More than a hundred years after Andrew and Abby Borden were brutally murdered in their house in Fall River, almost every part of Lizzie Borden's life has been examined, explored in detail, and given a dramatic portrayal. The most interesting incident occurred many years after her acquittal in 1893, when she established a close friendship with Nance O’Neil, who was one of the most well-known actresses on the American stage. Even though this friendship only continued for a few years, it caused speculation at the time and has since become a major aspect of the debate about Lizzie's private life and sexuality.

Long before Hollywood mail arrived in sackfuls addressed to movie stars, fan clubs, and motion-picture studios, it was sorted inside a little wooden hotel at the corner of a dirt road. The woman behind that early postal counter was Mary Maria Sackett, a pioneer who arrived in Hollywood before there was much of a Hollywood at all and lived long enough to tell Groucho Marx about it on national television.

Moviegoers have plenty to choose from this week as Hollywood serves up a mixture of social drama, supernatural horror, Western adventure, crime thrillers, and independent films. The major releases arrive Friday, October 9, with several smaller productions and classic-film revivals rounding out the schedule. Whether you're looking for a contemporary story about the dangers of social media, a good old-fashioned Western, or a frightening experience appropriate for the Halloween season, there's something on the marquee.

Some memoirs are written about rock-and-roll celebrities. Some are written about the people who hung around them and learned how the game was played. I Am Johnny Stark: My Rock and Roll Memoir, by Giovanni and Anthony Sticco, falls under the latter. It tells how one man kept trying despite many disappointments. Published in 2026 by Hollywood Tower Productions, it tells the story of Johnny Stark, who faced hardship, poverty, and family issues while trying to make it in the music business.

Los Angeles is notoriously quick to reinvent itself. Buildings disappear, neighborhoods change, and people who once shaped the city can vanish from public memory surprisingly fast. For more than four decades, however, the Art Deco Society of Los Angeles has made it its business to remember—not only the architecture of the Art Deco era, but the artists, designers, filmmakers, civic leaders and personalities who gave Los Angeles much of its character.

Eva Marie Saint, the actress who won an Oscar and whose career spanned the prime years of live television and some of the most enduring films of the 1950s and 1960s, died on October 6, 2026, at her Los Angeles home at age 102. According to her representative, Jeff Sanderson, she died from natural causes while being surrounded by her family and friends. At the time of her death, Saint was one of the last remaining major stars from Hollywood's postwar period and the oldest living person to have won an Academy Award.

I have never forgotten seeing The Omen when it was released in the summer of 1976. I was in art school in Pittsburgh and went back to the theater several times. What stayed with me most was not simply the violence or the shocks, but the control Richard Donner brought to the film and the extraordinary music by Jerry Goldsmith. Even after you knew what was coming, The Omen remained unsettling. Fifty years later, it still does, because Donner resisted the temptation to make a conventional monster movie. He treated an implausible story with absolute seriousness, and that made it frightening.

There was never anything ordinary about Udo Kier. With his pale blue eyes, sculpted features and slightly dangerous air, he could enter a film for only a few minutes and somehow alter its temperature. Directors used him as a vampire, a sadist, a Nazi, a wealthy eccentric, a supernatural apparition and, late in life, a flamboyant retired hairdresser. He moved effortlessly between exploitation pictures, European art films and Hollywood blockbusters, accumulating more than 200 screen credits during a career that lasted nearly six decades. Yet behind the cultivated menace was a funny, sociable and remarkably unsentimental man who had survived a childhood of genuine hardship before spending his adult life creating characters audiences could not forget.

This series, The Women Who Built Hollywood Before the Movies, looks back at the remarkable women who helped shape Hollywood when it was still a quiet community of orchards, ranches, homes, and dusty roads. Long before the studios, movie palaces, premieres, and stars made Hollywood famous around the world, women were already helping build the institutions, businesses, and civic life that gave the town its identity. Among the most important was a young woman from Ohio named Daeida Hartell, who would help give the emerging community not only its name, but much of the character that defined its earliest years.

To generations of moviegoers, Carl Switzer would forever be “Alfalfa,” the freckle-faced, cowlick-haired boy whose off-key serenades and hopeless devotion to Darla made him one of the most recognizable members of Hal Roach’s Our Gang comedies. By 1958, however, the little boy on the screen was thirty years old, his days of childhood stardom long behind him. Acting jobs had become sporadic, and Switzer supplemented his income as a bartender, dog trainer and professional hunting guide. Then, on a January night in Studio City, someone apparently tried to kill him.

October begins with two very different national releases competing for moviegoers: one is an ambitious, deliberately provocative satire built around Tom Cruise in one of the strangest roles of his career; the other is a glossy psychological thriller adapted from a bestselling Colleen Hoover novel. Neither arrives with unanimous critical support, which may actually make this weekend more interesting. Both are the kind of movies audiences may need to judge for themselves.

For more than a decade, six enormous faces from Hollywood's golden past looked down upon the traffic and pedestrians of Hollywood Boulevard. Marilyn Monroe, Humphrey Bogart, Fred Astaire, Bette Davis, James Dean and Clark Gable stood shoulder to shoulder, larger than life, transforming an otherwise ordinary wall into a colorful monument to the movies. Then, in a matter of seconds on the morning of January 17, 1994, they were gone.