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Scotland’s comedy scene lost one of its brightest lights last Friday. Gary Little — the big man with the even bigger heart — died doing what he loved: climbing in the majestic Scottish highlands that had captured his imagination for decades. At 61, the powerhouse performer left behind a legacy that stretches far beyond the stages he commanded.

The news hit Glasgow’s Stand Comedy Club particularly hard. After all, this was where Little first found his comedic footing, eventually becoming something of a local legend. Their announcement carried the weight of losing not just a regular performer, but a dear friend: “An incredible comic, huge personality and friend to many.”

What makes this loss cut deeper is its cruel timing. Just a fortnight ago, Little had the crowd at Dundee’s Number 57 in stitches — nobody knowing it would be one of his final performances. The venue’s heartfelt “RIP Big Man” speaks volumes about the impact he had on everyone he encountered.

His journey wasn’t your typical comedy story. Breaking through in the early 2000s as a finalist in The Stand’s competition, Little carved out his own unique space in Scottish comedy. No pretense, no fancy gimmicks — just raw, authentic humor that connected with audiences on a visceral level.

Kevin Bridges — himself a titan of British comedy — kept his tribute characteristically understated: “RIP big Gary, very sad news.” Sometimes less truly is more. The Some Laugh podcast perhaps captured it best, calling him “one of the best stand-ups Scotland has ever produced.” They weren’t wrong.

The calendar tells its own story of opportunities now lost. Little was set to perform in Aberdeen next month, with more shows planned alongside Raymond Mearns in “Still Got It” at the Gardyne Theatre come November. Empty dates that speak of laughter that might have been.

Tonight, across Scotland’s pubs and comedy clubs, comics are surely raising a glass to the big man’s memory. The Stand got it right when they said he’d have liked that — the thought of his fellow performers sharing stories, probably embellishing them just a bit, all in his honor.

There’s something fitting, though undeniably tragic, about Little meeting his end in Scotland’s rugged highlands. His social media followers knew well his love for those wild spaces, often documented through adventures with his faithful dog. Those posts now serve as a bittersweet reminder of a life lived fully, if cut short too soon.

The void Little leaves in Scottish comedy won’t be easily filled. His brand of authentic, powerful performance — deeply rooted in his Scottish identity — helped shape a generation of comics. More than just laughs, he gave audiences and fellow performers alike a masterclass in being genuinely, unapologetically yourself on stage.

As comedy clubs across Scotland dim their lights tonight, there’s no doubt that Gary Little’s spirit will live on through the countless lives he touched, the laughs he sparked, and the aspiring comics he inspired. Sometimes the biggest personalities leave the deepest footprints — and Gary’s tracks will be visible in Scottish comedy for years to come.

The curtain falls on two iconic figures this season, each leaving behind legacies that stretch far beyond their initial dreams. In Oyster Bay, New York, the revving engines at 20th Century Cycles will soon fall silent, while the entertainment world mourns the loss of a daytime television legend who turned a one-day role into a four-decade journey.

Billy Joel’s motorcycle sanctuary — a labor of love since 2010 — is closing its doors this September. The Piano Man’s recent diagnosis of Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus (NPH) has forced his hand, the condition affecting his balance and mobility. It’s a bittersweet farewell to a place that wasn’t just about chrome and leather, but about sharing passion with the community.

“It’s basically promoting an aesthetic here,” Joel once mused during a 2013 conversation, his enthusiasm infectious. The free-admission museum housed over 75 motorcycles, each telling its own story — from growling Harley-Davidsons to the elegant 1952 Vincent Rapide. For nearly 15 years, this mechanical menagerie brought life to downtown Oyster Bay, a commitment so deeply appreciated that the street now bears his name: Billy Joel Way.

Local business owner Ted Bahr puts it simply: “Billy’s place is visited on weekends by dozens and dozens of people… he’s a real superstar, and he is a hometown boy, so it’s really unfortunate.”

Meanwhile, in an equally poignant farewell, the entertainment world lost Tristan Rogers at 79 — the man who breathed life into Robert Scorpio on “General Hospital.” His journey from Melbourne rock band member to soap opera icon reads like a Hollywood script itself. Rogers transformed what should’ve been a forgettable one-day role into a character that helped define daytime television’s golden age.

“I didn’t know at the time the importance of General Hospital; it was just one more job for me,” Rogers once confided to Soap Opera Digest. That “job” became part of television history, particularly during the legendary Luke and Laura wedding episode that drew a staggering 30 million viewers — a record that stands untouched in soap opera history.

His manager, Meryl Soodak, captured the essence of Rogers’ impact: “He loved being Scorpio and he created that role from nothing. He was supposed to work a day and he ended up making it into something huge.”

Perhaps most telling was Rogers’ own insight about his chosen medium, shared in “The Survival of Soap Opera”: “This is not a genre that will be around in another 50 years… They have made their mark, and almost every type of medium owes something to the way the soaps have been put together, whether they want to admit it or not.”

As Joel’s motorcycles prepare for auction and Rogers’ performances live on in reruns, these parallel endings remind us how passion shapes our cultural landscape. Whether through the rumble of vintage engines or the drama of daytime television, both men carved out spaces that transcended their original visions — leaving behind legacies that will echo well beyond 2025.

Some dreams, it seems, were meant to be shared.

Dance music’s landscape in 2025 feels increasingly predictable — a sea of AI-generated beats and cookie-cutter collaborations. Then there’s Kaytranada, who just dropped ‘Ain’t No Damn Way!’ like a bolt from the blue, proving that sometimes the best conversations happen when you’re talking to yourself.

The Montreal producer’s fourth studio album, released through RCA Records, doesn’t just buck the trend of star-studded features — it tosses the whole playbook out the window. Sure, Kay’s Instagram post modestly frames it as “strictly for workouts, dancing and studying,” but that’s like calling the Grand Canyon a nice hole in the ground.

What emerges across these 12 tracks is something far more fascinating: a masterclass in groove architecture where every sonic brick fits perfectly, yet somehow feels delightfully unpredictable. Take ‘Blax’ — good lord, what a trip. The track builds this incredible tapestry of heroic synth strings and scatting trumpets that wouldn’t sound out of place scoring the greatest movie never made. It’s the kind of production that makes other producers quietly close their laptops and contemplate a career change.

The album closer ‘Do It (Again)’ might be the most audacious flex here. Reimagining TLC’s ‘Let’s Do It Again’ could’ve been a disaster in less capable hands. Instead, Kay transforms the sultry R&B classic into something that sounds like what might happen if NASA decided to open a nightclub on Mars.

Mind you, it’s not all revolutionary stuff. ‘Space Invader’ (the lead single) plays it surprisingly safe — competent, sure, with those trademark Roland TR-808 handclaps and stretchy synths, but perhaps a bit too comfortable for someone who’s literally spawned his own production adjective. (“Kaytranada-coded” has become industry shorthand for any track mixing jazz and soul with electronic elements — how many producers can say they’ve influenced the actual vocabulary of music criticism?)

Speaking of influence — while this album’s making waves, Kay’s already got his sights set on that massive North American tour with Justice this fall. Fifteen shows from Vancouver to Miami, plus stepping in for Playboi Carti on The Weeknd’s Canadian dates? The man clearly doesn’t believe in downtime.

‘Ain’t No Damn Way!’ stands as something rather special in today’s feature-obsessed landscape. It’s Kaytranada alone in his element, conducting an orchestra of beats and bytes with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing — even if what they’re doing sometimes sounds gloriously impossible. In a genre that often feels like it’s running out of road, he’s somehow found a whole new highway.

Peacemaker’s return to the small screen feels like that friend who shows up late to the party but somehow makes it better anyway. The sophomore season of James Gunn’s most unhinged DCU creation stumbles, struts, and occasionally soars — though not quite reaching the delirious heights of its freshman outing.

Let’s cut to the chase: John Cena remains the beating heart of this bizarre circus. His Christopher Smith now faces down that most tempting of narrative devices — the multiverse — complete with the dangling carrot of a perfect life in another dimension. (Because who hasn’t dreamed of a do-over universe where they didn’t accidentally kill their favorite superhero?)

The show’s opening salvos present a Smith who’s frustratingly sidelined despite literally saving Earth from a butterfly apocalypse. It’s here where Cena truly shines, bringing unexpected depth to a character who could’ve easily remained a musclebound punchline. There’s something oddly touching about watching this chrome-domed violence enthusiast struggle with his place in a world that’s moved on to the next crisis — probably something involving multiversal incursions or whatever the hot apocalypse du jour happens to be in 2025.

Jennifer Holland’s Emilia Harcourt treads familiar ground, though her spiral into self-destruction hits harder than expected. Sure, the whole “tough-exterior-hiding-inner-pain” thing might feel a tad been-there-done-that, but Holland sells it with conviction. That boat-night mystery subplot? Well… let’s just say some narrative threads work better than others.

Frank Grillo brings his trademark intensity to Rick Flag Sr., though keeping him chained to a desk feels like ordering a Ferrari and leaving it in park. The brewing confrontation over his son’s death simmers nicely in the background — a powder keg waiting for its spark.

Speaking of sparks, the show’s signature blend of ultraviolence and humor remains intact, though certain recurring gags wear thin faster than Peacemaker’s patience. Judomaster’s height-related humor? Getting old. Those gratuitous orgy scenes? Maybe time to zip it up. But then Tim Meadows swoops in as Langston Fleury, bringing fresh laughs with his peculiar avian blindness. Who knew bird-related comedy could still soar in 2025?

The multiverse angle takes its sweet time finding its groove — rather like watching a peacock slowly unfurl its feathers while you’re checking your watch. Yet there’s an undeniable charm to this mess of a show that keeps viewers coming back. The new opening credits sequence, set to Foxy Shazam’s “Oh Lord,” proves the franchise hasn’t lost its knack for memorable intros. And yes, Eagly’s quest for a “prime eagle” somehow becomes one of the season’s most engaging subplots. Go figure.

Look — in an era where superhero fatigue has become more common than post-credit scenes, Peacemaker’s second outing reminds us why we fell for these spandex-clad weirdos in the first place. It’s messy, occasionally loses its way, but remains stubbornly entertaining — kind of like watching a peace-loving sociopath try to navigate group therapy. While it might not be the triumphant return some hoped for, it’s a solid addition to Gunn’s expanding DCU vision.

Just don’t expect it to solve world peace. That’s not really Peacemaker’s style anyway.

Darlings, let’s talk about “East of Wall” — and no, this isn’t another cookie-cutter Western trying to cash in on the Yellowstone phenomenon that’s finally starting to fade in 2025. Kate Beecroft’s raw slice of South Dakota life feels like stumbling into the real deal after a decade of Instagram-filtered ranch fantasies.

Fresh off its Sundance triumph (where it snagged an audience award that actually meant something), this gritty gem serves up Tabatha Zimiga’s story — a horse whisperer whose life is about as polished as a worn-out saddle. And thank heaven for that.

These aren’t your typical Hollywood cowgirls with perfect beach waves peeking out from under designer hats. The women of “East of Wall” come with half-shaved heads, tattoos scattered like prairie grass, and the kind of authenticity that makes studio executives nervous. They ride hard and live harder, no stunt doubles required.

Jennifer Ehle brings her considerable chops to the role of a grandmother who’s seen it all, while Scoot McNairy shows up as some land-hungry outsider — a plot thread that feels about as necessary as Jimmy Choos at a rodeo. But hey, sometimes you’ve got to throw the suits a bone.

The real magic? Porshia Zimiga, Tabatha’s actual daughter, playing herself and delivering voiceovers that would make Terrence Malick weep into his morning coffee. Critics keep comparing it to Linda Manz in “Days of Heaven,” and honestly? They’re not wrong.

These women aren’t just breaking horses — they’re shattering expectations while maintaining TikTok accounts that put most influencers’ “authentic” content to shame. It’s a delicious contradiction that perfectly captures our current moment, where tradition and technology collide like a cosmic square dance.

Beecroft’s own story reads like something out of a rom-com gone rogue. Picture this: LA filmmaker gets lost, takes a wrong turn, and stumbles into the story of a lifetime. Sometimes the universe has a better GPS than Google Maps, sweetie.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect (or ironic). As Disney+ rolls out their millionth supernatural teen drama with “Coven Academy” — because apparently we needed more perfectly lit angst in our lives — “East of Wall” reminds us what real storytelling looks like.

At 97 minutes, with an R-rating that feels earned rather than engineered, the film walks a fascinating line between documentary and drama. Sure, some critics argue it might’ve worked better as a straight doc, but darling, when was the last time reality alone gave us something this poetic?

Bottom line? “East of Wall” isn’t trying to be your next binge-worthy obsession or social media moment. It’s simply showing us an America that exists beyond the algorithm — where real cowgirls don’t need filters to shine. And in 2025’s landscape of carefully curated authenticity, that’s worth more than all the turquoise at a Santa Fe gift shop.

Michelle Yeoh’s latest venture might raise a few eyebrows — and that’s precisely the point. Fresh off her groundbreaking Oscar triumph, the legendary actress has thrown her weight behind Ne Zha II, a Chinese animated blockbuster that’s about to shake up Western audiences’ preconceptions about global animation.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect. As we navigate the increasingly complex entertainment landscape of 2025, where streaming wars have given way to cultural crossroads, Yeoh’s involvement feels less like a calculated move and more like a natural evolution. After all, who better to bridge East and West than the actress whose recent collaborations with A24 have consistently struck gold?

“It is so important as a cultural exchange,” Yeoh explains, her characteristic enthusiasm breaking through. “An opening for more Chinese stories that need to be told.” She pauses, then adds thoughtfully, “Especially the mythological side of it. We’re so rich in lore with the three realms: the heavens, the earth and the seas.”

The film — already crushing box office records in its home market — casts Yeoh as Lady Yin, mother to the titular character. It’s a role that resonates deeply with the 63-year-old star, who remembers being captivated by the original tale in her youth. “When I was a kid, I used to be so fascinated and inspired by this spunky kid riding on fire wheels,” she reminisces. “I wanted to be that cool demigod that fought for justice.”

Ne Zha II doesn’t simply dust off ancient mythology for modern consumption. Drawing from the 16th-century epic “The Investiture of the Gods,” the film walks a precarious line between honoring tradition and embracing innovation. The result? Something that feels both timeless and surprisingly current — a rare feat in today’s often derivative entertainment landscape.

But perhaps what’s most compelling about Ne Zha II isn’t its spectacular visuals or mythological depth. In an era where Hollywood still struggles with authentic representation (yes, even in 2025), the film delivers a powerful message about belonging and perseverance. “This is for people who always felt that they’re not seen,” Yeoh emphasizes, her voice carrying the weight of personal experience. “For those who’ve been ostracized, who don’t look right, who don’t fit in — so they don’t give up.”

The English-language version, set to hit theaters on August 22, represents more than just another summer release. It’s a bold statement about the future of global storytelling. Yeoh, who championed the translation from the start, recognized its potential early on: “I had seen Ne Zha II in Chinese, and even then I thought, ‘I hope they do an English version, because you want little kids to be able to see it and understand.’”

Director Yu Yang’s journey hasn’t escaped Yeoh’s notice either. “I’m so proud of the director,” she shares, genuine admiration evident in her tone. “Watching how long it took him and where he came from when he started… he wasn’t even a filmmaker at that time. It’s amazing.”

As streaming platforms continue their relentless expansion and traditional theatrical releases face mounting pressures, Ne Zha II stands as a testament to cinema’s enduring power to bridge cultural divides. With Yeoh’s magnetic presence helping to guide Western audiences through this rich mythological landscape, the film might just redefine what’s possible in cross-cultural entertainment.

Then again, maybe that’s been the point all along.

Entertainment’s digital and theatrical worlds are painting quite a different picture these days — yet both seem to be hitting their stride in remarkably different ways. While NetEase Cloud Music flexes its muscles in China’s streaming arena, Broadway’s welcoming back an old friend that’s got everyone humming familiar tunes.

The numbers coming out of NetEase Cloud Music’s first-half 2025 report tell an interesting story. Sure, there’s that 6% dip in overall revenue to RMB3.8 billion — but don’t let that fool you. Their core online music services? Soaring by 15.9% to reach RMB3.0 billion. Not too shabby for a platform that’s become the go-to spot for China’s Gen Z crowd.

Meanwhile, something magical’s happening over at the Winter Garden Theatre. “Mamma Mia!” — that irresistible ABBA-fueled crowd-pleaser — has found its way back home. And boy, is it making waves. Those preview week numbers? A cool $1.57 million. Seems like Broadway audiences haven’t lost their appetite for feel-good entertainment.

Producer Judy Craymer might just be entertainment’s modern-day nostradamus. Back in 2015, when the show took its final bow (or so we thought), she had this feeling it wasn’t really goodbye. Turns out she was right on the money.

What’s fascinating here is how these two seemingly different success stories actually share some common ground. Take NetEase — they’ve built this incredible community of over 819,000 independent artists who’ve contributed nearly 5 million tracks. That’s not just a platform; that’s a creative ecosystem.

Christine Sherrill, making her Broadway debut in the revival, probably didn’t realize she was tapping into something bigger when she commented on the show’s timing. “We’re kind of in a time of peril again,” she notes, pointing out how theater brings together folks who might never cross paths otherwise. In 2025’s increasingly fragmented world, that’s saying something.

NetEase gets it too. They’ve doubled down on creating these music-inspired communities, cooking up new ways for users to connect. And it’s working — their daily active user ratios consistently top 30%. Not just numbers on a spreadsheet; these are real people finding their tribe through music.

Victor Wallace, who’s practically part of the “Mamma Mia!” furniture at this point, nails it when he talks about the show’s emotional sucker punch. “It’s always surprising how the show surprises you,” he says. And isn’t that just like life? You go in expecting a light ABBA-fest and come out wiping away tears.

As NetEase expands its reach — signing deals with Korean heavyweights like RBW and StarShip Entertainment — “Mamma Mia!” keeps proving that sometimes the old recipes still cook up the best meals. Both are showing us that entertainment, whether it’s pixels or footlights, works best when it creates real connections.

The bean counters are happy too. NetEase’s subscription revenue is up 15.2% year-over-year, while “Mamma Mia!” sits pretty as Broadway’s fourth-highest grossing show. But maybe the real win here isn’t in the ledgers — it’s in those moments when art, business, and human connection all dance to the same tune.

The metal world stood still last week as Megadeth dropped their bombshell farewell announcement. After four decades of shaping thrash metal’s landscape, the legendary outfit revealed their next studio album will be their swan song — and somehow, it feels both too soon and perfectly timed.

The news broke through a characteristically dramatic video featuring their skeletal mascot Vic Rattlehead. Seated behind a desk cluttered with papers marked “Confidential 2026,” the iconic figure delivered the message fans never wanted to hear: Megadeth’s story is approaching its final chapter.

“For over four decades, I’ve been chained in silence,” Vic declared, his hollow eyes seeming to pierce through the screen. “But the end demands my voice.”

Dave Mustaine, the band’s 63-year-old architect and sole remaining original member, approaches this conclusion with the kind of clear-eyed perspective that comes from surviving decades in the metal trenches. “Most musicians don’t get to go out on their own terms on top,” he reflected in a statement that hit home for many fans. “That’s where I’m at in my life right now.”

The announcement video itself? Pure Megadeth theatricality. News footage of natural disasters crashes against apocalyptic imagery — cities crumbling, volcanoes spewing fury, floods of biblical proportion. It’s exactly the kind of over-the-top spectacle that’s made the band’s visual aesthetic so memorable since their earliest days.

Social media erupted within minutes. “THE metal band that got me into metal is leaving,” one fan posted, their heartbreak evident even through the digital divide. Another longtime follower struck a more celebratory tone: “Make it a blast! One of the only bands i own all the albums to.”

Looking back at their legacy, Mustaine’s assessment carries the weight of truth: “We started a musical style, we started a revolution, we changed the guitar world and how it’s played, and we changed the world.” Strong words, perhaps — but who could argue? Megadeth’s influence on metal guitar technique and songwriting complexity has shaped generations of musicians who followed in their wake.

The current lineup — featuring Mustaine alongside Teemu Mäntysaari, James Lomenzo, and Dirk Verbeuren — plans to hit the road for what promises to be an epic farewell tour. Dates haven’t dropped yet, but the anticipation is already building.

To those struggling with the news, Mustaine offers characteristically sage advice: “Don’t be mad, don’t be sad, be happy for us all, come celebrate with me these next few years.”

As that ominous countdown clock on their website ticks away toward what appears to be their final studio release, one thing becomes crystal clear — Megadeth isn’t just ending their story. They’re crafting their legacy with the same precision and power that’s defined their music for forty years. And really, would we expect anything less from the architects of thrash?

Stop the presses, darlings — the fashion world just got flipped on its perfectly coiffed head. Emily Charlton, everyone’s favorite sharp-tongued fashion assistant-turned-rival, has undergone a transformation that’s left Manhattan’s style set absolutely gobsmacked.

Emily Blunt (who honestly hasn’t aged a day since 2006) has been spotted on the set of “The Devil Wears Prada 2” sporting a look that’s giving serious power-player energy. Gone are the signature ginger locks that defined her character’s first outing — replaced by an ice-queen platinum bob that’s already sparked three TikTok trends and countless “Is platinum the new cerulean?” think pieces.

The whole situation feels deliciously calculated, doesn’t it? There she was, strutting down Fifth Avenue in — wait for it — a Coach sweater with an almost painfully tourist-friendly apple motif. Like, hello? This is Emily we’re talking about. The same woman who once declared she was “one stomach flu away from my goal weight” wouldn’t be caught dead in anything less than Valentino’s latest capsule collection… unless there’s something decidedly more cunning at play.

Word around the Condé Nast water cooler (or should we say kombucha bar, given it’s 2025?) is that the sequel’s plot will pit Emily against her former boss, the eternally terrifying Miranda Priestly. Meryl Streep’s return to her most iconic role since, well, her last iconic role, promises a delectable showdown over advertising dollars in an era where print magazines are practically vintage curiosities.

The wardrobe choices are sending fashion sleuths into overdrive. Those vibrant red pants? A deliberate callback to the infamous cerulean monologue, perhaps. The black Maison Margiela skirt that followed? Pure power move. And don’t even get us started on those maroon ankle boots that practically screamed “corner office, sweetie.”

Just weeks ago, Blunt was still rocking Emily’s trademark ginger situation, paired with a Dior ensemble that would’ve made even the most jaded fashion editor reach for their Hermès handkerchief. The platinum switch-up suggests something major’s brewing in the plot department — though whether it’s a professional phoenix moment or a full villain origin story remains to be seen.

The gang’s all here for round two, with Anne Hathaway returning as Andy (prayers up for better bangs this time around), and Stanley Tucci reprising his role as the eternally fabulous Nigel. Fresh faces including Patrick Brammall, Pauline Chalamet, and Simone Ashley are joining the fashion fracas, presumably to remind us all how ancient we’ve become since the original dropped.

David Frankel’s return to the director’s chair promises to deliver everything we loved about the first film, while acknowledging how drastically the fashion landscape has shifted. In an age of AI fashion designers and virtual runway shows, the stakes feel higher than ever. Though honestly? Some things never change — like the fact that a million girls would still kill for that job.

One thing’s crystal clear: in the world of “The Devil Wears Prada,” transformation isn’t just about switching up your hair color or landing the corner office. It’s about power, perception, and the perfectly timed power play. That’s all.

…No, really. That’s all.

Well, darlings, NBC just couldn’t resist dipping its perfectly manicured toes into television’s most deliciously deceitful waters. The network — you know, the one with the peacock that’s not quite Peacock — is serving up its own helping of “The Traitors,” minus the celebrity garnish.

And thank heavens Alan Cumming isn’t going anywhere. Fresh off snagging an Emmy for his masterful hosting of season two (and sporting those magnificent kilts), he’ll continue ruling over that atmospheric Scottish castle where betrayal comes with a side of highland charm. Really, who else could deliver those perfectly timed eyebrow raises with such panache?

Here’s the truly fascinating bit — while Peacock’s version has become something of a retirement home for reality TV veterans (seriously, some of these folks have spent more time on camera than off), NBC’s taking things back to basics. They’re throwing regular folks into the mix. Think Karen from accounting and Bob from the hardware store getting their chance to scheme and plot like proper villains.

The timing couldn’t be more spot-on. With Peacock already giving seasons four and five the green light (and honey, wait till you hear about season four’s cast — Donna Kelce trading football drama for castle intrigue? Yes, please), this expansion feels practically destined.

For those who’ve somehow managed to avoid the water cooler conversations — bless your hearts — “The Traitors” is essentially what would happen if Agatha Christie designed a reality show. Contestants split into Faithfuls and Traitors, then spend their time pointing fingers and clutching pearls while trying to figure out who’s been metaphorically stabbing them in the back.

The civilian version won’t grace our screens until 2026 (practically ancient history in TV terms), but it’s following in the footsteps of its British cousin, which has proven that you don’t need a blue checkmark to deliver grade-A drama. Sometimes the most riveting television comes from watching Sharon the school teacher discover her inner Machiavelli.

It’s rather poetic, really. The U.S. version started with a mixed bag of civilians and celebrities before going full-Hollywood, and now we’re coming full circle. There’s something rather refreshing about returning to the Dutch original’s premise — ordinary people doing extraordinary amounts of lying.

NBC’s move signals something bigger, too. In an era where streaming platforms seem to have cornered the market on must-watch TV, traditional networks are proving there’s still life in the old girl yet. Especially when murder-mystery shenanigans are involved.

So here’s to more seasons of suspicion, Scottish mist, and civilian subterfuge. After all, treachery tastes just as sweet whether it’s served with a side of fame or not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a mysterious murder to solve and a castle full of suspects waiting.