```Long-time Slashdot reader schwit1 brings word that Marcia Lucas, part of the editing team for both Star Wars and Return of the Jedi, has died at age 80 after a battle with metastatic cancer.
Married to George Lucas from 1969 to 1983, Marcia is remembered by The Wrap as "a powerful asset in the early days of the Star Wars series, helping shape its voice and identity long before it became the massive global franchise..."
She won an Academy Award for Best Film Editing for her work on the original "Star Wars" movie, an award that came four years after she was nominated for editing George's previous film, "American Graffiti." She additionally edited his debut feature, "THX 1138." Beyond these collaborations with her then-husband, Marcia worked as an editor with other acclaimed filmmakers like Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola. She was credited as sole editor for Scorsese's "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore," and served as supervising editor for "Taxi Driver" and "New York, New York."
Marcia served as part of a three-person crew editing both "Star Wars" and "Return of the Jedi." On the first film, she worked alongside Paul Hirsch and Richard Chew and was personally responsible for editing the Battle of Yavin — otherwise known as the iconic "trench run" sequence near the end of the film. For "Return of the Jedi," Marcia shared credit with Sean Barton and Duwayne Dunham.
"If only Lucas had people like her on the prequels instead of sycophants who worshipped him as a God..." argues this 2015 blog post noting an article calling her "the secret weapon behind Star Wars — including this anecdote from The Secret History of Star Wars :
The [Star Wars] Death Star trench run was originally scripted entirely different, with Luke having two runs at the exhaust port; Marcia had re-ordered the shots almost from the ground up, trying to build tension lacking in the original scripted sequence, which was why this one was the most complicated (Deleted Magic has a faithful reproduction of the original assembly, which is surprisingly unsatisfying).
She warned George, "If the audience doesn't cheer when Han Solo comes in at the last second in the Millennium Falcon to help Luke when he's being chased by Darth Vader, the picture doesn't work."
Thanks to long-time Slashdot reader schwit1 for sharing the news.
Yesterday was yet another dark day for a fair and free press, as the Bari Weiss-led CBS News hollowed 60 Minutes out further. It wasn’t just executive producer Tanya Simon and correspondent Sharyn Alfonsi—who found herself in the crosshairs over her CECOT segment—who were fired. Correspondent Cecilia Vega and another EP, Draggan Mihailovich, were both also axed from the news magazine. While Mihailovich doesn’t seem to have publicly commented on his firing, Vega has.
In a statement obtained by Business Insider, Vega says that CBS broke her contract, which wasn’t set to expire until March 2027. She writes that she was fired after refusing to make her stories politically biased, and that she witnessed colleagues start to self-censor because they were afraid their reporting would put their jobs in jeopardy. (A fear, it seems, that was rooted in fact.) Vega’s entire statement reads:
I was fired today. My contract as a correspondent for 60 Minutes was not set to expire until March 2027.
I have the utmost respect and admiration for my colleagues at 60 Minutes and the stories that air every Sunday. But I very much fear what comes next for and the future of the legendary broadcast.
In recent months, my producing teams and I have experienced efforts to insert political bias into our stories. Reporting teams have held back on submitting story pitches about important news topics out of fear of the internal repercussions.
Let’s call this what it is: censorship, both imposed and self-driven. It is dangerous for the show and dangerous for democracy.
I held the line and refused to incorporate suggestions that offend the conscience, a phrase I borrow from a colleague who has also fought to keep questionable editorial suggestions away from the facts. I know from many conversations with colleagues that many producing teams and correspondents working on the show today have had to fight to maintain editorial independence with regularity. I am far from the only 60 Minutes correspondent who has asked herself, “What is my personal red line? How much can I push back before I pay the price?”
I am proud of the work I did for 60 Minutes. This season alone I was part of teams that won two of the highest honors in our profession — a George Polk award and a duPont-Columbia award for our coverage of Venezuelan migrants sent by the Trump administration to El Salvador’s Cecot prison. And not for nothing, I climbed to Mount Everest.
I also walk away with an honor no one can take from me: I was the first Latina correspondent to ever be on 60 Minutes.
Today I lost an amazing job. But I still have my integrity.
To my former colleagues, continue to hold the line.
CBS News hasn’t shared who, if anyone, would specifically take on the roles vacated by Vega and Alfonsi. However, Paramount did confirm yesterday that Simon’s role will go to Nick Bilton, a filmmaker and former tech columnist for The New York Times. In a statement posted on X when the news was announced, Bilton offers some stock sentiments about the changing nature of the news business, writing, “Evolving or dying isn’t a threat. It’s simple math. My responsibility is not just technological transformation. It is also our trust with the public.” Rather a rough start on that front, eh?
There’s been a strange little revolution brewing over the last few years in the world of modern pentathlon—the weirdest, most expensive, and least-watched event of the entire Summer Olympic Games catalogue. The sport (based around a very early 20th century understanding of the skills of a modern soldier, including sword fighting, swimming, running, and firing what were later turned into laser-based guns) ran into some PR problems back at the 2020 Games, when participants complained that the fifth event, equestrian show-jumping, introduced an unwelcome random element to the sport. (Your event’s reputation is not doing great, modern-popularity wise, when it generates headlines about a pissed-off coach reportedly punching a horse.) All of which somehow trickled down to today, when Variety reports that Japanese TV series Ninja Warrior is now an official part of the Summer Olympic Games.
It’s like this: Shortly after the 2020 Games, the UIPM—the governing body that oversees modern pentathlon—decided enough was enough with the horses, which nobody seemed to like watching, massively raised the cost for new athletes to enter the sport, and were distressingly prone to getting punched. So they did some tests, and then took an official vote, deciding that show-jumping would be replaced with an obstacle course run so clearly modeled on long-running Japanese reality competition show Sasuke/Ninja Warrior that the UIPM went ahead and brought in the show’s producers to consult on building their courses. Over protests from a pretty decent chunk of current modern pentathletes—who had, it’s worth noting, invested a lot of both time and money in getting good at jumping over stuff on horses, only for all that work to be rendered moot in favor of high-impact monkeybars—the rule changes went forward in the sport’s junior competitions a couple of years ago, with a plan to officially roll it out for adults at the 2028 Summer Games in Los Angeles.
All of which brings us back to today, when the UIPM announced that not only would the 2028 Olympics version of modern pentathlon feature the obstacle runs, but that it would officially be licensed from Japanese Ninja Warrior producer TBS (not to be confused with the American TV network of the same name), which is allowing its intellectual property to be used for the events’ obstacle designs. “What an incredible honor it is for our Federation to be working closely with TBS, the broadcaster that gave Ninja Warrior to the world,” UIPM president Rob Stull said of the deal. “Ahead of LA28, this agreement represents a wonderful and unique coming together of primetime entertainment and Olympic sports culture.”
R.J. Decker. Anna Pigeon. With names like those, these two characters could only have one job: detective. As we brace ourselves for a new Rockford Files and a fresh crop of sleuths on TV, Editor-in-chief Danette Chavez wants to know: What’s your favorite fictional detective name?
Detective Harry Hole, Detective Hole and Jo Nesbø’s book series
A good fictional detective name conjures a mental image of the investigator in question: “Columbo” evokes the character’s rumpledness and the way he’s often underestimated; “Rust Cohle” captures that cop’s world-weariness; and “Bosch” definitely sounds like the name of the lead of a popular franchise that you swear you’ll catch up one of these days. But nothing can really prepare you for Detective Hole—the show or the eponymous character, who, true to his name, is nursing a gaping, uh, void created by having seen way too much fucked-up stuff in his career. Yes, yes, if you’ve read Jo Nesbø’s books or seen the Michael Fassbender film or speak Norwegian, you’re well ahead of the rest of us, but you’re also not having as much fun as someone discovering Harry Hole for the first time. Recency bias and maturity be damned, I haven’t enjoyed saying the name of a show or describing a character’s actions this much in ages. And there are 13 books in Nesbø’s series, so there’s lots more Hole to explore. [Danette Chavez]
Player Character, Disco Elysium
There are a great many wonderful fictional detectives with a great many fictional names, but none have as many great fictional names as the player character in Disco Elysium, whose name is actually one of the various mysteries he’s trying to solve in a post-party stupor. This gives the hungover harbinger of the law the opportunity to dub himself dozens of things over the course of the game, including (but not limited to) Tequila Sunset, Firewalker, The Law, Human Can-Opener, Icebreaker, Supercop, Brother-man, and The Sunboy. Other characters, most of whom are also at a loss for this down-and-out detective’s identity, will call him things like Captain Sober, Mr. Feminist, Detective Pig, and Officer Discotheque. It’s not my place to say whether or not he was born as “Ham Sandwich” (you’ll have to play), but delighting in this identity crisis is just the first layer of unknowns in the game. [Jacob Oller]
Inspector Tiger, Monty Python’s Flying Circus
Monty Python’s “Inspector Tiger” sketch is one of those things I quote fairly often that people don’t necessarily know I’m quoting. (“Alduce me to introlow myself” just rolls off the tongue in such a pleasing way.) I don’t think anyone would make the case that it’s the strongest Flying Circus sketch ever, but it’s full of dumb little jokes that I love, chief among them the names of the various investigators in this Agatha Christie parody. Inspector Tiger, Chief Superintendent Lookout, and Assistant Chief Constable Theresamanbehindyou are basically three versions of the same joke, a name that the other characters can repeat to spook at least two less-than-brilliant detectives. To me, it’s stupid in the best way and takes up an inordinate amount of real estate in my brain. [Drew Gillis]
Mike Hammer, Kiss Me Deadly
His name is Mike Hammer. Is there a harder name than that? The grouchiest, meanest, and grimiest of the detective fiction genre, a blunt force character to match author Mickey Spillane’s tight-lipped prose. Mike Hammer is the end of the line, you get what you pay for, down and dirty noir hero. His name is Mike fucking Hammer, and by the end of this story, everyone involved will probably be worse off. In addition to appearing in 13 novels, several movies, and two TV shows, Hammer is the perfect protagonist for the movie that brought film noir to its atomic ending, Kiss Me Deadly. Appropriately, he was the last one to go. His curiosity and desire for action and purpose unknowingly set the fuse to not just his demise but the entire world’s. You can’t imagine Spade or Marlowe in that spot. It’d be too heartbreaking. They’re too sensitive, too vulnerable. Always crying in their scotch. Mike Hammer, on the other hand? He can take it. [Matt Schimkowitz]
Slam Bradley (DC Comics)
(Image: DC Comics)
I’m fairly sure I’ve only ever read one actual comic featuring DC Comics detective Sam “Slam” Bradley: Darwyn Cooke’s delightful and beautiful 2004 throwback DC: The New Frontier, which pairs him with alien gumshoe The Martian Manhunter. But I’ve thought about his name a lot, because, honestly, how could you not? Slam Bradley! Say it softly, it’s almost like praying; say it loud, and there’s the sound of a million “BIF!’ “BAM!” “POW!” fistfights playing. As the original inhabitant of DC’s Detective Comics book before another, slightly more popular detective scooped it out from under him, this pre-Superman Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel creation may not have had gadgets, ziplines, or a mask on his side. (Or a modern understanding of racial sensitivity, given how many of his early adventures reportedly trafficked in tired Yellow Peril stereotypes.) But what he did have was a name capable of taking bad guys down with sheer percussive force. Slam Bradley, baby! [William Hughes]
Gene Parmesan,Arrested Development
Introducing Gene Parmesan, talking in a fake Italian accent to honor his last name, is a genius move. Martin Mull played the Bluths’ “far from the best” private eye only for a handful of episodes, but it was enough to turn Gene Parmesan into a legendary Arrested Development figure. He’s the kind of sleuth who clearly spends more time picking out his disguises than actually doing his job. But it’s worth it because it leads to the recurring gag of Lucille yelping in delight when she sees him dressed as a janitor, a doctor, in a bear costume, and as a firefighter. Arrested Development has some funky character names, from Bob Loblaw to Marky Bark, but Gene Parmesan allows the show to pull off yet another running gag: Sometimes, the Bluths are seen eating parmesan paired with, ugh, mustard, but it’s a reference to Mull starring in Clue as Colonel Mustard. Trust Arrested Development to insert a P.I. story with a cheesy joke that works. [Saloni Gajjar]
Ty Lookwell, Lookwell
It’s unfair to say that Conan O’Brien and Robert Smigel built Lookwell almost entirely out of the premise of this AVQ&A. Yet one of the too-funny-to-live pilot’s most reliable gags involves Adam West’s deluded actor Ty Lookwell being confused for other TV detectives of the past, both real (Banacek, Mannix) and imagined (Branagan, Bennigan). There’s an authentic ring to the name of his actual onscreen alter ego, Bannigan, but Ty himself has an only-in-primetime moniker that would look just right over a Mike Post theme and footage of a speeding car. (Or the parody of such in the opening credits of a single-camera comedy passed on by NBC in 1991.) It’s just the right fit for a guy so dense he confuses his time as a cut-rate Kojak for case-closing bona fides: In order to fulfill his self-appointed duties as amateur sleuth and guru to a gaggle of overly credulous acting students, he must, indeed “look well.” [Erik Adams]
Popeye Doyle, The French Connection
Don’t get me wrong. Gene Hackman is terrifying as Detective Popeye Doyle in The French Connection. I just struggle saying his name without so much as a little bit of a smirk, so I will never forget it. The fact that Hackman and director William Friedkin put the fear of God in a viewer over what this loose canon cop might do next is a testament to the staying power of The French Connection. Detective Popeye and Popeye The Sailor Man both share cartoonish displays of masculinity: animated Popeye through his muscles and tough guy bravado, Detective Popeye demonstrates this in a less family friendly way with his fondness for violence, racism, car chases, and intimidation. I know it’s the problem of watching too many cartoons, but imagine finding out the cop who doesn’t play by the rules investigating a case goes by the name of Popeye. Is his partner Goofy? [Monica Castillo]
On Friday TechCrunch reported they could no longer Google the word "disregard".
Google's AI Overview responded "Understood. Let me know whenever you have a new prompt or question!" below an icon for hearing the word "disregard" pronounced — then displayed several inches of blank whitespace.
"The Merriam-Webster link is still in there, but you have to scroll..."
Earlier this week, Google rolled out a completely new Search experience, foregrounding AI summaries and kicking the traditional "10 blue links" far down the page. But the sheer scale of Google Search means there are lots of edge cases that the company doesn't seem to have considered...
Google has been catching some flack on social media for this, and it's easy to see why... For most users, that single reply is the only thing you'll see. And crucially, the AI response serves no conceivable value to a user searching the word "disregard." It's just a broken tool.
Google appears to have fixed the issue — sort of.
Now Googling the word "disregard" brings up a list of news stories about how Google's AI Overviews misinterpreted the word disregard in search queries.
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