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British snack politics just got a dash of Hollywood sparkle, and honestly, who saw that coming? In what might be 2023’s most delightfully bizarre cultural crossover, JoJo Siwa and Chris Hughes have stepped right into the middle of Britain’s great Jaffa Cake debate — you know, that endless argument about whether these chocolate-orange treats are actually cakes or biscuits.

The couple (yeah, that’s still throwing people for a loop) showed up at BST Hyde Park wearing matching statement tees that screamed their position on this very British controversy. Hughes went straight for the jugular with “Cake? Behave it’s a Biscuit” plastered across his chest. Not to be outdone, Siwa brought her trademark sparkle to the table with a rhinestone-covered declaration: “I Don’t Really Care Bout’ What They Say Jaffa Cakes Are Biscuits.”

Hold up — let’s rewind a bit.

This whole snack-based spectacle is just the latest chapter in what’s turning out to be one of entertainment’s more fascinating relationships. Since their paths crossed on Celebrity Big Brother back in April, these two have been turning heads faster than a TikTok trend. The 10-year age gap? The internet’s got opinions. Siwa’s previous public identity as a lesbian? Social media’s been having a field day.

But here’s the thing — amid all the chatter, dance guru Abby Lee Miller (who’s known Siwa since she was just a competitive kid with big dreams) recently caught up with the pair in Orlando. Her take? “She’s living her best life,” Miller observed, noting that authentic spark between them that can’t be faked for cameras.

Speaking of authenticity, Siwa’s been remarkably candid about her journey. “When I came out at 17, I said: ‘I’m pansexual, because I don’t care [about gender],’” she shared with YOU magazine. Then came a pause, a reflection: “But then I kind of boxed myself in and I said: ‘I’m a lesbian.’ And I think I did that because of pressure.”

Their romance has been a whirlwind tour — from Mexican beaches to quaint Cotswolds villages, and now, somewhat inexplicably, to the frontlines of British snack warfare. It’s the kind of plot twist that would’ve seemed absurd in a pitch meeting, yet somehow feels perfectly at home in our increasingly genre-blending world.

The parental seal of approval? Rock solid. Miller spilled that tea: “Her mom Jessalynn and her dad Tom love that she brought a guy home.” Meanwhile, Siwa’s been dropping those three little words that make tabloid editors weak at the knees — “head over heels.”

As for that Jaffa Cake debate? Well, McVitie’s has been watching British families duke this out since 1927. The fact that it’s now roped in an American dance sensation and a British reality star feels like peak 2023 — a year when cultural boundaries seem about as solid as a chocolate orange filling.

Siwa recently mused about “stepping into something new… and a little scary” on her socials, talking about emerging from her “sparkly little bubble.” There’s something rather poetic about marking that evolution by diving headfirst into one of Britain’s most cherished food fights. Sometimes growth means not just falling in love, but also taking sides in battles you never knew existed — even if they involve chocolate-covered snacks of debatable classification.

Europe’s media landscape is about to witness its biggest shake-up since Netflix crashed the party. RTL Group’s planned acquisition of Sky Deutschland, initially priced at €150 million but potentially swelling beyond half a billion euros, isn’t just another corporate merger—it’s a calculated power play that could reshape how millions of Europeans consume their daily entertainment fix.

Think about it: the combined reach will touch roughly 11.5 million paying subscribers across German-speaking Europe. That’s not just a number on a spreadsheet; it’s the equivalent of every person in Belgium suddenly tuning into the same media ecosystem. Not too shabby for a deal that started with a relatively modest price tag.

Thomas Rabe, RTL’s chief executive, called the merger “transformational”—perhaps the understatement of the decade. The deal brings together two entertainment heavyweights, each bringing their own secret sauce to the table. Sky Deutschland comes armed with premium sports rights that would make any broadcaster salivate: Bundesliga, Premier League, Formula 1. Meanwhile, RTL isn’t exactly showing up empty-handed, flexing a impressive portfolio of 60 TV channels, seven streaming platforms, and 37 radio stations scattered across Europe.

Here’s where it gets interesting. The deal’s structure includes a performance-based kicker that could send the final price tag soaring to €527 million—provided RTL’s share price hits €41 within five years of closing. It’s like watching a high-stakes poker game where everyone at the table knows the pot could suddenly triple.

For Comcast, Sky’s current parent company, the timing feels… well, complicated. After dropping a jaw-dropping £31 billion to acquire Sky in 2018, watching the value shrink by nearly a quarter must sting. Sometimes even media giants bet big and come up short.

But let’s talk brass tacks. The merged company promises €250 million in annual cost savings within three years—music to shareholders’ ears, sure, but what about the viewers? The marriage of RTL’s entertainment chops with Sky’s sports empire could create something genuinely special. Or at least something strong enough to give those Silicon Valley streaming giants a run for their money.

Speaking of sports, Sky Deutschland’s recent lock on Bundesliga rights through 2028-29 adds another layer of intrigue. In the high-stakes world of sports broadcasting, that’s like holding a royal flush—and it certainly helps justify the acquisition price.

Looking ahead to 2025, when the deal’s expected to close (pending those always-fun regulatory approvals), RTL will get to wave the Sky flag across several territories, including Luxembourg, Liechtenstein, and even Italy’s South Tyrol province. Not a bad consolation prize.

For current Sky Deutschland subscribers, this could mean access to a seriously beefed-up content library. Though questions linger about the future of certain Sky services—those Stream boxes relying on Comcast’s tech, for instance. Sometimes the devil really is in the details.

Bottom line? This merger isn’t just another footnote in the endless saga of media consolidation. It’s a bold statement from European players tired of playing second fiddle to global streaming giants. Whether this gamble pays off remains to be seen, but one thing’s crystal clear: the European media chessboard just got a whole lot more interesting. And for once, it’s not Netflix making the next move.

The soul music landscape dimmed a bit last Thursday as Walter Scott Jr., the velvet-voiced anchor of the Whispers, took his final bow at 81. After months of battling cancer, Scott passed away in Northridge, California — far from his Texas roots but in the city where his musical legacy first took flight.

Some voices just stick with you. Scott’s was one of those — smooth as honey, yet carrying the weight of genuine soul that defined an entire era of R&B excellence. His passing marks more than just the end of a career; it’s the closing of a chapter in American musical history that stretched across six decades.

Questlove, ever the musical sage, captured Scott’s essence perfectly. He described him as “one of the most trusted voices in ’70s soul music” — like that gifted uncle who could casually outshine everyone at the family reunion with his effortless vocal runs and signature scatting. That combination of raw talent and approachable charm made Scott impossible not to love.

The Whispers’ journey kicked off in 1963 San Francisco, when the Scott twins — Walter and Wallace “Scotty” — joined forces with Marcus Hutson, Gordy Harmon, and Nicholas Caldwell. But success wasn’t immediate. Walter’s path took an unexpected detour when duty called, and he served in Vietnam. By 1969, he was back where he belonged, helping shape what would become one of R&B’s most influential sounds.

Their breakthrough finally came with “The Time Has Come” that same year. Not long after, “Seems Like I Gotta Do Wrong” cracked the R&B Top 10, setting the stage for what was to come. But it was the 1980s when the Whispers — powered by Scott’s distinctive vocals — really hit their stride. Their self-titled album went platinum, while tracks like “And the Beat Goes On” and “Rock Steady” became more than just hits; they became part of the American musical DNA.

The group’s influence rippled far beyond their era. Their sound became a goldmine for hip-hop producers, with everyone from 50 Cent to J. Cole sampling their work. Will Smith famously transformed “And the Beat Goes On” into the sun-drenched “Miami” — proving the timelessness of Scott’s musical contributions.

“We all are incredibly heartbroken,” shared the group’s publicist, Desirae Benson, in a touching social media tribute. “His voice, presence, and contributions helped shape a musical legacy that touched millions.” Simple words for an extraordinary loss.

Scott’s legacy lives on through more than just statistics — though 15 Billboard R&B Top 10 hits and inductions into both the Vocal Group Hall of Fame and National Rhythm & Blues Hall of Fame speak volumes. He leaves behind his wife Jan, two sons, three grandchildren, and his twin brother Wallace — his harmony partner for over 60 years.

In today’s world of manufactured stars and fleeting fame, Walter Scott Jr. and the Whispers created something real — something that continues to resonate through generations. Maybe that’s because soul music, when it comes from a place of truth, never really dies. It just keeps on keeping on, much like the beat Scott helped set in motion all those years ago.

Bruce Springsteen just dropped a bomb on the music world — and it’s not your typical archival cash grab. The Boss, who turns 75 this year, has unleashed something that feels almost too good to be true: seven complete, previously unreleased albums packaged as “Tracks II: The Lost Albums.” Yeah, you read that right. Seven whole albums.

In an age where every artist seems to be ransacking their vault for quick streaming numbers (looking at you, 2025 deluxe editions), this collection stands apart. We’re talking 83 fully realized songs that somehow never made it past Springsteen’s notoriously high bar for release. Until now.

The crown jewel might just be the mythical “Streets of Philadelphia Sessions” — or the “loops record,” as studio insiders have dubbed it. Brandon Flowers of The Killers practically went weak in the knees during a recent studio visit when he caught wind of its existence. One spin of the lead single “Blind Spot” explains why. It’s Springsteen doing his best David Lynch impression, crooning dark poetry over synth waves that’d feel more at home in a neo-noir film than a stadium show.

Timing’s a funny thing, though. Here’s Bruce, three-quarters of a century old, sitting at this weird intersection. He’s still raising hell about political corruption (his words about the “treasonous administration” haven’t exactly made him friends in certain circles), while some fans side-eye his $500 million catalog sale back in ’21. But maybe that’s missing the point.

Take the “L.A. Garage Sessions ’83” — recorded in some apartment above his Hollywood Hills pad. Between “Nebraska” and “Born in the U.S.A.,” Springsteen wasn’t just trying to figure out what kind of star he wanted to be. He was experimenting with who he was as an artist, period.

The collection’s range is staggering. There’s “The Klansman,” a character study that’ll make your skin crawl (in the best way). “Twilight Hours” could’ve been lifted straight from a Sinatra session. And then there’s “Inyo” — a whole damn album influenced by Mexican music that Bruce soaked up during motorcycle trips through SoCal. Who knew?

“Recording at home gave me freedom,” Springsteen admits in the liner notes, probably understating things a bit. “I could explore different musical directions without watching the clock.” Sometimes artists need that space to wander — even if the results end up gathering dust for decades.

What emerges isn’t just some alternate-universe version of Bruce. It’s a reminder that even our most seemingly straightforward rock heroes contain multitudes. For every “Born to Run” that made it to the finish line, there’s a “Blind Spot” that took a detour. Neither better nor worse — just different flavors of truth from an artist who, thankfully, never stopped searching.

Hollywood’s landscape shifted dramatically this week, marking the end of two distinct chapters in entertainment history — one tragically permanent, the other more of a strategic shuffle in the industry’s ever-evolving dance.

The entertainment world lost a remarkable voice when Rebekah Del Rio, whose haunting performance in David Lynch’s “Mulholland Drive” left audiences spellbound, passed away at 57 in her Los Angeles home. Del Rio’s Spanish rendition of “Crying” (“Llorando”) wasn’t just another cover — it was pure magic captured in celluloid, the kind of raw emotional performance that makes the hair on your arms stand up.

From her early days in Chula Vista to becoming Lynch’s muse in Club Silencio, Del Rio’s journey embodied the classic Hollywood story of talent meeting opportunity. During what would become one of her final conversations with the press, she shared with IndieWire last year how she approached that iconic scene: “I sang along because I felt I had to produce that same feeling with the vibrato in my throat so the audience could see it.” Pure artistry, no autotune required.

Meanwhile, over in the sports entertainment arena — where reality often outshines script — TNT Sports is preparing to dim the lights on its NBA TV operations after 17 years of courtside drama. Think of it as the network equivalent of a veteran player being traded; the game continues, just under different colors.

The corporate pirouette was announced by TNT Sports Chair and CEO Luis Silberwasser, who delivered the news with all the finesse of a seasoned Hollywood PR pro. “We made several proposals to continue to provide services and operate the NBA TV network and related digital assets,” he explained, though apparently the numbers just wouldn’t play ball.

But here’s the silver lining that’s got basketball fans breathing easier: The Inside the NBA crew — that perfectly chaotic family of Charles Barkley, Kenny Smith, Shaquille O’Neal, and the ever-diplomatic Ernie Johnson — isn’t hanging up their mics. They’re just switching networks, taking their chemistry and unfiltered commentary to ESPN and ABC. It’s like when your favorite sitcom changes time slots; different channel, same laughs.

As Del Rio’s voice echoes into eternity through Lynch’s surreal masterpiece, and basketball’s most entertaining quartet prepares for their next adventure, we’re reminded that entertainment, like life itself, is a series of endings and beginnings. Some final bows are forever, while others are just intermissions before the next act.

Hollywood’s supposed decline in Asia-Pacific? That particular plot twist just got flipped on its head — and the story’s getting more interesting by the minute.

Remember all those doom-and-gloom predictions about Western entertainment losing its grip on Asian markets? Well, they’ve aged about as well as a VHS tape in the streaming era. The latest buzz from the APOS summit suggests something far more captivating: Western content isn’t just hanging on — it’s evolving, adapting, and sometimes even leading the cultural conversation across the region.

NBCUniversal’s Chris Taylor dropped what might be the understatement of 2025 when he pointed out the obvious (yet somehow frequently overlooked) truth: audiences still crave quality content, regardless of its origin. The numbers back him up — though perhaps not in the way traditional industry analysts expected.

Here’s where things get fascinating. Gone are the days of simply dubbing a Hollywood blockbuster in Japanese and calling it a day. Sony Pictures Entertainment has embraced a strategy that’s more “local fusion cuisine” than “fast food franchise.” They’re not just translating dialogue; they’re crafting experiences that resonate across multiple Indian languages — Hindi, Tamil, Telugu — you name it. The result? Engagement numbers that would make a viral TikTok trend jealous.

But wait — there’s an unexpected player in this cultural chess match. Italian cinema (yes, you read that right) is making moves that would impress even the most seasoned streaming strategist. The Italian Screens program at Shanghai’s International Film Festival proves that sometimes the most compelling stories come from unexpected places. When director Paolo Genovese jokes about his films’ impact on relationships, it’s clear that emotional resonance transcends any language barrier.

Speaking of unexpected players — Crocs (those polarizing rubber shoes that somehow survived the fashion apocalypse) has managed to turn cultural fusion into marketing gold. Their latest campaign reads like a love letter to Asian entertainment, blending Bollywood swagger with K-drama charm. It’s the kind of cross-cultural pollination that marketing textbooks will probably be dissecting for years to come.

The real magic happens in what Nine Entertainment’s Amanda Laing describes as true partnership — those unwritten, unspoken moments of collaboration that transform business relationships into cultural bridges. It’s less about contracts and more about connections, less about metrics and more about meaningful exchange.

Over in Japan, U-Next’s COO Toshi Honda confirms what many suspected but few would admit: blockbusters still rule the roost. Whether it’s in theaters or on streaming platforms, big-budget spectacles continue drawing crowds and subscribers like moths to a particularly expensive flame.

The industry’s evolution in Asia-Pacific reveals a crucial truth: success in today’s entertainment landscape demands more than just good content — it requires cultural fluency, adaptability, and a willingness to color outside the traditional lines. As NBCUniversal’s Taylor suggests, creative thinking isn’t just an asset anymore; it’s a survival skill.

This isn’t just another chapter in the entertainment industry’s story — it’s a whole new genre being written in real-time. And if the current trajectory holds, we might need to rethink everything we thought we knew about global content distribution. The plot thickens, as they say in the business.

Hollywood’s latest casting announcement feels like someone threw a dart at the entertainment industry’s phone book – and somehow hit nothing but bullseyes. Legendary Entertainment’s upcoming Street Fighter adaptation has assembled what might be the most wonderfully bizarre ensemble since Ocean’s Eleven convinced A-listers to play dress-up together.

Remember when video game movies were just quick cash grabs with D-list celebrities? Those days are apparently dead and buried. The production company just dropped a cast list that reads like someone’s fever dream wishlist actually came true.

Andrew Koji’s landing the role of Ryu shouldn’t surprise anyone who’s been paying attention. Between his work on “Warrior” and that scene-stealing turn in “Bullet Train,” the guy’s basically been auditioning for this role without knowing it. But here’s where things get interesting – really interesting.

Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson as Balrog? Sure, why not. The man who brought us “In Da Club” throwing haymakers as Street Fighter’s notorious boxer somehow makes perfect sense. After his surprisingly nuanced work in “Get Rich or Die Tryin’” and that killer run on “Power,” Jackson’s proven he’s got more than enough presence to make Balrog’s swagger feel authentic.

Then there’s Jason Momoa taking on Blanka. Yeah, that Blanka – the green-skinned electricity-conducting warrior who probably gave half of us nightmares in the 90s. But if anyone can make a character that ridiculous feel grounded, it’s the guy who made Aquaman cool again. (Still can’t believe we’re living in that timeline, by the way.)

Speaking of presence – WWE’s Roman Reigns stepping into Akuma’s role feels almost too perfect. After dominating professional wrestling for what feels like forever (1,316 days as Universal Champion, but who’s counting?), portraying Street Fighter’s ultimate warrior seems like a natural progression.

Perhaps the most fascinating bit of casting magic? Orville Peck trading his signature rhinestone mask for Vega’s iconic metal one. There’s something deliciously meta about a masked country singer playing a masked Spanish ninja – the kind of detail that makes you wonder if someone in casting deserves a raise.

The younger crowd gets their eye candy too. Noah Centineo’s bringing his “Black Adam” experience to Ken Masters, while newcomer Callina Liang takes on the pressure-cooker role of Chun-Li. And comedian Andrew Schulz as Dan Hibiki? That’s the kind of inspired casting that suggests someone actually understands both the character and the source material.

With Bad Trip’s Kitao Sakurai directing, this whole enterprise walks a tightrope between reverence and reinvention. Street Fighter’s moved north of 55 million units worldwide – clearly, there’s something timelessly appealing about its particular brand of martial arts mayhem.

Let’s be honest – Street Fighter’s previous Hollywood outings haven’t exactly set the world on fire. (Pour one out for Raul Julia’s final performance.) But this cast… this absolutely bonkers assembly of talent… well, it suggests someone finally understands that adapting a game where yoga masters fight sumo wrestlers requires both serious commitment and a healthy sense of the absurd.

The plot details remain under wraps tighter than M. Bison’s military uniform, but with this ensemble, 2025’s Street Fighter adaptation might just be the one that finally gets it right. At the very least, it’ll be fascinating to watch them try.

The vaults of music history hold secrets far more intriguing than what’s played on your favorite streaming playlist. Take Bruce Springsteen’s latest revelation — a staggering 83-song collection dubbed “Tracks II: The Lost Albums.” It’s not just another compilation; it’s seven complete unreleased albums that rewrite everything we thought we knew about The Boss’s creative journey.

Unreleased music isn’t exactly a new phenomenon in rock’s storied halls. Neil Young kept “Homegrown” under wraps for nearly half a century before finally letting it see daylight in 2020. And who could forget Brian Wilson’s “Smile” — that mythical Beach Boys project that took until 2004 to finally emerge in its completed form?

But there’s something different about Springsteen’s vault dive.

Unlike Bob Dylan’s impulsive shelving of records or Neil Young’s notorious mood-driven decisions, Springsteen approached his archives with almost surgical precision. “I’ve always released my records with great care,” he writes in the liner notes, sounding more like a master curator than your typical rock star.

The crown jewel? That would be the near-mythical “Streets of Philadelphia Sessions” from ’93 — known in fan circles as the “loops record.” When The Killers’ Brandon Flowers dropped by Springsteen’s studio recently, he didn’t waste time with small talk. “I want to hear the loops album,” he declared, like a kid who’d just discovered where the Christmas presents were hidden.

Speaking of surprises — the collection’s lead single “Blind Spot” feels like stumbling into an alternate universe where Springsteen scored neo-noir films instead of crafting highway anthems. “We inhabited each other / like it was some kind of disease,” he croons over synthesizer waves that would make Angelo Badalamenti proud. It’s more midnight confession than “Born to Run,” and honestly? It works.

Remember that supposedly quiet stretch Springsteen had in the ’90s? Turns out “quiet” meant “wildly experimental.” During his less-discussed “Goateed Bruce” phase (yeah, that was a thing), he traded in those stadium-ready choruses for something decidedly more introspective.

The whole vault-raiding trend has picked up steam lately. Prince’s “Black Album” became such hot bootleg property that Warner Bros. finally caved and gave it an official release in ’94. And let’s pour one out for Dr. Dre’s “Detox” — the album that spent so long in development hell that Dre finally threw in the towel, admitting, “I didn’t like it… I worked my ass off on it, and I don’t think I did a good enough job.”

These lost albums often reveal fascinating what-if scenarios. Green Day’s stolen “Cigarettes and Valentines” led them to create “American Idiot” instead — a pretty decent consolation prize, all things considered. As Billie Joe Armstrong later mused, maybe that theft was the universe’s way of saying, “try again, but better this time.”

“Tracks II” does more than just empty Springsteen’s musical closet — it reshapes our understanding of his artistic DNA. While he’s recently made headlines for his pointed political statements (like that fiery Manchester show where he called out America’s “corrupt, incompetent, and treasonous administration”), these recordings reveal a more complex figure: an artist willing to venture far beyond E Street’s familiar territory.

In the end, what emerges is a portrait of Bruce Springsteen as a creative soul containing multitudes. Behind that carefully crafted image of rock’s conscience lies a restless experimenter who, in the sanctuary of his home studio, wasn’t afraid to color outside the lines.

“The ability to record at home whenever I wanted,” Springsteen reflects, “allowed me to go into a wide variety of different musical directions and spend as much time as I needed formulating a project.” It’s a reminder that even our most iconic artists sometimes need to step away from expectations and follow their muse — even if we have to wait decades to hear where it led them.

The music world lost one of its most versatile voices last Thursday when Lalo Schifrin, the mastermind behind the unforgettable “Mission: Impossible” theme, passed away from pneumonia complications at 93. His legacy? That infectious five-note melody that’s been living rent-free in our collective consciousness for nearly six decades.

You know the one — “Dum-dum DUM DUM dum-dum DUM DUM.” Written in that quirky 5/4 time signature, it’s become more than just a TV show opener. As New Yorker film critic Anthony Lane perfectly put it, it’s “only the most contagious tune ever heard by mortal ears.” The theme even managed to snag the #41 spot on Billboard’s Hot 100 back in ’68, proving that sometimes the most memorable tunes come from the most unexpected places.

Born Boris Claudio Schifrin in Buenos Aires, his path to Hollywood reads like something straight out of a film script. The son of a philharmonic concertmaster, young Schifrin spent his college days at Buenos Aires’ Colegio Nacional University secretly passing around banned American jazz records under Juan Perón’s watchful eye. Talk about foreshadowing — here was a guy already breaking musical barriers before he’d even started his career.

“In music, the choices are infinite,” he wrote in his 2008 autobiography, and boy, did he prove it. Schifrin’s work defied easy categorization, earning him six Oscar nominations along the way. Though that golden statuette proved elusive for decades, justice finally came in 2018 when his old friend Clint Eastwood presented him with an honorary Academy Award. At the ceremony, Kathy Bates nailed it: “His work cannot be easily labeled. Is what he creates jazz? Is it classical, contemporary, popular?” The answer, naturally, was all of the above.

The “Mission: Impossible” story began rather simply in ’66. Series creator Bruce Geller needed something special — “exciting, almost like a logo,” as Schifrin recalled years later. Working with nothing but a description of a burning fuse, Schifrin crafted what would become his most enduring piece. “Maybe the fact that I was so free and had no images to catch, maybe that’s why this thing has become so successful,” he mused in 2006.

That theme — which Schifrin admitted he wrote with “a little humor, lightness” — didn’t just define the original series. It became the backbone of eight (and counting) Tom Cruise blockbusters, with modern composers like Danny Elfman and Michael Giacchino building their own variations on Schifrin’s immortal foundation.

Beyond that iconic theme, Schifrin’s fingerprints are all over American cinema. “Cool Hand Luke,” “Dirty Harry,” “Bullitt,” “Enter the Dragon” — each score showcased his knack for blending jazz, classical, and contemporary elements into something entirely fresh. His approach to “Dirty Harry” was particularly clever, scoring for the villain instead of the hero and letting Scorpio’s theme drive the musical narrative.

But Hollywood was just one chapter in Schifrin’s story. He arranged for jazz giants like Dizzy Gillespie (his self-proclaimed “only master”), conducted major symphony orchestras, and even created arrangements for the Three Tenors that helped classical music reach new audiences.

Even in his final months, Schifrin kept pushing boundaries. This past April, he collaborated with fellow Argentine composer Rod Schejtman on “Long Live Freedom,” a 35-minute symphony that premiered at Buenos Aires’ Teatro Colón. What better way to close out a career spent breaking down musical walls?

Schifrin leaves behind his wife Donna, three children — William, Frances, and Ryan — four grandchildren, and countless musicians inspired by his fearless approach to composition. His parting words at that 2018 Oscar ceremony seem especially poignant now: “Receiving this honorary Oscar is the culmination of a dream. It is mission accomplished.” Indeed it was, maestro. Indeed it was.

TIFF’s Golden Anniversary Lineup Sparkles with Star Power and Fresh Faces

Darlings, Toronto’s about to turn fifty, and she’s doing it with the kind of panache that would make Madonna’s reinventions look positively amateur. The Toronto International Film Festival just dropped its first wave of Special Presentations for 2025, and honey, it’s serving exactly the kind of cinematic feast we’ve been craving in this post-strike era.

Cameron Bailey, TIFF’s ever-diplomatic CEO, unveiled a lineup that’s got everyone from streaming moguls to old-school cinema purists nodding in approval. And while he’s calling it a reflection of “innovation, heart, and global perspective,” let’s call it what it really is — a masterclass in festival programming that proves Toronto hasn’t lost its touch after five decades in the game.

Steven Soderbergh (yes, that Steven Soderbergh) is gracing us with “The Christophers” — marking his tenth TIFF appearance, if you’re keeping score. The film pairs Ian McKellen with Michaela Coel and, somewhat surprisingly, James Corden in what’s being whispered about as his comeback vehicle after that rather unfortunate restaurant drama. The premise? Think “The Thomas Crown Affair” meets “Succession,” but with art forgery and family dysfunction cranked up to eleven.

But here’s where things get really interesting. Nia DaCosta’s modern spin on “Hedda Gabler” might just be the festival’s crown jewel. Tessa Thompson takes on the titular role in “Hedda,” and darling, the early buzz suggests she’s about to do for Ibsen what Cate Blanchett did for Streetcar. The footage that’s leaked online (not that anyone’s officially acknowledging it) hints at something wickedly contemporary.

Speaking of ambitious undertakings, Alejandro Amenábar has apparently outdone himself with “The Captive.” The film chronicles Miguel de Cervantes’ time in 16th-century Algiers — and if you’re thinking “not another period piece,” hold that thought. Word from pre-screenings suggests it’s more “The Favourite” than “Shakespeare in Love,” if you catch my drift.

Canadian cinema’s getting its moment too, thank heavens. Chandler Levack’s “Mile End Kicks” — featuring Jay Baruchel in what might be his meatiest role since “Goon” — promises to do for Montreal’s indie music scene what “High Fidelity” did for vinyl snobs. Bailey’s particularly proud of this one, and honestly? He should be.

The festival’s spreading its wings with a new International People’s Choice Award, though one has to wonder if this isn’t a subtle jab at certain other festivals’ increasingly insular approach to cinema. (Venice, darling, is that you we’re side-eyeing?)

From September 4-14, 2025, Toronto’s transforming into the kind of cinematic wonderland that makes Cannes look positively provincial. Between the TIFF Tribute Awards Gala at the Fairmont Royal York (September 7, mark those calendars) and the return of Festival Street, it’s shaping up to be less of a birthday party and more of a declaration: TIFF isn’t just surviving, it’s thriving.

And really, isn’t that what turning fifty should be about? The festival’s first wave of announcements suggests there’s plenty of life in the old girl yet. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a stack of screening schedules demanding attention and a very persistent publicist insisting I simply must see this year’s Palme d’Or winner. The things we do for cinema, darling.