More horrifying to a celebrity than any scandal is having the public believe they’re down on their luck. Just ask Mickey Rourke

It’s a tough time to be famous in Hollywood, what with dwindling respect levels for movie stars and the inability of anyone under 35 to recognise that George Clooney’s lips weren’t always that thin or that Brad Pitt, at one time, was a thing. Add to this a painful new pitfall for celebrities; not defending their unremarkable offspring from accusations of nepotism or explaining how big a role Ozempic has played in their new look, but rather the small, horrifying possibility that in the event of a bad year, some enterprising fan or assistant will whip up a GoFundMe for them.

Most of us know instinctively that there’s nothing worse for business than admitting that business is bad. Unless you’re a parent soliciting donations to fund your Munchausen-by-proxy syndrome, or have just committed an act of heroism and are rightfully in line for a reward, being the beneficiary of a whip-round by strangers is not a good thing at all. With this in mind, one can only sympathise with Mickey Rourke, the latest dwindling star to fall victim to an act of public charity, who this week was forced to issue an extremely Rourkian statement denying all knowledge of a fundraising appeal set up in his name by one of his manager’s enterprising young assistants.

Emma Brockes is a Guardian columnist

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After the devastating fires, neighborhoods pledged to build back stronger and better than before. A year later, they’re still untangling issues

Fog shrouded the ruins still standing at the center of the Pacific Palisades on a morning in December, a once-vibrant Los Angeles community decimated by flames. Melted newsstands that distributed the Palisadian-Post, an almost century-old paper that ceased operating in the fire’s wake, sit on crumbled concrete. Weeds spread over an expanse of emptied lots, painting the blackened foundations and chimneys with swaths of green.

It’s been a year of recovery and reckoning in Los Angeles since the unprecedented wildfires erupted in the parched southern California hillsides and cascaded into the surrounding suburbs with shocking ferocity, killing 31 people.

After their lives were upended last year, they’re finally regaining their footing – but memories of the fires still haunt them

Few among the nearly 10 million people who live in Los Angeles county were left untouched by last year’s disastrous firestorm. Driven by strong winds through parched vegetation, multiple fires exploded in quick succession last January, and devoured roughly 16,000 structures on all sides of LA.

Thirty-one lives were lost and thousands more were for ever changed. For many, a new chapter of the disaster began to unfold when the flames were extinguished, while the slow road to recovery started to take shape in the year that followed.

Son of director Rob Reiner and Michele Singer Reiner will now be represented by public defender in murder case

The arraignment of Nick Reiner, who faces two counts of first-degree murder in the killing of his parents Rob Reiner and Michele Singer Reiner, was delayed on Wednesday after his attorney asked to be replaced.

Judge Theresa McGonigle agreed to postpone the proceedings until February in response to a request from attorney Alan Jackson to withdraw from the case. The judge assigned a public defender to represent Nick Reiner, who had been expected to be arraigned and enter a plea in a Los Angeles court on Wednesday.

A year after the Eaton fire, residents returning to Altadena confront lingering contamination and little official clarity

One year on from the Eaton fire, long after the vicious winds that sent embers cascading from the San Gabriel mountains and the flames that swallowed entire streets, a shadow still hangs over Altadena.

Construction on new properties is under way, and families whose homes survived the fire have begun to return. But many are grappling with an urgent question: is it safe to be here?

The novelty of eating at a diner owned by the richest person in the world seems to have worn off in just a few months

Less than six months since it opened, Elon Musk’s Tesla Diner has the feel of a ghost town. Gone is the Optimus robot serving popcorn, gone are the carnivore-diet-inspired “Epic Bacon” strips, gone are the hours-long, hundred-person lines wrapped around the block. Even the restaurant’s all-star chef, Eric Greenspan, is gone. The Hollywood burger-and-fries shop seems like a shell of the bustling eatery it was when it opened in late July.

On a balmy Friday afternoon in December, the parking lot for Tesla car charging was, at best, half full. Inside what the company describes as a “retro-futuristic” diner, a handful of people trickled in, ordering burgers and hotdogs or asking for merch. The upstairs deck, AKA “Skypad”, was vacant except for a pair of employees stringing holiday lights. More staff was busy at work, buffing fingerprints off the chrome walls and taking out the trash, than there were customers. The diner was spotless.