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Column: Fire is part of L.A.'s ethos. But this Angeleno is asking, 'Is it time to go?'

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Column: Fire is part of L.A.'s ethos. But this Angeleno is asking, 'Is it time to go?'

“Is it time to go?”

That’s the question my husband and I have been asking ourselves with traumatic regularity over the past seven days. As we watched the Eaton fire erupt in nearby Altadena, we wondered. When we got the evacuation warning alert, we answered: We packed the car, took a few additional minutes to scoop up some photo albums and left.

After the warning and nearby mandatory evacuations were lifted in our area on Saturday, we returned home. Our power went out on Sunday and when neighbors received texts saying it would be out until Wednesday, we asked the question again — we hadn’t bothered to unpack the cars. Then the lights went on and we figured we’d stay. On Monday, we woke again to high winds and a “particularly dangerous situation” alert from the National Weather Service.

Compared with thousands of people living in the Los Angeles area, we are incredibly lucky. And we feel that. But we’re also exhausted and, with the winds blowing hard even as I write, on edge. Now the question has become bigger and more demanding.

Is it time to go … forever? To leave, if not California then the foothills, which we have called home for 21 years?

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A year or two after I moved to L.A. the Old Topanga fire of 1993 swept through Malibu, creating scenes of desperate escape and destruction similar to, if more limited than, those we’ve seen from Altadena and the Palisades. I remember at the time people darkly joking that “Malibu” was a Native American term for “Do not live here.”

Altadena also burned that year, once in a brush fire that killed two firefighters, again in a wildfire that destroyed or damaged 40 homes. But it was after Old Topanga that revered California writer, activist and historian Mike Davis wrote his famous essay, “The Case for Letting Malibu Burn,” in which he argued, among other things, that Los Angeles had already paid too high a price for allowing rich people seeking seclusion, beauty and exclusivity to build in places historically prone to fire.

Now I look at the mountains that rear up around my community of La Crescenta, beautiful hills that, depending on the time of year and amount of rainfall, can make you feel like you’re in Ireland or Scotland. And I wonder: Should we be living here?

Just two years ago, they were covered with snow; a few weeks ago, fog crept down, as it often does. On Sunday, while the Eaton fires still raged, they sat serene and seemingly untouchable against a bright blue sky, the air so clear you would never know a horrific fire continued to burn just miles away.

But I know it’s a mirage. The winds can change that in a hour; an arsonist or accidental spark in less than a minute. During the 2009 Station fire, flames were visible on the hills as we evacuated. At more than 160,000 acres, it remains the largest wildfire in Los Angeles County history, claiming the lives of two firefighters and destroying 89 homes.

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The January 2025 fires will be remembered for far more widespread destruction of property. With at least 25 people dead and 12,000 structures destroyed, the Eaton and Palisades fires are among the worst in modern history — and they are still burning.

Angelenos take pride in their resilience. For many, fires (like floods or earthquakes) are the price one pays for living in paradise.

But with climate change forcing Southern California into a maddening cycle of deluge and drought, people are beginning to question the wisdom of building, or rebuilding, communities that edge up to the more wilder areas of L.A.’s varied topography. Davis’ essay is once again being quoted, directly and in subtext, as officials, experts, historians and randos on Reddit discuss the sustainability of Southern Californians living so close to hills and mountains where fire regularly breaks out.

Davis wasn’t talking about Altadena, or the foothills, where fire has been far more rare than in Topanga and Malibu. But still, if I step out of my house, I can see hills covered with dried-out brush and the tops of power stations. And I wonder.

Not that we live in an urban wilderness. We live in what is known as a developed tract, dominated by the wide streets and cheek-by-jowl midcentury homes designed by Webster Wiley. There are street lights and sidewalks; a park and a half-dozen schools lie within walking distance.

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Neither did we come seeking privacy, exclusivity or even beauty, at least of the wild sort. We bought here because of the fine school district, the ease of commute to The Times, which was then downtown, and the general affordability. Down the hill in Montrose, Honolulu Boulevard is such a lively and classic small-town main street that it shows up in countless TV series and films.

Yes, as we drive up the streets that lead to our home, we dip under bowers of California oaks, see deer, bobcats and the occasional bear, but as in Altadena, there’s nothing exclusive about this part of the world and we still felt part of the metropolis; on a clear day, you can see most of downtown.

My husband and I love our home, where we have experienced most of our marriage and raised our three children. Watching as people, including friends and colleagues, post pictures of the smoldering ruins of equally beloved homes, our hearts break. But they also fill with fear. It could so easily be us. Next time, or even this time.

A house is just a house, compared with human lives. But our house is the only thing of real value that we own. (Mostly; there is still a mortgage.) It is what allowed my husband to (finally) retire at 72 and, barring some unexpected windfall, it is the only inheritance our children will have. We have fire insurance, for now, though given the recent history of that industry, our premiums could be raised to unsustainable levels or our coverage dropped altogether. And then what?

If we are fortunate and the house continues to survive this interminable fire season, we could comfort ourselves with the uniqueness of these ghastly circumstances — the 85-plus-mph “mountain wave” winds, the heavy rains in early spring followed by unusual dryness. This is not Malibu, after all. How often could such a horrific confluence of events occur?

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Too often in recent years and no doubt more often in the future. Climate change is real and it is flooding, burning, battering and desiccating California, the country and the world on a daily basis. And not just in places prone to catastrophe.

Scientists warn, too many politicians ignore and the rest of us are forced to evacuate, to mourn friends and family, to gape at the wreckage of where we once lived.

I have railed, and will continue to rail, against those who refuse to quickly and resolutely address the environmental issues that threaten all life on this planet. But right now, as I check in with The Times’ excellent fire coverage and regularly tap into Watch Duty to see if the Eaton fire is on the move again, my husband and I look up at the hills and ask each other: “Is it time to go?”

Are the mountains that have delighted and inspired us for so many years now a threat? Will the eucalyptus in the corner of our yard be our undoing? Or the pine trees that tower around our neighborhood?

We have already gotten rid of our lawn, put in gravel and succulents, taken down two trees that had grown uncomfortably close to our house. But we still have roses and lavender, jasmine and ivy. We felt we had to plant two smaller trees to replace the ones we killed. Now they’ve grown and their drying leaves rattle in the wind. Was that a mistake? Is being here at all a miscalculation?

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We are exhausted, we are anxious and the Santa Anas are blowing, which can shred reasonable thought even without extreme fire risk. With so many in real crisis, it’s hardly the time for the existential variety. There are thousands in critical need; contemplating what could happen is a luxury when so many must cope with what already has.

Nevertheless, the city, county and state will have to face tough questions and make hard choices once the fires are out. How do we prevent such a catastrophe from happening again? Can we?

Homes, businesses and lives will be rebuilt, but how and where?

Our car remains packed as we squint out at the hills. For now, we can only pray and await further instruction.

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‘Evil Dead Burn’ Movie Review – Spotlight Report

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‘Evil Dead Burn’ Movie Review – Spotlight Report

Sam Raimi‘s Evil Dead films and TV series are a fine example of creativity within constraints, playfulness, self-awareness and outright slapstick comedy. The Evil Dead series after Raimi is very, very different. Starting with 2013’s Evil Dead by Fede Álvarez, followed by Evil Dead Rise by Lee Cronin, the new series takes itself more seriously and emphasises pure horror, violence and gore. Some have considered this praiseworthy as it avoids being a mere retread of the old films, but the reception has been mixed.

In Sébastien Vanicek’s Evil Dead Burn, Alice (Souheila Yacoub) loses her abusive husband (George Pullar) to a motor accident. When she goes home to stay with his family, the consequences of the work of their dead grandfather researching the Necronomicon and the Deadites manifest in terrible ways. One by one, the family are turned into the Evil Dead.

Horror is a genre that depends on you relating to the protagonists so you care what happens to them. In the case of Evil Dead Burn, Yacoub does a decent job with the character she’s given, but the gonzo horror elements manifest so early in the film that she may as well be collateral damage in the onslaught, especially as the film’s early point of view is that of her brother-in-law (Hunter Doohan).

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Fans of gory violence will get their money’s worth here, but there’s not a lot going on besides that. The film is a descent into madness and carnage that is so resolutely unpleasant that, after some of the early kills, it becomes numbing. It’s hard to gather what the tone is supposed to be, with lots of callbacks to the early films’ style by setting up inevitable kills with Chekhov’s weed trimmer, Chekhov’s fork and every other potentially dangerous prop the camera lingers on. The family are all deeply unpleasant at some level and so their deaths register as meaningless. Yes, the film has the obligatory something to say about how our tendency to ignore domestic abuse creates demons that destroy families, but then absolutely panders to bloodlust by absolutely revelling in some of the most extreme violence imaginable between family members (and a pet). To say this is not a film for the sensitive is to understate things considerably. This is a film that absolutely earns its content guidance warnings.

Is there any comedy? Some, but it feels out of place given the absolute brutality inflicted on the cast. While most of the other films were self-aware about setting up a ludicrously grisly end for a villain as a payoff, in Evil Dead Burn,the kills have very little flair. It’s also hard to know what the rules for getting rid of a Deadite are, as some of them are still upright and chatty after losing most of the contents of their skull and some are dispatched by the repeated application of a blunt object to the head. Towards the end, a McGuffin is added to make the kills final, but before that, who knows?

Should you watch Evil Dead Burn,? It certainly gets vocal reactions from audiences in a cinema, and if you’re a gorehound you’ll be in for a ride. If you’re a horror fan, it’s certainly a horror film, but violent instead of scary. If you’re just a fan of cinema who likes good films whether or not they’re horror films, then this will be an alienating watch. In Evil Dead Rise the decay of the family was more than background noise and factored into the circumstances of the individual deaths, but not here. It has slight pretences of being a film with Themes and Ideas, but in the end it just feels like an excuse to serve up limbs being mutilated, skulls being crushed and any number of stabbings, slicings and gougings rendered with psychopathic visual fidelity. If that’s what you’re after, that’s what it’s got.

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‘Children of Blood and Bone’ author won’t see film after feud with star Amandla Stenberg

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‘Children of Blood and Bone’ author won’t see film after feud with star Amandla Stenberg

Tomi Adeyemi, the author of the bestselling fantasy “Children of Blood and Bone,” isn’t planning to see the forthcoming film adaptation — even though she co-wrote it.

Over the weekend, the Nigerian American author posted a video on TikTok addressing fans who have been asking her the same question, “Why don’t you post about the adaptation of your first film adaptation anymore?”

“There is a reason I will not post anything about the adaptation of my work,” the author wrote in what appear to be screenshots of a group chat. “I have not seen the film, and I will not watch it.”

The adaptation of the first installment of Adeyemi’s “Legacy of Orïsha” fantasy trilogy is slated to hit theaters in January 2027. Gina Prince-Bythewood — who wrote and directed “Love & Basketball” and helmed “The Woman King” — is directing. The film stars Amandla Stenberg, Thuso Mbedu, Tosin Cole, Damson Idris, Cynthia Erivo, Lashana Lynch, Regina King, Idris Elba, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Viola Davis.

Alongside the screenshots of her comments in the group chat, she shared a February 2025 exchange with Stenberg that shows the author severing ties with the actor.

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Adeyemi shared only her final message to Stenberg, which reads, “Do not ever use my name in an interview or video again. Do not text me. Do not call me.” That exchange is followed by a notification that she blocked Stenberg, who plays Princess Amari in the upcoming fantasy flick.

The message from Stenberg that preceded Adeyemi’s reply is not shown in full.

Stenberg, who played Rue in “Hunger Games,” Starr Carter in “The Hate U Give” and, recently, Verosha “Osha” Aniseya and Mae-ho “Mae” Aniseya in Disney’s “Star Wars” series “The Acolyte,” had been getting flack from readers of the series, who claimed colorism was an issue while casting the movie.

In February 2025, Stenberg posted a since-deleted nine-minute TikTok addressing the controversy and told followers that Adeyemi had given the actor her blessing when cast as the series’ princess.

“I am four months into training for ‘Children of Blood and Bone’ and I am getting my ass whooped,” Stenberg joked in the video, per BET.

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“This year was mostly defined for me, honestly, by contending with what it felt like to receive racist death threats just for existing in the ‘Star Wars’ universe, and that was a really difficult thing for me to move through,” she continued. “But honestly, it feels so much more painful for me to feel like I’m at odds with my own community.”

Stenberg said that she considers her skin tone when navigating her career choices and would “never go after a role” she didn’t feel well suited for. “I know that colorism is an insidious system that relentlessly impacts every facet of entertainment.”

The actor continued that it was actually a meeting with the “Children of Blood and Bone” author that gave her the confidence to pursue the role.

“I had the opportunity to meet Tomi, the novelist, for the first time. … And she goes, ‘Amandla, I want you to know that when you were a little girl and you were cast as Rue in “The Hunger Games,” and people said that Rue’s death wouldn’t be as sad because you’re a Black girl — that inspired me to write this series so that Black girls like you and Black girls of all shades could have a story written about them,’” Stenberg said in the video. “We started crying, and I said to myself, ‘God wants me here.’”

Representatives for Stenberg, Adeyemi and Prince-Bythewood did not immediately respond to The Times’ request for comment.

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‘Night Nurse’ Review: A Caretaker Explores Her Kink for Elder Abuse in the Year’s Strangest Erotic Thriller

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‘Night Nurse’ Review: A Caretaker Explores Her Kink for Elder Abuse in the Year’s Strangest Erotic Thriller

There are any number of erotic thrillers in which rich old men are robbed blind and/or left for dead, but Georgia Bernstein’s admirably bizarre “Night Nurse” might be the first movie of its kind where elder abuse is the source — and possible subject— of its erotic thrills. If there are others, I’m not sure I want to know.

But this woozy debut feature doesn’t rely on its audience being turned on by the relationship between a nubile caretaker and her dementia-addled patient. Their psychosexual bond, meanwhile, hinges on cold-calling vulnerable old people under the guise of a grandchild in financial distress. (“I’m in trouble, nana, send me $10,000 or I’ll be left to rot in jail!” That sort of thing). With its slim wisp of a premise stretched into a Strickland-esque dreamscape that substitutes kink for conflict, the film itself hardly seems convinced by its own wrinkled lust — all desperate kisses and non-touching poses of subservience. More important to Bernstein is what that lust reveals about her characters’ deepest needs, specifically how their need to care and be cared for can be as easily perverted as any other form of desire. 

The Five-Star Weekend series stars D'Arcy Carden as Brooke, Regina Hall as Dru-Ann, Chloë Sevigny as Tatum, Jennifer Garner as Hollis, Gemma Chan as Gigi, shown here posing for a photo

As moody and weightless as the noir-accented score that blows through the movie like a curlicue gust of wind in an old cartoon (credit to musicians Sam Clapp and Steven Jackson), “Night Nurse” lacks the pulse required for its stray feelings to come alive. Still, the film ambiently taps into the latent eroticism of teasing out the distance between how you see yourself and who you really are. Bernstein plays with that distance like a telephone cord wrapped around her fingers, and Eleni — played by the excellent newcomer Cemre Paksoy, powerfully helpless — only frays even more as the receiver is brought near the hook. “Everything I did before today wasn’t me,” the nurse tells co-worker Mona (Eleonore Hendricks) after starting a new job at an Illinois retirement home. “It was somebody else.” 

What she did before today remains unexplored (specifically, what she did to get herself fired from her last gig), but I’m guessing she’s probably changed less than she thought. There’s a faraway flicker in her eyes the moment she catches the vibe between Mona and Douglas (a ribald and elusive Bruce McKenzie), a white-haired seventysomething who shows early signs of dementia but still commands an undiminished sexual energy. “I’m not an invalid,” he coos as Mona bathes him in the tub, to which she replies, “yes, you are,” in a supplicant tone that hints at a rich history of power games between them. 

Later that same night, Douglas will force Eleni to call a stranger, pretend that she’s their granddaughter, and ask for money — he’ll wrap the phone cord around the nurse’s body as she talks and shove her against the wall as they kiss. She’s into it. So into it that he has to clarify the terms of his whole deal: “If you’re looking for a pogo stick, I’m really not your guy.” But Eleni isn’t looking for anything to bounce on. She just wants to be needed, and maybe to need someone in return. Someone who will see her for who she really is and allow her the fantasy of pretending she isn’t being herself when she cons vulnerable strangers out of their money — when she exploits how enthralled those strangers are by the care they have for their loved ones.

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“Night Nurse” doesn’t belabor the psychology, as Bernstein prefers to express her story through heavy-lidded suggestion. Somnambulating from the moment it starts, the film moves through a series of beautifully arranged poses that stretch their latent meaning thin across the surface (Lidia Nikonova’s cinematography lacquers every shot with a seductive dreaminess). We see Douglas smoking in a lawn chair with Mona and Eleni curled around his feet. Eleni riding in the backseat of a convertible as the wind blows through her curls. The full staff of nurses — all of them under Douglas’ sway — stumbling around his condo in a state of zonked out bliss as they roll on the prescription drugs they’ve stolen from the residents. 

Once you’ve seen one shot of this movie, you’ve practically seen them all, at least until things escalate during a rushed and unsatisfying third act that forces Eleni into an honest confrontation with herself. People will do just about anything to feel needed — they’ll give whatever degree of care allows them to receive it in return. “Night Nurse” understands that desire, but remains far too numb to treat it. 

Grade: C+

The Independent Film Company will relase “Night Nurse” in theaters on Friday, July 10.

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