Kay will make donations to charities including Children With Cancer UK, Teenage Cancer Trust and Anthony Nolan

I’m A Celebrity’s Tom Read Wilson shocked his fellow campmates by revealing his “real voice”.

Le dernier film Disney, en salles depuis le 26 novembre 2025, met en scène la suite des aventures de Judy Hopps et de Nick Wilde, près de dix ans après leur première enquête animalière. Mais devez-vous rester jusqu'au bout du générique de Zootopie 2, pour espérer y trouver un petit bonus ?

It gets into its twentysomething characters’ heads in a way that’s fresh and real. You either get it, or you don’t

It’s been a while since a TV show came along that people leaned into losing their minds about, but finally, and after a year of otherwise mediocre programming, we have one. I Love LA, the HBO comedy set among wannabe gen Z influencers, is only halfway through its eight-episode run, but it is already comfortably the best show of the year. And more importantly, it has triggered all the signifiers of event TV: obsessive repeat viewings, line-by-line coverage, big platform profiles of its stars and weekly recaps on Vulture, New York magazine’s website. Within days of each episode airing, people have transcribed and uploaded the entire script, which – with the best will in the world – no one’s doing for Riot Women.

The surprising thing about this is not the fact that it’s the first show by Rachel Sennott, the show’s 30-year-old creator and star, or that the action takes place in a tiny world in east LA, but that content about influencers can be watchable at all. To date, millennial and older writers have tended to use social media as a lumbering plot device – oh my God, something’s gone “viral!” – or as a stand-in for the collapse of all known standards. You probably haven’t watched these because nobody did, but take your pick from: HBO’s one-season disaster The Girls on the Bus, in which an old-media reporter covers a US election race only to find that influencers – those pesky kids! – have stolen her patch. Or the equally horrific Netflix flop Girlboss, loosely based on the memoirs of Sophia Amoruso, the early influencer, and which not even a cameo by Cole Escola could save. Or Flack, the deathly Anna Paquin-fronted show about publicists trying to manage their clients’ social media, and an early red flag for which was the use of the word “maven” in the show’s publicity.

Emma Brockes is a Guardian columnist

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When the great artist saw a shocking play by Martin McDonagh about the torture of children, she asked him for more dark stories. As the vivid, extraordinary works they triggered go on show, the playwright looks back

In the summer of 2004, Paula Rego wrote to Martin McDonagh asking for permission to name some pictures after his play The Pillowman. His shocking investigation into the relationship between art and life featured two brothers under interrogation for the torture and murder of children. One is a writer whose stories are summarised by an investigator as: “A hundred and one ways to skewer a fucking five-year-old.”

Rego, then a 69-year-old grandmother as well as a world famous artist, had been taken to see the play at the National Theatre in London by one of her daughters, who knew it would resonate with her. “The brutality and beauty and humour rang very true and like something I had known all my life,” she wrote to McDonagh. “I am actually Portuguese, although I have lived in London for 50 years, and our stories are brusque and cruel like yours.”

Bonne nouvelle : la sortie de la saison 5 de Stranger Things est imminente. Mauvaises nouvelles : cela va se faire en plusieurs fois, et en plus à des horaires atroces.

Two decades on, its influence still lingers, marking a moment when gaming felt thrillingly new again

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Almost 20 years ago (on 1 December 2005, to be precise), I was at my very first video game console launch party somewhere around London’s Leicester Square. The Xbox 360 arrived on 22 November 2005 in the US and 2 December in the UK, about three months after I got my first job as a junior staff writer on GamesTM magazine. My memories of the night are hazy because a) it was a worryingly long time ago and b) there was a free bar, but I do remember that DJ Yoda played to a tragically deserted dancefloor, and everything was very green. My memories of the console itself, however, and the games I played on it, are still as clear as an Xbox Crystal. It is up there with the greatest consoles ever.

In 2001, the first Xbox had muscled in on a scene dominated by Japanese consoles, upsetting the established order (it outsold Nintendo’s GameCube by a couple of million) and dragging console gaming into the online era with Xbox Live, an online multiplayer service that was leagues ahead of what the PlayStation 2 was doing. Nonetheless, the PS2 ended up selling over 150m to the original Xbox’s 25m. The Xbox 360, on the other hand, would sell over 80m, neck and neck with the PlayStation 3 for most of its eight-year life cycle (and well ahead in the US). It turned Xbox from an upstart into a market leader.

The president’s bizarre insistence that the dead Jackie Chan-Chris Tucker series should return resulted in a shock announcement this week. Maybe there’s more to come …

So far, Donald Trump’s control of the media has involved a lot more stick than carrot. Thanks to a combination of outbursts and indiscriminate legal threats, the powerful figures at the centre of a rapidly consolidating industry find themselves with little option but to bend to the president’s every demand. Unfortunately, what he’s demanding is Rush Hour 4.

Just a few days ago, this seemed like a weird overreach, like when Trump used a keynote speech at a McDonald’s to demand more tartare sauce on Filet-O-Fish sandwiches. But in this case it really happened. Trump told majority Paramount Skydance shareholder Larry Ellison that he wished someone would make Rush Hour 4, and now Rush Hour 4 is being made.

‘She wasn’t very fond of Skipper, our jack russell, who loved the hose. But they were dancing together – two beings in the afternoon sunlight, having their own conversation’

I am an only child. My father was killed in a car accident when I was 14 and my mother was 47. We were really tightly bonded after that. She worked at a university and was an artist: she painted and carved birds. She was a wonderful person, who lit up a room and was someone everyone wanted to be around. She was very giving.

Later in life, she developed dementia. I left my teaching position to stay home and look after her. She was very active – she would go outside and rip up bulbs, put the horses in the wrong stalls. It was very stressful to come home – I would enter the driveway and think: “Oh my word!”

Oliver Laxe’s Cannes prize winner about a father’s search for his missing daughter starts impressively then descends into Pythonesque perdition

Oliver Laxe leads his audience into a wilderness of non-meaning in this strange and unrewardingly oppressive film that was the joint jury prize winner at Cannes this year and the recipient of all sorts of critical superlatives. For me, Sirāt is the most overpraised movie of the year – exasperating and bizarre in ways that become less and less interesting and more and more ridiculous as the film wears on.

There is a moment of tragic horror halfway through the action that is not absorbed or clarified and whose (presumed) emotional and spiritual consequences are not conveyed. It simply looks coercive and even slightly farcical. The later explosions in the desert are, frankly, Pythonesque. And yet, as with Laxe’s earlier film Mimosas there are some wonderful visual moments and stylish shots of the Moroccan desert landscape. Veteran Spanish actor Sergi López gives Sirāt some ballast.