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That, of course, is exactly why those cartoons were impossibly great. To those of us who grew up on them, watching Wile E. Coyote do everything in his power to catch and kill the Road Runner gave off a charge of reckless endangerment that was hilarious and cathartic. It was also disarmingly casual. Every time Wile E. got blown to smithereens by a faulty detonator, or dropped 1,000 feet off a cliff to a distant puff-of-smoke crash landing, we experienced the comedy of pure aggression — and the comedy of ironic resilience. That Wile E. always bounced right back in the next scene lent the crazed destruction a weirdly optimistic undercurrent.

“Coyote vs. Acme,” a studio comedy that combines famous cartoon characters and live action in the style of “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” (and also in the style of dozens of cheesy-bad franchise hybrids like the “Garfield” and “Alvin and the Chipmunks” and “Casper” and “Stuart Little” films), is a movie that wants to pay homage to the prankish exuberance of the “Looney Tunes” and “Merrie Melodies” cartoons. The movie is about how Wile E. Coyote, after too many years of failing to catch the Road Runner, mostly because every gizmo and dastardly piece of equipment he ever put toward the task (dynamite, anvils, magnetic gloves) failed to work, decides to sue the Acme Corporation, the manufacturer of each of those faulty products. Will Forte, wearing a beard and a flop of geek hair, is Kevin Avery, the late-night-TV-ad lawyer who takes the case.

At heart, “Coyote vs. Acme” is a courtroom comedy. But the upshot of the movie is to integrate as much Road Runner-style mayhem as possible into a live-action universe. The film is chock-full of nods and references and jokey Looney Tunes Easter eggs. It could have been called “Remembrance of Rube Goldberg Bombs Past.”

Yet there’s a certain way that “Coyote vs. Acme,” next to those cartoons, feels neutered and tame. The movie will serve up an escalating gag, like the Road Runner eating metal pellets so that Wile E. can trap him with a magnet, only to see Wile E. magnetized by a speeding train. But the staging doesn’t have the sustained, rollicking ferocity that made some of those cartoons as freewheeling in their maniacal slapstick as “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” “Coyote vs. Acme” keeps giving you the feeling that it’s referencing that earlier universe, rather than immersing you in it. That’s partly because the movie isn’t trying to be a live-action Road Runner cartoon, but also because it stops short of conjuring their insane spirit.

The movie was inspired by Ian Frazier’s 1990 New Yorker story (a rather labored piece of whimsy), which treats Wile E. Coyote’s lawsuit against Acme with put-on bureaucratic seriousness. “Coyote vs. Acme,” however, is looser and lighter. It really does just want to be piece of nostalgic cartoon hijinks, and to that end it’s got a winning gregariousness. The film was scripted by Samy Burch, the gifted screenwriter of “May December” and “Late Fame,” and she does a meticulous job of orchestrating conspiracies and cartoon cameos. It’s all worked out on paper. Yet the film is missing something: the delirious fizz of true anarchic bedlam.

Wile E. Coyote is our hero, and he’s his familiar wordless disgruntled self (though he holds up funny signs on occasion to indicate what he’s thinking). But we don’t see enough of the sneaky side of Wile E., the hungry predator who’s almost like the Grinch. Meanwhile, Will Forte gives a one-note performance as Avery, the lawyer who’s stuck in a mode of desperate high dudgeon. I’ve often felt allergic to animation-meets-live-action movies, because the live-action parts tend to get reduced to monotonous cartoons. That’s kind of what happens here. Forte’s frantic ambulance chaser, Lana Condor as his legal-assistant niece, John Cena as the grimacing Acme Corporation defense attorney — it’s all thin stuff.

“Coyote vs. Acme” will play in theaters starting Aug. 28, but the movie has, of course, been through its own obstacle course. After being completed, it was shelved by its studio, Warner Bros. Pictures, only to become something of a cause célèbre among vintage cartoon fans. The movie certainly deserves to be released — and thanks to the independent distributor Ketchup Entertainment, which bought it from Warner Bros. for $50 million, that is now happening. But will the purchase prove to be worth it? “Coyote vs. Acme” would like to be a classic-cartoon version of “Roger Rabbit,” but I’m afraid it just plays like a polite and mildly likable look back at yesterday’s cartoon madness.

The film’s most winning gambit it to sprinkle “Looney Tunes” and “Merrie Melodies” characters throughout the story. Tweety Bird is used nicely, as is Daffy Duck, who dominates the film’s explosive opening scene (getting trapped in goo during a top-secret Acme test film). But only two legendary characters truly get to throw their weight around — that grandiose Southern-fried sociopath Foghorn Leghorn, who’s the CEO of Acme, and the great Bugs Bunny, who is always wilier than anyone, including poor Wile E.

As Wile. E. and the Roadrunner discover that they’re frenemies who need each other, the movie ends up taking a moral stand against the Acme Corporation. It’s revealed that there’s a sinister reason why the company’s products kept blowing up in Wile E.’s face. But who wants to see Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner turned into the dramatic linchpins of a Looney Tunes “Erin Brockovich”? It’s true that you couldn’t make Road Runner cartoons today. But you can make a movie like “Coyote vs. Acme,” which melts down anarchy into presentable buddy mishegas. %!s()

After speeches, the group marched to Broadmeadows Town Park, occupying one lane of Tanderrum Drive, a two-lane road.

While the group was walking on the road, a car travelling in the same directionsounded its horn.

Protesters alleged that as the car approached the group, a passenger flung open the door twice, as if trying to push people out of the way.

Video of the incident, seen by Guardian Australia, shows a protester walking on the edge of the group in the lane where the car was attempting to pass. The video shows him turning as the car approaches and appearing to kick at it.

The car then clips the man on the legs and accelerates away.

Witnesses said it did not slow down as it attempted to pass the group.

The protester, who asked not to be identified, alleged that he heard an occupant of the car shout racial abuse before the car struck him.

The comments were not audible in the video, but Guardian Australia spoke to two others at the march who claim to have heard the alleged remarks. Several participants, including the man in the video, said they separately reported the incident directly to police within hours and in the following days.

“It felt surreal. I did not have the chance to even feel anything but shock,” the 43-year-old said.

Merri-bek Socialist Alliance councillor Sue Bolton, an organiser of the event, said the incident contradicted the rally’s purpose, which was to support community members who were “feeling really intimidated” by a recent rise in anti-immigration rhetoric.

Bolton said the group had been in contact with police in the days before the event to make them aware of the rally and received confirmation over the phone that officers would attend, but none did so.

Athiya Zameer, the member of the group designated to liaise with police, said she believed the incident would not have occurred if police had been present.

In a formal complaint to police on behalf of the group, Zameer called for action against the driver, claiming the alleged incident had caused trauma to the person hit by the car, children present and the wider community.

“We want to make sure that people feel safe to do these actions, to raise their voices,” she said. “We live in a community [of people from] migrant backgrounds who are already traumatised by wars and the police … and to have an incident like that just traumatises them even more … that’s really unfortunate.”

In a response to the complaint, seen by Guardian Australia, police confirmed they had been aware of the planned event. The response said the incident was “being actively investigated” and police were “committed to ensuring that allegations are thoroughly assessed”.

They declined to answer questions from Guardian Australia about why officers did not attend the protest.

The Greens state MP Anasina Gray-Barberio, who attended the rally but did not witness the car incident, said “the community expects an urgent and robust response”.

“The community deserves answers … Communities of colour deserve to know that when they’re subjected to violence or racism, those incidents will be treated with the seriousness they deserve,” she said. %!s()

The day before, more than 150 flights passing through Sydney were delayed as the airport grappled with a lack of air traffic controllers, highlighting how just how delicate the rostering situation is.

While Sunday’s incident is under investigation – an air traffic controller and a tug driver were temporarily stood down for mandatory drug and alcohol testing – the issue has shone a spotlight on the severe staffing shortages of those in charge of managing air traffic, and takeoffs and landings.

‘Doing the work of two people’

While air traffic controllers are entitled to unlimited sick leave under their terms of employment, Scott Nugent, the president of the air traffic controllers’ union Civil Air, says the issue “is that we do not have enough controllers just to fill the base roster before we have any sick leave at all”.

“In practice, the only way you fill the roster is with overtime, and it relies on overtime just to do business as usual,” says Nugent.

The experienced air traffic controller says workers are getting to the point where they’ve done so much overtime that they’re exhausted. Some staff are working 10 days on and then having one day off.

“The reason you’ve seen these delays in the last week is because we increased the spacing between aircraft to maintain safety when we have less people,” he says.

“If you’re doing the work of two people, you can only take half as many planes.”

Much of the problem is tied to a pandemic-era program that incentivised a significant number of experienced staff to leave Airservices Australia, the commonwealth-owned organisation responsible for the management of the country’s skies, in 2021.

With most planes grounded due to pandemic restrictions, 140 employees aged 56 or older accepted a redundancy.

Soon after, the organisation embarked on a large recruitment drive but hirings have failed to keep up with demand.

Gaps in rosters

Despite the starting salary for a qualified air traffic controller post-training being $116,990 a year – an experienced supervisor can earn a base salary of almost $300,000 – Airservices has struggled with recruitment ever since the pandemic.

In February 2024, two air traffic controllers who didn’t show up for work at Sydney airport caused cascading flight delays and cancellations across the country. Airservices narrowly avoided a similar incident in September last year.

At the same time it has been trying to plug roster gaps, Airservices has been preparing for a once-in-a-generation transformation to a new flight-tracking computer system, as well as managing past allegations of workplace bullying.

A review into workplace culture, conducted by the former sex discrimination commissioner Elizabeth Broderick’s firm, found 27% of staff in 2023 had experienced bullying in the past 12 months, up from 23% in 2020.

From July 2022 to 2026, Airservices says it endorsed 245 controllers, most of whom qualified in 2025-2026. Over the same four-year period, 86 controllers left the organisation.

Airservices says it now has a record number of controllers across Australia. There were 985 controllers in December 2020 and 1,073 as of July this year, according to the organisation.

However, the organisation says the demands on its workforce have also grown significantly, citing the new Western Sydney airport and its recent takeover of the airspace at Ballina in northern New South Wales.

There still aren’t enough controllers at Sydney, Australia’s busiest airport.

Tough tests and training demands

A newly qualified controller can’t just fill the gap left by a retiring veteran.

After 18 months of training, a newly qualified controller may be able to work in one position at a Sydney tower, such as helping organise the taxiways around the domestic airport.

That person wouldn’t be qualified, for example, to work on the taxiways around the international airport, or runways, which require additional training, making newer employees less able to fill urgent vacancies.

Airservices acknowledges there’s a problem. It says training experienced controllers for Sydney airport is its “top priority” but it can’t say when it will have recruited a sufficient number.

It takes about two years to train a controller, and that’s only if someone can get past the initial screening, which includes a difficult online aptitude test as one of the first hurdles.

“Only a very, very small number of people get through the application process,” says Nugent. “We’re usually talking about 2,000 people who might apply, and you hire 15 of them.”

Additionally, applicants must move to Melbourne for the mandatory training. Only offering training at one location is seen as an impediment, because some applicants don’t want to relocate given there’s a risk they don’t pass.

Airservices says it is considering different training locations, and says it has a new simulator in Sydney. %!s()

In a press release, Pearl Abyss t recaps that Crimson Desert has had 17 major updates since its release on March 19. It also notes correctly that it has finished things like months-long roadmaps in a matter of weeks, the development team one of the speediest in the business.

Pearl Abyss has also confirmed that the game’s first true DLC will be here in 2026, which is imminent, given that we’re already in mid-August, and we only have ~3 months until 2027 (plus, even Crimson Desert will probably avoid GTA VI’s release date). We did not get any details about what this DLC may contain, but given what the free updates have brought, it is likely to be substantive.

There is also confirmation that a Switch 2 version is coming, and that is targeted for a first-half of 2027 release. Perhaps the most significant news, however, is that Pearl Abyss is treating Crimson Desert as a huge new IP, and that includes expanding the game into multiplayer, an interesting addition, given how highly praised it was for its expansive single-player experience. But Pearl Abyss says that is harder than it looks:

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"Given Crimson Desert’s dynamic action combat and expansive open-world structure, there is significant potential for expansion into multiplayer modes," Pearl Abyss remarked. "However, integrating multiplayer functionality is far more complex than simply adding a new game mode; it represents a major technical initiative that requires comprehensive evaluation of server architecture, game balance, cross-platform stability, and live service operation models.”

"Accordingly, we are currently conducting extensive research from both technical and gameplay perspectives. Our overarching goal is to extend how users engage with the Crimson Desert IP over the long term, and we will share further details through our official channels as our plans materialise."

I’ve already seen some headlines talk about Crimson Desert trying to become a “ive service, given one of the lines in there, but I believe that’s a misinterpretation. It’s just talking about how its live updates are implemented, such as the 17 they’ve added before, for instance. No, I do not think we are getting seasons, battle passes and a cash shop in Crimson Desert here.

It is full steam ahead for Pearl Abyss and Crimson Desert. Chatter about the game may have faded somewhat recently, but that’s about to change with new DLC and whatever else may be planned.

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Pick up my sci-fi novels the Herokiller series and The Earthborn Trilogy. %!s()

The legendary TV-show creator and hall-of-fame doomsayer would have undoubtedly dug The End of Oak Street, writer-director David Robert Mitchell’s contribution to the creatures-run-amok genre — it operates on a distinctly Twilight Zone-type of logic. Serling isn’t the primary influence hovering over this metaphor-friendly tale of the painfully ordinary disrupted by “Holy shit!” levels of extraordinary, however. It exists within a more modern shadow than Cold War paranoia and Eisenhower-era conformity, paying tribute to a different type of pop-culture giant. Mitchell isn’t trying to nudge viewers into another dimension, not only of sight and sound but of mind. He’s aiming for resurrecting the glory days of 1980s summer blockbusters, a close encounter of the vintage Amblin Entertainment kind. It’s easily the best homage-slash-rip-off of a Spielberg movie in ages.

Welcome to Oak Street, located squarely in Everysuburb USA, circa 1982. The annual summer block party, complete with sack races and grilled hot dogs, is in full swing. Among the participants are the Pratts, a picture-perfect American family provided you don’t notice the fraying edges on the periphery. Greg (Ewan McGregor) has to excuse himself from the festivities early to deliver a pizza; he’s been taking on side hustles to help make ends meet, especially because his brainy, snarky daughter Audrey (Maisy Stella) has her eye on going to Cornell. Not even regular nips from a hidden bottle of whiskey in the garage can ease Greg’s self-loathing. His son, Brian (Christian Convery), is officially entering his early-teen rebellion phase. He has one eye on the new girl in town named Jeanette (Jordan Alexa Davis) and his other on constant lookout for the town bruiser, who’s issued an all-points beatdown bulletin on Brian after some shenanigans involving the guy’s brother.

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And then there is Denise Platt (Anne Hathaway, adding to what’s already been a banner year). She’s losing her patience with her passive-to-a-fault husband who, in her words, has a tendency to pretend problems simply don’t exist. Denise has written a novel in secret, about a frustrated housewife itching to leave her husband and kids for a rich, fulfilling life in New York. It’s fiction, she insists, fooling nobody but herself. This would-be bestselling author has shared her manuscript with a retired book editor down the block. She thinks Denise has a shot at getting it published. Meanwhile, the high-strung guy next door is haranguing her about their dog, and threatens to kill the pooch if it keeps pooping on his lawn. She can’t even summon the energy to be polite anymore. You’d say she was a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, minus the “verge” part.

The Pratts are in serious crisis, besieged by bullies and bad neighbors outside of their house and foundation-crumbling dysfunction inside it. So when odd occurrences like, say, the mysterious appearance of a plant that’s technically been extinct for 200 million years, or a massive, one-ton pile of dung showing up in the neighbor’s backyard — something chalked up to either a karmic prank or the dog seriously needing to change up his diet — no one really has the bandwidth to pay much attention. Then there’s a seismic rumble and a flash of blinding light in the middle of the night. Soon, the Pratts and their fellow Oak Street residents find themselves dealing with a plague of dinosaurs turning cul-de-sacs into killing grounds. Who has time to deal with the elephant in the room when you have to reckon with a T. rex snapping its blood-stained jaws at your front door?

This is the Jurassic lark that the movie uses to test its suburbanites, one in which the why of it all (there are a few cursory mentions of wormholes and Carl Sagan is name-dropped) is way less important than the way this family bonds over a major, inexplicable catastrophe. Your entire neighborhood has been unceremoniously transported back to a nightmare Flintstones scenario — time to circle around your loved ones and hone those long-dormant survivalist skills, folks! It turns out that maybe Dad can be good in a pinch, and Mom’s knack for compartmentalization sure comes in handy when trapped in a house filled with prehistoric alligators.

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It should surprise no one that, like her character, Hathaway is the linchpin of The End of Oak Street, pirouetting from exasperation to affection to hysteria to steeliness in a way that would inspire a fist-bump from The Odyssey’s Penelope. Few contemporary A-list actors give better scared face than her, and as with her psychologically fraught pop star in Mother Mary, there’s a physicality to her action-mom turn here that’s thrilling to watch. Hathaway is in a serious groove right now, and we’re lucky to have her gracing so many screens over the past six months — though not as lucky as Mitchell is to have her anchoring his own personal experiment in time traveling.

Because the filmmaker is less interested in the prehistoric age of rampaging predators than the golden age of multiplex moviegoing, when blockbusters felt compelled to lace their spectacles with humanity and understood the delayed-gratification thrill of tension and release. Everything from the conspicuously faded visual palette — all the better to conjure up that spirit-of-’82 feeling, my dear — to the Jaws-to-Jurassic Park method of withholding the monsters as long as possible reeks of a bygone era of Spielbergmania. Though to be fair, even His Steveness wouldn’t be so cheeky as to have his heroes stumble across two huge dinos fucking against a house.

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There’s a heavy dose of hero worship on display here, not just from Mitchell but producer J.J. Abrams as well; you can practically hear their we’re-not-worthy genuflecting mixed into the ambient background noise. But there’s also an attempt to channel the sensation they had as kids of being wowed by big studio tentpoles with a human touch. And a very human sense of complexity: Everyone remembers the eye-popping mother ship connection at the end of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Fewer people recall the disturbing “crybaby” sequence. The people behind this flashback do, however, and their tribute is filled with those kind of raw, emotional, rough-edged moments in between full-on dino carnage.

If you’ve been following David Robert Mitchell’s career, it’s easy to see bits of his odds-and-sods previous work poking out of this grab for the OG-blockbuster brass ring. There’s the palpable sense of lived-in suburban life from his 2010 coming-of-age debut, The Myth of the American Sleepover. There’s the forward momentum and understanding of composing the frame for maximum effect that he displayed in his 2014 breakthrough It Follows. (Though by the time the 99th split-diopter shot shows up during a family conversation, you realize he maybe loves this filmmaking trick not wisely but too well?) And there’s the feeling that true weirdness is always just one lysergic layer below reality that characterized his 2018 cult classic Under the Silver Lake. The fact that he’s combined all of those elements and still hits the right notes for this karaoke take on yesteryear’s summertime entertainment makes this feel like more than cheap nostalgia. It’s not a question of whether or not they make ’em like this anymore. You’re just stoked they were able to make something like this at all right now. %!s()