Abigail Velez, who works for ABC7 Los Angeles, was reporting from a USA viewing party in Long Beach, California, when she made the remarks while discussing America’s next opponent in the tournament.
Following the US team’s 3-2 defeat to Turkey, Velez told viewers: “The next round, Team USA will play Bosnia next Wednesday and one thing about Bosnia, I could not point out where it is on a map.”
She then added: “I don’t know the first thing about Bosnia and I don’t want to know because Team USA, we’re back, we’re better than ever.”
The comments quickly spread on social media, where Bosnian football fans and other viewers criticised the report as disrespectful.
One account, Bosnian Football, shared the clip on X and wrote: “My goodness, the stereotypes write themselves…”
Another viewer said: “Some competitive talk is always fun, but that’s not the way to do it.”
A third added: “The weirdest thing about Americans is that they feel it’s like a flex to say ‘I don’t even know where they are on a map.'”
Velez later issued an apology on X, formerly Twitter, admitting she had gone too far while trying to inject humour into her World Cup coverage.
She wrote: “In a poor effort to have a little fun with World Cup competition, I took it too far and made a thoughtless comment on air that was insensitive and inappropriate. I apologise to the people of Bosnia and the Bosnian Football team.”
She added: “The World Cup is supposed to be about uniting communities around the world, and my comment didn’t reflect that spirit. Wishing all the teams the very best as they continue their World Cup journey.”
Despite her apology, not everyone was convinced. One person replied: “This is not a pure apology. This is just a pr stunt to protect one’s reputation from being scrutinized.” Another pointed out that the current president of ABC News, Almin Karamehmedovic, is actually from Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Not everyone was offended though. One user shared, “There is absolutely no reason to say sorry for that. The Bosnians don’t even know where Pigeon Forge and Rochester are on the map. Do you see them saying sorry?”
The apology came ahead of the USA’s knockout match against Bosnia-Herzegovina, which is due to take place at San Francisco Bay Area Stadium on Wednesday.
The United States finished top of Group D after winning two of their three matches, while Bosnia-Herzegovina progressed from Group B as one of the best third-placed sides.
From the graveyard of St Michael’s in Ynys, Wales, the view was ravishing: the Italianate oddity of Portmeirion sparkled on the opposite shore; the peaks of Eryri (Snowdonia) rippled in the distance; and, within the River Dwyryd’s broad swirl, sat the tidal island of Ynys Gifftan. “No one’s lived there for years,” said a passerby pointing to the isle, “but it’s just been put up for sale – £350,000, if you fancy it.”
I rather did, but sadly my modest savings don’t stretch that far. Wales’s “armpit”, geographically speaking – which is how some people refer to that chunk of Gwynedd where estuaries perspire into Cardigan Bay before it curves round the outstretched Llŷn peninsula – looked like a spectacular place to be marooned.
I’d come here because I thought it might be a particularly good place for coastal exploring by rail and on foot. The Cambrian Line, which starts in Shrewsbury, runs west to the bay, before turning north along Gwynedd’s shore. Here, it’s accompanied by the Wales Coast Path and, launched in 2024, the Cadfan Way, a 128-mile (206km) pilgrimage following sixth-century St Cadfan from his church in the seaside town of Tywyn to the ruins of the monastery he founded on Ynys Enlli (Bardsey Island), off the Llŷn’s tip.
I began in Machynlleth. This handsome market town by the River Dyfi is where the Cambrian Line begins to feel connected to the sea. It also has a disproportionate number of excellent indie shops, and one of the country’s best restaurants – though I skipped Gwen’s 20-course, £295 feast and grabbed supplies from the Royal House deli instead (very tasty, very good value). Then I boarded the train.
I was soon rattling through an increasingly saturated land. The mouth of the Dyfi began to yawn into bird-beloved mudflats, salt marsh and sandbanks; the train passes right between the Dyfi Osprey Project’s 360-observatory and the osprey nests it observes. Wider and wider the waterway became until, eventually, at white-washed Aberdyfi, the line hit the coast, sometimes running so close to the sea’s edge that you couldn’t see the join.
We pootled north, via towns like Tywyn – starting point for St Cadfan pilgrimages – and teeny halts like Tonfanau, site of an army base during the second world war, now sheep-grazed ruins. Like many Cambrian Line stops, Tonfanau is request only; those on the platform should stick out an arm.
At Harlech, no requests are necessary – the train itself couldn’t help but be halted by the vision of Harlech Castle. Edward I’s crag-top stronghold was started in 1282, took seven years to build and still looks fearsome. I disembarked here, hiked up to the fortress and entered with ease via the modern floating bridge; back in the day, would-be intruders faced concentric walls, portcullises and a “killing zone” where arrows were fired from the sides, missiles dropped from above. The weather was gloomy, curtailing the views but piling on atmosphere. I spiralled up the dark stone staircases and circled the battlements, alone but for the hooded jackdaws. It gave me the shivers.
Portmeirion, which celebrates its centenary this year. Photograph: Mieneke Andeweg-van Rijn/Getty Images
I spent the night at Y Branwen hotel, in the castle’s shadow, and left Harlech the next day on foot, murk replaced by blazing sunshine. I was headed north along the coast, although the rocky Rhinogs rising behind the village looked tempting … “There’s no one in those hills,” Branwen’s owner David Penny told me. However, I stuck to Plan A, and wasn’t disappointed. Rounding Harlech Point, I was slapped by that view down the Dwyryd, soon passing isolated St Michael’s and my fantasy island.
Following the Cadfan Way for a while, I hiked from Ynys to St Tecwyn’s, an even lonelier church, seemingly ministering to no one from its eyrie above the estuary. It was here that poet and priest Jim Cotter was inspired to found the Small Pilgrim Places network; he wrote of St Tecwyn’s: “I’m at what must be one of the most extraordinary places in the whole of Wales.”
I had to agree, though Portmeirion, across the Dwyrydestuary, gives it a run for its money. This fantastical resort village, the trippy creation of Sir Clough Williams-Ellis, celebrates its centenary this year and remains wonderfully weird, with its candy palette, tricks of perspective and salvaged architectural paraphernalia. I popped into the Prisoner Shop, which sells memorabilia related to the cult TV show of the same name, filmed here in the 1960s. I wondered if it was still popular? “Oh yes,” the cashier confirmed. “Even with young people, they watch it on YouTube. Its themes – surveillance, freedom – feel relevant today.”
I stayed at Portmeirion’s Castell Deudraeth, a Gothic pile with big rooms, a good restaurant and The Prisoner looping on channel 801. But best was strolling into the village at sunrise, no one around, watching the sun crack the opposite hills, hit the top of the campanile and flood into the hot-pink camellia groves.
Porthmadog station wasn’t far, a short walk through the woods and across the mile-long cob that fords the Glaslyn estuary, Eyri summits keeping watch. From here on, I used a mix of train and boot to reach Pwllheli, the end of the Cambrian Line.
Plas Glyn-y-Weddw in Llanbedrog, one of the oldest art galleries in Wales. Photograph: Kirsty Ford/Alamy
That wasn’t always the case. A horse-drawn tramway, built in the 1890s by businessman Solomon Andrews, used to run farther west to his estate in Llanbedrog. Andrews turned the site’s Victorian mansion, Plas Glyn-y-Weddw, into an art gallery and charged a shilling for a combined tram and gallery ticket. Now, 130 years later, I paid nothing at all. The old tramway track is part of the Wales Coast Path – an easy, breezy four-mile stroll along the bay – and Plas Glyn-y-Weddw is free entry. Saved from ruin in the 1980s, it’s one of the oldest galleries in Wales, showcasing work by Welsh artists, and serving great cake inside its modern cafe, which squats beside the house like a giant silver sea urchin.
I scoffed a scone, then ambled through the Winllan woods on trails first developed by Andrews for his paying visitors. Andrews also placed the figurehead of an old ship on Mynydd Tir y Cwmwd, the heathery headland above. It was eventually destroyed and now the twisted metal Tin Man, or Iron Man, stands in its place, enjoying quite the spot. I could retrace my route from here, Cardigan Bay arcing away into a mountain-backed haze. It made a pleasing journey’s end, with the knowledge that getting home meant riding that charming train line back again.
The trip was supported by the Wales Coast Path. Cambrian Line tickets are cheaper bought in advance; a day rover ticket costs £21. Y Branwen in Harlech has doubles from £110B&B. Castell Deudraeth has doubles from £208B&B, including Portmeirion entry
Cailee Spaeny looks at Charles Melton, her co-star on the Netflix limited series “Beef,” asking for help. “Wait a minute … how long were we attached?” Melton smiles and reaches for her hand. “We’ve been attached our whole lives.”
Have they? Given how they tease and finish each other’s sentences, it sure feels that way. Spaeny and Melton were cast as Ashley and Austin, a Gen-Z couple working at a Montecito country club, dreaming and scheming toward upward mobility, a good 18 months before filming began in early 2025. To cement their bond, Spaeny, who hails from Missouri, and Melton, an Army brat who considers Kansas home, decided to return to their Midwestern roots, round up their families and go to a Kansas City Chiefs football game just before Christmas.
At one point, Spaeny looked over to see her brother-in-law having a heart-to-heart with Melton’s dad. They were crying. After the game, they all went out for barbecue. Melton surprised his dad with a gift — a truck.
“That was very sweet and emotional,” Spaeny says of the day. “There’s a lot of filling in the blanks when your families are from the same part of the country. They’re down-to-earth, churchgoing families. It felt easy. We’re cut from the same cloth.”
When the Palisades and Eaton fires delayed the start of filming, Spaeny and Melton decamped to Solvang, rented an Airbnb with some friends and continued what Spaeny calls their “weird prep” for playing the series’ besotted couple. They cooked dinners together, played games and even watched “Riverdale,” the CW series that catapulted Melton to fame a decade ago.
“We also watched ‘Wicked’ too many times,” Spaeny, 27, says.
“You were singing a lot,” Melton, 35, tells her.
“I don’t think I sang once,” Spaeny counters.
“Oh she did,” Melton says. “She’s a singer. Sing for us.”
“Guys, what are we doing?” Spaeny says, burying her head in her hands.
Whatever it is, we’re not stopping. We have, as Melton notes much to Spaeny’s chagrin, “caught a vibe.”
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You two represent different generations …
Melton: What? Excuse me?
Charles, you’re a millennial. Cailee is Gen-Z.
Spaeny: Oh my God. You’re so Gen-Z coded.
Melton: I’m a zillennial.
Spaeny: Did you feel like there was an age gap between us?
Melton: I feel like we’re the same age. You know I’m an old soul. My exterior is just goofy. Cailee is wise beyond her years.
What’s the biggest difference between the two generations?
Melton: I think the generations are more alike than different. As a millennial and zillennial, I’ve done my share of weird self-diagnosing.
Spaeny: TikTok therapy for sure. Holding onto words that make us feel more seen through the internet. The comment “I just read the headline. I need to start reading the articles.” It’s sad but it’s true. And I think everyone does it.
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1.Charles Melton.2.Cailee Spaeny.(Erik Carter / For The Times)
Do you relate to your characters’ Gen-Z resentment that previous generations screwed them over? “Everyone grabbed the bag before we could.”
Spaeny: There was a time when having a house by your 30s was guaranteed. Now, you’re having to choose whether you want to have children or stay afloat in your career. We’re all riddled with this feeling of the life we feel we deserve …
Melton: And what will make us happy. Ashley gets the promotion. But the social climb is never enough. It’s “if you do this thing, you’ll get the this thing.”
Spaeny: It’s the constant chase.
You’ve both defied the odds and enjoyed successful careers as actors. Can you be content and sit with that?
Spaeny: We try. But it also feels like it’s set up in a way where you can’t sit. You have to look for the next thing because if you wait, people will get bored with you. You’ll book a job and hopefully it pays well and then you might not work again for two years. It’s easy to be in a place of desperation. Actors are also naturally people-pleasers. So, unfortunately, I think it was too easy for us to relate to our characters.
Melton: Maybe part of your question, which led to your beautiful answer, is: Where’s acceptance? I’m a father now. Sometimes, I’m super tired, but the best thing is I get to read to my kid. Looking at life through a place of abundance … but that can be a tough thing to do.
Spaeny: It’s not just the entertainment industry. I go back home and I’m with my sister, who is an amazing mother and soccer mom. And you can feel that itch inside of people back home too. Have I done enough for my children? Do I need to go to more soccer tournaments? Am I going to church enough?
Melton: It’s everywhere. And under the umbrella of class and healthcare and how expensive everything is, it’s tough. The bill we had just to have a baby was so ridiculous.
Spaeny: Oh yeah. My favorite line in “Beef” was, “Do you know the 16-piece meal at KFC is $52.99 now?” That sums it up.
(Erik Carter / For The Times)
I looked that up. It’s true, though you can get the 16-piece chicken-only meal for about $37.
Melton: But you can’t just eat the chicken. You have to have the sides and biscuits, right?
How about Austin’s line: “All we need is each other … and the beach.”
Melton: That’s what I love about Austin, this optimism but considered to be naivete. Really, at the end of the day, I’ll look at my partner and I’ll look at my daughter and be like, “This is absolutely all I need.”
Spaeny: [Sighs] I would love to get to that point.
Melton: But then to put food on the table, you’re required to do things that take you away from the things that you say are all you need.
Spaeny: The great thing about this show is that it’s zeroing in on everyday impossibilities of life, the things that should be so simple, but drive us all up the wall.
You both talk about Midwest sensibility. Do your roots help ground you?
Spaeny: I just got back from home last night, and I always feel a layer gets peeled off when I’m there. With work, I’m always on edge and trying to hold onto this thing that could be taken away from me any day. When I go back home, I feel like it can really be that simple. But it doesn’t last. That’s the problem. The itch comes back.
There’s nothing wrong with a little ambition.
Spaeny: I’m finding ambition more and more unattractive these days. Maybe that’s me just getting older and wanting more outside of the job.
Melton: We’ve talked about this. If we’re always going from one thing to the next, how can I bring the humanity and soul of my life into my work? If I had my way, I’d take three to six months off between jobs just to live and put my feet on the grass. Cailee and I connect in many ways. I love your determination and drive and passion for the work. Some people want to act like they don’t care, but I think it’s cool to care.
Timothée Chalamet does too, but he got flack for saying that out loud, that he “wanted to be one of the greats.”
Melton: I thought that was f— awesome. You want to be great? We all do.
Spaeny: It’s what every actor is thinking except they’re feigning …
Melton: We love Chalamet over here.
Spaeny: Maybe he didn’t say all the right things, but that speech, that’s why we’re in the building.
It’s OK for an athlete to say that, but if an actor does, the world gives them grief.
Melton: That kind of sincerity is the default in Kansas and Missouri. You know, growing up as an athlete, I was pretty good. I ran the 100-meter dash in 10.9 seconds. Make sure you write that in. [Laughs] You have to have a vision. And the artists that speak on that vision, that’s awesome. Visualization is essential. I wouldn’t be here talking with one of my best friends and one of the greatest actresses ever …
Spaeny: What are you doing?!?
Melton: I’d rather give you flowers all day than talk about what I think. All that to say is that I wouldn’t be doing this if I did not have vision when I was in Kansas to leave with $500 in my pocket, 60 cans of chicken noodle soup and 60 cans of tuna. You have to dream.
Spaeny: A dollar and a dream!
I’ve got to ask. Sixty cans of chicken noodle soup on a road trip? Do you just pop the top and down it cold?
Spaeny: Great question.
Melton: I’d just take off the top and lay it in the sun for two or three hours and it’s good to go.
Spaeny: Please stop.
Melton: OK. I’d just dip my finger in it and because I’m so hot, it just boils.
TV host forced to apologise after ‘weird’ World Cup comment angers fans
Abigail Velez took to social media to issue her apology for her ‘thoughtless comment’
16:33, 28 Jun 2026Updated 16:33, 28 Jun 2026
ABC host Abigail Velez apologised for her comment
An ABC News reporter has apologised after sparking backlash with an on-air comment about Bosnia-Herzegovina ahead of the country’s World Cup clash with the United States.
Abigail Velez, who works for ABC7 Los Angeles, was reporting from a USA viewing party in Long Beach, California, when she made the remarks while discussing America’s next opponent in the tournament.
Following the US team’s 3-2 defeat to Turkey, Velez told viewers: “The next round, Team USA will play Bosnia next Wednesday and one thing about Bosnia, I could not point out where it is on a map.”
She then added: “I don’t know the first thing about Bosnia and I don’t want to know because Team USA, we’re back, we’re better than ever.”
The comments quickly spread on social media, where Bosnian football fans and other viewers criticised the report as disrespectful.
One account, Bosnian Football, shared the clip on X and wrote: “My goodness, the stereotypes write themselves…”
Another viewer said: “Some competitive talk is always fun, but that’s not the way to do it.”
A third added: “The weirdest thing about Americans is that they feel it’s like a flex to say ‘I don’t even know where they are on a map.'”
Velez later issued an apology on X, formerly Twitter, admitting she had gone too far while trying to inject humour into her World Cup coverage.
She wrote: “In a poor effort to have a little fun with World Cup competition, I took it too far and made a thoughtless comment on air that was insensitive and inappropriate. I apologise to the people of Bosnia and the Bosnian Football team.”
She added: “The World Cup is supposed to be about uniting communities around the world, and my comment didn’t reflect that spirit. Wishing all the teams the very best as they continue their World Cup journey.”
Despite her apology, not everyone was convinced. One person replied: “This is not a pure apology. This is just a pr stunt to protect one’s reputation from being scrutinized.” Another pointed out that the current president of ABC News, Almin Karamehmedovic, is actually from Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Not everyone was offended though. One user shared, “There is absolutely no reason to say sorry for that. The Bosnians don’t even know where Pigeon Forge and Rochester are on the map. Do you see them saying sorry?”
The apology came ahead of the USA’s knockout match against Bosnia-Herzegovina, which is due to take place at San Francisco Bay Area Stadium on Wednesday.
The United States finished top of Group D after winning two of their three matches, while Bosnia-Herzegovina progressed from Group B as one of the best third-placed sides.
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From churches and castles to wonderfully weird Portmeirion: exploring Wales’s north-west coast on foot and by train | Wales holidays
From the graveyard of St Michael’s in Ynys, Wales, the view was ravishing: the Italianate oddity of Portmeirion sparkled on the opposite shore; the peaks of Eryri (Snowdonia) rippled in the distance; and, within the River Dwyryd’s broad swirl, sat the tidal island of Ynys Gifftan. “No one’s lived there for years,” said a passerby pointing to the isle, “but it’s just been put up for sale – £350,000, if you fancy it.”
I rather did, but sadly my modest savings don’t stretch that far. Wales’s “armpit”, geographically speaking – which is how some people refer to that chunk of Gwynedd where estuaries perspire into Cardigan Bay before it curves round the outstretched Llŷn peninsula – looked like a spectacular place to be marooned.
I’d come here because I thought it might be a particularly good place for coastal exploring by rail and on foot. The Cambrian Line, which starts in Shrewsbury, runs west to the bay, before turning north along Gwynedd’s shore. Here, it’s accompanied by the Wales Coast Path and, launched in 2024, the Cadfan Way, a 128-mile (206km) pilgrimage following sixth-century St Cadfan from his church in the seaside town of Tywyn to the ruins of the monastery he founded on Ynys Enlli (Bardsey Island), off the Llŷn’s tip.
I began in Machynlleth. This handsome market town by the River Dyfi is where the Cambrian Line begins to feel connected to the sea. It also has a disproportionate number of excellent indie shops, and one of the country’s best restaurants – though I skipped Gwen’s 20-course, £295 feast and grabbed supplies from the Royal House deli instead (very tasty, very good value). Then I boarded the train.
I was soon rattling through an increasingly saturated land. The mouth of the Dyfi began to yawn into bird-beloved mudflats, salt marsh and sandbanks; the train passes right between the Dyfi Osprey Project’s 360-observatory and the osprey nests it observes. Wider and wider the waterway became until, eventually, at white-washed Aberdyfi, the line hit the coast, sometimes running so close to the sea’s edge that you couldn’t see the join.
We pootled north, via towns like Tywyn – starting point for St Cadfan pilgrimages – and teeny halts like Tonfanau, site of an army base during the second world war, now sheep-grazed ruins. Like many Cambrian Line stops, Tonfanau is request only; those on the platform should stick out an arm.
At Harlech, no requests are necessary – the train itself couldn’t help but be halted by the vision of Harlech Castle. Edward I’s crag-top stronghold was started in 1282, took seven years to build and still looks fearsome. I disembarked here, hiked up to the fortress and entered with ease via the modern floating bridge; back in the day, would-be intruders faced concentric walls, portcullises and a “killing zone” where arrows were fired from the sides, missiles dropped from above. The weather was gloomy, curtailing the views but piling on atmosphere. I spiralled up the dark stone staircases and circled the battlements, alone but for the hooded jackdaws. It gave me the shivers.
I spent the night at Y Branwen hotel, in the castle’s shadow, and left Harlech the next day on foot, murk replaced by blazing sunshine. I was headed north along the coast, although the rocky Rhinogs rising behind the village looked tempting … “There’s no one in those hills,” Branwen’s owner David Penny told me. However, I stuck to Plan A, and wasn’t disappointed. Rounding Harlech Point, I was slapped by that view down the Dwyryd, soon passing isolated St Michael’s and my fantasy island.
Following the Cadfan Way for a while, I hiked from Ynys to St Tecwyn’s, an even lonelier church, seemingly ministering to no one from its eyrie above the estuary. It was here that poet and priest Jim Cotter was inspired to found the Small Pilgrim Places network; he wrote of St Tecwyn’s: “I’m at what must be one of the most extraordinary places in the whole of Wales.”
I had to agree, though Portmeirion, across the Dwyryd estuary, gives it a run for its money. This fantastical resort village, the trippy creation of Sir Clough Williams-Ellis, celebrates its centenary this year and remains wonderfully weird, with its candy palette, tricks of perspective and salvaged architectural paraphernalia. I popped into the Prisoner Shop, which sells memorabilia related to the cult TV show of the same name, filmed here in the 1960s. I wondered if it was still popular? “Oh yes,” the cashier confirmed. “Even with young people, they watch it on YouTube. Its themes – surveillance, freedom – feel relevant today.”
I stayed at Portmeirion’s Castell Deudraeth, a Gothic pile with big rooms, a good restaurant and The Prisoner looping on channel 801. But best was strolling into the village at sunrise, no one around, watching the sun crack the opposite hills, hit the top of the campanile and flood into the hot-pink camellia groves.
Porthmadog station wasn’t far, a short walk through the woods and across the mile-long cob that fords the Glaslyn estuary, Eyri summits keeping watch. From here on, I used a mix of train and boot to reach Pwllheli, the end of the Cambrian Line.
That wasn’t always the case. A horse-drawn tramway, built in the 1890s by businessman Solomon Andrews, used to run farther west to his estate in Llanbedrog. Andrews turned the site’s Victorian mansion, Plas Glyn-y-Weddw, into an art gallery and charged a shilling for a combined tram and gallery ticket. Now, 130 years later, I paid nothing at all. The old tramway track is part of the Wales Coast Path – an easy, breezy four-mile stroll along the bay – and Plas Glyn-y-Weddw is free entry. Saved from ruin in the 1980s, it’s one of the oldest galleries in Wales, showcasing work by Welsh artists, and serving great cake inside its modern cafe, which squats beside the house like a giant silver sea urchin.
I scoffed a scone, then ambled through the Winllan woods on trails first developed by Andrews for his paying visitors. Andrews also placed the figurehead of an old ship on Mynydd Tir y Cwmwd, the heathery headland above. It was eventually destroyed and now the twisted metal Tin Man, or Iron Man, stands in its place, enjoying quite the spot. I could retrace my route from here, Cardigan Bay arcing away into a mountain-backed haze. It made a pleasing journey’s end, with the knowledge that getting home meant riding that charming train line back again.
The trip was supported by the Wales Coast Path. Cambrian Line tickets are cheaper bought in advance; a day rover ticket costs £21. Y Branwen in Harlech has doubles from £110 B&B. Castell Deudraeth has doubles from £208 B&B, including Portmeirion entry
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Cailee Spaeny and Charles Melton open up about their ‘weird prep’ for ‘Beef’
Cailee Spaeny looks at Charles Melton, her co-star on the Netflix limited series “Beef,” asking for help. “Wait a minute … how long were we attached?” Melton smiles and reaches for her hand. “We’ve been attached our whole lives.”
Have they? Given how they tease and finish each other’s sentences, it sure feels that way. Spaeny and Melton were cast as Ashley and Austin, a Gen-Z couple working at a Montecito country club, dreaming and scheming toward upward mobility, a good 18 months before filming began in early 2025. To cement their bond, Spaeny, who hails from Missouri, and Melton, an Army brat who considers Kansas home, decided to return to their Midwestern roots, round up their families and go to a Kansas City Chiefs football game just before Christmas.
At one point, Spaeny looked over to see her brother-in-law having a heart-to-heart with Melton’s dad. They were crying. After the game, they all went out for barbecue. Melton surprised his dad with a gift — a truck.
“That was very sweet and emotional,” Spaeny says of the day. “There’s a lot of filling in the blanks when your families are from the same part of the country. They’re down-to-earth, churchgoing families. It felt easy. We’re cut from the same cloth.”
When the Palisades and Eaton fires delayed the start of filming, Spaeny and Melton decamped to Solvang, rented an Airbnb with some friends and continued what Spaeny calls their “weird prep” for playing the series’ besotted couple. They cooked dinners together, played games and even watched “Riverdale,” the CW series that catapulted Melton to fame a decade ago.
“We also watched ‘Wicked’ too many times,” Spaeny, 27, says.
“You were singing a lot,” Melton, 35, tells her.
“I don’t think I sang once,” Spaeny counters.
“Oh she did,” Melton says. “She’s a singer. Sing for us.”
“Guys, what are we doing?” Spaeny says, burying her head in her hands.
Whatever it is, we’re not stopping. We have, as Melton notes much to Spaeny’s chagrin, “caught a vibe.”
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You two represent different generations …
Melton: What? Excuse me?
Charles, you’re a millennial. Cailee is Gen-Z.
Spaeny: Oh my God. You’re so Gen-Z coded.
Melton: I’m a zillennial.
Spaeny: Did you feel like there was an age gap between us?
Melton: I feel like we’re the same age. You know I’m an old soul. My exterior is just goofy. Cailee is wise beyond her years.
What’s the biggest difference between the two generations?
Melton: I think the generations are more alike than different. As a millennial and zillennial, I’ve done my share of weird self-diagnosing.
Spaeny: TikTok therapy for sure. Holding onto words that make us feel more seen through the internet. The comment “I just read the headline. I need to start reading the articles.” It’s sad but it’s true. And I think everyone does it.
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1. Charles Melton. 2. Cailee Spaeny. (Erik Carter / For The Times)
Do you relate to your characters’ Gen-Z resentment that previous generations screwed them over? “Everyone grabbed the bag before we could.”
Spaeny: There was a time when having a house by your 30s was guaranteed. Now, you’re having to choose whether you want to have children or stay afloat in your career. We’re all riddled with this feeling of the life we feel we deserve …
Melton: And what will make us happy. Ashley gets the promotion. But the social climb is never enough. It’s “if you do this thing, you’ll get the this thing.”
Spaeny: It’s the constant chase.
You’ve both defied the odds and enjoyed successful careers as actors. Can you be content and sit with that?
Spaeny: We try. But it also feels like it’s set up in a way where you can’t sit. You have to look for the next thing because if you wait, people will get bored with you. You’ll book a job and hopefully it pays well and then you might not work again for two years. It’s easy to be in a place of desperation. Actors are also naturally people-pleasers. So, unfortunately, I think it was too easy for us to relate to our characters.
Melton: Maybe part of your question, which led to your beautiful answer, is: Where’s acceptance? I’m a father now. Sometimes, I’m super tired, but the best thing is I get to read to my kid. Looking at life through a place of abundance … but that can be a tough thing to do.
Spaeny: It’s not just the entertainment industry. I go back home and I’m with my sister, who is an amazing mother and soccer mom. And you can feel that itch inside of people back home too. Have I done enough for my children? Do I need to go to more soccer tournaments? Am I going to church enough?
Melton: It’s everywhere. And under the umbrella of class and healthcare and how expensive everything is, it’s tough. The bill we had just to have a baby was so ridiculous.
Spaeny: Oh yeah. My favorite line in “Beef” was, “Do you know the 16-piece meal at KFC is $52.99 now?” That sums it up.
(Erik Carter / For The Times)
I looked that up. It’s true, though you can get the 16-piece chicken-only meal for about $37.
Melton: But you can’t just eat the chicken. You have to have the sides and biscuits, right?
How about Austin’s line: “All we need is each other … and the beach.”
Melton: That’s what I love about Austin, this optimism but considered to be naivete. Really, at the end of the day, I’ll look at my partner and I’ll look at my daughter and be like, “This is absolutely all I need.”
Spaeny: [Sighs] I would love to get to that point.
Melton: But then to put food on the table, you’re required to do things that take you away from the things that you say are all you need.
Spaeny: The great thing about this show is that it’s zeroing in on everyday impossibilities of life, the things that should be so simple, but drive us all up the wall.
You both talk about Midwest sensibility. Do your roots help ground you?
Spaeny: I just got back from home last night, and I always feel a layer gets peeled off when I’m there. With work, I’m always on edge and trying to hold onto this thing that could be taken away from me any day. When I go back home, I feel like it can really be that simple. But it doesn’t last. That’s the problem. The itch comes back.
There’s nothing wrong with a little ambition.
Spaeny: I’m finding ambition more and more unattractive these days. Maybe that’s me just getting older and wanting more outside of the job.
Melton: We’ve talked about this. If we’re always going from one thing to the next, how can I bring the humanity and soul of my life into my work? If I had my way, I’d take three to six months off between jobs just to live and put my feet on the grass. Cailee and I connect in many ways. I love your determination and drive and passion for the work. Some people want to act like they don’t care, but I think it’s cool to care.
Timothée Chalamet does too, but he got flack for saying that out loud, that he “wanted to be one of the greats.”
Melton: I thought that was f— awesome. You want to be great? We all do.
Spaeny: It’s what every actor is thinking except they’re feigning …
Melton: We love Chalamet over here.
Spaeny: Maybe he didn’t say all the right things, but that speech, that’s why we’re in the building.
Melton: It’s very much the athlete’s mentality. Like Deion Sanders is one of the greatest of all time. “You look good, you feel good, you play good.”
It’s OK for an athlete to say that, but if an actor does, the world gives them grief.
Melton: That kind of sincerity is the default in Kansas and Missouri. You know, growing up as an athlete, I was pretty good. I ran the 100-meter dash in 10.9 seconds. Make sure you write that in. [Laughs] You have to have a vision. And the artists that speak on that vision, that’s awesome. Visualization is essential. I wouldn’t be here talking with one of my best friends and one of the greatest actresses ever …
Spaeny: What are you doing?!?
Melton: I’d rather give you flowers all day than talk about what I think. All that to say is that I wouldn’t be doing this if I did not have vision when I was in Kansas to leave with $500 in my pocket, 60 cans of chicken noodle soup and 60 cans of tuna. You have to dream.
Spaeny: A dollar and a dream!
I’ve got to ask. Sixty cans of chicken noodle soup on a road trip? Do you just pop the top and down it cold?
Spaeny: Great question.
Melton: I’d just take off the top and lay it in the sun for two or three hours and it’s good to go.
Spaeny: Please stop.
Melton: OK. I’d just dip my finger in it and because I’m so hot, it just boils.
Spaeny: You see what I’m saying? He’s such a dad.
(Erik Carter / For The Times)
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