From corny adverts to snowy murder plots, test your knowledge with these seasonal questions

• In the mood for more? For all our crosswords and sudoku, as well as our new football game, On the Ball, and film quiz, Film Reveal, download the Guardian app. Available in the Apple App Store and Google Play.

Will Sharpe and Paul Bettany’s new TV drama is flat, airless and banal. It’s a crass affair with a thin, half-hearted performance from Sharpe

Here’s my position. If you are going to create a miniseries about the life, death and music of one of the defining geniuses of the last 1,000 years of western civilisation, and if you are going to use as your source material a script for a great play that was made into a near-perfect film beloved by almost everyone for its wit and immense, profound themes rendered accessible and moving, and for the fact that it had two of the most extraordinary performances ever committed to what may still then have been celluloid – well, you had better be pretty damn sure that you are bringing something new, exciting, different, richer, cleverer, even more illuminating to the table. Otherwise you are going to look like a bit of a berk.

And so, my friends, to the new six-part drama Amadeus, about the life, death and music of Wolfgang A Mozart, one of the defining geniuses of the last 1,000 years of western history. Co-creators Joe Barton and Julian Farino have retained parts of Peter Shaffer’s 1979 play and the 1984 film starring Tom Hulce as Mozart and F Murray Abraham as his rival composer Antonio Salieri, reworked them into lesser forms, and surrounded them with lesser – flat, airless, banal – scenes. Shaffer’s driving interests in the corrupting power of envy, the survival of religious faith under duress, the mystery of talent and what we expect to come from genius are mostly reduced to pale, petty versions of themselves. The performances – well, we’ll come to those.

LA medical examiner reports Ransone, who played Chester ‘Ziggy’ Sobotka in the HBO crime drama, died by suicide

James Ransone, the American actor best known for his work in 12 episodes of The Wire, has died in Los Angeles.

Information from the Los Angeles medical examiner indicated Ransone, 46, died on Friday from suicide.

The health and fitness coach on his difficult childhood, why he’s never been single – and doing his first YouTube workout with a broken hand

Born in Epsom in 1985, Joe Wicks is a health and fitness coach and author. He studied sports science at St Mary’s University and started posting recipes and workouts on social media in 2014, while working as a personal trainer. His Lean in 15 videos went viral, leading to a bestselling publishing career. During the pandemic, Wicks hosted daily livestreamed PE lessons, raised more than £1m for charity and earned an MBE. His 13th book, Protein In 15, is out now.

I was always covered in food as a kid – a real messy eater. This was probably readymade spaghetti from a tin. Our family didn’t have the greatest diet – we were on benefits, a lot of our money went on Dad’s heroin addiction, and Mum was young and didn’t know much about nutrition.

The actor on impersonating Elvis, her stint as a magician’s assistant on a cruise ship, and having eyes like currants

Born in Hertfordshire, Sarah Hadland, 54, attended Laine Theatre Arts college in Surrey. From 2009 to 2015, she played Stevie in the Bafta-nominated sitcom Miranda, and her other television work includes Horrible Histories, Waterloo Road, W1A, The Job Lot and Daddy Issues. This Christmas, she appears on The Festive Pottery Throwdown and The Celebrity Apprentice, and stars as the Wicked Queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs at the Marlowe theatre in Canterbury. She lives with her child in London.

What is your earliest memory?
I remember putting on my sister’s dungarees – they were purple and flared – to do an Elvis impression and my family laughing, and thinking: “Oh, this is good.”

The new project from the creator of Pulling and Utopia is the real-life tale of a teacher whose life is upended by working with inmates. ‘It upends your prejudices,’ he says

Writer Dennis Kelly has a few mantras he’s always lived by. They’re all there, clearly defined in his very earliest interviews, right from the start of his career. Write like you mean it (perhaps that’s why his plays have so much heart and drive). Never write for money and never compromise (maybe that’s why two of the best TV shows he had a hand in, the controversial conspiracy drama Utopia and the Sharon Horgan comedy Pulling, were cancelled after two series). And finally: make sure your writing always contains a secret.

In the case of Matilda, the smash-hit stage adaptation he wrote alongside Tim Minchin, Kelly only figured out the secret hidden inside his writing long after the awards came flooding in. It turns out that Matilda, a show that glows with love but also aches with a sense of a loss, was all about Kelly’s longing to be a father – a longing that was met just a few years after the premiere with the birth of Kelly’s now six-year-old daughter, Kezia.

After a decade away, Tom Hiddleston is going undercover again as Jonathan Pine and this time he’s getting into an explosive, sexually fluid power threesome. It’s just what Le Carré would have wanted

For screenwriter David Farr, The Night Manager’s return is a dream come true. Literally. “Having not thought about the show for five years, a vivid image came to me in bed one night,” he says. “I saw a boy in a Colombian monastery, waiting for a black car to come over the hill. For some bizarre reason, I knew who those characters were. Suddenly, I was half-awake and the rest came flying out of me. I wrote it all down in case I forgot. In the morning, I looked at my notes and thought: ‘This is good, actually.’”

He’s not wrong. It’s a special drama that can leave a decade-long gap between series but still be welcomed back with widespread excitement. It’s testament to The Night Manager’s quality that its comeback is the first must-watch show of 2026.

Hollywood is betting big on vertical microdramas told in chunks under two minutes. Can a gimmick turn into a new form of entertainment?

If you have been anywhere close to the social media blast radius of The Summer I Turned Pretty, Amazon Prime’s breakout YA series on a tortuous teen love triangle, you may be familiar with the plight of Henley and Luca. The star-crossed lovers of a short-form video series called Loving My Brother’s Best Friend – plot self-explanatory – have made waves on TikTok with yearning stares and “I/we can’t do this” drama that echo the many fan edits of beloved TV couple Belly and Conrad. But whereas The Summer I Turned Pretty explored its central tension over 40-minute episodes on streaming, Loving My Brother’s Best Friend, produced by a short-form company called CandyJar, distilled its appeal to its barest essences: sexual tension hook, escalating line and cliffhanger sinker, all within two-minute “episodes” on your phone. Without even meaning to or really wanting to, I watched the first 10 chapters (of 44) in one 15-minute gulp – and I’m not the only one.

Hollywood is hoping that you, too, will be hooked. Though Loving My Brother’s Best Friend may not look like a typical Hollywood product – in fact, it resembles some mix of teen show, soap opera and amateur fan-cam edit – the industry is investing heavily in the future of series like it: low-budget, mobile-only “microdramas” with episodes between 60 and 90 seconds. These shows, also known as “verticals” for their phone orientation, have already become widely popular in China, where mobile screens dominate entertainment even more than in the US. In just three years, revenue for serialized short-form drama in China rose from $500m in 2021 to $7bn in 2024, and is projected to reach $16.2bn by 2030. The global microdrama market for 2025 is estimated at anywhere from $7bn to 15bn – and booming, with nearly triple revenue growth for microdrama companies outside China in the past year.

This twist-packed, star-strapped take on the reality juggernaut became the year’s most addictive show. It was a masterclass in suspense, camp and chaos

• The 50 best TV shows of 2025
• More on the best culture of 2025

For narrative twists, unforced comedy and high-profile casting, The Celebrity Traitors knocked most televised dramas into a cocked hat, or a fashion cape. We were all swept up, from teens to the retired, magistrates and retail workers, even non-gameshow fans. The show became the national conversation in a way TV pundits no longer thought possible. It was lightning in a bottle. Which would be a cool way of murdering someone.

Why was it perfect TV? On the face of it, it’s a simple format that balances banter and tension, fun games and insidious group dynamics. Bucking the streamer “dumping” model, the BBC drip-fed episodes until we were slavering. Their ace, of course, is Claudia Winkleman – impeccable outfits, iconic hair, sly presenting style. I saw so many Winklemen at Halloween parties this October it was like Being John Malkovich with bangs. But this year the show surpassed even its own standards.

The book adaptation has impressed critics

The singer has filmed a docuseries and a movie-length concert film

From demon sheep to the year’s most intense watch … it’s been another amazing year of television. Our countdown of the very best continues
• More on the best culture of 2025

***

Late-night hosts recapped Trump’s national address and further insights from chief of staff Susie Wiles’s interview

Late-night hosts discussed – or ignored – Donald Trump’s surprise primetime address and dug further into the explosive new interview the White House chief of staff, Susie Wiles.

Equity says vote signals strong opposition to AI use and readiness to disrupt productions unless protections are secured

Actors have voted to refuse digital scanning to prevent their likeness being used by artificial intelligence in a pushback against AI in the arts.

Members of the performing arts union Equity were asked if they would refuse to be scanned while on set, a common practice in which actors’ likeness is captured for future use – with 99% voting in favour of the move.

The second season sees the teen demigod set sail for the Sea of Monsters with his new cyclops half-brother

Seth Rogen’s warm, Emmy-winning comedy about a Hollywood movie company is exquisitely excruciating – and more fun than anything else on TV

• The 50 best TV shows of 2025
• More on the best culture of 2025

Oh, The Studio – how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Or at least allow me to gaze, rapt, from behind an ornamental palm tree as your vintage convertible hurtles towards yet another catastrophic Hollywood assignation.

The Emmy-winning creation of Seth Rogen and long-term writing partner Evan Goldberg, The Studio follows Matt Remick, an idealistic film executive who finds himself unexpectedly promoted to head of Continental Studios. “This could be my time!” he gasps, cock-a-hoop to find himself in charge of the company to which he has devoted the last 22 years of his life. He is, unfortunately, correct. “Film is my life,” he splutters during his tearfully grateful acceptance speech to CEO Griffin Mill (Bryan Cranston). Mill – an oleaginous sod with a spray tan the colour of a 70s ski lodge – smiles thinly. “At Continental, we don’t make films. We make movies. MOOOOVIEEEEES that people wanna PAY to see,” he explains, tightly, and Matt’s face proceeds to sink like a souffle. And it continues to sink over 10 exquisitely excruciating episodes, as his hopes for a new era of intelligent, auteur-helmed blockbusters are repeatedly marmalised by a system both frightened and angered by anything that can’t be deposited in a Swiss bank account.

TV’s greatest guilty pleasure is back – and it’s still a total hoot! Prepare to gorge yourself silly on it over the holidays along with the mince pies. You know you want to …

‘Turn off your brain and jump!” So says London geezer Alfie (Lucien Laviscount) to ex-girlfriend Emily’s best pal Mindy (Ashley Park), as they flirt their way through a racy dance scene. It could, of course, be an instruction to viewers of season five of Emily in Paris, too. Once pilloried for its Anglophile tendencies and surface-level commitment to la culture française, the fluffy dramedy about an American in Paris helmed by Lily Collins has – over the past five years – become one of TV’s greatest guilty pleasures: a fancy fever dream of great clothes, strapping love interests and a constant karaoke soundtrack courtesy of Park, a Broadway star whose contract clearly dictates that she sing at least five times per episode. The clothes are less outlandish this time around, but still aspirational – lending the show a strand of Sex and the City DNA (they also share a creator, Darren Star).

But, unlike SATC – whose spinoff And Just Like That devolved into a mindless mess – Emily in Paris is free of any baggage, and at liberty to be as silly as it fancies. Much of season five doesn’t even take place in Paris, as our leading lady continues to mix business and pleasure in Rome with cashmere heir Marcello (Eugenio Franceschini). “Ciao and ni hao!” says Mindy, who has rejected a job as a judge on Chinese Popstar (“I’d rather be judging people in real life than on TV”) and is now headed to Italy, just in time to help Emily and her crack marketing team with some #sponsoredcontent (read: singing inside a giant martini glass). Also in town is Alfie: cue an inadvisable fling between the two that instantly breaks all the rules of girl code.