearby development started falling into the ground, causing major structural damage. Around 2006, a developer was using a backhoe to build a fence around his property when the heavy machinery fell deep into a spring. Neighbors referred to it as a “sinkhole.”

“When you look at the big picture of climate change and lack of access to park space in communities like El Sereno, it’s kind of a no-brainer — and it’s very difficult to build here. In fact, it’s not safe,” Yañez said. “All the factors come together and make a pretty strong case on their own for conservation. Plus, I think the community deserves access to open space on these hillsides.”

3 things to do

Volunteers repair habitat in the Bolsa Chica Conservancy in Huntington Beach.

(Erika Moe / Amigos de Bolsa Chica)

1. Address messy nests in Huntington Beach
Amigos de Bolsa Chica needs volunteers from 8:15 to 11:30 a.m. Saturday to restore nest habitat for the threatened western snowy plover and endangered California least tern. Participants will remove invasive and overgrown plants in an area of the reserve off-limits to the public. Register at amigosdebolsachica.org.

2. Craft s’mores ’round the campfire in Culver City
The Nature Nexus Institute will host a fall harvest event from 1 to 3 p.m. Saturday at the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook featuring a campfire and drum circle. Guests can also take guided nature strolls, listen to storytelling and make s’mores around a campfire. Register at docs.google.com.

3. Nurture native plants in the Hollywood Hills
The Citizens for Los Angeles Wildlife needs volunteers from 9 to 11 a.m. Saturday for a habitat restoration project in the Hollywood Hills. Participants will weed and water young native wildflowers, trees and shrubs, and install humane protection from deer and gophers. Register at clawonline.org.

The must-read

A sign stands in the middle of the fire-ravaged remains of the ranch house at Will Rogers State Historic Park in Pacific Palisades. The park reopened Saturday.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Hikers rejoice! Will Rogers State Historic Park reopened Saturday after being closed for 10 months following the devastating Palisades fire in January. Times staff writer Hailey Branson-Potts reported that 4.2 miles of the park’s trails are now open while 4.8 miles remain closed. Unfortunately, the segment of the Backbone Trail — a 67-mile trek from Point Mugu State Park to Will Rogers — that runs through the park will remain closed because the fire destroyed the Chicken Ridge Bridge. The Rivas Canyon Trail and Rustic Canyon Trail will also remain closed. The looping trail to Inspiration Point will be partially open, although parks officials might sometimes close it for trail work.

I am glad, slowly but surely, we’re getting to return to some of our favorite places closed by fire.

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s — no, it’s a bird! It appears that a bald eagle was spotted flying over the Audubon Center at Debs Park last Thursday. “Could it be?!” the Audobon Center posted on Instagram. The answer is yes, it really could have been! On the citizen science app iNaturalist, users have reported almost 1,000 bald eagle observations in L.A. County, including one over Debs Park in 2017 and others in nearby Glassell Park and Pasadena. Perhaps the Steve Miller Band was correct about our national bird’s flight pattern: “I want to fly like an eagle / To the sea.” May your spirit carry you through this week, friends!

For more insider tips on Southern California’s beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.

JD Vance, it seems, is everywhere.

Berating Volodymyr Zelensky in the Oval Office. Eulogizing Charlie Kirk. Babysitting the Middle East peace accord. Profanely defending the aquatic obliteration of (possible) drug smugglers.

He’s loud, he’s obnoxious and, in a very short time, he’s broken unprecedented ground with his smash-face, turn-it-to-11 approach to the vice presidency. Unlike most White House understudies, who effectively disappear like a protected witness, Vance has become the highest-profile, most pugnacious politician in America who is not named Donald J. Trump.

It’s quite the contrast with his predecessor.

Kamala Harris made her own kind of history, as the first woman, first Black person and first Asian American to serve as vice president. As such, she entered office bearing great — and vastly unrealistic — expectations about her prominence and the public role she would play in the Biden administration. When Harris acted the way that vice presidents normally do — subservient, self-effacing, careful never to poach the spotlight from the chief executive — it was seen as a failing.

By the end of her first year in office, “whatever happened to Kamala Harris?” had become a political buzz phrase.

No one’s asking that about JD Vance.

Why is that? Because that’s how President Trump wants it.

“Rule No.1 about the vice presidency is that vice presidents are only as active as their presidents want them to be,” said Jody Baumgartner, an East Carolina University expert on the office. “They themselves are irrelevant.”

Consider Trump’s first vice president, Mike Pence, who had the presence and pizzazz of day-old mashed potatoes.

“He was not a very powerful vice president, but that’s because Donald Trump didn’t want him to be,” said Christopher Devine, a University of Dayton professor who’s published four books on the vice presidency. “He wanted him to have very little influence and to be more of a background figure, to kind of reassure quietly the conservatives of the party that Trump was on the right track. With JD Vance, I think he wants him to be a very active, visible figure.”

In fact, Trump seems to be grooming Vance as a successor in a way that Joe Biden never did with Harris. The 46th president practically had to be bludgeoned into standing aside after the Democratic freakout over his wretched, career-ending debate performance. (Things might be different with Vance if Trump could override the Constitution and fulfill his fantasy of seeking a third term in the White House.)

There were other circumstances that kept Harris under wraps, particularly in the early part of Biden’s presidency.

One was the COVID-19 lockdown. “It meant she wasn’t traveling. She wasn’t doing public events,” said Joel K. Goldstein, another author and expert on the vice presidency. “A lot of stuff was being done virtually and so that tended to be constraining.”

The Democrats’ narrow control of the Senate also required Harris to stick close to Washington so she could cast a number of tie-breaking votes. (Under the Constitution, the vice president provides the deciding vote when the Senate is equally divided. Harris set a record in the third year of her vice presidency for casting the most tie-breakers in history.)

The personality of their bosses also explains why Harris and Vance approached the vice presidency in different ways.

Biden had spent nearly half a century in Washington, as a senator and vice president under Barack Obama. He was, foremost, a creature of the legislative process and saw Harris, who’d served nearly two decades in elected office, as a (junior) partner in governing.

Trump came to politics through celebrity. He is, foremost, a pitchman and promoter. He saw Vance as a way to turn up the volume.

Ohio’s senator had served barely 18 months in his one and only political position when Trump chose Vance as his running mate. He’d “really made his mark as a media and cultural figure,” Devine noted, with Vance’s memoir, “Hillbilly Elegy,” regarded as a kind of Rosetta Stone for the anger and resentment that fueled the MAGA movement.

Trump “wanted someone who was going to be aggressive in advancing the MAGA narrative,” Devine said, “being very present in media, including in some newer media spaces, on podcasts, social media. Vance was someone who could hammer home Trump’s message every day.”

The contrast continued once Harris and Vance took office.

Biden handed his vice president a portfolio of tough and weighty issues, among them addressing the root causes of illegal migration from Central America. (They were “impossible, s— jobs,” in the blunt assessment that Harris’ husband, Doug Emhoff, offered in her recent campaign memoir.)

Trump has treated Vance as a sort of heat-seeking rhetorical missile, turning him loose against his critics and acting as though the presidential campaign never ended.

Vance seems gladly submissive. Harris, who was her own boss for nearly two decades, had a hard time adjusting as Biden’s No. 2.

“Vance is very effective at playing the role of backup singer who gets to have a solo from time to time,” said Jamal Simmons, who spent a year as Harris’ vice presidential communications chief. “I don’t think Kamala Harris was ever as comfortable in the role as Vance has proven himself to be.”

Will Vance’s pugilistic approach pay off in 2028? It’s way too soon to say. Turning the conventions of the vice presidency to a shambles, the way Trump did with the presidency, has delighted many in the Republican base. But polls show Vance, like Trump, is deeply unpopular with a great number of voters.

As for Harris, all she can do is look on from her exile in Brentwood, pondering what might have been.

LONDON — The BBC reported Monday that President Trump sent a letter threatening legal action over the way a speech he made was edited in a documentary aired by the British broadcaster.

The BBC’s top executive and its head of news both quit Sunday over accusations of bias and misleading editing of a speech Trump delivered on Jan. 6, 2021, before a crowd of his supporters stormed the Capitol in Washington.

Asked about a letter from Trump threatening legal action over the incident, the BBC said in a statement on Monday that “we will review the letter and respond directly in due course.” It did not provide further details.

Earlier, Trump welcomed the resignations of BBC Director-General Tim Davie and news chief Deborah Turness, saying the way his speech was edited was an attempt to “step on the scales of a Presidential Election.”

The hourlong documentary — titled “Trump: A Second Chance?” — was broadcast as part of the BBC’s “Panorama” series days before the 2024 U.S. presidential election. It spliced together three quotes from two sections of the 2021 speech, delivered almost an hour apart, into what appeared to be one quote in which Trump urged supporters to march with him and “fight like hell.” Among the parts cut out was a section where Trump said he wanted supporters to demonstrate peacefully.

In a resignation letter to staff, Davie said: “There have been some mistakes made and as director-general I have to take ultimate responsibility.”

Turness said the controversy was damaging the BBC, and she quit “because the buck stops with me.”

Turness defended the organization’s journalists against allegations of bias.

“Our journalists are hardworking people who strive for impartiality, and I will stand by their journalism,” she said Monday. “There is no institutional bias. Mistakes are made, but there’s no institutional bias.”

BBC chairman Samir Shah apologized Monday for the broadcaster’s “error of judgment,” saying the broadcaster “accept[s] that the way the speech was edited did give the impression of a direct call for violent action.”

Trump posted a link to a Daily Telegraph story about the speech-editing on his Truth Social network, thanking the newspaper “for exposing these Corrupt ‘Journalists.’ These are very dishonest people who tried to step on the scales of a Presidential Election.” He called that “a terrible thing for Democracy!”

White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt reacted on X, posting a screen grab of an article headlined “Trump goes to war with ‘fake news’ BBC” beside another about Davie’s resignation, with the words “shot” and “chaser.”

Trump speech edited

Pressure on the broadcaster’s top executives has been growing since the right-leaning Daily Telegraph published parts of a dossier compiled by Michael Prescott, who had been hired to advise the BBC on standards and guidelines.

As well as the Trump edit, it criticized the BBC’s coverage of transgender issues and raised concerns of anti-Israel bias in the BBC’s Arabic service.

The “Panorama” episode showed an edited clip from the January 2021 speech in which Trump claimed the 2020 presidential election had been rigged. Trump is shown saying: “We’re going to walk down to the Capitol and I’ll be there with you. And we fight. We fight like hell.”

According to video and a transcript from Trump’s comments that day, he said:  “I’ll be there with you, we’re going to walk down, we’re going to walk down. Anyone you want, but I think right here, we’re going to walk down to the Capitol, and we’re going to cheer on our brave senators and congressmen and women, and we’re probably not going to be cheering so much for some of them.

“Because you’ll never take back our country with weakness. You have to show strength and you have to be strong. We have come to demand that Congress do the right thing and only count the electors who have been lawfully slated, lawfully slated.

“I know that everyone here will soon be marching over to the Capitol building to peacefully and patriotically make your voices heard.”

Trump used the “fight like hell” phrase toward the end of the speech, but without referencing the Capitol.

“We fight like hell. And if you don’t fight like hell, you’re not going to have a country anymore,” Trump said.

In a letter to Parliament’s Culture, Media and Sport Committee, Shah said the purpose of editing Trump’s words had been “to convey the message of the speech” so that viewers could understand how it had been received by Trump’s supporters and what was happening on the ground.

He said the program had not attracted “significant audience feedback” when it first aired but had drawn more than 500 complaints since Prescott’s dossier was made public.

Shah acknowledged in a BBC interview that “it would have been better to have acted earlier. But we didn’t.”

A national institution

The 103-year-old BBC faces greater scrutiny than other broadcasters — and criticism from its commercial rivals — because of its status as a national institution funded through an annual license fee of 174.50 pounds ($230) paid by all households who watch live TV or any BBC content.

The broadcaster is bound by the terms of its charter to be impartial, and critics are quick to point out when they think it has failed. It’s frequently a political football, with conservatives seeing a leftist slant in its news output and some liberals accusing it of having a conservative bias.

It has also been criticized from all angles over its coverage of the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza. In February, the BBC removed a documentary about Gaza from its streaming service after it emerged that the child narrator was the son of an official in the Hamas-led government.

Governments of both left and right have long been accused of meddling with the broadcaster, which is overseen by a board that includes both BBC nominees and government appointees.

Some defenders of the BBC allege that members of the board appointed under previous Conservative governments have been undermining the corporation from within.

Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s spokesman, Tom Wells, said the center-left Labor Party government supports “a strong, independent BBC” and doesn’t think the broadcaster is biased.

“But it is important that the BBC acts to maintain trust and corrects mistakes quickly when they occur,” he said.

Lawless writes for the Associated Press.