Lifestyle
'Horror Movie' questions the motivation behind evil acts
William Morrow
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William Morrow
Paul Tremblay’s Horror Movie is a peculiar horror novel that takes a refreshing look at the haunted film subgenre, while also eliminating the line between novels and movie scripts.
Dark, surprisingly violent, and incredibly multilayered, this narrative is a superb addition to Tremblay’s already impressive oeuvre that shows he can deliver the elements fans love from him — while also constantly pushing the envelope and exploring new ways to tell stories.
In June of 1993, a small group of young people got together and spent a month making a bizarre horror movie titled Horror Movie. With one camera, a skeleton crew, a script that broke a lot of rules, and almost no budget, they managed to make their film after a few setbacks and plenty of blood and accidents. While the film was never released, three scenes and a few stills were made available online, and they became the stuff of legend over the years, collecting a cult following and sparking a frenzy of speculation, online debate, and conspiracy theories.
Now, 30 years after the original, unreleased film was made and after all the drama —psychological and emotional as well as legal — that ensued, Hollywood wants to make a big budget version and release it. The man who played “The Thin Kid,” perhaps the original film’s most iconic and mysterious character, is the only surviving cast member, and they want him to reprise his role. He still has the mask he used in the movie, and also the scars the filming process left behind. He remembers the strange things that happened on the set, the brutality that quickly became normalized while they shot dark scenes, and the chaos and destruction the film brought to all of them. Still, he agrees to help with the reboot. As things move forward and he deals with directors and movie people, the past comes back to haunt him — but “The Thin Kid” pushes forward, as always.
Reading a Tremblay novel is entering a universe in which confusion and ambiguity —”My answer was not no. I didn’t say the word ‘yes’” — reign supreme. Horror Movie is no different. In fact, this might be Tremblay’s most Tremblay novel to date. For starters, the author once again eschews the traditional novel format, this time in favor of a mix of novel and screenplay in which one bleeds into the other frequently, switching chapters and effortlessly taking readers from past to present and back again. Also, the screenplay itself is unique in format and makes the reader part of what’s happening, constantly shattering the fourth wall an acknowledging that the events are communal, that we are there, witnessing what the characters are witnessing and feeling the same sense of dread and anticipation that they feel.
While the structure of this novel is unique, the narrative itself is very easy to follow — until it’s not. The story is there, but with many purposeful holes. We know bad things happened while the movie was being filmed — accidents, injuries, extreme violence that occurred with consent — and that the whole thing ended up in court, but we don’t know how or why. And the author holds those secrets until the very end, which, as with any other Tremblay novel, holds a few surprise twists.
Most importantly, this is a narrative that questions the motivation behind evil acts. During the filming, The Thin Kid is horribly tortured: The kids who keep him hostage throw things at him, put out cigarettes on his body, and cut off part of his pinky finger. Some of that happens for real, partly to make it look convincing on screen and partly for reasons that aren’t too clear. There are several unsettling moments in this novel, and at the core of each of them are people acting horribly just because they can. Tremblay’s work has often interrogated the nature of horror and bad behavior, but never as clearly and he does here.
While Horror Movie is the kind of creepy narrative that can be enjoyed without much thinking, it’s also a multilayered novel that almost demands intellectual engagement. Besides the way the author studies awful behavior, the story also explores the unreliable nature of memory. The Thin Kid, now the adult who narrates the novel, is self-deprecating and unreliable. He remembers things a certain way, but knows that his memories might not be accurate: “We laughed. I think we laughed, or I choose to remember we laughed. I think we’re in more control of what we remember or what we don’t remember than we assume.” This purposeful lack of certainty is designed to keep readers wondering, and it succeeds at that.
Horror Movie is strange and unsettling in the best way possible. This is a novel that’s also a screenplay, but the story all blends together perfectly. Tremblay’s unique voice and chameleonic style have made him one of the leading voices in speculative fiction, and this is one of his best novels so far.
Gabino Iglesias is an author, book reviewer and professor living in Austin, Texas. Find him on X, formerly Twitter, at @Gabino_Iglesias.
Lifestyle
It only takes 30 minutes to be a good mom : It’s Been a Minute
How much time should moms spend with their kids? What if it’s quality over quantity?
CEO and co-founder Emma Grede set social media on fire when she described herself as a “max three-hour mum” and said that she would rather focus on creating “high-impact, core memories” with her children. The founding partner of Kim Kardashian’s SKIMS also said that remote work is ‘career suicide’ for women. The idea that a working mother – even a CEO mom – would spend so little time with her kids was outrageous to some…but isn’t that the reality for most parents?
To get into all of this, Brittany is joined by Kathryn Jezer-Morton, writer of the Brooding column from The Cut, and Helena Andrews-Dyer, journalist and author, to unpack the ‘controversial’ notion of a mother not wanting to spend all her time with her kids.
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This episode was produced by Alexis Williams. The video was edited by Pablo Valdivia. It was edited by Nick Michael. Our Executive Producer is Barton Girdwood. Our VP of Programming is Yolanda Sangweni.
Lifestyle
Why Mel’s Drive-In in Santa Monica is the perfect final stop on your Route 66 trip
Famous signs along the nearly 2,500 miles of Route 66 include the 66-foot soda bottle at Pops in Oklahoma, the wagging neon tail of Albuquerque’s Dog House and the hand-painted slogans for Snow Cap Drive-In in Arizona. But in L.A., none is so iconic as the giant looming penguin that signifies milkshakes, burgers, oldies playlists and sheer Americana at the end of the road.
Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road
The Mother Road that stretches from Chicago to the West Coast unofficially ends at the Santa Monica Pier, but at its technical terminus, Mel’s Drive-In declares the “ROUTE ENDS HERE,” inlaid in terrazzo beneath that jumbo tuxedoed penguin. It’s been a beacon for decades, and though the beloved restaurant space recently was listed for sale for $26 million, Mel’s owners hope it remains a diner and destination for generations.
For much of its history, the diner at the end of Route 66 was the 1959-founded Penguin Coffee Shop, a Googie-architecture marvel of angular windows, rock walls and little cartoons of penguins hanging above swivel stools and an open kitchen.
The original penguin sign from the former Penguin Coffee Shop still stands at Mel’s Drive-In in Santa Monica.
As a very young child I remember sliding into the booths with my father, whose office was nearby on Wilshire. Back then, the tall angled ceilings seemed to soar and the breakfast combos looked mountainous.
“It was a Googie kind of restaurant — you know, we don’t have that many of them around anymore,” my dad recalls. “It had an aura of roadside diner about it. … Everybody would see the giant penguin out there. I don’t think Burgess Meredith ever ate there, though.” The joke takes me a beat before landing; my version of Batman’s Penguin will always be Danny DeVito.
“It was a Googie kind of restaurant — you know, we don’t have that many of them around anymore,” the writer’s dad recalls.
We’d visit every month or two, until the Penguin closed its doors in 1991 and transformed into a Western Dental office, which kept the penguin sign but dropped those high ceilings and removed the kitchen along with other hallmarks of its roadside charm. Thankfully, its journey didn’t end there.
The Weiss family, which founded Mel’s Drive-In diner in 1947, had been eyeing the property for years and signed a lease in 2016. Then there was the link to their own history: The prolific Armet & Davis architecture firm designed the Penguin as well as the current home of Mel’s Sherman Oaks.
“When the dentist office went out of business,” said co-owner Colton Weiss, “it seemed like a no-brainer to make it Mel’s and bring it back to the glory days of being a diner.”
What followed were two years of “very expensive” renovations, according to the third-generation Mel’s owner.
Beyond the iconic penguin sign — which obtained “historically or architecturally significant” designation in 2000 — Mel’s pays homage with the large sculptural, custom-made glass globe lights, which replicate the original’s. The Weisses hired garden specialists to review decades-old photos of the Penguin Coffee Shop to determine which varieties of flowers decorated the front of the restaurant, then they replanted them.
Since the building’s reopening in 2018, thousands of guests have ended the journey along Route 66 with a meal in the diner.
“We’re like Route 66 authorities now.”
— Colton Weiss, co-owner of Mel’s Drive-In
While sledgehammering drywall, they uncovered the diner’s original rock wall. Along a hallway near the bathrooms, a small gallery of Penguin Coffee Shop photos offers another glimpse of the predecessor. This location also features a marshmallow-and-chocolate-sauce Penguin Shake in honor of the tuxedoed mascot of the original.
It wasn’t until they were close to signing a deal that they realized it sat along Route 66.
“We’re like Route 66 authorities now,” said Weiss, whose father, Steven Weiss, was largely responsible for the restoration.
Since the building’s reopening in 2018, the owners say thousands of guests have ended their travels with a meal in the diner. They bustle through the doors after the long journey, sometimes bedecked in Route 66 merchandise, and sometimes buying Mel’s own brand of Route 66 merch while there.
Atmosphere and details of Mel’s Drive-In Diner.
“We had a guy do it in a ’67 Chevy, that was on his bucket list: Older guy who did it with his wife, and it was a convertible,” said Weiss. “He did it in summertime, so by the time he showed up he was covered in dust and dirt. He couldn’t be happier to make it to Mel’s and get a burger.”
Another, he said, did the whole route on a bicycle.
The diner offers certificates of completion for those who finish the trek, and devised a burger named for the route. A fish tank at the entrance features a Route 66 theme, as does a mural on a small wall of the parking lot. Two official signs, placed by the city, denote the location’s significance.
“The city knew there’d be renewed interest in a diner being the real ending of Route 66,” Weiss said. “Before, I don’t know anybody who’d want to end their trip at a dentist’s office. Maybe somebody who broke their teeth on the way.”
But the trail’s end could someday see its own end. The property was listed for sale in 2025. Representatives for the building’s management company didn’t respond to requests for comment.
“We’re trying to keep it there as long as possible,” Weiss said. “People really enjoy this location, and it seems like one of the last diners in Santa Monica.” Weiss declined to comment further.
Mel’s assistant manager Yazmin Minguelasays she sees more travelers now because it’s the centennial of Route 66. “But even before that, we still had a lot of visitors.”
She’s worked for Mel’s 22 years, six of which have been spent in the Santa Monica restaurant. Her shifts are full of Westside regulars, celebrities and guests finishing their trip along Route 66.
“Ending on a diner is nostalgia,” my dad mused. “Having a place like Mel’s, which is a substitute for the kind of flea-bitten ptomaine joints that you might get along Route 66, brings back memories to very old people. And very new people ask questions like, ‘Who’s Burgess Meredith?’”
Mel’s Drive-In is open at 1670 Lincoln Blvd., Santa Monica, Sunday to Thursday from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m., and Friday and Saturday from 7 a.m. to midnight.
Lifestyle
Is the Handbag Over?
Are women’s handbags becoming obsolete? I notice they are not as popular as they used to be. Some very powerful professional women do not use them, preferring clothing with pockets and/or brief cases. Is the age of the handbag over? — Nancy, Abyhoj, Denmark
If there is one thing that is certain in fashion, it is that everything that is out comes in again, so declaring the end of any garment or accessory is pretty much a fool’s errand. But it is also true that our relationship to fashion items changes over time, and when it comes to handbags, we are at something of a pivot point.
The data bears this out: According to a spokeswoman for Lyst, the fashion search engine, “After years of growth, demand for women’s handbags was down 5.5 percent in April 2026 compared to April 2025.”
However, she went on, using the same comparison, “searches for briefcases are up 14 percent.” As for clothes with pockets, search volume rose a whopping 542 percent between last January and April.
So what exactly is going on? I think the answer has to do with both fashion trends and power. The two are connected but also different.
Fashion first.
The supremacy of the It bag, that millennial symbol of arrival that was a flag on the arm to alert a wider world to an individual’s currency, taste and achievement, has fractured along with the wider culture. Every algorithm-driven niche now has its own bit of purse semiotics: the Trader Joe tote for the crunchy urban liberal set; the Prada Re-Edition 1995 for Carolyn Bessette Kennedy wannabes; the Row clutch for the stealth wealth set.
As luxury bag prices have risen to formerly unimaginable heights — the new, much buzzed-about Chanel Maxi Flap bag (leather, not quilted) is $8,500 — many consumers, even the very few who can afford them, have turned away in offense.
At the same time, the rise of vintage and resale markets means that onetime It bags like Balenciaga’s Le City and Mulberry’s Bayswater are once again discoverable. It can seem cooler to resurrect an old It bag than to risk looking like a fashion victim with a new one. (There’s a reason Fendi is reissuing the original versions of its famous Baguette, the bag that kick-started the whole 1990s phenomenon.)
And finally, the advent of phone technology means that more stuff can be contained in a much smaller space, and toting a mess of papers and objects may make you look old-fashioned.
Which leads me to the final reason our relationship to bags may be shifting: Generally, the more powerful the person, the less the need to carry a bag. The more powerful the person, the more likely they are to have people around them to deal with their stuff.
That means that if you are paying attention to that adage about dressing for the job you want (or the job you just got), the power move is to lose the handbag.
Though glass ceiling-breakers like Margaret Thatcher and Sanae Takaichi, the prime minister of Japan, turned their purses (or totes) into symbols of their ascension, many other powerful women have embraced the handbag-free effect. Hillary Clinton and Nancy Pelosi were not known for their bags during their time in leadership. Nor was Kamala Harris, when she was a presidential candidate. Despite the obsessive chronicling of her wardrobe, neither was Michelle Obama.
Nor, currently, is Melania Trump. For all the attention paid to her outfits in her recent documentary, there was nary a handbag onscreen. Anna Wintour, the most powerful woman in fashion, is famous for carrying only her phone.
All of which points to the conclusion that what is obsolete is not necessarily the bag, but the era of its dominance.
Your Style Questions, Answered
Every week on Open Thread, Vanessa will answer a reader’s fashion-related question, which you can send to her anytime via email or X. Questions are edited and condensed.
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