The Latin Recording Academy has added even more names to its already star-studded lineup of artists slated to perform at the 26th Latin Grammy Awards, which will be held Nov. 13.
Among the acts announced are album of the year nominee Bad Bunny, breakout Argentine duo Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso, song of the year nominee Karol G and San Bernardino-based música mexicana powerhouse group Fuerza Regida
Next week’s show will mark the first time Bad Bunny has performed on the Latin Grammy stage since 2021, when he sang “Maldita Pobreza” from his 2020 album “El Último Tour Del Mundo.” It also will be the first time that Fuerza Regida and Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso perform on the Latin Grammy stage.
Album of the year nominee Rauw Alejandro, legendary rocker Carlos Santana, ranchero/mariachi album nominee Christian Nodal and country darling Kacey Musgraves were among the acts previously announced as performers at the Las Vegas awards show.
Additional artists set to perform at the MGM Grand Garden Arena are música Mexicana acts Carín León, Pepe Aguilar and Los Tigres del Norte; sad sierreño singer-songwriters Iván Cornejo and DannyLux; Latin pop icon Gloria Estefan and Colombian rock band Morat.
This year’s list of top nominees include Bad Bunny (12), Edgar Barrera (10), Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso (10), Rafa Arcaute (eight), Natalia Lafourcade (eight) and Federico Vindver (eight).
Bad Bunny’s 12 nominations this year will bring his total career nods to 52. With her eight nominations this year, Lafourcade looks to bolster her collection of 18 trophies from the awards show — the most wins for any female artist.
Nabbing eight more nominations, Edgar Barrera continues to pad his stats as the awards show’s most nominated person of all time with 72 nods, along with 24 wins. Spanish artist Alejandro Sanz received four nods this year, which brings his career total to 51.
This month’s show will be the debut of the new Visual Media field and its new category, Music For Visual Media, which will honor scores for film and television. Also added to this year’s awards is the category for best roots song.
Tori Spelling and Dean McDermott are putting their married days behind them. The estranged pair settled their divorce Monday, two years after going their separate ways.
The “Beverly Hills, 90210” star and McDermott have entered a “written agreement regarding their property and their marriage,” according to a declaration filed Monday in Los Angeles County Superior Court. Details about that agreement, including custody and visitation, were not disclosed but court documents confirm the parents of five consider their divorce as an “uncontested” matter.
Court documents reveal that Spelling, 52, checked boxes requesting child support and spousal support “should be ordered” pending the judge’s approval. She also requested her legal fees to be covered.
Spelling and Canadian actor McDermott, 58, separated in June 2023 after 17 years of marriage. The TV star, born Victoria D. Spelling, filed her petition for divorce in March 2024, citing irreconcilable differences. The exes married in May 2006 and share children Liam, Stella, Hattie, Finn and Beau, who range in age from 8 to 18. When she filed her petition, Spelling requested sole physical custody of the children and joint legal custody and visitation rights for McDermott.
The “True Tori” star got candid about her decision to file for divorce during an episode of her “misSPELLING” podcast, telling listeners she was cautious about her split with McDermott taking an acrimonious turn and reflecting on how their relationship went the distance, despite outside skepticism early on. Before tying the knot, Spelling and McDermott were previously married to actor Charlie Shanian and actor-singer Mary Jo Eustace, respectively.
“And we got together and people were like, ‘Oh, I give it six months,’ and we always say, ‘Oh, we made it 18 years.’ It shouldn’t have made it 18 years and I think he would say the same thing,” she said last year. “If he and I had a real heart-to-heart, it would’ve been over a lot sooner.”
During the podcast episode, she spoke about their rocky relationship, recalling “red flags” and moving on with the marriage despite them.
McDermott had also spoken candidly about his marriage to Spelling months after news of their separation broke.
“All Tori’s ever done to this day is want me to be happy and healthy and I inflicted a lot of damage and pain on that woman,” he told the Daily Mail in November 2023. “It’s going to be living the rest of my life making amends because I took something that was really beautiful and I just tore it down year after year, day after day.”
Amid their divorce, the former spouses seemingly remained friendly. Spelling told People last year she and McDermott are “good friends” and that he remains “one of my biggest supporters.” Earlier this year, she honored McDermott with a Father’s Day post.
“Happy Father’s Day to my baby daddy and rad co- parent,” she captioned a pair of family photos.
Times editorial library director Cary Schneider and former staff writer Nardine Saad contributed to this report.
On her first day in office, Mayor Karen Bass declared a state of emergency on homelessness.
The declaration allowed the city to cut through red tape, including through no-bid contracts, and to start Inside Safe, Bass’ signature program focused on moving homeless people off the streets and into interim housing.
On Tuesday, nearly three years after she took the helm, and with homelessness trending down two years in a row for the first time in recent years, the mayor announced that she will lift the state of emergency on Nov. 18.
“We have begun a real shift in our city’s decades-long trend of rising homelessness,” Bass said in a memorandum to the City Council.
Still, the mayor said, there is much work to do.
“The crisis remains, and so does our urgency,” she said.
The mayor’s announcement followed months of City Council pushback on the lengthy duration of the state of emergency, which the council had initially approved.
Some council members argued that the state of emergency allowed the mayor’s office to operate out of public view and that contracts and leases should once again be presented before them with public testimony and a vote.
Councilmember Tim McOsker has been arguing for months that it was time to return to business as usual.
“Emergency powers are designed to allow the government to suspend rules and respond rapidly when the situation demands it, but at some point those powers must conclude,” he said in a statement Tuesday.
McOsker said the move will allow the council to “formalize” some of the programs started during the emergency, while incorporating more transparency.
Council members had been concerned that the state of emergency would end without first codifying Executive Directive 1, which expedites approvals for homeless shelters as well as for developments that are 100% affordable and was issued by Bass shortly after she took office.
On Oct. 28, the council voted for the city attorney to draft an ordinance that would enshrine the executive directive into law.
The mayor’s announcement follows positive reports about the state of homelessness in the city.
As of September, the mayor’s Inside Safe program had moved more than 5,000 people into interim housing since its inception at the end of 2022. Of those people, more than 1,243 have moved into permanent housing, while another 1,636 remained in interim housing.
This year, the number of homeless people living in shelters or on the streets of the city dropped 3.4%, according to the annual count conducted by the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority. The number of unsheltered homeless people in the city dropped by an even steeper margin of 7.9%.
The count, however, has its detractors. A study by Rand found that the annual survey missed nearly a third of homeless people in Hollywood, Venice and Skid Row — primarily those sleeping without tents or vehicles.
In June, a federal judge decided not to put Los Angeles’ homelessness programs into receivership, while saying that the city had failed to meet some of the terms of a settlement agreement with the nonprofit LA Alliance for Human Rights.
Councilmember Nithya Raman, who chairs the City Council’s Housing and Homelessness Committee, said the end of the emergency does not mean the crisis is over.
“It only means that we must build fiscally sustainable systems that can respond effectively,” she said. “By transitioning from emergency measures to long-term, institutional frameworks, we’re ensuring consistent, accountable support for people experiencing homelessness.”
Times staff writer David Zahniser contributed to this report.
There’s no shortage of bands commemorating their glory days as decade anniversaries of albums fly by. Yet few landmark releases feel not only fresh but forward-thinking 20 years after they were recorded. My Morning Jacket stumbled onto this kind of brilliance in October 2004 when it released its fourth studio album “Z.” Across 10 tracks of lush, euphoria-driven rock ‘n’ roll, the band captured a notable tone shift in its sound that melded Southern rock, haunting folk, psychedelic soul laced with jam band energy. It’s a set of songs that still make up a huge chunk of the bands live show. In September the band performed the album in its entirety to a sold-out Hollywood Palladium for its 20th anniversary.
“We still play these songs all the time,” said frontman and principal songwriter Jim James in a recent conversation. “So it’s not like we broke up after we released ‘Z’ and then we got back together 20 years later to play these songs, and it’s such a trip. We’ve been playing them nonstop for 20 years.”
Shortly after the release of its 10th studio album “is,” the band put out a deluxe reissue of “Z” that includes four B-sides and a whole album’s worth of demo versions of songs like “Wordless Chorus,” “Off the Record” and Dodante. Recently James spoke to The Times about the enduring power of “Z” and the joy of going back to the beginning of the album’s origins to give himself and his fans a new appreciation for the groundbreaking sound the band created.
The rerelease of “Z” was prefaced earlier this year with a full-album show at the Palladium. What was it like revisiting the album on stage first before it came out (again) on vinyl and streaming?
This is our fourth album now to hit the 20-year mark. So we’ve got some experience now doing these album shows. And it’s funny because some of the earlier albums we don’t play all the songs from them so we had to go back and relearn a lot of songs. But the songs from “Z” we pretty much play all the songs all the time. So it’s pretty hilarious how it involved no effort. It just involved playing them in that order of the sequence of the album. But we kind of laughed about that. We’re like, man, we don’t really even have to do any research or anything. We were all kind of reflecting just on how grateful we are that we like playing all the songs still. It’s such a great feeling to play songs for 20 years and never really get tired of them. People still want to hear them and there’s still excitement there, and they still feel fresh. It’s really a beautiful thing.
This was your first album using an outside producer. What was that like for you as the songwriter to step in the studio with John Leckie to help you realize your vision with “Z”?
It was so great, because I really needed somebody who could work with me and not let our egos clash too much. John was just really great about coming in and respecting what I wanted to do, but also voicing his opinion and what he liked and what he didn’t like and when he thought we could do better. And it was just really so refreshing and so good for us to have him there. I mean, his track record speaks for itself, he’s somebody who you can trust right off the bat, just because of all the things they’ve done in the past. He’s such a soft-spoken gentleman but he also has this hilarious, brutal honesty about him, which was always really great.
Your lineup had also changed between the previous album “It Still Moves” and “Z” — adding keyboard player Bo Koster and guitarist Carl Broemel who are still in the band today. So was that like stepping in the studio with the “new guys” for the first time?
It was really nerve-racking and really exciting all at once. We had some touring experience under our belt with Bo and Carl, so we kind of knew that it was working out on that level, but we’d never really recorded before, so it was a real test for all of us. And I think we all knew that. So everybody brought their A game to the session and we took it really seriously, but we also had a lot of fun and just really kind of got to know each other. That was good to do that out in the middle of nowhere, out there in the Catskills, up at the studio. It gave us some time to really bond without a lot of the real-world stuff coming in or other people coming in. So I think that was really important, that we did it that way.
Do you remember what song came out of the sessions first?
“It Beats 4 U” was the first one, because that was one we had already played live before we started recording. So I think that was the first song that we started messing with. But I think they all were kind of coming to life around the same time. So by the time we got in there to start unpacking them, I had already written them and kind of made the demos of them and stuff.
It’s great that you included so many demo versions of your songs on this rerelease. What was the process like of locating these, sifting through and sequencing which ones you wanted to put on the album?
Well, I love demos for a lot of my favorite bands — I love it when I get to hear the demos from the albums. So I’m always saving all that stuff; with my own stuff I’m always compiling all the demos, because that’s half the fun to me. Because sometimes you get this just like a beautiful glimpse into the song. Quite often, I end up liking the demo more than I like the actual album, song because you get a whole, whole new view of it. It’s also interesting when you’re sequencing for vinyl, because you don’t have unlimited time so you kind of got to pick and choose, and that kind of forces you to just choose the best. There’s a whole other round of band demos and then there were my demos, so there were a lot of things to choose from. But it kind of helps me to look at it in vinyl format. There’s still something about the vinyl time limit that helps with quality control. Just kind of pick the ones that I feel are most effective and then try and make a fun sequence so that hopefully, if somebody’s into them, it’s kind of like you get a bonus album that you can listen to.
We had four true songs, B-sides, that we really love too, that weren’t demos. So that was really nice to finally get those out, because those had been on different soundtracks. And then one wasn’t even released. So I don’t think that those weren’t even on streaming or anything for years and years. So it’s really cool to have those out kind of everywhere now, because I’ve always liked all those songs and been proud of those songs too. And I think most bands know the feeling of you know when you make a record. Sometimes songs just don’t fit the record, even if you still love the songs.
MMJ during the “Z” era.
(Sam Erickson)
Were you playing any of those live at the point where you released the album the first round, or did you shelve them for later?
We’ve always played “Where to Begin” live — off and on. We’ve also tried “Chills” a couple times, and I think we did “How Could I Know” a couple times. We’ve never played “The Devil’s Peanut Butter,” we kinda forgot that one existed until this whole [album rerelease] process started, and I found that song again. So we’ll probably play that one somewhere out on the next leg.
Was this process something that you enjoy doing, like, in terms of your how to, sort of like, reexamine an album?
I really love it because I just feel so grateful that anybody even gives a s–, you know? I mean, so there’s that part of me that’s just so grateful to even still be in the game, talking about this. But beyond that, it’s really cool for me because it’s like jumping in a time machine and going back and looking at that point in my life and getting perspective on where I am now, and seeing how I’ve grown and asking “where have I changed? Where have I not changed?” I look back and with all of these albums as they come up to this 20-year mark, and I see I’ve always been really mean and hard on myself, on Jim, but I know that Jim was doing the best he could at each time. That’s the one thing I’ve always kind of been able to see, to get myself through, to not be too hard on myself. I know I was giving it everything I had, so whether I would change things about it as I am today or not — we all look back on the past, and maybe there’s things we’d do differently, but it gives me a lot of comfort to know that I was trying as hard as I could, and all the guys in the band were trying as hard as they could. It really makes me feel proud of us for just putting in the time and effort.
WASHINGTON — Signs of a potential end to the government shutdown intensified Tuesday with behind-the-scenes talks, as the federal closure was on track to become the longest ever disrupting the lives of millions of Americans.
Senators from both parties, Republicans and Democrats, are quietly negotiating the contours of an emerging deal. With a nod from their leadership, the senators seek a way to reopen the government, put the normal federal funding process back on track and devise some sort of resolution to the crisis of expiring health insurance subsidies that are spiking premium costs from coast to coast.
On day 35 of the federal government shutdown, the record for the longest will be broken after midnight. With SNAP benefits interrupted for millions of Americans depending on federal food aid, hundreds of thousands of federal employees furloughed or working without pay and contracts being delayed, many on and off Capitol Hill say it’s time for it to end. Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy predicted there could be chaos in the skies next week if the shutdown drags on and air traffic controllers miss another paycheck. Labor unions put pressure on lawmakers to reopen the government.
Election Day is seen as a turning point
Tuesday’s elections provide an inflection point, with off-year governor’s races in Virginia and New Jersey, along with the mayor’s race in New York that will show voter attitudes, a moment of political assessment many hope will turn the tide. Another test vote Tuesday in the Senate failed, as Democrats rejected a temporary government funding bill.
“We’re not asking for anything radical,” Senate Democratic Leader Chuck Schumer said. “Lowering people’s healthcare costs is the definition of common sense.”
Unlike the earlier shutdown during President Trump’s first term, when he fought Congress in 2018-19 for funds to build the U.S.-Mexico border wall, the president has been largely absent from this shutdown debate.
Trump threatens to halt SNAP food aid
But on Tuesday, Trump issued a fresh threat, warning he would halt SNAP food aid unless Democrats agree to reopen the government.
SNAP benefits “will be given only when the Radical Left Democrats open up government, which they can easily do, and not before!” Trump said on social media. That seemed to defy court orders to release the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program contingency funds.
His top spokeswoman, press secretary Karoline Leavitt, said later that the administration continues to pay out SNAP funding in line with court orders.
With House Speaker Mike Johnson having sent lawmakers home in September, most attention is on the Senate. There, the leadership has outsourced negotiations to a loose group of centrist dealmakers from both parties have been quietly charting a way to end the standoff.
“We pray that today is that day,” said Johnson, R-La., holding his daily process on the empty side of the Capitol.
Contours of a potential deal
Central to any endgame will be a series of agreements that would need to be upheld not only by the Senate, but also the House, and the White House, which is not at all certain in Washington where Republicans have full control of the government.
First of all, senators from both parties, particularly the powerful members of the Appropriations Committee, are pushing to ensure the normal government funding process can be put back on track.
Sen. Susan Collins, R-Maine, the chair of the Senate Appropriations Committee, and GOP Sen. Mike Rounds of South Dakota, along with several Democrats, including Sens. Jeanne Shaheen and Maggie Hassan of New Hampshire, and Chris Coons of Delaware, are among those working behind the scenes.
“The pace of talks have increased,” said Sen. Gary Peters, D-Mich., who has been involved in conversations.
Among the goals is guaranteeing upcoming votes on a smaller package of bills where there is already widespread bipartisan agreement to fund various aspects of governments, like agricultural programs and military construction projects at bases.
“I certainly think that that three-bill package is primed to do a lot of good things for the American people,” said Sen. Katie Britt, R-Ala, who has also been in talks.
More difficult, a substantial number of senators also want some resolution to the standoff over the funding for the Affordable Care Act subsidies that are set to expire at year’s end.
White House won’t engage on health care until government reopens
The White House says its position remains unchanged and that Democrats must vote to fund the government until talks over health care can begin. White House officials are in close contact with GOP senators who have been quietly speaking with key Senate Democrats, according to a senior White House official. The official was granted anonymity to discuss administration strategy.
With insurance premium notices being sent, millions of Americans are experiencing sticker shock on skyrocketing prices. The loss of federal subsidies, which come in the form of tax credits, are expected to leave many people unable to buy health insurance.
Republicans, with control of the House and Senate, are reluctant to fund the health care program, also known as Obamacare. But Thune has promised Democrats a vote on their preferred proposal, on a date certain, as part of any deal to reopen government.
That’s not enough for some senators, who see the health care deadlock as part of their broader concerns with Trump’s direction for the country.
“Trump is a schoolyard bully,” said Sen. Bernie Sanders, the Independent from Vermont, in an op-ed. “Anyone who thinks surrendering to him now will lead to better outcomes and cooperation in the future does not understand how a power-hungry demagogue operates.”
Moreover, Democrats, and some Republicans, are also pushing for guardrails to prevent the Trump administration’s practice of unilaterally slashing funds for programs that Congress had already approved, by law, the way billionaire Elon Musk did earlier this year at the Department of Government Efficiency.
With the Senate, which is split 53-47, having tried and failed more than a dozen times to advance the House-passed bill over the filibuster, that measure is out of date. It would have funded government to Nov. 21.
Trump has demanded senators nuke the filibuster, the Senate rule that requires a 60-vote threshold to advance most legislation, which preserves minority rights in the chamber. GOP senators panned that demand.
Both Thune and Johnson have acknowledged they will need a new temporary measure. They are eyeing one that skips past the Christmas holiday season, avoiding what often has been a year-end crunch, and instead develop an agreement that would keep government running into the near year, likely January.
Mascaro and Jalonick write for the Associated Press. AP writers Kevin Freking, Seung Min Kim and Matt Brown contributed to this story.
SACRAMENTO — Gov. Gavin Newsom stepped to the microphone at the state Democratic headquarters in mid-August with the conviction of a man certain he was on the right side of history, bluntly saying California has a moral obligation to thwart President Trump’s attempt to tilt the balance of Congress.
Over the next 2½ months, Newsom became the public face of Proposition 50, a measure designed to help Democrats win control of the U.S. House of Representatives by temporarily redrawing California’s congressional districts.
Newsom took that leap despite tepid support for a gerrymandering measure in early polls.
With Tuesday’s election, the fate of Proposition 50 arrives at a pivotal moment for Newsom, who last week acknowledged publicly that he’s weighing a 2028 presidential run. The outcome will test not only his political instincts but also his ability to deliver on a measure that has national attention fixed squarely on him.
From the outset, Newsom paired his conviction with caution.
“I’m mindful of the hard work ahead,” Newsom said in August, shortly after lawmakers placed Proposition 50 on the ballot.
It was familiar territory for a governor who has built a career on high-stakes political bets. As San Francisco mayor, his decision to issue same-sex marriage licenses in 2004 made him a progressive icon. It also drew accusations he’d energized conservative turnout that year in the presidential election that ended with George W. Bush winning a second term.
As the state’s newly elected governor, he suspended the death penalty in 2019 despite voters having twice rejected measures to do so, calling it a costly and biased system that “fails to deliver justice” — a move that drew fury from law enforcement groups and victims’ families. His decision to take on Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis in a 2023 prime-time debate hosted by Sean Hannity on Fox News was intended to showcase his command of policy and political agility, but instead fell flat amid an onslaught of insults.
“You know, not everybody would have done it,” veteran Democratic strategist Gale Kaufman said. “He saw the risk and he took it.”
If approved by voters, the ballot measure would redraw California’s congressional maps to favor Democrats beginning with the 2026 midterm elections in hopes of discounting Republican efforts to gerrymander more seats for themselves. California introduced the measure in response to Trump and his political team leaning on Republican-led states to redraw their district lines to help Republicans retain control of the House.
The balance of power in the closely divided House will determine whether Trump can advance his agenda during his final two years in office — or face an emboldened Democratic majority that could move to challenge, or even investigate, his administration.
And while critics of the governor see a power-craving politician chasing headlines and influence, supporters say this is classic Newsom: confident, risk-tolerant and willing to stand alone when he believes he’s right. He faced intense backlash from his political allies when he had conservative personality Charlie Kirk as his inaugural guest on his podcast this year, on which Newsom said he believed it was “deeply unfair” for transgender athletes to compete in women’s sports. After Kirk was killed, Newsom regularly brought up that interview as a point of pride, noting the backlash he received from his own party over hosting a Trump ally.
“In so many ways, he is not a cautious politician,” said Jessica Levinson, a law professor at Loyola Law School. “His brand is big, bold decisions.”
With Proposition 50, Newsom has cast the redistricting counterpunch as a moral imperative, arguing that Democrat-led states must “fight fire with fire,” even if it means pausing a state independent redistricting process largely considered the gold standard. The measure upends a system Californians overwhelmingly endorsed to keep politics out of the map-drawing process.
Levinson said Newsom’s profile has been rising along with the polling numbers for Proposition 50 as he has booked national television shows like ‘The Late Show with Stephen Colbert” and appeared in an ad in favor of the ballot measure with former President Obama, Massachusetts Sen. Elizabeth Warren and other prominent Democrats that ran during the World Series.
“We are talking about Proposition 50 on a nationwide scale,” Levinson said. “And it’s really hard to talk about Proposition 50 without saying the words ‘Gov. Newsom of California spearheading the effort to pass.’”
California Republicans have called the effort misguided, arguing that the retaliatory response creates a slippery slope that would erode the independent redistricting process California voters have chosen twice at the ballot box.
“When you fight fire with fire, the whole world burns,” said California Rep. Kevin Kiley (R-Rocklin), whose district is among those that would be overhauled under Proposition 50. “Newsom is trying to claim that Texas did a bad gerrymandering, but what California is doing is a good gerrymander because somehow it’s canceling it out … I just think gerrymandering is wrong. It’s wrong in Texas and it’s wrong in California.”
Kiley said Newsom never has been one to shy away from national attention “and for pursing explicitly partisan goals.”
“He’s certainly used this as an opportunity to do both of those things,” Kiley said.
Out of the gate, the redistricting plan had lackluster support. Then came the flood of ads by proponents peppered with talking points about Trump rigging the election.
Supporters of Proposition 50 took in more than four times the amount that opponents raised in recent weeks, according to campaign finance reports filed with the state by the three main committees campaigning about the measure. Supporters of Proposition 50 raised so much money that Newsom told them “you can stop donating.”
Political analysts said the redistricting fight has given Newsom what every ambitious politician craves: a narrative. It’s allowed him to cast himself as a defender of democracy while reenergizing donors. That message sharpened when Trump administration officials said they’d monitor polling sites in several California counties at the state GOP’s request, prompting Newsom to accuse the Trump administration of “voter intimidation.”
Republican strategist Rob Stutzman said the campaign gave Newsom something he’d struggled to find: “an authentic confrontation” with Trump that resonates beyond California.
“And I think it’s worked well for him nationally,” Stutzman said. “I think it’s been great for him in some ways, regardless of what happens, but if it does lose, it’ll hurt the brand that he can win and there will be a lot of disgruntled donors.”
While Newsom has framed the measure as good for the country, Stutzman said it’s clear that Proposition 50 has been particularly good for the governor.
“He’s used it for his own purposes very, very effectively,” Stutzman said. “If he becomes the [presidential] nominee, you could look back and say this was an important part of him getting there.”
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As one century gives way to another, a child is born in Mumbai. “The millennium’s gift,” Chandni Contractor, is a source of joy to her parents. When Chandni turns 4 and reveals herself to be a musical prodigy, she becomes a source of wonder. At the age of 13, she dazzles audiences across India with her piano and sitar performances. Five years later, she enthralls Majnoo, the playboy son of billionaire parents, and the pair go on to have a spectacular wedding. But their marriage sours and her in-laws turn overbearing. Eventually Chandni snaps and wreaks havoc by playing a different kind of music, one that has the power to destroy livelihoods and lives.
“The Musician of Kahani” is one of five stories in a new collection by Salman Rushdie. “The Eleventh Hour” sees the acclaimed Indian-born British American author exploring the weighty matters of life and death. That he should choose to craft tales around these twin themes is hardly surprising. In 2022, he was nearly killed in a frenzied attack at an event in upstate New York. Two years later, in his up-close-and-personal memoir, “Knife,” he recounted his ordeal and told how he had come to embrace what he called “my second-chance life.” Rushdie’s brush with death and new lease on life renders his latest stories — his first fiction since the attack — all the more potent and poignant.
The collection’s opener, “In the South,” gets underway both innocently and ominously: “The day Junior fell down began like any other day.” What follows is a chronicle of a death foretold. Senior and Junior are two octogenarian neighbors in Chennai, India, who spend their time together arguing. The former has had a rich and fulfilling life, but as so many of his friends and family have died — or “gone to their fiery rest” — he now longs for death. The latter, afflicted by “the incurable disease of mediocrity,” has led a disappointing life yet still possesses a lust for it.
When a tsunami hits the city, it kills Junior. At first Senior is angry (“Why not me?” he rages), but his dominant emotion turns to sadness after he realizes he has lost a man who was his “shadow.” Or so he believes. For Junior’s passing is not the end. Senior continues to see, and quarrel with, his fallen friend. As Rushdie puts it: “Death and life were just adjacent verandas.”
One of the finest stories here, “Late,” involves another apparition. English academic S. M. Arthur wakes up in his university college (an unnamed King’s College, Cambridge) and discovers he is dead. Feeling like “a broken entity trapped in a kind of prison,” he finds peace by communing with the one person who can see him, Indian student and fellow lonely soul, Rosa.
The pair form a bond in the empty college over the Christmas holidays. Despite their affinity, Arthur harbors secrets. When Rosa is tasked with sorting his papers, she comes across a mysteriously locked box file, the contents of which he refuses to disclose. Then Arthur takes stock of his situation and decides he can’t rest until Rosa helps him get even with a past persecutor. What is in the box and why the need for revenge?
Weighing in at over 70 pages, “Late” constitutes more a novella than a story, as does “The Musician of Kahani” and the equally substantial “Oklahoma.” This last offering about writers, writing and elaborate vanishing acts is artfully structured and formally daring, made up of multiple layers, diverse references, literary ventriloquy and slick twists and turns. In a lesser writer’s hands, this novella might have been too clever for its own good; however, Rushdie, a seasoned pro, achieves the perfect balance.
He hasn’t done so in recent years in his long-form fiction. “The Golden House” (2017), “Quichotte” (2019) and his last novel, “Victory City” (2023), were blighted in places by digressive riffs and monologues, bottomless subplots, “humorous” character names (Evel Cent, Thimma the Almost as Huge) and excessive magic-realist high jinks comprising talking revolvers, ferocious mastodons, an Italian-speaking cricket and a demigoddess who grows a city from seeds and lives for 247 years. Sometimes this hocus-pocus worked wonders; at other times it felt like cheap tricks.
Rushdie has far more success in “The Eleventh Hour.” His narratives are more streamlined. His flights of fancy— malevolent music, undead scholars, imaginary brothers, a cult led by a guru with 93 Ferraris in an “experimental township” called the Moon — are more controlled and add subtle strokes of color. Some groan-inducing puns aside, Rushdie’s comic touches are deftly managed, appearing as sharp satirical swipes or witty repartee. “You look like a man who is only waiting to die,” says Junior to Senior, who in turn retorts: “That is better than looking, as you do, like a man who is still waiting to live.”
Rushdie exhibits further playfulness by scattering clues and inviting his reader to trace connections. Arthur is in part a crafty composite of the writer E.M. Forster and the computer scientist Alan Turing — all three being, like their creator, King’s College alumni. “And at midnight, the approved hour for miraculous births in our part of the world, a baby was born to a Breach Candy family,” Rushdie writes of Chandni, with a knowing nod to the key time, place and circumstances in his 1981 masterpiece “Midnight’s Children.”
The book’s last and shortest entry, the fabular “The Old Man in the Piazza,” makes for a somewhat slight coda. Otherwise, this is an inventive and engrossing collection of stories which, though death-tinged, are never doom-laden. With luck this master writer has more tales to tell.
Malcolm Forbes is a freelance writer and critic from Edinburgh, Scotland, who writes for the Economist, the Washington Post and other publications.
Remember when soccer was being touted as the next big sport in the U.S.? Well, it looks like that moment has finally arrived.
Or not. It all depends on who you ask and how you interpret what they tell you.
On one hand, there’s the recent Harris Poll that found 72% of Americans profess an interest in soccer, a 17% increase from 2020. A quarter of those are “dedicated” fans and 1 in 5 say they are “obsessed” with the sport.
On the other hand, there’s the stark decline in attendance and TV viewership for the country’s top two domestic leagues, MLS and the NWSL, and the underwhelming crowds that showed up last summer for the FIFA Club World Cup and the CONCACAF Gold Cup.
LAFC fans lift up a banner honoring Carlos Vela during a ceremony to honor him before a match against Real Salt Lake at BMO Stadium on Sept. 21.
(Kevork Djansezian / Getty Images)
These contrary findings — a growing fanbase at the same time attendance and viewership numbers are falling off a cliff — come at an important inflection point for soccer in the U.S., with the largest, most ambitious World Cup kicking off at SoFi Stadium in fewer than 200 days.
“The short answer is yes, the World Cup will be a watershed moment for soccer in America. However, it’s unlikely to immediately lead to a significant increase in ticket sales for MLS and NWSL. Soccer fandom in America develops differently from that of other sports,” said Darin W. White, executive director of the Sports Industry Program and the Center for Sports Analytics at Samford University, which next year will launch a major five-year study to explore how soccer can become mainstream in the U.S.
“The World Cup will bring millions of new Americans into the pipeline. Over the next few years we expect these new fans to progress through the pipeline, giving soccer a substantial enough fan base to tip the scales and help make soccer part of the ongoing mainstream sports conversation. I am confident that the World Cup will enable soccer to reach that critical mass.”
Steven A. Bank, a professor of business law at UCLA who has written and lectured extensively on the economics of soccer, isn’t as optimistic.
“The risk isn’t that U.S. soccer will be in the same place in 10 years, but that it will have regressed,” he said.
“For the World Cup to benefit domestic leagues’ attendance, ratings, and revenue, as well as youth and adult participation rates in playing soccer, it will have to be the catalyst for more domestic investment in the game. The question isn’t whether the World Cup will convince enough people to become fans or to move from casual to dedicated or obsessive fans. It’s whether it will convince enough wealthy people and companies to risk the kind of money necessary to compete with the top leagues for the top talent.”
U.S. captain Christian Pulisic drives the ball during an international friendly against Ecuador at Q2 Stadium on Oct. 10 in Austin, Texas.
(Omar Vega / Getty Images)
That investment could be a boost to both first-tier domestic leagues, which saw their attendance and TV rating fall dramatically this year. After setting records in both 2023 and ‘24, MLS watched its average attendance fall 5.4% — to 21,988 fans per match — this season. According to Soccer America, 19 of the 29 teams that played in 2024 saw their attendance drop; more than half saw declines of 10% or more.
The TV audience also appears to be relatively small, although the fact Apple TV, the league’s main broadcast partner, rarely releases viewer data has hampered efforts to draw any firm conclusions. MLS said last month that its games attracted 3.7 million global aggregate viewers a week on all its streaming and linear platforms, an average of about 246,000 a game on a full weekend. While that’s up nearly 29% from last year, the average viewership figure is about 100,000 smaller than what the league drew for single games on ESPN alone in 2022, the last season before Apple’s 10-year $2.5-billion took effect.
NWSL also saw overall league attendance fall more than 5%, with eight of the 13 teams that played in 2024 experiencing declines. And TV viewership in the second year of the league’s four-season $240 million broadcast deal was down 8% before the midseason July break, according to the Sports Business Journal.
That follows a summer in which both the expanded Club World Cup and the Gold Cup struggled to find an audience. Although the 63-match Club World Cup drew an average of 39,547 fans per game, 14 matches had crowds of fewer than 20,000. The Gold Cup averaged 25,129 for its 31 games — a drop of more than 7,000 from 2023. And five matches drew less than 7,800 people.
“There’s a danger of taking this year’s decline out of context,” said Stefan Szymanski, a professor of sports management at the University of Michigan and author of several books on soccer including “Money and Soccer” and “Soccernomics” (with Simon Kuper). “Last year was a record year. It’s really about the diminishment of the Messi effect.
“I wouldn’t say it’s a moment of crisis. And the way MLS is looking at this strikes me that they’re entirely focused on a post-World Cup [bump], which they think they’re going to get. I’d be skeptical myself about that. I don’t think it will do that much for them.”
Szymanski said the World Cup could hurt the league by underscoring the huge difference in the quality of play between elite international soccer and MLS.
“Americans are not dumb,” he said. “They know what’s good quality sport [and] not good quality sport. And they know that MLS is low level. The only way, in a global marketplace, you can get the top talent to have a truly competitive league is to pay the salaries.”
Which brings us back to Bank’s conclusion that fixing soccer in the U.S. isn’t about the soccer, it’s about the money being spent on the sport. For next summer’s World Cup to have a lasting impact, the “bump” will have to come not just from an increase in attendance and TV viewership but in investment as well. And, as Szymanski argues, that means additional investment in players as well.
“If all it does is attract eyeballs for this competition,” Bank said “I’m not sure it does more than the Olympics does every four years when it temporarily raises the profile of a few sports for some people who were not casual fans before.”
Richard B. Cheney, the former vice president of the United States who was the architect of the nation’s longest war as he plotted President George W. Bush’s thunderous global response to the 9/11 terror attacks, has died.
Vexed by heart trouble for much of his adult life, Cheney died Monday night due to complications of pneumonia and cardiac and vascular disease, according to a statement from his family. He was 84.
“For decades, Dick Cheney served our nation, including as White House Chief of Staff, Wyoming’s Congressman, Secretary of Defense, and Vice President of the United States,” the statement said. “Dick Cheney was a great and good man who taught his children and grandchildren to love our country, and to live lives of courage, honor, love, kindness, and fly fishing. We are grateful beyond measure for all Dick Cheney did for our country. And we are blessed beyond measure to have loved and been loved by this noble giant of a man.”
To supporters and detractors alike, Cheney was widely viewed as the engine that drove the Bush White House. His two-term tenure capped a lifetime of public service, both in Congress and on behalf of four Republican presidents.
It often fell to Cheney, not President Bush, to make an assertive, unapologetic case for the American-led wars in Afghanistan and Iraq and for the controversial antiterrorism measures such as the Guantánamo Bay prison. And after the election of President Obama, it was once again Cheney, not Bush, who stood among the new president’s fiercest critics on national security.
In an October 2009 speech — one emblematic of the role he embraced after leaving the White House — Cheney blasted the Obama administration for opening a probe of “enhanced” interrogations of suspected terrorists conducted during the Bush years.
“We cannot protect this country by putting politics over security, and turning the guns on our own guys,” he said. The rhetoric was textbook Cheney: blunt, unvarnished, delivered with authority.
While Cheney at the time was attempting to occupy the leadership vacuum in the GOP in the age of Obama, there was little doubt that he also was motivated to preserve a legacy that appears to be as much his as former President Bush‘s. For eight years, Cheney redrew the lines that defined the vice presidency in a way no predecessor had. His office enjoyed greater autonomy than others before it, while working to keep much of his influence from plain sight. That way of operating led to a challenge before the Supreme Court as well as a criminal investigation over a leak of classified information.
Moreover, the image of a powerful backroom operator managing the Bush administration’s “war on terror,” combined with his service as Defense secretary during the Persian Gulf War and his stint as a chairman of defense contracting giant Halliburton, made Cheney a towering bête noire to liberals worldwide. To them, he embodied a dangerous fusion of politics and the military-industrial complex — and they viewed his every move with deep suspicion.
To his champions, however, he was the firm-jawed, hulking, resolute defender of American interests.
Standing with the administration was more than a duty to Cheney; it was an article of faith. The invasion of Iraq “was the right thing to do, and if we had to do it over again, we’d do exactly the same thing,” Cheney said in a 2006 interview, even as the nation slowly learned that U.S. intelligence suggesting Saddam Hussein’s regime possessed weapons of mass destruction was simply not true.
Three years earlier, Cheney had pledged that the U.S. would be greeted in Iraq as “liberators” — a comment that haunted him as insurgents in the country gained strength, killed thousands of allied troops and extended the conflict for years. The war in Afghanistan would drag on for 20 years, ending in 2021 as it had begun, with the Taliban back in control.
While Cheney will largely be remembered for his leading role in the response to the 9/11 terror attacks, he had long worked the corridors of power in Washington. He was a White House aide to President Nixon and later chief of staff to President Ford. As a member of the House from Wyoming, he rose quickly to become part of the Republican leadership during the 1980s. In the early ’90s, he ran the Pentagon during the Gulf War.
Richard Bruce “Dick” Cheney was born in Lincoln, Neb., on Jan. 30, 1941, and spent much of his teenage years in Casper, Wyo. His father worked for the U.S. Soil Conservation Service.
As a young man, he was more interested in hunting, fishing and sports than in academics, and a stint at Yale University was short-lived. He eventually obtained bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the University of Wyoming and studied toward a doctorate at the University of Wisconsin.
In 1964, he married Lynne Ann Vincent, who became a lifelong political partner while strongly influencing Cheney’s conservatism. Daughter Elizabeth, who was elected to Congress in 2017, was born in 1966 and her sister, Mary, arrived three years later. The sisters became embittered years later when Elizabeth — who preferred Liz — took a stance opposing same-sex marriage, which seemed a slap to Mary and her wife. Cheney, however, offered his support for such unions, an early GOP voice for same-sex marriage. Years later, he came to Liz’s defense when she broke with fellow Republicans and voted to impeach President Trump following the Jan. 6, 2021 attack on the U.S. Capitol. In addition to his wife and daughters, Cheney is survived by seven grandchildren.
A fellowship sent Cheney to Washington, where he soon began working for a politically shrewd House member who also was a lifetime influence, Donald H. Rumsfeld. When Rumsfeld joined the Nixon administration, Cheney followed.
After Ford succeeded Nixon in the wake of Watergate, Rumsfeld served as chief of staff, with Cheney at his side. Ford eventually appointed Rumsfeld secretary of Defense, and Cheney, at 34, ran the White House. Even then, his calm reserve was a hallmark.
Although nearly everyone working for him was older, “He was very self-assured,” James Cannon, a member of Ford’s White House team, said years later. “It didn’t faze him a bit to be chief of staff.”
Ford lost a narrow election to Jimmy Carter in 1976, but Cheney’s Washington career was just getting underway. He headed back to Casper and in little more than a year was running for Congress.
His health, though, already was a factor. In 1978, at age 37 and in the midst of a primary election campaign, he had a heart attack, the first of several. He would undergo multiple surgeries, including a quadruple bypass, two angioplasties, installation of a heart pump and — in 2012 — a transplant. His frequent trips to the hospital and seeming indestructibility provided fodder for late-night talk show hosts during Cheney’s vice presidency.
With the help of television ads reminding voters that Dwight D. Eisenhower and Lyndon B. Johnson had served full White House terms despite having had heart attacks, he narrowly won the Republican nomination and, in November 1978, secured election to the House of Representatives from Wyoming’s single district.
In Congress, he was known as a listener more interested in problem-solving than conservative demagoguery, even as he quietly built a voting record that left no doubt about where he stood on the political spectrum. He quickly moved into the ranks of GOP leadership.
Cheney stepped into the public spotlight after he was named Defense secretary by President George H.W. Bush in 1989. As the Berlin Wall fell and the Cold War cooled, Cheney was charged with overseeing a Pentagon that was more fractious than usual. In a test of political and managerial will, he oversaw major reductions in the Defense budget, a profound downsizing of forces and the closing of obsolete military bases. He helped implement the U.S. invasion of Panama in 1989 to oust the country’s leader, Manuel Noriega, for drug trafficking and racketeering.
But Cheney — along with his hand-picked chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Colin Powell — made his mark in the American response to the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in 1990. Cheney played a key role in persuading the Saudi royal family to allow American troops to be stationed in Saudi Arabia to defend against a looming attack from Hussein’s forces.
The Cheney-led Pentagon then shifted to offense in 1991, amassing an enormous American force that totaled more than 500,000 soldiers, nearly twice the number employed in the 2003 U.S. invasion of Iraq. The U.S. military, with help from allied countries, overwhelmed the Iraqi forces in Kuwait in only 43 days and easily entered Iraq.
Characteristically, Cheney would defend the then-controversial decision to halt the U.S. advance toward Baghdad, which left Hussein in power. “I would guess if we had gone in there, we would still have forces in Baghdad today. We’d be running the country,” he said in a 1992 speech. “We would not have been able to get everybody out and bring everybody home.”
Cheney’s efforts to station U.S. troops in Saudi Arabia, considered critical to the push to repel Iraq, would have unforeseen ramifications. The military presence there helped radicalize young Islamic militants such as Osama bin Laden.
After President Clinton’s victory in 1992, Cheney left government service. Three years later, he assumed the helm of Halliburton, one of the world’s leading oil field companies and a prominent military contractor. The company thrived under Cheney’s leadership: Its relationship with the Pentagon flourished, its international operations expanded and Cheney grew wealthy.
In 2000, then-Texas Gov. George W. Bush, the Republican nominee for president, asked Cheney to head up the search for his running mate, then ultimately chose Cheney for the job instead. He brought to the ticket an element of maturity and Washington gravitas that the inexperienced Bush did not possess.
Cheney’s lack of design on the presidency, and his willingness to return to government 10 days shy of his 60th birthday, seemingly gave Bush the benefit of his experience and earned Cheney a measure of trust — and thus authority — commanded by few presidential advisors.
Once in office, Cheney, mindful of lessons learned in the Ford White House, sought to revitalize an executive office he believed had become too hemmed in by Congress and the courts. He termed it a “restoration.”
“After Watergate, President Ford said there was an imperiled president, not an imperial presidency,” said presidential historian Robert Dallek. Cheney, he said, felt “he badly needed to expand the powers of the presidency to assure the national security.”
In office barely a week, Cheney created a national energy policy task force in response to rising gasoline prices. A series of meetings with top officials from the oil, natural gas, electricity and nuclear industries were closed to the public, and Cheney refused to reveal the names of the participants. Cheney would exert similar influence over environmental policy and, with an office on Capitol Hill, forcefully advance the president’s legislative agenda.
A lawsuit seeking information about the task force made its way to the Supreme Court, which ruled in the vice president’s favor in 2004. One of the justices in the majority was Antonin Scalia, who was a friend and, it was later revealed, had recently gone duck hunting with the vice president.
Another hunting trip gone awry earned Cheney embarrassing headlines in 2006 when he accidentally shot and wounded a member of the party with a round of birdshot while quail hunting on a Texas ranch.
More troubling to Cheney was a federal criminal probe in connection with the 2003 leak of the identity of covert CIA operative Valerie Plame Wilson. The investigation resulted in the conviction four years later of Cheney aide I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby for perjury and obstruction of justice. Libby was later pardoned by President Trump.
Cheney, however, will be largely remembered for his unwavering belief that the U.S. invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq — especially the latter — were essential, a stance he maintained even as the missions in both theaters evolved from rooting out suspected terrorists to nation-building, and even as the casualties skyrocketed and it became clear the 20-year mission was doomed.
When U.S. troops and civilians were pulled out of Afghanistan in a fraught and fatal departure in 2021, it was Cheney’s daughter who spoke up.
“We’ve now created a situation where as we get to the 20th anniversary of 9/11, we are surrendering Afghanistan to the very terrorist organization that housed al Qaeda when they plotted and planned the attacks against us,” Rep. Liz Cheney (R.-Wyo.) said.
The former vice president’s steely resolve was captured years later in “Vice,” a 2018 biographical drama in which Christian Bale portrayed Cheney as a brainy yet uncompromisingly uncharismatic leader.
It was Cheney who insisted early on that Hussein possessed weapons of mass destruction. “There is no doubt he is amassing them to use against our friends, against our allies, and against us,” Cheney said in August 2002. The U.S. eventually determined that Iraq had no such weapons.
He argued forcefully that Hussein was linked to the 2001 terror attacks. When other administration officials fell silent, Cheney continued to make the connections even though no shred of proof was ever found. In a 2005 speech, he called the Democrats who accused the administration of manipulating intelligence to justify the war “opportunists” who peddled “cynical and pernicious falsehoods” to gain political advantage.
Cheney also frequently defended the use of so-called extreme interrogation methods, such as waterboarding, on al Qaeda operatives. He did so in the final months of the Bush administration, as both the president’s and Cheney’s public approval ratings plunged.
“It’s a good thing we had them in custody and it’s a good thing we found out what they knew,” he said in a 2008 speech to a friendly crowd at the Conservative Political Action Conference.
“I’ve been proud to stand by him, the decisions he made,” Cheney said of Bush. “And would I support those same decisions today? You’re damn right I would.”
Oliphant and Gerstenzang are former Times staff writers.
Staff writer Steve Marble contributed to this story.
Players who were once strangers are now extended members of hundreds of thousands of families.
Ordinarily, a team as old as the Dodgers would have to consider a roster makeover. Freddie Freeman and Miguel Rojas will be 37 by the start of the next World Series. Max Muncy will be 36, Kiké Hernández 35, Mookie Betts and Teoscar Hernández 34 and Shohei Ohtani 32.
But under these circumstances, how could the Dodgers think of breaking up their team?
How could they unload any of their superstars, regardless of how much they could decline in the next year? How could they not retain their key free agents, regardless of how old they are?
They can’t, they can’t and they can’t.
The Dodgers have to run this back — again.
“Obviously, we would love everybody to come back,” Freeman said.
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Muncy has a $10-million team option for next season. The Dodgers have to pick it up.
Rojas and Kiké Hernández are free agents. The Dodgers have to re-sign them.
Freeman won’t be making the calls on his teammates, of course. The decisions will be made by president of baseball operations Andrew Friedman, who was characteristically evasive when asked about the efforts the Dodgers would make to keep their out-of-contract players.
“Obviously, guys who have been here and been a big part of it start with a major upper hand,” Friedman said. “That being said, they’re free agents. They’ve earned the right to go out and talk to the 29 other teams as well.”
Muncy doesn’t have a choice to leave if the Dodgers exercise his option, but Rojas and Kiké Hernández have said they would like to return next season.
Whatever Friedman decides shouldn’t preclude the Dodgers from shopping on the free-agent market, with Kyle Tucker and Steven Kwan being potential additions to their outfield.
But the nucleus of the Dodgers would be even older than it was this year when their collective age presented a variety of problems.
Their 18-inning victory in Game 3 clearly diminished them more than it did the Toronto Blue Jays, who won the next two games. In retrospect, that should have been expected, as the Dodgers struggled to maintain consistency on offense over a grinding six-month regular season.
While Betts transformed into one of the league’s best defensive shortstops, he experienced a sharp offensive decline. Muncy was limited to 100 games because of injuries. Teoscar Hernández wasn’t close to being the same player he was last year.
There were times that even Ohtani started to show the effects of being on the wrong side of 30. Ohtani’s father acknowledged this reality in a congratulatory open letter he wrote to his son, which was published in the Monday edition of Sports Nippon.
“Shohei, you’re 31 years old,” Toru Ohtani wrote in Japanese. “I think that as a baseball player, you’re in your prime, but there will come a time when you have to decide between pitching and hitting. When you can’t pitch anymore, you can be an outfielder. I think that if you practice, you can definitely do it.”
That being said, the team has to be kept together.
A championship can force teams into sentimental decisions, as was the case last winter when the Dodgers re-signed Teoscar Hernández to a three-year, $66-million contract.
This winter, they will have to settle similar disputes between their hearts and minds. They should listen to their hearts.
I’ve visited 26 places in ten countries over the past 12 months. A number I’d argue is a few more than ideal, at least if you want to avoid the sensation of constantly rushing around, and being stuck in a loop of packing and unpacking a toiletries bag.
Milo thought the Italian city was a clear stand out(Image: Milo)
Over the past year, I’ve managed to tick off 10 countries and 26 destinations from my travel list. A number that’s a tad more than ideal if you’re not keen on the constant hustle and bustle, and the never-ending cycle of packing and unpacking toiletries.
Among these destinations are some that still leave me in awe. The alien-like landscape of Deception Island in Antarctica, a whale graveyard, is undoubtedly the highlight.
Likewise, the sight of condors soaring above as I trekked up an Andes mountain following a gaucho’s trail is something I won’t forget anytime soon.
Closer to home, this was the year I finally set foot on Lindisfarne in Northumberland. This tidal island, which recently featured in Danny Boyle’s zombie film, 28 Years Later, is truly magical.
My visit last midsummer was particularly memorable with the sun shining, beetles scurrying in the grass, and seals serenading across the bay. However, it’s not any of these places that I’m eager to revisit next year, fingers crossed. That honour goes to Catania.
I had a fleeting, 12-hour visit to this Sicilian city in August and now, I’m resolved to go back.
If you’ve been to this Italian island, chances are you landed in the much larger and more famous Palermo. It’s a captivating city, brimming with attractions like a sprawling botanical garden, the beautifully restored Palazzo Butera, and a top-notch puppet museum.
Despite its charm, there’s a sense that Palermo has perhaps overindulged the tourist trade. Its renowned Capo Market has shifted from selling fresh produce to street food, and the daily queue for a baked goodie at the former monastery, Santa Caterina, often stretches to 100 people.
In contrast, Catania, located roughly 200 km east of Palermo on Sicily’s coast, exudes an authenticity and tranquillity that sets it apart from its older sibling.
While Palermo is large, audacious and rough around the edges, Catania is neater, more stylish and refined. The city, home to 300,000 residents, was established by the Greeks in the 8th century BC and has been shaped by centuries of conquest and natural disasters, most notably the catastrophic earthquake of 1693.
This rebuilding led to the creation of its stunning Baroque architecture, now recognised as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. A stroll through the historic centre leads you to Piazza del Duomo, where the grand Catania Cathedral and the famous Fontana dell’Elefante, a lava-stone elephant statue that has become the city’s emblem, reside.
The Via dei Crociferi, adorned with ornate churches and monasteries, is frequently hailed as one of Sicily’s most beautiful streets.
One of the most captivating reasons to visit Catania, and why I’m so eager to go back, is its breathtaking location. The city is nestled between the Ionian Sea and Mount Etna, Europe’s most active volcano. After an evening spent sipping spritz and carafes of light table wine, our group climbed onto the roof of our apartment block and looked north.
Illuminating the dark sky above us was a burst of orange. Lava was erupting from the top of Etna.
Vibrant buses bound for the volcano regularly set off from Catania, transporting daring tourists up the volcano and through lava fields, craters, and even vineyards that flourish in the fertile volcanic soil.
For those not captivated by volcanoes and stunning architecture, spending a week just eating and drinking is arguably just as satisfying. Street food plays a significant role in daily life there and has a rich history.
If arancini balls, cannoli, and granita (a refreshing Sicilian sorbet sometimes served in a warm brioche) didn’t originate here, they’ve certainly been perfected.
The fun carries on at the La Pescheria market, situated near Piazza del Duomo, where Sicilian-speaking stallholders will sell you a cone of deep-fried seafood.
The great news for those, like me, planning a trip to Catania is that there are direct flights from London Gatwick, Stansted, Luton, and Manchester airports, with airlines such as British Airways, easyJet, Jet2, and Ryanair providing services. One-way tickets this month start from just £19.
The celebration had hardly begun, when Shohei Ohtani first voiced the theme of the day.
“I’m already thinking about the third time,” he said in Japanese, standing atop a double-decker bus in downtown Los Angeles with of thousands of blue-clad, flag-waving, championship-celebrating Dodgers fans lining the streets around him for the team’s 2025 World Series parade.
Turns out, he wasn’t alone.
Two days removed from a dramatic Game 7 victory that made the Dodgers baseball’s first repeat champion in 25 years, the team rolled through the streets of downtown and into a sold-out rally at Dodger Stadium on Monday already thinking about what lies ahead in 2026.
With three titles in the last six seasons, their modern-day dynasty might now be cemented.
But their goal of adding to this “golden era of Dodger baseball,” as top executive Andrew Friedman has repeatedly called it, is far from over.
“All I have to say to you,” owner and chairman Mark Walter told the 52,703 fans at the team’s stadium rally, “is we’ll be back next year.”
“I have a crazy idea for you,” Friedman echoed. “How about we do it again?”
When manager Dave Roberts took the mic, he tripled down on that objective: “What’s better than two? Three! Three-peat! Three-peat! Let’s go.”
When shortstop Mookie Betts, the only active player with four World Series rings, followed him, he quadrupled the expectation: “I got four. Now it’s time to fill the hand all the way up, baby. ‘Three-peat’ ain’t never sounded so sweet. Somebody make that a T-shirt.”
For these history-achieving, legacy-sealing Dodgers, Monday was a reminder of the ultimate end goal — the kind of scene that, as they embark on another short winter, will soon fuel their motivations for another confetti-filled parade this time next year.
“For me, winning a championship, the seminal moment of that is the parade,” Friedman said. “The jubilation of doing it, when you get the final out, whatever game you win it in, is special. That night is special. But to be able to take a breath and then experience a parade, in my mind, that is what has always driven me to want to win.”
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“[To] do this for the city, that’s what it’s all about,” first baseman Freddie Freeman added. “There’s nothing that feels as important as winning a championship. And if so happens to be three in a row, that’s what it is. But that’s what’s gonna drive us to keep going.”
Much of the group had been part of the 2020 title team that was denied such a serenade following that pandemic-altered campaign. They had waited four long years to experience a city-wide celebration. The reception they received was sentimental and unique.
Now, as third baseman Max Muncy said with a devious grin from atop a makeshift stage in the Dodger Stadium outfield, “it’s starting to get a little bit comfortable up here. Let’s keep it going.”
“Losing,” star pitcher and World Series MVP Yoshinobu Yamamoto added, in English, in a callback to one of his memorable quotes from this past October, “isn’t an option.”
Doing it won’t be easy.
This year, the Dodgers’ win total went down to 93 in an inconsistent regular season. They had to play in the wild-card round for the first time since the playoffs expanded in 2022. And in the World Series, they faced elimination in Games 6 and 7, narrowly winning both to complete their quest to repeat.
“I borderline still can’t believe we won Game 7,” fan favorite Kiké Hernández said in a bus-top interview.
But, he quickly added, “We’re all winners. Winners win.”
Thus, they also get celebrations like Monday’s.
As it was 367 days earlier, the Dodgers winded down a parade route in front of tens of thousands of fans from Temple Street to Grand Avenue to 7th Street to Figueroa. Both on board the double-decker buses and in the frenzied masses below, elation swirled and beverages flowed.
Once the team arrived at Dodger Stadium, it climbed atop a blue circular riser in the middle of the field — the final symbolic steps of their ascent back to the mountaintop of the sport.
Anthony Anderson introduced them to the crowd, while Ice Cube delivered the trophy in a blue 1957 Chevy Bel-Air.
Familiar scenes, they are hoping become an annual tradition.
“Job in 2024, done. Job in 2025, done,” Freeman said. “Job in 2026? Starts now.”
The Dodgers did take time to recognize their newfound place in baseball history, having become just the sixth MLB franchise to win three titles in the span of six years and the first since the New York Yankees of 1998 to 2000 to win in consecutive years.
Where last year’s parade day felt more like an overdue coronation, this one served to crystallize their legacy.
“Everybody’s been asking questions about a dynasty,” Hernández said. “How about three in six years? How about a back-to-back?”
And, on Monday, all the main characters of this storybook accomplishment got their moment in the sun.
There was, as team broadcaster and rally emcee Joe Davis described him, “the Hall of Fame-bound” Roberts, who now only trails Walter Alston in team history with three World Series rings.
“We talked about last year, wanting to run it back,” he said. “And I’ll tell you right now, this group of guys was never gonna be denied to bring this city another championship.”
There was Game 7 hero Miguel Rojas calling up surprise October closer Roki Sasaki, on his birthday, to dance to his “Bailalo Rocky” entrance song; a request Sasaki sheepishly obliged by pumping his fist to the beat.
Yamamoto, coming off his heroic pitching victories in Games 6 and 7, received some of the day’s loudest ovations.
“We did it together,” he said. “I love the Dodgers. I love Los Angeles.”
Muncy, Ohtani and Blake Snell also all addressed the crowd.
“I’m trying to get used to this,” Snell said.
“I’m ready to get another ring next year,” Ohtani reiterated.
One franchise face who won’t be back for that chase: Clayton Kershaw, who rode into the sunset of retirement by getting one last day at Dodger Stadium, fighting back tears as he thanked the crowd at the end of his illustrious (and also Hall of Fame-bound) 18-year career.
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“Last year, I said I was a Dodger for life. And today, that’s true,” Kershaw said. “And today, I get to say that I’m a champion for life. And that’s never going away.”
Kershaw, of course, is one of the few still around from the club’s dark days of the early 2010s, when money was scarce and playoff appearances were uncertain and parades were only things to dream about — not expect.
As he walks away, however, the team has been totally transformed.
Now, the Dodgers have been to 13 straight postseasons. They’ve set payroll records and bolstered their roster with a wave of star signings. They’ve turned the pursuit of championships into a yearly expectation, proud but unsatisfied with what they’ve achieved to this point.
“I think, definitionally, it’s a dynasty,” said Friedman, the architect of this run with the help of Walter’s deep-pocketed Guggenheim ownership group. “But that to me, in a lot of ways, that kind of caps it if you say, ‘OK, this is what it is.’ For me, it’s still evolving and growing. We want to add to it. We want to continue it, and do everything we can to put it at a level where people after us have a hard time reaching.”
On Monday, they raised that bar another notch higher.
“This parade was the most insane thing I’ve ever witnessed, been a part of,” Kershaw said. “It truly is the most incredible day ever to be able to end your career on.”
On Tuesday, the Dodgers’ long road toward holding another one begins.
“I know they’re gonna get one more next year,” Kershaw told the crowd. “And I’m gonna watch, just like all of you.”
Dodgers fans filled the streets of downtown Los Angeles early Monday morning, to celebrate the Dodgers becoming baseball’s first back-to-back World Series champion in 25 years.
The celebratory parade is commenced at 11 a.m., with the Dodgers traveling on top of double-decker buses through downtown with a final stop at Dodger Stadium.
The 2025 Dodgers team has been a bright spot for many Angelenos during an otherwise tumultuous year for the region, after historic firestorms devastated thousands of homes in January and then widespread immigration sweeps over the summer by the Trump administration.
(Eric Thayer/Los Angeles Times)
Manager Dave Roberts holds the Commissioner’s Trophy during the Dodgers World Championship Parade and Celebration Monday.
(Kayla Bartkowsk/Los Angeles Times)
Ramon Ontivros, left, and Michelle Ruiz, both from Redlands, join fans lining the streets of downtown Los Angeles.
(Kayla Bartkowsk/Los Angeles Times)
From left, Mike Soto, Luis Espino, and Francisco Espino, join fans lining the streets of downtown Los Angeles.
(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
Mia Nava, 9, waves a flag. “She’s skipping school today and her teachers know her passion.” Said her mom, Jennie Nava.
(Carlin Stiehl/For The Times)
Alex Portugal holds onto a championship belt at Dodger Stadium. Claudia Villar Lee, poses with a model of the World Series trophy around her neck.
(Kayla Bartkowsk/Los Angeles Times)
Young fans line the streets of downtown Los Angeles for the Dodgers World Championship Parade and Celebration.
Just when it seemed the Washington Commanders’ night couldn’t get much worse, it actually got much, much worse.
With his team trailing the Seattle Seahawks by 31 points midway through the fourth quarter Sunday night, Commanders quarterback Jayden Daniels suffered a gruesome injury to his non-throwing arm that will likely keep him off the field for several weeks.
After Washington’s 38-14 loss, coach Dan Quinn had little information on his second-year quarterback, saying only that Daniels had a “left arm injury” and that he hoped to provide an update in the morning.
Multiple media outlets are reporting that Daniels dislocated his elbow and will undergo an MRI on Monday to determine the severity of the injury.
A former star at Cajon High, Daniels won the Heisman Trophy at Louisiana State in 2023 and was selected at No. 2 overall by the Commanders in the 2024 NFL draft. He immediately took the league by storm, earning Pro Bowl and offensive rookie of the year honors while leading Washington to an unlikely appearance in the NFC championship game.
Season 2 has been a disappointment. Going into this weekend, Daniels had already missed three games with knee and hamstring injuries and the Commanders had struggled to a 3-5 record.
Then came Sunday night. Down by four scores in the fourth quarter, Washington drove to the Seattle 2-yard-line and was looking to make a slight dent in the deficit when disaster struck. On second-and-goal with 7:39 remaining in the game, Daniels faked a handoff and scrambled to his right before being spun down by Seattle’s Drake Thomas for a 2-yard loss.
As he was being taken to the ground, Daniels put out his left arm to brace himself. His elbow bent the wrong way. Commanders guard Sam Cosmi called the scene “gut-wrenching.”
“I didn’t see what happened exactly. I just heard a pause and I kind of put my head down and prayed for him,” Cosmi said. “You just don’t want to see that happen.”
A similar scene took place nearly 13 years ago for Washington, when another rising young star at quarterback, Robert Griffin III, re-injured his knee during a home game against the Seahawks. His career was never the same afterward.
Griffin was one of several people who took to social media Sunday night to comment on the matter. He seemed to speak for the majority of them when he wrote on X, “WHY WAS JAYDEN DANIELS EVEN STILL IN THE GAME?!?!?!”
“The Seattle Seahawks had the game won,” a visbly distraught Griffin said in a video also posted to X. “I understand you want to play to the end, but with the injuries that he’s already had this year, and the injuries he had last year, why is he in the game? Doesn’t make sense.”
Griffin, who currently works as a college football analyst on Fox Sports, added: “You can’t say a knee and a hamstring leads to an elbow injury like that. It was a freak accident, freak play. But I can’t help but feel for Jayden Daniels. Man, I can’t help but feel for Washington Commanders fans. Just a demoralizing blow, man.”
Asked by reporters after the game whether any consideration was given to removing Daniels before that series, Quinn seemed to indicate that the plays being called didn’t seem to present a high injury risk.
“Obviously in hindsight, you don’t want to think that way, where injury could take place,” Quinn said. “Obviously, we’re more concerned in that spot to run and hand off and not have reads to go, but just the end result, obviously I’m bummed.”
Later in the news conference, in response to a similar question, Quinn gave a similar answer.
“Yeah, obviously, I’m just gutted by this, bummed,” Quinn said. “The one that he was on injured is usually a runner or throwing the flats, not a scramble. So it wasn’t a designed read or play into that spot. If we run it 50 times, it’s either hand off or throw, say, 50 times. So it’s a bummer, man, in a big way.”
Backup quarterback Marcus Mariota has led the Commanders to a 1-2 record starting in place of Daniels this season.
New York City’s mayoral candidates are making a final push Monday to get voters to the polls, as the race to lead America’s biggest city nears its finale.
Ahead of Election Day on Tuesday, Democratic nominee Zohran Mamdani, former Gov. Andrew Cuomo and Republican Curtis Sliwa have all spent the race’s final stretch campaigning at a frenetic pace across the city’s five boroughs as they make their case to succeed outgoing Mayor Eric Adams.
In recent days, Mamdani went dancing with seniors on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, Cuomo dined in the Eastern European enclave of Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, and Sliwa went to a mosque in the Bronx.
Mamdani, a 34-year-old democratic socialist who would be the city’s first Muslim mayor, jolted the political world when he defeated Cuomo in the primary with an energetic campaign focused on making the city a more affordable place to live.
As the race approaches the finish line, he’s continued to post viral social media videos and run a relentless ground game, while warning his progressive fan base not to become complacent and to send as many supporters to the polls as possible.
Cuomo is trying to make his return to political office after resigning as governor four years ago following a barrage of sexual harassment accusations that he denies. Now running as an independent, the 67-year-old has in recent days shifted to wooing Republican voters to bolster his centrist base, pitching himself as the only candidate who can stop Mamdani.
Sliwa, the creator of the Guardian Angels crime patrol group and a longtime fixture on New York’s airwaves, seeks to spoil both Democrats’ chances. He’s been heavily canvassing the streets and subways in his signature red beret to spread his message of public safety.
Early voting in the city ended Sunday, and election officials say more than 735,000 ballots were cast.
In last year’s general election, there were 1,089,328 early, in-person votes cast. But in the 2021 mayoral general election, only 169,879 in-person early voting ballots were cast.
Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein” didn’t exactly wow audiences and critics when it premiered at the Venice Film Festival, and when it landed at the Telluride Film Festival a day later for a pair of late-night screenings, the response was even more muted. Leaving Colorado, the airport gate was full of hushed conversations between people registering their disappointment with the movie.
“Frankenstein,” the talk went, had three strikes against it — a plodding story, computer-generated imagery that looked appalling and was employed to often ridiculous effect and, outside of Jacob Elordi’s affecting turn as the monster, acting that seemed wildly excessive (Oscar Isaac) or hopelessly lost (Mia Goth). In short: a mess.
But then “Frankenstein” traveled to the Toronto, a city Del Toro regards as his “second home,” and finished as runner-up to “Hamnet” for the festival’s People’s Choice Award. Now playing in a theatrical limited release ahead of its Nov. 7 Netflix premiere, the movie has found favor with the filmmaker’s devoted fan base, selling out theaters, including dates at Netflix’s renovated Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood, where admission lines wrapped around the block. And some prominent critics, including my colleague Amy Nicholson, have written some thoughtful reviews of the movie, praising Del Toro’s lifelong passion project. Amy calls it the “best movie of his career.”
So in this update to my post-festival Oscar power rankings for best picture, you’ll find “Frankenstein,” a movie that’s hard to place on this list but harder still to ignore. Previous rankings are parenthetically noted.
Falling out of the rankings since September: “A House of Dynamite,” “Jay Kelly”
10. ‘Avatar: Fire and Ash’ (Unranked)
A scene from 2022’s “Avatar: The Way of Water.”
(20th Century Studios)
The last “Avatar” movie grossed $2.3 billion and, yes, earned an Oscar nomination for best picture. Yet I’m hard-pressed to find anyone who’s truly excited about devoting half a day to see the next installment, which clocks in at 3 hours and 12 minutes. Just because the first two movies were nominated doesn’t mean this one will be. But underestimating James Cameron’s ability to connect with audiences — and awards voters — seems dumb. So here we are, No. 10, sight (still) unseen.
9. ‘Bugonia’ (10)
Emma Stone in “Bugonia.”
(Atsushi Nishijima / Focus Features)
Better than “Kinds of Kindness” but not nearly the triumph of “Poor Things,” this is mid Yorgos Lanthimos — off-putting, punishing and misanthropic but also featuring another showcase for Emma Stone’s bold, creative energy. There are a number of movies that could displace it as a nominee. Park Chan-wook’s “No Other Choice” offers a more humane — and funnier — look at ugly things people can do when desperate. But I’ll stick with “Bugonia” for now. After all, how many movies inspire people to shave their heads for a ticket?
8. “Frankenstein” (Unranked)
Oscar Isaac in “Frankenstein.”
(Ken Woroner / Netflix)
Netflix has four movies arriving during the awards season window — the meditative stunner “Train Dreams,” Katherine Bigelow’s riveting, ticking-clock thriller “A House of Dynamite,” the George Clooney meta-charmer “Jay Kelly” and “Frankenstein.” (That’s how I’d rank them in terms of quality.) One of these movies will be nominated. Maybe two. At this moment, nobody, including the awards team at Netflix, knows which one(s) it will be.
7. ‘It Was Just an Accident’ (7)
Mohamad Ali Elyasmehr, left, Madj Panahi and Hadis Pakbaten in “It Was Just an Accident.”
(Neon)
Jafar Panahi’s Palme d’Or-winning thriller possesses a withering critique of the cruelty and corruption of an authoritarian regime, combined with a blistering sense of humor. Panahi (“The Circle,” “Taxi”) has been imprisoned by the Iranian government many times for criticizing the government, and his courage has been celebrated for its spirit of artistic resistance. He has been a ubiquitous presence on the festival and awards circuit this year, eager to share both the movie and his story. As the Oscars have thoroughly embraced international movies the last several years, “It Was Just an Accident” feels like it’s on solid ground.
6. ‘Wicked: For Good’ (6)
Ariana Grande, left, and Cynthia Erivo in “Wicked: For Good.”
(Giles Keyte / Universal Pictures)
An academy member recently expressed some reservations about this movie to me — not about the sequel itself, but about the prospect of seeing stars Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande embark on another tear-soaked promotional tour. Whatevs. The first “Wicked” movie earned 10 Oscar nominations, winning for production design and costumes. With the added casting category, the sequel might just surpass that number.
5. ‘Marty Supreme’ (8)
Timothée Chalamet in “Marty Supreme.”
(A24)
Josh Safdie’s wildly entertaining, over-caffeinated portrait of a single-minded ping-pong player premiered on its home turf at the New York Film Festival and people left the Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully Hall caught up in the rapture of the movie’s delirium. It might be the movie that wins Timothée Chalamet his Oscar, though he’ll have to go through Leonardo DiCaprio to collect the trophy.
4. ‘Sentimental Value’ (3)
Stellan Skarsgård, left, and Renate Reinsve in “Sentimental Value.”
(Kasper Tuxen / Neon)
Neon won best picture last year with Sean Baker’s “Anora,” and it’s not unreasonable to think it could run it back with “Sentimental Value,” Joachim Trier’s piercing drama about a family reckoning with the past and wondering if reconciliation is possible — or even desired. The three actors cast in familial roles — Stellan Skarsgård, playing a legendary director angling for a comeback, and Renate Reinsve and Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas as his daughters — are excellent, and Elle Fanning has a choice role as an A-list actor who becomes entangled in the family drama. And like “Anora,” this movie ends on a perfect, transcendent note. That counts for a lot.
3. ‘Sinners’ (4)
Michael B. Jordan in “Sinners.”
(Eli Ade / Warner Bros. Pictures)
“Sinners” made a lot of noise when it was released in April and, months later, belongs in any conversation about the year’s best movie. The job now is to remind voters of its worth at events like the American Cinematheque’s upcoming “Sinners” screening with filmmaker Ryan Coogler and Michael B. Jordan. With the level of its craft, it could score a dozen or more nominations, with only “One Battle After Another” as a threat to best that count.
The Gotham Awards did away with its budget cap a couple of years ago, allowing indie-spirited studio movies like “One Battle After Another” to clean up and, one supposes, the show’s sales team to move more tables at its ceremony. It was no secret that Paul Thomas Anderson’s angry, urgent epic would score well with film critics groups. (Panels of critics vote for the Gothams.) It’s just a question of how many dinners Anderson will have to eventually attend for a movie that has easily become the most widely seen film of his career.
Kyle Schwarber, 33, DH, 4.7, 19.9: Schwarber is a premier slugger with 187 home runs in four seasons with Philadelphia, where he also was an exceptional clubhouse leader. He is pretty much restricted to designated hitter and is approaching an age where offensive production might decline. He still merits a lucrative multi-year deal, although going longer than four years at a $30 million average annual value (AAV) might be inviting buyer’s remorse in 2030.
Kyle Tucker, 29, OF, 4.5, 27.3: Although his 2025 bWAR was lower than that of Bellinger and Schwarber, Tucker might have the highest sticker price in this free-agent class. The average of projections from 20 ESPN experts is 10 years and $391.5 million for a $38.8 million AAV. The Dodgers are considered a prime suitor because of their deep pockets and need for a productive corner outfielder.
Eugenio Suárez, 34, 3B, 3.6, 26.8: A drop of nearly one win above replacement from the top three free agents — Cody Bellinger, Schwarber and Tucker — still puts Suárez in an enviable position. Splitting the season between the Diamondbacks and Mariners, Suarez tied a career high with 49 home runs and drove in 118 runs.
Alex Bregman, 32, 3B, 3.5, 43.1: Even though Bregman’s bWAR was slightly lower than that of Suárez, he should command a larger deal because he’s younger and more well-rounded. Bregman missed 44 games because of injury in his single season in Boston but still put up solid numbers. His average bWAR over his 10-year career is 4.3.
Trent Grisham, 29, OF, 3.5, 14.6: Grisham is an enigma, a first-round draft pick who blossomed with the Padres only to crater and bat under .200 three years in a row. But in 2025 he rebounded, swatting a career-high 34 home runs with the Yankees in 2025. Grisham also has two Gold Gloves in center field. Still, he’s a bit of a gamble.
Bo Bichette, 28, SS, 3.4, 20.8: Bichette showed his toughness by playing effectively in the World Series despite a lingering knee injury. Bichette can flat-out hit, accumulating more than 175 hits in four of the last five seasons with above-average power. He also plays a premium position and will turn only 28 in March, meaning he could command a contract exceeded only by that of Tucker.
Toronto Blue Jays’ Bo Bichette hits a three-run home run during Game 7 of the World Series, Nov. 1, 2025, in Toronto.
(Ashley Landis/AP)
Pete Alonso, 31, 1B, 3.4, 23.3: Alonso was disappointed by the tepid interest in him as a free agent last offseason, re-signing with the Mets on a one-year, $30-million deal with a player option. He’s expected to test the market again after once again posting the glittering power numbers that have made him a fan favorite in New York for seven years.
Josh Naylor, 28, 1B, 3.1, 8.4: The 5-foot-10, 235-pound left-handed slugger produced well in 2025 while splitting the season between the Diamondbacks and Mariners, batting a career-high .295 and hitting precisely 20 home runs for the third time in five seasons.
Gleyber Torres, 29, 2B, 2.9, 18.7: Torres needed to restore his value after taking a one-year deal with the Tigers following a ho-hum 2024 season with the Yankees. He did so incrementally and should land a measured multi-year deal this time around.
J.T. Realmuto, 35, C, 2.6, 38.8: Realmuto is recognized as one of the top-hitting catchers in baseball, and he’s clearly the top free-agent backstop, proving in 2025 that he can still catch upward of 130 games while putting up solid offensive numbers. Still, he will be 35 on opening day and his .700 OPS was his lowest in a decade.
Jorge Polanco, 32, 2B, 2.6, 20.7: Polanco hit 26 home runs and posted an .821 OPS, the switch-hitter’s best season since 2021 when he hit 33 homers and drove in 98 runs. Chronic knee problems have put his shortstop days behind him and cut into his range at second or third base, but the bat still plays.
Mike Yastrzemski, 35, OF, 2.6, 16.8: Although the grandson of Hall of Famer Carl Yastrzemski posted his best OPS (.839) since the pandemic-shortened 2020 season, he might be entertaining only contract offers of one year at $10 million or so.
Ryan O’Hearn, 31, 1B/DH, 2.4, 3.1: O’Hearn is an accomplished left-handed hitter coming off a season split between the Orioles and Padres. He can expect a large raise from the $3.5 million he made in 2025, perhaps tripling it.
Marcell Ozuna, 35, OF/DH, 1.6, 29.5: Ozuna is a proven power bat who has exceeded 20 home runs in nine seasons and led the NL with 18 homers and 56 RBIs in pandemic-shortened 2020. After tremendous 2023 and 2024 seasons in which he totaled 79 homers and 204 RBIs, Ozuna slipped in 2025, batting .232 with 21 home runs while battling hip pain.
Luis Arráez, 29, 1B, 1.3, 16.5: Arráez doesn’t get much love from bWAR or fWAR, but he sure can hit, leading all major leaguers with a .317 lifetime average. He led the NL with 181 hits in 2025, but because he doesn’t hit for power or walk much, his OPS was a pedestrian .719. The three-time batting champion should continue to be paid about $14 million a year, with the question becoming for how long.
Paul Goldschmidt, 38, 1B, 1.2, 63.8: Goldschmidt boasts the highest career bWAR of any free-agent hitter and he has made it clear that he is not ready to retire. His productivity, however, is trending downward, especially his power. With only 10 homers and 45 RBIs in 534 plate appearances with the Yankees last season, Goldschmidt is no longer an elite hitter.
Victor Caratini, 32, C, 0.9, 4.3: Catchers are at a premium in this free-agent class and Caratini is one of the few with a potent bat and ability to play more than 100 games in a season. He most recently delivered decently on a two-year, $12-million deal with the Astros and could land a similar contract because of the scarcity of backstops.
Mark Zuckerberg, Lauren Sanchez, Jeff Bezos, Sundar Pichai and Elon Musk, attend the presidential inauguration of President Donald Trump on Monday, January 20, 2025. File Pool Photo by Julia Demaree Nikhinson/UPI | License Photo
Nov. 3 (UPI) — The United States’ 10 richest billionaires saw their wealth grow last year by nearly $700 billion, according to a new report published Monday by Oxfam, which warns the Trump administration is worsening U.S. inequality.
The report states that in the past year, the wealth of U.S. billionaires grew by $698 billion.
Oxfam, the British-founded confederation of nearly two dozen non-governmental organizations, citing Federal Reserve data, found that between 1989 and 2022, a household in the top 0.1% gained $39.5 million, while a household in the top 1% gained about $8.3 million. Meanwhile, a bottom 20% household saw its wealth only grow by $8,465.
This equals to the poorest household in the top 1% having gained 987 times more wealth than the richest household in the bottom 20%, according to the report.
It continues by stating that while the wealth of working- and middle-class families have barely grown in more than three decades, America’s richest have seen their purses overflow.
As evidence, Oxfam said the share of national income going to the top 1% doubled from 1980 to 2022, while the share going to the bottom 50% decreased by one-third.
It also pointed to the top 1% owning half of the entire stock market, while the bottom half of Americans only hold 1.1%.
“The data confirms what people across our nation already know instinctively: the new American oligarchy is here,” Abby Maxman, Oxfam America’s president and CEO, said in a statement accompanying the publication of the report.
“Billionaires and mega-corporations are booming while working families struggle to afford housing, healthcare and groceries.”
The report warns that the Trump administration is taking actions that threaten to worsen inequality in the United States.
According to Oxfam, the Trump administration, backed by a Republican-controlled Congress, “has moved with staggering speed and scale to carry out a relentless attack on working class families, and use the power of the office to enrich the wealthy and well-connected.”
Maxman said the Trump administration and congressional Republicans “risk turbocharging” this inequality, while adding that what they are doing isn’t new, but what is different “is how much undemocratic power they’ve now amassed.”
In the working-class city of Commerce, where cars speed past on highways and the Citadel Outlets tower over neighborhoods, there is a steakhouse named Stevens. By day, it’s a classic and charming old restaurant where working people go for quiet, hearty meals.
But every Sunday night, the outside world disappears.
As waiters whisk about in starched button ups, couples lead each other by the hand toward the dance floor in the restaurant’s ballroom, where Stevens’ tradition of Salsa Sundays has been bringing the community together for 73 years.
At 7 p.m. every Sunday, beginner lessons start at Stevens Steakhouse.
(Emil Ravelo / For The Times)
An eight-piece band plays brass, electric guitar, bongos and timbales, filling the room with music as dancers twirl in a dizzying array. One attendee, 29-year-old Amy Hernandez, greets a few familiar faces before she steps onto the dance floor, spinning in confident steps with a wide smile on her face.
Hernandez is part of a revival that’s been getting younger people excited about salsa music — and flocking to Stevens. She grew up watching her father dance salsa, but started diving back into the genre on her own to find comfort during the L.A. wildfires earlier this year. She credits Bad Bunny’s “Debí Tirar Más Fotos” for re-sparking her interest.
“It was very healing for me,” she says of the album, which blends old-school Puerto Rican boricua samples with Latin dance and reggaeton influences for an emotional imagining of Puerto Rican identity.
For decades, Stevens has brought friends, couples, and families together for live music and dance.
(Emil Ravelo/For The Times)
When college friends recommended Stevens as an affordable place to dance, Hernandez mentioned it in passing to her dad. “He laughed and said, ‘I remember that place. I used to dance there too,’” Hernandez says.
The increasingly mainstream artists of Latin fusion genre reggaeton are returning to tradition. Along with the music of Bad Bunny, who’s headlining the upcoming Super Bowl halftime show, you can find classic salsa references in reggaeton star Rauw Alejandro’s latest album “Cosa Nuestra,” and in Colombian pop star Karol G’s multi-genre summer album “Tropicoqueta,” which will be at the center of her headlining Coachella set.
“You can feel the younger energy,” says longtime Stevens salsa instructor Jennifer Aguirre. “It makes me really happy to see a younger generation take on salsa. Because I was worried for a bit. I didn’t know how salsa is going to continue.”
Los Angeles has a unique relationship with salsa, the Afro-Caribbean dance born from Cuban mambo. In cities like Miami and New York, salsa arrived with Cuban and Puerto Rican immigrants. Instead, L.A.’s salsa influence came from Golden Age Hollywood, where Latin dance in movies produced a singular, flashier Angeleno style, characterized by quick turns and theatrical movement, according to salsa historian Juliet McMains.
The 1990s were another high for the genre, when West Coast pioneers like the Vazquez brothers and their first-of-its-kind dance team Salsa Brava sparked a local dance craze. The Vazquezes introduced the “on-1” step and innovated a flashier, dramatic style of salsa in L.A. that brought crowds to competitions and congresses through the 2000s. Legendary late promoter Albert Torres founded the L.A. Salsa Congress in 1999, the first congress on the West Coast, drawing a worldwide audience for Angeleno salsa.
Opened in 1952 by Steven Filipan (and located on Stevens Place), Stevens in Commerce became a local hub for Latin music. “The interesting part was that the area wasn’t Latin at all,” says Jim Filipan, Steven’s grandson and now the third-generation owner of the restaurant. “My grandfather had a foresight that this genre would be the future.”
Jim recalls his childhood growing up in the restaurant. “We would have hundreds of people on Sundays,” he says. “The ballroom, the restaurant, everyone was dancing salsa, and it was incredible. My dad took over in the ‘70s, and I was running it with him in the ‘90s.”
Yet by the 2010s it was apparent that another genre was taking hold of the Latin dance scene: bachata, ushered in by smooth-singing New York stars like Prince Royce and Romeo Santos. Salsa quickly went from being considered hip to rather old-fashioned.
During a Stevens dance lesson, guests learn how to spin on the dance floor.
(Emil Ravelo / For The Times)
Aguirre witnessed the genre lose interest firsthand. “It was like an immediate switch,” Aguirre says. “Salsa just wasn’t as popular anymore, and people would walk over to the other side of the restaurant to take the bachata lessons.”
The pandemic also dealt a large blow to local salsa clubs, as peers in the long-standing dance club industry fell to lower attendance rates and rising rent. And in the last year, two historic venues, the Conga Room and the Mayan, closed permanently.
Stevens almost had the same fate. The financial burdens during the pandemic made Jim consider closing for good. But he couldn’t help but consider the responsibility of his family’s legacy and the special place Stevens holds for local dancers.
“It’s very emotional for me because I have four generations in this restaurant, and now my daughter works here,” he says.
When Stevens reopened, the community came back in droves, ushering in a new era of excitement for salsa.
These days, at the beginning of every class, dance instructor Miguel “Miguelito” Aguirre announces the same rule.
“Forget about what happened today, forget about your week, forget about all the bad stuff. Leave it at the door,” Aguirre says. “It’s going to be better because we’re going to dance salsa.”
Dance instructor, Miguel Aguirre, right, mans the DJ booth alongside DJ Pechanga, another longtime employee of Stevens. Every weekend, the duo brings Latin music to the forefront of the space.
(Emil Ravelo/For The Times)
Aguirre has taught salsa at Stevens for 30 years. In many ways, the steakhouse has shaped his life. It’s where he discovered his love for teaching dance and much more.
“I started coming here in the ‘90s, sneaking in through the back door. I was a teenager, so not old enough to show my ID, but one day, Jim just said, ‘You guys cannot come in through the back anymore. You can come into the front,’” Aguirre says. “And then one day he said, ‘Hey, we are missing the instructors. They’re not coming in. Can you guys teach the class?’ And, I’m still here.”
Jennifer Aguirre, a fellow dance teacher at Stevens, is his wife. She met him one day at Stevens’ annual Halloween party.
“He asked me to join his class because they ‘needed more girls,’” Jennifer says, laughing.
Now Jennifer teaches the beginner’s class, while Miguel is on intermediate. But once 10 p.m. hits, it’s social dancing time. The whole floor comes together and a familiar community converges. If attendees are lucky, they might catch Jennifer and Miguel, a smooth-dancing duo, letting loose, stepping and dipping effortlessly.
On a recent Sunday night, the low-lighted ambience of the restaurant met the purple lights of the dance room, with people sitting all around for a peek at the moves on display. Buttery steaks and potatoes cooking in the kitchen tinged the air as the dance floor came alive with women spinning in dresses and men in shining shoes gliding to the rhythm of the music. Miguel Aguirre manned the DJ stand, asking two singles if they knew each other and encouraging them to dance.
Gregorio Sines was one of the solo dancers on the floor, swaying partners easily under Miguel’s encouragement. Years ago, his friend, who frequented Stevens, dragged Sines out to dance socials, telling him it would be the best way to meet people and open up.
As someone who began with anxiety to dance in front of others, Sines now performs in Stevens’ dance showcases. He says consistently returning to the steakhouse’s historic floor and immersing himself in the supportive community not only changed his dance game, but brought him out of his shell.
“I tell anyone, if you’re scared to dance, you just have to get out there,” Sines says. “There’s a community waiting for you.”
You may not know Eliot Mack’s name, but if a small robot has ever crept around your kitchen, you know his work.
Before he turned his MIT-trained mind to filmmaking, Mack helped lead a small team of engineers trying to solve a deeply relatable problem: how to avoid vacuuming. Whether it was figuring out how to get around furniture legs or unclog the brushes after a run-in with long hair, Mack designed everything onscreen first with software, troubleshooting virtually and getting 80% of the way there before a single part was ever manufactured.
When Mack pivoted to filmmaking in the early 2000s, he was struck by how chaotic Hollywood’s process felt. “You pitch the script, get the green light and you’re flying into production,” he says, sounding both amused and baffled. “There’s no CAD template, no centralized database. I was like, how do movies even get made?”
That question sent Mack down a new path, trading dust bunnies for the creative bottlenecks that slow Hollywood down.
In 2004 he founded Lightcraft Technology, a startup developing what would later be known as virtual production tools, born out of his belief that if you could design a robot in software, you should be able to design a shot the same way. The company’s early system, Previzion, sold for $180,000 and was used on sci-fi and fantasy shows like “V” and “Once Upon a Time.” But Jetset, its latest AI-assisted tool set, runs on an iPhone and offers a free tier, with pro features topping out at just $80 a month. It lets filmmakers scan a location, drop it into virtual space and block out scenes with camera moves, lighting and characters. They can preview shots, overlay elements and organize footage for editing — all from a phone. No soundstage, no big crew, no gatekeepers. Lightcraft’s pitch: “a movie studio in your pocket.”
A series on how the AI revolution is reshaping the creative foundations of Hollywood — from storytelling and performance to production, labor and power.
The goal, Mack says, is to put more power in the hands of the people making the work. “One of the big problems is how siloed Hollywood is,” he says. “We talked to an Oscar-winning editor who said, ‘I’m never going to get to make my movie’ — he was pigeonholed as just an editor. Same with an animator we know who has two Oscars.”
Eliot Mack, CEO of Lightcraft, an AI-powered virtual-production startup, wants to give creators the power and freedom to bring their ideas to life.
(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)
To Mack, the revolution of Jetset recalls the scrappy, guerrilla spirit of Roger Corman’s low-budget productions, which launched the early careers of directors like Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese. For generations of creatives stuck waiting on permission or funding, he sees this moment as a reset button.
“The things you got good at — writing, directing, acting, creating, storytelling — they’re still crazy useful,” he says. “What’s changing is the amount of schlepping you have to do before you get to do the fun stuff. Your 20s are a gift. You want to be creating at the absolute speed of sound. We’re trying to get to a place where you don’t have to ask anyone. You can just make the thing.”
AI is reshaping nearly every part of the filmmaking pipeline. Storyboards can now be generated from a script draft. Lighting and camera angles can be tested before anyone touches a piece of gear. Rough cuts, placeholder VFX, even digital costume mock-ups can all be created before the first shot is filmed. What once took a full crew, a soundstage and a six-figure budget can now happen in minutes, sometimes at the hands of a single person with a laptop.
This wave of automation is arriving just as Hollywood is gripped by existential anxiety. The 2023 writers’ and actors’ strikes brought the industry to a standstill and put AI at the center of a fight over its future. Since then, production has slowed, crew sizes have shrunk and the streaming boom has given way to consolidation and cost-cutting.
According to FilmLA, on-location filming in Greater Los Angeles dropped 22.4% in early 2025 compared with the year before. For many of the crew members and craftspeople still competing for those jobs, AI doesn’t feel like an innovation. It feels like a new way to justify doing more with less, only to end up with work that’s less original or creative.
“AI scrapes everything we artists have made off the internet and creates a completely static, banal world that can never imagine anything that hasn’t happened before,” documentary filmmaker Adam Curtis warned during a directors panel at the 2023 Telluride Film Festival, held in the midst of the strikes. “That’s the real weakness of the AI dream — it’s stuck with the ghosts. And I think we’ll get fed up with that.”
How you feel about these changes often depends on where you sit and how far along you are in your career. For people just starting out, AI can offer a way to experiment, move faster and bypass the usual barriers to entry. For veterans behind the scenes, it often feels like a threat to the expertise they’ve spent decades honing.
Past technological shifts — the arrival of sound, the rise of digital cameras, the advancement of CGI — changed how movies were made, but not necessarily who made them. Each wave brought new roles: boom operators and dialogue coaches, color consultants and digital compositors. Innovation usually meant more jobs, not fewer.
But AI doesn’t just change the tools. It threatens to erase the people who once used the old ones.
Diego Mariscal has seen first hand as AI has cut potential jobs for grips.
(Jennifer Rose Clasen)
Diego Mariscal, 43, a veteran dolly grip who has worked on “The Mandalorian” and “Spider-Man: No Way Home,” saw the writing on the wall during a recent shoot. A visual effects supervisor opened his laptop to show off a reel of high-end commercials and something was missing. “There were no blue screens — none,” Mariscal recalls. “That’s what we do. We put up blues as grips. You’d normally hire an extra 10 people and have an extra three days of pre-rigging, setting up all these blue screens. He was like, ‘We don’t need it anymore. I just use AI to clip it out.’”
Mariscal runs Crew Stories, a private Facebook group with nearly 100,000 members, where working crew members share job leads, trade tips and voice their growing fears. He tries to keep up with the steady drip of AI news. “I read about AI all day, every day,” he says. “At least 20 posts a day.”
His fear isn’t just about fewer jobs — it’s about what comes next. “I’ve been doing this since I was 19,” Mariscal says of his specialized dolly work, which involves setting up heavy equipment and guiding the camera smoothly through complex shots. “I can push a cart in a parking lot. I can push a lawnmower. What else can I do?”
Who wins, who loses and what does James Cameron think?
Before AI and digital doubles, Mike Marino learned the craft of transformation the human way: through hands-on work and a fascination that bordered on obsession.
Marino was 5 years old when he first saw “The Elephant Man” on HBO. Horrified yet transfixed, he became fixated on prosthetics and the emotional power they could carry. As a teenager in New York, he pored over issues of Fangoria, studied monsters and makeup effects and experimented with sculpting his own latex masks on his bedroom floor.
Prosthetics artist Mike Marino asks a big question related to generative AI: What role do the human creatives play?
(Sean Dougherty / For The Times)
Decades later, Marino, 48, has become one of Hollywood’s leading makeup artists, earning Oscar nominations for “Coming 2 America,” “The Batman” and last year’s dark comedy “A Different Man,” in which he helped transform Sebastian Stan into a disfigured actor.
His is the kind of tactile, handcrafted work that once seemed irreplaceable. But today AI tools are increasingly capable of achieving similar effects digitally: de-aging actors, altering faces, even generating entire performances. What used to take weeks of experimentation and hours in a makeup trailer can now be approximated with a few prompts and a trained model. To Marino, AI is more than a new set of tools. It’s a fundamental change in what it means to create.
“If AI is so good it can replace a human, then why have any human beings?” he says. “This is about taste. It’s about choice. I’m a human being. I’m an artist. I have my own ideas — mine. Just because you can make 10,000 spaceships in a movie, should you?”
“If AI is so good it can replace a human, then why have any human beings?”
— Mike Marino, makeup artist on “A Different Man”
Marino is no technophobe. His team regularly uses 3D scanning and printing. But he draws the line at outsourcing creative judgment to a machine. “I’m hoping there are artists who want to work with humans and not machines,” he says. “If we let AI just run amok with no taste, no choice, no morality behind it, then we’re gone.”
Not everyone sees AI’s rise in film production as a zero-sum game. Some technologists imagine a middle path. Daniela Rus, director of MIT’s Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab and one of the world’s leading AI researchers, believes the future of filmmaking lies in a “human-machine partnership.”
AI, Rus argues, can take on time-consuming tasks like animating background extras, color correction or previsualizing effects, freeing up people to focus on what requires intuition and taste. “AI can help with the routine work,” she says. “But the human touch and emotional authenticity are essential.”
Few directors have spent more time grappling with the dangers and potential of artificial intelligence than James Cameron. Nearly 40 years before generative tools entered Hollywood’s workflow, he imagined a rogue AI triggering global apocalypse in 1984’s “The Terminator,” giving the world Skynet — now a cultural shorthand for the dark side of machine intelligence. Today, he continues to straddle that line, using AI behind the scenes on the upcoming “Avatar: Fire and Ash” to optimize visual effects and performance-capture, while keeping creative decisions in human hands. The latest sequel, due Dec. 19, promises to push the franchise’s spectacle and scale even further; a newly released trailer reveals volcanic eruptions, aerial battles and a new clan of Na’vi.
A scene from “Avatar: The Way of Water.” Director James Cameron differentiates between using machine-learning to reduce monotonous movie-making work and generative AI.
(Courtesy of 20th Century Studios/Courtesy of 20th Century Studios)
“You can automate a lot of processes that right now tie up a lot of artists doing mundane tasks,” Cameron told The Times in 2023 at a Beyond Fest screening of his 1989 film “The Abyss.” “So if we could accelerate the postproduction pipeline, then we can make more movies. Then those artists will get to do more exciting things.”
For Cameron, the promise of AI lies in efficiency, not elimination. “I think in our particular industry, it’s not going to replace people; it’s going to free them to do other things,” he believes. “It’s going to accelerate the process and bring the price down, which would be good because, you know, some movies are a little more expensive than others. And a lot of that has to do with human energy.”
Cameron himself directed five films between 1984 and 1994 and only three in the three decades since, though each one has grown increasingly complex and ambitious.
That said, Cameron has never been one to chase shortcuts for their own sake. “I think you can make pre-viz and design easier, but I don’t know if it makes it better,” he says. “I mean, if easy is your thing. Easy has never been my thing.”
He draws a line between the machine-learning techniques his team has used since the first “Avatar” to help automate tedious tasks and the newer wave of generative AI models making headlines today.
“The big explosion has been around image-based generative models that use everything from every image that’s ever been created,” he says. “We’d never use any of them. The images we make are computer-created, but they’re not AI-created.”
In his view, nothing synthetic can replace the instincts of a flesh-and-blood artist. “We have human artists that do all the designs,” he says. “We don’t need AI. We’ve got meat-I. And I’m one of the meat-artists that come up with all that stuff. We don’t need a computer. Maybe other people need it. We don’t.”
Reshaping creativity — and creative labor
Rick Carter didn’t go looking for AI as a tool. He discovered it as a lifeline.
The two-time Oscar-winning production designer, who worked with Cameron on “Avatar” and whose credits include “Jurassic Park” and “Forrest Gump,” began experimenting with generative AI tools like Midjourney and Runway during the pandemic, looking for a way to keep his creative instincts sharp while the industry was on pause. A longtime painter, he was drawn to the freedom the programs offered.
“I saw that there was an opportunity to create images where I didn’t have to go to anybody else for approval, which is the way I would paint,” Carter says by phone from Paris. “None of the gatekeeping would matter. I have a whole lot of stories on my own that I’ve tried to get into the world in various ways and suddenly there was a way to visualize them.”
Midjourney and Runway can create richly detailed images — and in Runway’s case, short video clips — from a text prompt or a combination of text and visuals. Trained on billions of images and audiovisual materials scraped from the internet, these systems learn to mimic style, lighting, composition and form, often with eerie precision. In a production pipeline, these tools can help concept artists visualize characters or sets, let directors generate shot ideas or give costume designers and makeup artists a fast way to test looks, long before physical production begins.
But as these tools gain traction in Hollywood, a deeper legal and creative dilemma is coming into focus: Who owns the work they produce? And what about the copyrighted material used to train them?
In June, Disney and Universal filed a federal copyright lawsuit against Midjourney, accusing the company of generating unauthorized replicas of characters such as Spider-Man, Darth Vader and Shrek using AI models trained on copyrighted material: what the suit calls a “bottomless pit of plagiarism.” It’s the most high-profile of several legal challenges now putting copyright law to the test in the age of generative AI.
“Forrest Gump” director Robert Zemeckis, left, with production designer Rick Carter at an art installation of the movie’s famed bench. (Carter family)
(Carter family)
Working with generative models, Carter began crafting what he calls “riffs of consciousness,” embracing AI as a kind of collaborative partner, one he could play off of intuitively. The process reminded him of the loose, improvisational early stages of filmmaking, a space he knows well from decades of working with directors like Robert Zemeckis and Steven Spielberg.
“I’ll just start with a visual or a word prompt and see how it iterates from there and what it triggers in my mind,” Carter says. “Then I incorporate that so it builds on its own in an almost free-associative way. But it’s still based upon my own intuitive, emotional, artistic, even spiritual needs at that moment.”
He describes the experience as a dialogue between two minds, one digital and one human: “One AI is artificial intelligence. The other AI is authentic intelligence — that’s us. We’ve earned it over this whole span of time on the planet.”
Sometimes, Carter says, the most evocative results come from mistakes. While sketching out a story about a hippie detective searching for a missing woman in the Himalayas, he accidentally typed “womb” into ChatGPT instead of “woman.” The AI ran with it, returning three pages of wild plot ideas involving gurus, seekers and a bizarre mystery set in motion by the disappearance.
“I couldn’t believe it,” he says. “I would never have taken it that far. The AI is so precocious. It is trying so much to please that it will literally make something out of the mistake you make.”
Carter hasn’t used generative AI on a film yet; most of his creations are shared only with friends. But he says the technology is already slipping into creative workflows in covert ways. “There are issues with copyrights with most of the studios so for now, it’s going to be mostly underground,” he says. “People will use it but they won’t acknowledge that they’re using it — they’ll have an illustrator do something over it, or take a photo so there’s no digital trail.”
Carter has lived through a major technological shift before. “I remember when we went from analog to digital, from ‘Jurassic Park’ on,” he says. “There were a lot of wonderful artists who could draw and paint in ways that were just fantastic but they couldn’t adapt. They didn’t want to — even the idea of it felt like the wrong way to make art. And, of course, most of them suffered because they didn’t make it from the Rolodex to the database in terms of people calling them up.”
He worries that some artists may approach the technology with a rigid sense of authorship. “Early on, I found that the less I used my own ego as a barometer for whether something was artistic, the more I leaned into the process of collaboratively making something bigger than the sum of its parts — and the bigger and better the movies became.”
Others, like storyboard artist Sam Tung, are bracing against the same wave with a quiet but unshakable defiance.
Tung, whose credits include “Twisters” and Christopher Nolan’s upcoming adaptation of “The Odyssey,” has spent the last two years tracking the rise of generative tools, not just their capabilities but their implications. As co-chair of the Animation Guild’s AI Committee, he has been on the front lines of conversations about how these technologies could reshape creative labor.
To artists like Tung, the rise of generative tools feels deeply personal. “If you are an illustrator or a writer or whatever, you had to give up other things to take time to develop those skills,” he says. “Nobody comes out of the womb being able to draw or write or act. Anybody who does that professionally spent years honing those skills.”
“Anything I’ve made with AI, I’ve quickly forgotten about. There’s basically nothing I get from putting it on social media, other than the ire of my peers.”
— Sam Tung, storyboard artist on “The Odyssey”
Tung has no interest in handing that over to a machine. “It’s not that I’m scared of it — I just don’t need it,” he says. “If I want to draw something or paint something, I’ll do it myself. That way it’s exactly what I want and I actually enjoy the process. When people tell me they responded to a drawing I did or a short film I made with friends, it feels great. But anything I’ve made with AI, I’ve quickly forgotten about. There’s basically nothing I get from putting it on social media, other than the ire of my peers.”
What unsettles him isn’t just the slickness of AI’s output but how that polish is being used to justify smaller crews and faster turnarounds. “If this is left unchecked, it’s very easy to imagine a worst-case scenario where team sizes and contract durations shrink,” Tung says. “A producer who barely understands how it works might say, ‘Don’t you have AI to do 70% of this? Why do you need a whole week to turn around a sequence? Just press the button that says: MAKE MOVIE.’ ”
At 73, Carter isn’t chasing jobs. His legacy is secure. “If they don’t hire me again, that’s OK,” he says. “I’m not in that game anymore.” He grew up in Hollywood — his father was Jack Lemmon’s longtime publicist and producing partner — and has spent his life watching the industry evolve. Now, he’s witnessing a reckoning unlike any he, or anyone else, has ever imagined.
“I do have concerns about who is developing AI and what their values are,” he says. “What they use all this for is not necessarily something I would approve of — politically, socially, emotionally. But I don’t think I’m in a position to approve or not.”
Earlier this year, the Palisades fire destroyed Carter’s home, taking with it years of paintings and personal artwork. AI, he says, has given him a way to keep creating through the upheaval. “It saved me through the pandemic, and now it’s saving me through the fire,” he says, as if daring the universe to test him again. “It’s like, go ahead, throw something else at me.”
‘Prompt and pray?’ Not so fast
Many in the industry may still be dipping a toe into the waters of AI. Verena Puhm dove in.
The Austrian-born filmmaker studied acting and directing in Munich and Salzburg before moving to Los Angeles, where she built a globe-spanning career producing, writing and developing content for international networks and streamers. Her credits range from CNN’s docuseries “History of the Sitcom” to the German reboot of the cult anthology “Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction” and a naval documentary available on Tubi. More recently, she has channeled that same creative range into a deepening exploration of generative tools.
Puhm first began dabbling with AI while using Midjourney to design a pitch deck, but it wasn’t until she entered a timed generative AI filmmaking challenge at the 2024 AI on the Lot conference — informally dubbed a “gen battle” — that the creative potential of the medium hit her.
“In two hours, I made a little mock commercial,” she remembers, proudly. “It was actually pretty well received and fun. And I was like, Oh, wow, I did this in two hours. What could I do in two days or two weeks?”
What started as experimentation soon became a second act. This summer, Puhm was named head of studio for Dream Lab LA, a new creative arm of Luma AI, which develops generative video tools for filmmakers and creators. There, she’s helping shape new storytelling formats and supporting emerging creators working at the intersection of cinema and technology. She may not be a household name, but in the world of experimental storytelling, she’s fast becoming a key figure.
Verena Puhm, a director, writer and producer, has used generative AI in a number of her projects, says it’s breaking down barriers to entry.
(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)
Some critics dismiss AI filmmaking as little more than “prompt and pray”: typing in a few words and hoping something usable comes out. Puhm bristles at the phrase.
“Anybody that says that tells me they’ve never tried it at all, because it is not that easy and simple,” she says. “You can buy a paintbrush at Home Depot for, what, $2? That doesn’t make you a painter. When smartphones first came out, there was a lot of content being made but that didn’t mean everyone was a filmmaker.”
What excites her most is how AI is breaking down the barriers that once kept ambitious ideas out of reach. Luma’s new Modify Video tool lets filmmakers tweak footage after it’s shot, changing wardrobe, aging a character, shifting the time of day, all without reshoots or traditional VFX. It can turn a garage into a spaceship, swap a cloudy sky for the aurora borealis or morph an actor into a six-eyed alien, no green screen required.
“I remember shopping projects around and being told by producers, ‘This scene has to go, that has to go,’ just to keep the budget low. Now everything is open.”
— Verena Puhm, Head of Studio at Dream Lab LA
“It’s such a relief as an artist,” Puhm says. “If there’s a project I’ve been sitting on for six years because I didn’t have a $5 million budget — suddenly there’s no limit. I remember shopping projects around and being told by producers, ‘This scene has to go, that has to go,’ just to keep the budget low. Now everything is open.”
That sense of access resonates far beyond Los Angeles. At a panel during AI on the Lot, “Blue Beetle” director Ángel Manuel Soto reflected on how transformative AI might have been when he was first starting out. “I wish tools like this existed when I wanted to make movies in Puerto Rico, because nobody would lend me a camera,” he said. “Access to equipment is a privilege we sometimes take for granted. I see this helping kids like me from the projects tell stories without going bankrupt — or stealing, which I don’t condone.”
Puhm welcomes criticism of AI but only when it’s informed. “If you hate AI and you’ve actually tested the tools and educated yourself, I’ll be your biggest supporter,” she says. “But if you’re just speaking out of fear, with no understanding, then what are you even basing your opinion on?”
She understands why some filmmakers feel rattled, especially those who, like her, grew up dreaming of seeing their work on the big screen. “I still want to make features and TV series — that’s what I set out to do,” she says. “I hope movie theaters don’t go away. But if the same story I want to tell reaches millions of people on a phone and they’re excited about it, will I really care that it wasn’t in a theater?”
“I just feel like we have to adapt to the reality of things,” she continues. “That might sometimes be uncomfortable, but there is so much opportunity if you lean in. Right now any filmmaker can suddenly tell a story at a high production value that they could have never done before, and that is beautiful and empowering.”
For many, embracing AI boils down to a simple choice: adapt or get cut from the frame.
Hal Watmough, a BAFTA-winning British editor with two decades of experience, first began experimenting with AI out of a mix of curiosity and dread. “I was scared,” he admits. “This thing was coming into the industry and threatening our jobs and was going to make us obsolete.” But once he started playing with tools like Midjourney and Runway, he quickly saw how they could not only speed up the process but allow him to rethink what his career could be.
For an editor used to working only with what he was given, the ability to generate footage on the fly, cut with it immediately and experiment endlessly without waiting on a crew or a shoot was a revelation. “It was still pretty janky at that stage, but I could see the potential,” he says. “It was kind of intoxicating. I started to think, I’d like to start making things that I haven’t seen before.”
After honing his skills with various AI tools, Watmough created a wistful, vibrant five-minute animated short called “LATE,” about an aging artist passing his wisdom to a young office worker. Over two weeks, he generated 2,181 images using AI, then curated and refined them frame by frame to shape the story.
Earlier this year, he submitted “LATE” to what was billed as the world’s first AI animation contest, hosted by Curious Refuge, an online education hub for creative technologists — and, to his delight, he won. The prize included $10,000, a pitch meeting with production company Promise Studios and, as an absurd bonus, his face printed on a potato. But for Watmough, the real reward was the sense that he had found a new creative identity.
“There’s something to the fact that the winner of the first AI animation competition was an editor,” Watmough says. “With the advent of AI, yes, you could call yourself a filmmaker but essentially I’d say most people are editors. You’re curating, selecting, picking what you like — relying on your taste.”
Thanks to AI, he says he’s made more personal passion projects in the past year and a half than during his entire previous career. “I’ll be walking or running and ideas just come. Now I can go home that night and try them,” he says. “None of that would exist without AI. So either something exists within AI or it never exists at all. And all the happiness and fulfillment that comes with it for the creator doesn’t exist either.”
Watmough hasn’t entirely lost his fear of what AI might do to the creative workforce, even as he is energized by what it makes possible. “A lot of people I speak to in film and TV are worried about losing their jobs and I’m not saying the infrastructure roles won’t radically change,” he says. “But I don’t think AI is going to replace that many — if any — creative people.”
What it will do, he says, is raise the bar. “If anyone can create anything, then average work will basically become extinct or pointless. AI can churn out remakes until the cows come home. You’ll have to pioneer to exist.”
He likens the current moment to the birth of cinema more than a century ago — specifically the Lumière brothers’ “Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat,” the 1896 short that famously startled early audiences. In the silent one-minute film, a steam train rumbles toward the camera, growing larger. Some viewers reportedly leaped from their seats, convinced it was about to crash into them.
“People ran out of the theater screaming,” Watmough says. “Now we don’t even think about it. With AI, we’re at that stage again. We’re watching the steam train come into the station and people are either really excited or they’re running out of the theater in fear. That’s where we are, right at the start. And the potential is limitless.”
Then again, he adds with a dry laugh, “I’m an eternal optimist, so take what I say with a grain of salt.”
