There is nothing a good plate of lechón (piglet) can’t achieve. So can a story that has been in the works for a decade and speaks of friendship, migration, change, roots and food (yes, lechón too), one that is animated and aimed primarily at children, yet carries a message not only for kids. It was over dishes like that and other traditional Filipino foods that Forgotten Island was cooked up for years. Joel Crawford and Januel Mercado, who are friends, colleagues and something like compatriots, have been passionately shaping the story all these years, and finally on September 25, 2026, it is opening in movie theaters worldwide.

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Lena Dunham — the child prodigy who wrote the HBO series Girls (the millennial version of Sex and the City) and later became the fallen star of her generation — published her second memoir this past April. And it reads quite differently now, after she recently announced that she has become a mother via surrogacy.

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Thirty years ago, Leonardo DiCaprio, at just 21, won the hearts of half the world starring opposite Claire Danes in Romeo + Juliet, a modern adaptation of William Shakespeare’s classic directed and adapted by Baz Luhrmann.

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No matter how skeptical we may be about the American dream, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s personal story strains the limits of credibility as much as any of his most over-the-top films. That the destiny of Hollywood—not to mention California, the world’s fourth-largest economy all by itself—should be shaped for decades by an Austrian villager raised among the ruins of World War II would seem highly unlikely, were it not for the fact that the actor and former governor is so firmly ensconced in our collective imagination, his name pronounced by everyone with the same startling ease. Schwarzenegger, 79, is one of those individuals for whom the phrase “larger than life” seems to have been invented: for the scale of his achievements, his film career and his physical presence — 6ft 2in (1.88 meters) of chiselled muscle like a Greek statue.

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Consciously, in what he himself calls “a healthily obsessive way,” Dublin-born Andrew Scott has built a career across film, television and theater by gravitating toward complex characters. In his hands, no role is ever banal or simple.

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Kevin Dupzyk’s profile of Sam Rockwell, a “legendary scene-stealer” now in his fourth decade of work, is a crisp and entertaining one-act, with journalist and actor holed up in a spare Manhattan greenroom. Dupzyk studies Rockwell while Rockwell studies the room, testing the durability of his own idiosyncratic observations—about Red Bull and loss and rain—to see what they might yield in a conversation with a stranger. Dupzyk had wanted to “gin up some action for this story,” but it’s strangely compelling to watch Rockwell’s gaze prowl the room, to see what lodges in the filter of his creative process.

Rockwell is a good tennis player. And like any good athlete, he trains. For as much as he appears to get by on natural charm and charisma, he is an actor’s actor, a true believer, in his words, an “acting nerd.” Research. Running lines. Exerci—

“Do you know what a gibbon is?” Rockwell asks.

“Like, a monkey?” I say, confused.