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Sometimes the best relationship advice comes from learning what not to do — just ask Miley Cyrus. The pop star recently dropped a truth bomb about her mother’s rather questionable dating wisdom during a remarkably candid family interview with The Cut. And honestly? It explains quite a bit about her romantic history.

The “Flowers” singer, now 32, revealed that her mom Tish Cyrus had some rather… interesting criteria when it came to relationship guidance. “Mom’s always wanted me to stay with the wrong guy ’cause they’re hot,” Miley shared, delivering the kind of family tea that makes PR managers reach for their anxiety meds.

Tish, bless her heart, doubled down on her unconventional philosophy. Her defense? Well, if the relationship fizzles out after a few years, “at least you get to look at somebody that’s frigging hot!” (Someone might want to alert relationship counselors everywhere — this could spark some fascinating case studies.)

The revelation came during what turned into an unexpectedly illuminating family discussion, with Miley’s sisters Brandi and Noah joining in. For those keeping score at home, Miley’s romantic highlight reel includes some of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors — from Nick Jonas to Liam Hemsworth (complete with marriage and divorce) to Cody Simpson.

But here’s where the story takes a turn toward actual wisdom. Miley’s apparently graduated from the school of surface-level attraction to something considerably more substantial. “I ended up with a person who means a lot to me and treats me really well and respects me,” she reflected, referring to current boyfriend Maxx Morando. The kicker? “I had to learn that the hard way because my mommy taught me the wrong way and then I had to learn the right way by myself.”

The generational divide couldn’t be clearer. While Tish was apparently running around with a measuring tape checking height requirements — “Mom was like, ‘They need to be tall’” — Miley’s journey reflects a broader shift in relationship priorities. Who knew emotional intelligence would become the new six-pack abs?

Noah Cyrus, currently engaged to Pinkus, chimed in with a sisterly “We are in the same boat,” suggesting the Cyrus sisters might need to start a support group for recovering from maternal dating advice. Meanwhile, eldest sister Brandi managed to thread the needle, noting that her partner Matt Southcombe checks both boxes — “hot as hell” and presumably capable of adult conversation.

The whole exchange offers a fascinating glimpse into family dynamics and the sometimes complicated process of unlearning problematic relationship advice. It’s worth noting that Tish herself has recently turned a new page, having tied the knot with Australian actor Dominic Purcell in August 2023 after finalizing her divorce from Billy Ray Cyrus.

Perhaps — as Brandi suggested with her observation about their mother’s “evolution” — there’s hope for all of us to grow beyond our initial relationship criteria. Though maybe next time, starting with “must respect boundaries” instead of “must be tall” might save everyone some time.

The music world finds itself caught in an unexpected storm of controversy, as a recent clash between Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters and Jack Osbourne has laid bare the raw emotions still surrounding Ozzy Osbourne’s passing. The heated exchange — sparked by Waters’ remarkably cold comments about the late metal icon — has touched a nerve across the industry, particularly given its timing.

Waters, never one to mince words, dropped a bombshell during his sit-down with The Independent Ink. “Ozzy Osbourne, who just died, bless him in his whatever that state that he was in his whole life,” the 81-year-old Pink Floyd founder remarked with startling indifference. Then came the real gut punch: “The music, I have no idea. I couldn’t give a f***.”

Perhaps most jarring was Waters’ dismissive reference to one of rock’s most persistent urban legends. “I don’t care about Black Sabbath, I never did. Have no interest in biting the heads off chickens or whatever they do.” The comment — reducing decades of musical innovation to a single sensationalized incident — seemed calculated to provoke.

Jack Osbourne wasn’t having it. The 39-year-old son of the metal legend took to Instagram with the kind of raw, unfiltered response that only a grieving son could deliver. “How pathetic and out of touch you’ve become,” he fired back in a blistering Instagram Story. “The only way you seem to get attention these days is by vomiting out bulls*** in the press.” Then came the knockout blow: “My father always thought you were a c**t — thanks for proving him right.”

The timing couldn’t be more painful. Just weeks after Ozzy’s final hometown show in Birmingham — a deeply moving farewell to his roots — the Prince of Darkness took his final bow at 76. His death certificate revealed a complex interplay of health challenges: cardiac arrest, acute myocardial infarction, coronary artery disease, and Parkinson’s disease.

What makes Waters’ comments particularly tone-deaf is their stark contrast to Ozzy’s monumental impact on music history. As Black Sabbath’s frontman and later as a solo artist, he didn’t just perform metal — he helped create it. Those thundering riffs and that unmistakable voice shaped countless careers, inspiring generations of musicians who’d never dream of questioning his legacy.

The Osbourne family’s grief remains palpable. Kelly Osbourne recently shared a heartbreaking Instagram post: “I’ve sat down to write this a hundred times and still don’t know if the words will ever feel like enough.” Jack’s own tribute — noting the precious “14,501 days” spent with his father — speaks volumes about the personal toll behind the public persona.

This latest controversy serves as a sobering reminder of how public figures process private grief under the spotlight’s glare. As the music world continues to evolve in 2025, perhaps it’s worth reflecting on how we discuss artistic legacies — especially when the final notes have barely faded away.

Waters’ remarks might grab headlines, but they’ve also sparked a deeper conversation about respect, timing, and the proper way to honor — or critique — fellow artists after they’ve taken their final bow. Sometimes, as this situation painfully demonstrates, silence might be the better part of valor.

Hollywood’s luminous constellation lost one of its brightest stars last week — Graham Greene, the incomparable Indigenous actor whose magnetic presence transformed the entertainment landscape, took his final bow at 73. His passing in Toronto on September 1st marks the end of an era that changed how Native American stories sparkle on the silver screen.

Darlings, let’s talk about that breakthrough moment in “Dances with Wolves” — pure magic. As Kicking Bird, Greene didn’t just act; he commanded the screen with a gravitas that had Kevin Costner’s epic Western practically genuflecting in his presence. That Oscar nomination? Honey, it was just the industry finally catching up to what some of us had known all along.

The path to stardom wasn’t exactly paved with stardust for this Six Nations Reserve native. Before the klieg lights and designer wardrobes (though Greene was never one for Hollywood’s more outrageous fashion moments), he worked every blue-collar job imaginable. “I stumbled into acting,” he once confessed to Reader’s Digest Canada with that trademark dry wit we’ve all come to adore. His description of the actor’s life as “the life of a dog” just drips with that delicious irony that made him impossible not to love.

But make no mistake — Greene was nobody’s trained poodle. From “Die Hard With a Vengeance” to “The Green Mile,” he turned what could have been forgettable supporting roles into master classes in scene-stealing. And darling, don’t even get me started on his work in “Reservation Dogs” — what a perfectly poetic final chapter for an actor who spent decades kicking down Tinseltown’s doors for Indigenous talent.

The accolades? Naturally, they came pouring in — a Grammy, a Gemini, a Canadian Screen Award. But it’s the story about that horse from “Dances with Wolves” that truly captures the essence of the man. Upon learning his equine co-star had been sold by its young owner, Greene didn’t hesitate: “Take it out of my salary if you have to.” Now that’s the kind of old-school Hollywood heart we’re desperately missing in today’s Instagram-obsessed industry.

His agent, Michael Greene, summed it up perfectly: “He was a great man of morals, ethics and character.” In an industry where those qualities are about as rare as an original screenplay these days, Graham Greene stood as a testament to authenticity.

The curtain may have fallen, but Greene’s legacy lives on through his wife of 35 years, Hilary Blackmore, daughter Lilly Lazare-Greene, and grandson Tarlo. While audiences will get one last glimpse of his genius in the upcoming thriller “Ice Fall” (alongside the rather dashing Joel Kinnaman), it’s the trail he blazed for Indigenous representation that will forever be his standing ovation.

Farewell, darling Graham. You didn’t just change the game — you rewrote the rules entirely.

Darlings, let me tell you about Europe’s latest must-see production – and no, it’s not another “Succession” spin-off. Think more “James Bond meets SpaceX,” but with a decidedly Scandinavian twist that would make even Daniel Craig’s ice-blue eyes pop with envy.

Welcome to Esrange Space Center, Europe’s answer to NASA’s Cape Canaveral, nestled in the Swedish wilderness like an ultra-exclusive spa retreat for rockets. Only instead of cucumber water and hot stone massages, we’re talking satellite launches and space debris recovery – all set against a backdrop that makes Antarctica look positively tropical.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect, really. Europe has been playing the quiet understudy to America’s space diva for far too long, and like any good makeover story, it’s finally ready for its transformation moment. Hermann Ludwig Moeller, director of the European Space Policy Institute (serving major industry oracle energy), drops this truth bomb: Europe needs to double down on its space investment faster than celebrities jumping on the AI startup bandwagon.

But here’s where it gets juicy. Picture this: A sprawling 6-square-kilometer facility, more than 200 kilometers north of the Arctic Circle, surrounded by enough pristine Nordic wilderness to make any eco-conscious A-lister weep with joy. The landing zone? A whopping 5,200 square kilometers of untouched forest – that’s larger than some small countries, sweeties.

The plot thickens with America’s recent attitude adjustment. U.S. Vice President JD Vance (serving some serious tough love at the Munich Security Conference last February) basically told Europe to get its act together. And don’t even get me started on the Elon Musk situation – that man brings more drama to space than the entire “Real Housewives” franchise combined.

Speaking of star power, the commercial space race has transformed from an exclusive government soirée into the hottest ticket in town. SpaceX and Blue Origin are the new power players, turning space into the ultimate VIP room. As Ulrika Unell, Esrange’s orbital launch division president, reminds us – every time you check your Instagram or TikTok, you’re basically waving hello to a satellite.

The Swedish Space Corporation isn’t just building a spaceport; they’re crafting the next big thing in European autonomy. With satellite launches expected to triple by 2025 (move over, streaming wars), Esrange is positioning itself as the continent’s premier space runway. Those 30-plus antennas chatting with polar-orbiting satellites? That’s the equivalent of having front-row seats at Fashion Week, darling – only instead of catching the latest Chanel drops, they’re catching data from space.

Let’s talk about that landing zone, shall we? Mattias Abrahamsson, Esrange’s business development director, casually mentions how rocket motors “just fall freely into the ground” like they’re dropping off last season’s accessories. The only VIP guests? Local Sami reindeer herders, who get advance notice when space hardware decides to make a dramatic entrance.

Europe’s space awakening isn’t just another tech trend – it’s about independence, power, and yes, a touch of glamour. As we cruise into 2025, with private space tourism taking off and satellite constellations becoming the new must-have accessory, Europe is finally ready to step into the spotlight.

And darling, if Esrange Space Center is any indication, this show is going to be absolutely fabulous.

Remember the streaming wars of 2020? Well, buckle up — because what’s happening now makes those early skirmishes look like a warmup act. As we cruise through 2025, the entertainment industry’s tectonic plates aren’t just shifting; they’re doing the cha-cha, and Big Tech is leading the dance.

Just ask John Malone. The Liberty Media chairman — a guy who’s forgotten more about media deals than most execs will ever know — dropped some serious truth bombs during his recent Yahoo Finance podcast appearance. His take? The streaming landscape isn’t just ripe for consolidation — it’s practically begging for it.

Let’s face it: the current streaming ecosystem is about as sustainable as a chocolate teapot. Craig Moffett, that sage of media analysis, nailed it when he pointed out that we’re running out of musical chairs. Four major players? Maybe. Six? Dream on. The math simply doesn’t work anymore.

Remember when cord-cutting seemed like financial liberation? Yeah, about that… These days, keeping up with must-watch content means juggling more subscriptions than a magazine stand. Between Disney+, Netflix, Max, Peacock, and whatever else launched while you were reading this sentence, viewers’ wallets are crying uncle.

Here’s where things get interesting. Enter the tech titans — Google, Microsoft, Oracle, Meta — sitting on mountains of cash and user data that’d make traditional media moguls weep. They’re not just watching the entertainment industry’s chaos; they’re measuring it for new curtains.

Take the recent YouTube TV-Fox drama. When Fox flexed its muscles over their shiny new Fox One streaming service, YouTube (backed by Google’s seemingly bottomless pockets) didn’t even flinch. The result? A deal that kept 9.4 million subscribers glued to their NFL games and World Series coverage. Power move? You bet.

But here’s the kicker — this isn’t just another corporate chess match. The tech giants bring something special to the party: scary-smart AI algorithms that know what you want to watch before you do, plus social networking DNA that turns passive viewing into shared experiences. When YouTube already commands 13% of TV watch time, traditional media execs might want to keep their résumés updated.

Still, content remains king (or at least co-regent). Disney, with its vault of beloved characters and real-world theme park empire, isn’t exactly shaking in its boots. Even Malone acknowledges their unique position in this brave new world.

Looking ahead to late 2025, the entertainment landscape is morphing into something previous generations wouldn’t recognize. Social media and streaming are becoming more entangled than a pair of earbuds in your pocket. AI isn’t just suggesting what to watch — it’s reshaping how stories are told. And somewhere in all this, viewers are still hoping to find something good to watch without taking out a second mortgage.

The curtain’s rising on what might be the most fascinating act in entertainment history. Traditional boundaries between tech and media are dissolving faster than a TikTok trend. The winners? They’ll be the ones who figure out how to serve up irresistible content through cutting-edge tech without breaking viewers’ banks.

Grab some popcorn — and maybe invest in a bigger hard drive. This show’s just getting started, and spoiler alert: the next plot twist might just redefine how we think about entertainment altogether.

In what might be the most unexpected plot twist of 2025’s already bizarre entertainment landscape, Woody Allen — yes, that Woody Allen — has emerged as Donald Trump’s latest cheerleader. Well, sort of.

The praise isn’t political (thank goodness, because who needs more of that?). Instead, Allen’s surprising endorsement focuses squarely on Trump’s forgotten stint as an actor in Allen’s 1998 film “Celebrity.” During a recent appearance on Bill Maher’s “Club Random” podcast, the four-time Oscar winner couldn’t help but gush about Trump’s on-screen presence.

“He was a pleasure to work with and a very good actor,” Allen declared, momentarily setting aside his Democratic leanings. The scene in question? A mere 11-second cameo where Trump essentially played himself — though looking back now, it feels more like an eerie prophecy. Trump’s character mused about demolishing St. Patrick’s Cathedral to build “a very, very tall and beautiful building.” Some things never change, right?

Here’s where it gets interesting. Allen — who’s quick to point out he disagrees with “99 percent” of Trump’s politics and voted for Kamala Harris — painted a picture of Trump as something of a natural performer. The former president apparently “hit his mark, did everything correctly and had a real flair for show business.” Who’d have thought?

The timing of these comments couldn’t be more peculiar. With the 2024 election aftermath still sending shockwaves through the country and Trump’s legal battles dominating headlines, Allen’s casual praise of Trump’s acting chops feels almost refreshingly… normal?

Bill Maher, ever ready with a zinger, couldn’t resist pointing out the potential fallout. “If you think you were canceled before…” he quipped to Allen, whose own controversial history has made him something of an expert in public opinion roller coasters.

Perhaps the most fascinating part of Allen’s reflection wasn’t about Trump’s acting at all. The director seemed genuinely perplexed by Trump’s career pivot. “This was a guy I used to see at the Knick games,” Allen mused, “and he liked to play golf, and he liked to judge beauty contests.” The unspoken question hung in the air: How did we get from there to here?

In a moment of what could only be described as peak 2025 surrealism, Allen even suggested he’d like to direct Trump again — this time as president. “Let me make the decisions,” he added with a hint of that classic Allen humor, acknowledging the sheer impossibility of such a scenario.

Maher, never one to miss an opportunity for commentary, wrapped it all up with a neat bow: “Politics is the ultimate acting job.” In an era where reality TV stars become presidents and social media influencers shape policy debates, truer words have rarely been spoken.

The whole exchange serves as a peculiar reminder of how entertainment and politics continue to blend in ways that would’ve seemed absurd even a decade ago. It’s also a testament to how even the most polarizing figures can occasionally be viewed through a different lens — even if it’s just for their ability to nail an 11-second cameo in a ’90s film.

Strange times indeed. But then again, what else would you expect from 2025?

Venice’s historic Arsenale sparkled with new purpose last night, as Hollywood royalty and art world luminaries gathered for an intimate — yet impressively impactful — amfAR gala. The event proved that even in 2025, amid the dazzling circus of film festivals, genuine moments of connection still shine brightest.

Colman Domingo commanded the evening with effortless grace. His custom Valentino jacket — a shade of green that somehow managed to both complement and compete with the venue’s centuries-old architecture — set a tone of understated extravagance that carried throughout the night.

The gathering felt notably different from its flashier Cannes cousin. Perhaps it was the way the fading sunlight played across the lagoon, or maybe just the distinctly Venetian mix of old-world charm and contemporary edge. Whatever the reason, there was something special in the air — and not just the intoxicating blend of Aperol spritz and negronis wafting from the waterfront terrace.

Jude Law made an appearance, taking a brief break from the buzz surrounding his controversial turn as Putin in “The Wizard of the Kremlin.” The actor seemed almost relieved to trade political drama for philanthropy, though he couldn’t quite escape questions about his provocative new role.

The evening’s soundtrack shifted beautifully from sophisticated background beats to raw emotion when Paris Jackson took the stage. Her acoustic performance — surprisingly intimate for such a grand space — floated across tables where guests savored local Ombrina fish, a clever culinary nod to Venice’s maritime heritage.

But it was during the live auction that the night truly found its heart. Director Julian Schnabel, whose “In the Hand of Dante” has been generating serious festival buzz, made an unexpected move that electrified the room. After offering one of his signature plate portraits, he spontaneously doubled down — two pieces, 500,000 euros each. Singer Halsey claimed one, later revealing a deeply personal connection to the cause.

“A couple years ago, I got diagnosed with two pretty severe autoimmune diseases,” she shared on the red carpet, her candor cutting through the typical gala glitz. “amfAR’s work… it’s not just about HIV/AIDS anymore. They’re pushing boundaries in autoimmune and cancer research, helping people who might not have the same access I do.”

The foundation, approaching its 40th anniversary with nearly $950 million raised, found a passionate advocate in Schnabel, who received the Award of Inspiration. His support of amfAR’s mission seems to grow stronger with each passing year.

As the night wound down, pop sensation Ava Max transformed the sophisticated soirée into something approaching a high-end dance party. Even the most reserved guests couldn’t resist abandoning their seats — though some might deny it in the morning.

The evening concluded in true Venetian style: a flotilla of water taxis, their lights twinkling like stars reflected in the canal, carried their celebrity cargo into the night. They left behind an event that managed something increasingly rare in today’s world of charitable galas — a perfect balance of glamour and genuine purpose, where every euro raised felt like it really mattered.

Rock’s most infamous bad boys showed their softer side at MetLife Stadium, where Oasis transformed their anthem “Live Forever” into something unexpectedly poignant — a heartfelt tribute to the young victims of the Minneapolis Catholic school shooting.

The moment caught everyone off guard. There stood Liam Gallagher, notorious for his sharp tongue and sharper attitude, his trademark swagger giving way to genuine tenderness as he dedicated the song to “the kiddies of Minneapolis.” The gesture acknowledged the devastating attack at the Church of Annunciation that left two children dead and 18 parishioners wounded, proving that even rock’s most hardened hearts can break.

Who’d have thought we’d see this day? The Gallagher brothers — whose feuds once seemed as eternal as their musical legacy — sharing a stage again in 2025, much less showing such public compassion. Their first U.S. performances since 2008 have become something more than just another reunion tour; they’re a testament to growth, both personal and professional.

The MetLife show crackled with their signature electricity. “Gonna need your help in the choruses,” Liam called out before launching into “Stand By Me” — a far cry from the band’s historically thorny relationship with American audiences. Remember the crystal meth incidents? The cancelled shows? The middle fingers to the music industry machine?

Noel recently mused about their complicated stateside history: “They couldn’t handle the fact that we didn’t give a f-k about anything.” While Oasis dominated charts worldwide, America remained somewhat elusive. Billboard’s top spot? Never quite grabbed it, watching instead as grunge titans like Nirvana and Pearl Jam captured the zeitgeist.

But times change. Sometimes it takes decades for the world to catch up to a band’s wavelength. Their current Live Nation tour — projected to rake in a cool $200 million — suggests America might finally be ready for Oasis on their own terms.

The night peaked during “The Masterplan,” with Noel conducting a massive singalong. “You might’ve wondered what it might be like to sing this next song with 60, 70,000 of your fellow Oasis fans,” he teased the first-timers. “Well, you’re going to find out what that feeling is like.”

As fireworks painted the Jersey sky, something felt different. Here was a band once known for spitting on American stages, now dedicating songs to tragedy’s innocent victims. Perhaps that’s the real masterplan — learning that true rebellion sometimes means knowing when to lay down your arms and open your heart.

The Music Revolution Nobody Saw Coming

Remember when we thought auto-tune was controversial? Well, hold onto your headphones, because the music industry is experiencing something far more dramatic — and it’s not coming from traditional recording studios or garage bands.

The latest chart-topping sensation might just be created by someone who’s never touched an instrument in their life. Take Oliver McCann, who performs under the name imoliver. He recently made headlines by landing a groundbreaking deal with Hallwood Media — marking the first time a record label has signed an AI music creator. Here’s the kicker: McCann freely admits he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. “I have no musical talent at all,” he says, without a hint of shame.

This seismic shift in music creation, powered by AI tools like Suno and Udio (and whatever new platforms emerge by 2025), isn’t just disrupting the industry — it’s completely rewriting the rules of who gets to be called a musician. Deezer’s latest reports show that AI-generated tracks now make up nearly one-fifth of daily uploads, though they’re still fighting for mainstream attention.

Some unlikely stars are emerging from this digital renaissance. Scott Smith’s AI band Pulse Empire sounds like it could’ve shared the stage with Duran Duran back in the day. “Music producers have lots of tools in their arsenal,” Smith points out, making a case for AI as just another instrument in the modern musician’s toolkit — albeit one that doesn’t need tuning.

But not everyone’s dancing to this new beat.

The industry giants aren’t exactly throwing a welcome party. Sony Music Entertainment, Universal Music Group, and Warner Records have all lawyered up, filing suits against AI music platforms faster than you can say “copyright infringement.” Meanwhile, more than 1,000 artists — including legends like Kate Bush and Annie Lennox — have launched a protest through a rather poetic silent album release.

Josh Antonuccio, who directs Ohio University’s School of Media Arts and Studies, doesn’t mince words: “It’s a tsunami,” he says of the AI music wave. The economics are staggering — what once required expensive studio time and professional equipment now needs little more than a good prompt and some patience.

Yet there’s something reassuringly human about the whole situation. Even the most enthusiastic AI music creators admit that machine-generated lyrics often fall flat — “quite cliche and quite boring,” as McCann puts it. This limitation has sparked an interesting hybrid approach: human storytelling meets artificial composition, creating something entirely new.

The industry’s at a familiar crossroads — think Napster era, but with robots. The legal landscape remains about as clear as mud, with courts and lawmakers scrambling to keep pace with the technology. It’s the Wild West all over again, except this time the cowboys are coding instead of riding horses.

Despite the pushback, creators like McCann see nothing but possibility on the horizon. “Anyone, anywhere could make the next big hit,” he predicts. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing. After all, isn’t democratizing creativity what art’s supposed to be about?

This shift might just be the biggest thing to hit music since someone figured out how to capture sound on wax cylinders. As AI tools get smarter (and they definitely will by 2025), the line between human and machine creativity keeps getting blurrier. The next platinum record might come from your neighbor’s teenager — or their laptop.

The real question isn’t whether AI will change music — that ship has sailed. It’s about how we’ll define artistry in this brave new world. Maybe it’s time to expand our definition of what makes a musician. After all, creativity has always been about breaking rules and pushing boundaries. Perhaps AI is just the latest instrument in humanity’s endless symphony of innovation.

Darlings, Venice’s legendary Lido is serving up the most delectable drama cocktail this season — and honey, it’s not just the Aperol Spritz talking. The festival’s latest offerings have thrown together HBO Max’s Italian sensation ‘Portobello’ with Jim Jarmusch’s ‘Father Mother Sister Brother’ in a fascinating pas de deux of prestige and controversy.

Let’s dish about Jarmusch first, shall we? The auteur’s triumphant return to Venice after what feels like eons (two decades, but who’s counting?) brought us the divine Cate Blanchett in all her luminous glory. Picture this: The Sala Grande erupting in a five-minute standing ovation that had La Blanchett practically floating on air — and honestly, wouldn’t you?

The film itself? A sumptuous family drama spanning three continents, with a cast that reads like a dream dinner party guest list: Adam Driver (still riding high from that Oscar buzz), the eternally enchanting Vicky Krieps, and — be still my beating heart — Charlotte Rampling. In a moment that could’ve been plucked straight from Hollywood’s golden age, Jarmusch went full gentleman, bestowing kisses on his leading ladies’ hands. Mayim Bialik and Indya Moore rounded out this embarrassment of riches, darling.

But because we can’t have nice things without a dash of drama (it’s 2025, after all), there’s the sticky situation with Mubi. The co-producer’s connection to Sequoia Capital has sparked more fires than a Real Housewives reunion, thanks to the venture firm’s Israeli defense-tech investments. Jarmusch, bless his straight-shooting soul, didn’t sugar-coat it: “I was disappointed and disconcerted,” he admitted, before dropping this gem — “all corporate money is dirty.” Well, honey, ain’t that the truth?

Meanwhile, on the Italian front… grab your popcorn, because this one’s juicier than a summer tomato. HBO Max’s first Italian original, ‘Portobello,’ serves up a riches-to-rags story that would make even the most jaded Hollywood exec’s jaw drop. The series chronicles the spectacular fall of Enzo Tortora — think Italy’s answer to Johnny Carson, if Carson had suddenly found himself in a Kafka novel.

Get this: It’s 1982, and Tortora’s commanding an audience of 28 million viewers (not too shabby) with a show featuring… wait for it… people trying to get words out of a parrot. But faster than you can say “career suicide,” one jailed mafioso’s testimony sends our host’s life into a tailspin that makes Lindsay Lohan’s troubles look like a minor PR hiccup.

The whole spectacle — both premieres, that is — perfectly captures Venice’s particular magic. One minute you’re contemplating the complexities of cross-continental family bonds, the next you’re deep in a stranger-than-fiction tale of justice gone sideways. And threading through it all? The Apartment Pictures, a Fremantle company that’s clearly mastered the art of being everywhere that matters.

As Venice continues to unfold (like a couture gown that’s worth more than my apartment), these premieres remind us that in the entertainment world, art, commerce, and controversy are eternal dance partners. And honestly? We wouldn’t have it any other way.