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Dawn’s breaking over Manhattan, and something extraordinary is happening. While most New Yorkers are wrestling with their snooze buttons, hundreds of party-ready souls are queuing up around city blocks — not for the latest sneaker drop or sample sale, but for what might be the most counterintuitive trend in modern nightlife: The 9AM Banger.

Yeah, you read that right. 9AM.

The concept sounds almost absurd at first glance. Who wants to party before their morning coffee? Turns out, quite a few people do. What began in 2015 as a casual pre-SantaCon gathering in Washington Heights has exploded into a nationwide phenomenon that’s completely flipping the script on traditional party culture.

“People were absolutely living by 10 o’clock,” says Jordan Jackson, whose TikTok capture of the event racked up nearly 500K views. “But here’s the weird part — everyone was actually talking to each other. When’s the last time you saw that in a regular club?”

The masterminds behind this morning mayhem — Adrian Almonte, Kenneth, and Jonathan Espinal — didn’t set out to revolutionize the party scene. Their creation was more happy accident than calculated strategy, proof that sometimes the best ideas come from simply trying something different. “It’s evolved into something way beyond a club vibe,” Jonathan reflects, his voice carrying a hint of amazement. “We’ve built this… community, I guess you’d call it. People feel like they belong here.”

And belong they do. The 9AM Banger has somehow managed to do what countless nightclubs have failed at — creating genuine connections. Gone are the tired tropes of VIP sections and overpriced bottle service. Instead, picture spontaneous McDonald’s nugget deliveries (yes, really) and surprise appearances by artists like Ne-Yo and French Montana. It’s the kind of organic chaos that money can’t manufacture.

The demographic reach is where things get really interesting. While the core crowd spans 21 to 35, the founders keep getting unexpected requests. “We had this email asking if we had tables for someone’s grandma,” Kenneth shares with a laugh. “That’s when we knew we’d tapped into something special.”

Looking ahead to 2025, as wellness culture continues its dominance and Gen Z reshapes social norms, The 9AM Banger feels less like a trend and more like a glimpse into the future of celebration. It’s perfectly aligned with changing attitudes toward health, work-life balance, and authentic connection.

M’tyma McNeal, 34, puts it perfectly: “Being back home at a decent hour while still having had an epic time? That’s the dream right there.” It’s a sentiment that resonates with a generation increasingly conscious of both their time and their wellbeing.

Now hitting its 10-year milestone with a national tour, The 9AM Banger stands as proof that sometimes the best parties happen while the rest of the world is still hitting snooze. In an age where genuine human connection feels increasingly rare, these morning celebrations offer something precious: a chance to dance, connect, and celebrate — all before lunch.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what we need right now.

Darlings, the 2025 Tribeca Festival just dropped its jury lineup, and honey, it’s giving us everything we didn’t know we needed. Think of it as the Met Gala of the indie film world — except instead of questionable fashion choices, we’re getting an absolutely delicious roster of creative powerhouses who’ll be deciding which films deserve their moment in the spotlight.

Let’s dish about who’s holding court this summer (June 4-15, if you’re marking your calendars). The U.S. Narrative Feature Competition — arguably the festival’s crown jewel — has landed quite the catch with Nia DaCosta. Fresh off her absolutely haunting “28 Years Later: The Bone Temple” (still having nightmares about that third act, by the way), she’s joining forces with Pulitzer darling Colson Whitehead and industry veteran Art Linson. Now there’s a combo that could either spark pure magic or total chaos — and honestly? Here for either.

The international category? Oh, honey. Kyle MacLachlan — yes, Agent Cooper himself — is bringing his otherworldly charm to the judges’ table. He’s teaming up with “Succession” scene-stealer Dagmara Dominczyk (whose Twitter takes on last year’s AI actors’ strike were absolutely *chef’s kiss*) and the brilliant Toby Jones, fresh from his Indiana Jones adventure.

Speaking of brilliant combinations — the Nora Ephron Award panel is serving us some serious comedy credentials. Annie Murphy (post-“Schitt’s Creek” glow still intact) and Caroline Aaron (forever our favorite Maisel ensemble member) are taking the reins. If anyone knows how to spot that special Ephron-esque magic in female filmmakers, it’s these two.

But wait — there’s more. Documentary features are getting the star treatment with Mira Sorvino (who’s basically reinvented herself as an industry power player since her Romy and Michele days), alongside documentary heavyweight Sara Bernstein and the unstoppable Ben Proudfoot.

The short film category? Just casual excellence with Ilana Glazer bringing her signature chaos energy, paired with the legendary Sheila Nevins. That’s like pairing a shot of espresso with aged whiskey — unexpected, but potentially brilliant.

Nancy Lefkowitz, Tribeca’s EVP, summed it up with characteristic understatement: “We’re proud to welcome an eclectic group of jurors.” (Translation: We’ve assembled the Avengers of the entertainment industry, darling.)

Mark your calendars for June 12 — that’s when all these brilliant minds will crown their chosen ones across 15 categories. And yes, they’re covering everything from traditional narratives to gaming and audio storytelling, because it’s 2025 and apparently, we’re all living in the future now.

Between Matthew Broderick’s old-school Hollywood charm and Stephanie Hsu’s fresh perspective (still riding high from that Oscar nod for “Everything All At Once at Last”), this year’s jury lineup feels like the perfect blend of “been there, done that” wisdom and “wait, what if we tried this?” innovation.

In a year when AI-generated content is flooding our screens (looking at you, questionable Netflix algorithm), there’s something deeply satisfying about having real humans — complicated, opinionated, brilliant humans — making these crucial creative calls. The 2025 Tribeca Festival isn’t just celebrating stories; it’s championing the messy, beautiful, human art of storytelling itself.

Move over, Hollywood blockbusters — the toast of Cannes this season comes served with a side of political bite and a generous helping of Iraqi charm. “The President’s Cake,” a deliciously dark debut from New York-based filmmaker Hasan Hadi, just snagged the People’s Choice Award at Directors’ Fortnight, proving that sometimes the most compelling stories arrive without the usual helping of special effects and A-list names.

Darlings, when a film about baking a birthday cake for Saddam Hussein becomes the talk of the festival circuit, you know we’re in for something special. This isn’t just another serving of standard festival fare — it’s a masterclass in turning childhood memories into edge-of-your-seat cinema that’s got everyone from jaded critics to seasoned festival-goers reaching for their metaphorical chef’s hats.

The premise sounds like something cooked up in a fever dream: nine-year-old Lamia must deliver a birthday cake to Iraq’s most feared man or face consequences that would make any Hollywood villain blush. Yet in Hadi’s capable hands, this slice of 1990s Iraq transforms into something altogether more profound. (And speaking of transformations, whoever thought sanctions and sugar could make such a compelling combination?)

Pete Hammond — yes, that Pete Hammond, whose praise is about as rare as a quiet night during awards season — practically swooned over this “true gem and real discovery.” When Pete gets this excited about a film, it’s like spotting Meryl Streep at your local coffee shop — you stop and pay attention.

The €7,500 prize money might seem modest by Hollywood standards (that’s barely enough to cover the craft services budget for your average superhero film), but the prestige? Darling, that’s priceless. This is, after all, the only audience-voted award across all of Cannes’ sections, carrying the weight of Chantal Akerman’s legacy. Talk about pressure!

Meanwhile, over in the European corner, “Wild Foxes” by Belgian filmmaker Valéry Carnoy proved itself quite the overachiever — much like that one friend who always shows up to the party with both the perfect bottle of wine AND a homemade dessert. The film waltzed away with both the Europa Cinemas Label and the SACD’s Coup de Coeur prize, serving up what the jury called an exceptional take on “young male friendship and fragility.”

Word is, the lead actor’s giving off serious James Dean vibes — and honestly, when was the last time anyone managed that without looking like they were trying too hard? The jury’s swooning description of “a body at work, a heart that blossoms” reads like poetry… or perhaps the back cover of a particularly ambitious romance novel.

With Films Boutique handling international sales and UTA managing North American rights for “The President’s Cake,” expect to see this Iraqi sensation making its way to screens near you soon. In an industry currently obsessed with AI blockbusters and recycled franchises (looking at you, superhero movie number 47 of 2025), it’s refreshing to see substance rising to the top — even if it comes in the form of a potentially lethal birthday cake.

Hollywood’s latest box office sensation comes with an unexpected twist of irony. “Sinners,” Ryan Coogler’s genre-bending vampire epic, has crossed the $320 million mark worldwide — quite the feat for a film that cost just $90 million to produce. Yet amid the champagne popping, social media can’t stop revisiting that troubling 2022 moment when Bank of America mistook the celebrated director for a bank robber.

The resurfaced body cam footage feels particularly poignant now. There’s Coogler — confused, hands up — being cuffed at an Atlanta bank counter simply for passing a withdrawal slip while wearing a mask (remember those?). The contrast between that moment and his current triumph speaks volumes about America’s persistent struggle with racial profiling, even as Black creators continue reshaping Hollywood’s landscape.

But let’s talk about the film itself — because damn, what a ride. Michael B. Jordan pulls off a masterclass in duality, portraying the SmokeStack twins with such distinct personalities you’d swear they cast actual siblings. The story follows their return to Mississippi to open a juke joint, though naturally, the local vampires have other ideas about the menu.

Coogler’s direction here proves why he’s become one of Hollywood’s most vital voices. The film seamlessly blends horror conventions with pointed social commentary, never letting either element overshadow the other. Hailee Steinfeld delivers her most nuanced work to date, while Delroy Lindo reminds everyone why he’s a national treasure. Newcomer Miles Canton, meanwhile, might just be 2025’s breakout star — assuming those Oscar whispers keep getting louder.

Perhaps most intriguing is Coogler’s forward-thinking approach to creative ownership. His contract with Warner Bros. includes a clause returning the film’s rights to him after 25 years — practically unheard of in an industry that typically holds onto IP with vampire-like tenacity.

For those who haven’t caught “Sinners” in theaters (though that second-week drop of just 38% suggests plenty have), the film hits digital platforms June 3rd. Max subscribers will likely get their chance later this summer, though the streaming details remain frustratingly under wraps. Meanwhile, good luck finding that special edition 4K Steelbook — it vanished from shelves faster than, well, a vampire at sunrise.

“Sinners” represents something increasingly rare in today’s franchise-dominated landscape: a commercial hit that refuses to pull its punches. In crafting this supernatural meditation on assimilation and cultural appropriation, Coogler hasn’t just made another successful film — he’s created a cultural moment that bites back at convention while feeding audiences’ hunger for original storytelling.

Trust Jennifer Lopez to turn a New York minute into a fashion marathon. The perennial shape-shifter of pop culture just pulled off what might be her most audacious feat yet — delivering three knockout looks in just 36 hours, each one more conversation-worthy than the last.

Let’s talk about that spiderweb dress. The Zuhair Murad creation wasn’t just another red carpet moment; it was pure theater. Lopez showed up at composer John Kander’s 98th birthday bash wearing what can only be described as architecture in motion — a see-through black number that had social media doing double-takes. Those Yeprem diamonds? Probably visible from space.

The web motif wasn’t exactly subtle, but then again, subtlety has never been J.Lo’s strong suit. The dress served as a rather spectacular hint at her upcoming role in “Kiss of the Spider Woman” — a project that’s been generating serious buzz since its Sundance premiere back in January.

But even queens have their moments. Earlier that evening, Lopez found herself in what could’ve been an awkward situation when her peach Ilkyaz Ozel dress (a relative bargain at $835) decided to chart its own course. The plunging neckline apparently missed the memo about staying put. Yet there she was, handling it with the kind of grace that comes from decades of red carpet experience.

The night wasn’t done with her yet. For the afterparty at Bryant Park Grill, Lopez emerged in what looked like something straight out of a modernist architect’s fever dream — a white Stephane Rolland creation featuring a leg slit that seemed to be reaching for real estate in the next zip code.

“Mother is mothering🔥” — as the kids say these days. And really, what better way to sum it up?

Meanwhile, as Lopez continues her spider-themed fashion evolution (remember that rhinestone-covered Valdrin Sahiti web dress from Sundance?), Hollywood’s been busy with its own drama. Michael B. Jordan’s “Sinners” has been quietly demolishing box office records, pulling in $321 million globally and cementing its place as the third-highest-grossing domestic horror film ever. Critics can’t seem to decide if it’s brilliant or bonkers — probably both, if Rolling Stone’s A.A. Dowd has anything to say about it.

At 55, Lopez isn’t just keeping pace with the entertainment industry’s relentless march forward — she’s leading the parade. Whether she’s spinning web-inspired fashion statements or gracefully navigating wardrobe rebellions, she’s proving that reinvention isn’t just a young person’s game. In an industry obsessed with the next big thing, Lopez remains, perhaps defiantly, the current big thing.

In a twist that perfectly captures the bizarre state of American politics circa 2025, even Bruce Springsteen tribute bands can’t escape the endless culture wars. Who’d have thought covering “Born in the U.S.A.” could become such a political powder keg?

The latest drama unfolded when No Surrender — a nine-piece outfit channeling The Boss’s signature sound — got caught in the crossfire between Springsteen and former President Trump. Their $2,500 gig at Riv’s Toms River Hub went up in smoke faster than a muscle car on Thunder Road, all because of some choice words Springsteen delivered across the pond.

During his European tour opener in Manchester, The Boss didn’t mince words. “The America I love, the America I’ve written about, that has been a beacon of hope and liberty for 250 years, is currently in the hands of a corrupt, incompetent and treasonous administration.” Pretty strong stuff from the guy who gave us “Dancing in the Dark.”

The venue owner, Tony Rivoli, wasn’t having any of it. “Because Bruce can’t keep his mouth shut we’re screwed,” he texted bandleader Brad Hobicorn. Another message laid bare the local political reality: “Toms River is red and won’t stand for [Springsteen’s] bulls-t.”

Here’s where things get really interesting — and kind of absurd. Trump himself jumped into the fray through his favorite megaphone, Truth Social. The former president branded Springsteen a “prune” (seriously?) and dubbed him “highly overrated” and “dumb as a rock.” Because nothing says presidential quite like playground insults aimed at rock stars.

Bass player Guy Fleming cut straight to the heart of the matter in a social media post that’s been making the rounds. “When you cancel a week in advance, it financially hurts the musicians in the band because they lose a days pay if they can’t find another gig,” he wrote. “I explained to the owner that he wasn’t hurting Bruce, but he was hurting nine New Jersey musicians he booked to play at his club.”

Thank goodness for silver linings — No Surrender managed to land on their feet. They’ve secured a new venue at Headliner Oasis in Neptune Township for the same date. Sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches, especially when you’re trying to make a living playing music in these politically charged times.

The whole mess serves up a perfect snapshot of America’s current divide. When even cover bands get dragged into the political mud-slinging, you know we’re living in strange times. Local venues are stuck walking a tightrope between their bottom line and their community’s political leanings — and sometimes there’s just no winning.

But hey, the show must go on. No Surrender will keep playing those beloved classics, even if some folks can’t separate the art from the artist’s politics. Maybe there’s a lesson in there somewhere about the power of music to bring people together — or at least there would be if everyone wasn’t so busy arguing about it.

Rock and roll refuses to fade into history. While critics have long predicted the twilight of classic rock, veteran bands continue packing stadiums — proving that great music transcends the boundaries of time and age. These legendary acts aren’t just hanging on; they’re thriving alongside contemporary powerhouses, creating an extraordinary tapestry of cross-generational musical excellence.

Take the Eagles, those masterful storytellers of the American West. They’re writing their final chapter with “The Long Goodbye Tour,” which stretches tantalizingly into 2025. The choice of Las Vegas’s mind-bending Sphere venue for their farewell shows couldn’t be more fitting — a technological marvel that wraps cutting-edge innovation around timeless artistry. Who’d have thought that the band behind “Hotel California” would bid farewell amid 16K resolution screens and spatial audio that makes every seat feel like front row?

Meanwhile, shock rock’s grand master Alice Cooper keeps pushing boundaries, drawing inspiration from none other than Mick Jagger’s seemingly endless vitality. Cooper’s upcoming “The Revenge of Alice Cooper” isn’t just another album — it’s a reunion with his original bandmates after 50 years. Now that’s what you call coming full circle.

The road belongs to more than just solo acts, though. Styx, those architects of prog-rock grandeur, continue evolving their sound. With their 18th studio album dropping in 2025, they’re proving that creativity doesn’t come with an expiration date. Their journey from “Mr. Roboto” to fresh material showcases how classic acts can honor their legacy while refusing to become museum pieces.

Cheap Trick embodies this spirit of perpetual performance perhaps better than anyone. Twenty studio albums in, and they’re still at it — no retirement plans in sight. “We’ll play as long as we can stand up there and do it,” they’ve famously declared. It’s not just bravado; it’s a mission statement.

Chicago’s brass-powered rock machine keeps rolling too. Twenty-three gold albums out of 26 releases? That’s not just success — that’s dominance. Despite lineup changes that would’ve crushed lesser bands, their connection with audiences remains unshakeable. Maybe it’s because they never lost sight of what matters: the music itself.

And then there’s AC/DC, still thundering across stages worldwide. Two hundred million records sold, and they’re taking it “one step at a time” — which, in AC/DC terms, means continuing to deliver stadium-shaking performances that leave audiences breathless. Their measured approach belies the raw energy they bring to every show.

These touring titans share stages with emerging forces like Sleep Token and Spiritbox, creating a fascinating dialogue between rock’s past and future. It’s not competition — it’s collaboration across decades, proving that great music knows no generational bounds.

The persistence of these classic rock bands speaks volumes about the enduring power of live music. Whether they’re commanding massive stadiums or intimate venues, these artists demonstrate that authentic rock and roll still possesses the power to unite audiences across age groups and eras. Some things, it seems, only get better with time.

The Voice finale became an unexpected milestone in rock history last night when Kelly Hansen, Foreigner’s powerhouse vocalist, chose that electric moment to announce his departure. As the final notes of “Feels Like the First Time” hung in the air, Hansen dropped the bombshell that sent shockwaves through the rock community.

Talk about a plot twist nobody saw coming.

Hansen’s nearly two-decade run as Foreigner’s frontman represents more than just impressive longevity — it’s a testament to his ability to breathe fresh life into a legendary band that many had written off in the early 2000s. At 64, he’s managed to do what seemed impossible: step into Lou Gramm’s formidable shoes and make them his own.

“Being the voice of Foreigner has been one of the greatest honors of my life,” Hansen shared in a statement that felt more like a heartfelt letter to fans than a formal announcement. “But it’s time to pass the mic.” The timing of his exit — just months before the band’s landmark 50th anniversary in 2025 — adds an extra layer of poignancy to the transition.

Mick Jones, the band’s founding architect and sole original member, didn’t mince words about Hansen’s impact. Now 80, Jones has seen it all, yet his praise for Hansen carries the weight of someone who’s weathered every storm in the band’s journey. “Kelly Hansen is one of the best front men in our business,” Jones reflected. “Over the last twenty years, he has breathed new life into our songs.”

The torch isn’t being passed to just anyone. Luis Maldonado, already proven on guitar, recently fronted the band during their South American tour — and knocked it out of the park. The summer of 2025 will see both Hansen and Maldonado sharing the stage, a symbolic changing of the guard that promises to be something special.

Social media exploded with reactions, ranging from shocked emojis to heartfelt tributes. One fan (@The_Rock_Oracle) captured the mood perfectly: “He deserves to go out on his terms, he was instrumental in helping Foreigner find their audience again, replacing an all-time legend, Lou Gramm. The odds were against it, but they did it.”

For a band with 80 million records sold and a jukebox worth of classics — from the soul-stirring “I Want to Know What Love Is” to the adrenaline-pumping “Hot Blooded” — this isn’t just another lineup change. It’s a pivotal moment that proves evolution doesn’t mean abandoning your roots.

Maldonado seems to get it. “This music has been part of my life for as long as I can remember,” he shared, his words carrying both reverence and determination. “I’m ready to honor Foreigner’s legacy and bring my heart to every performance.” It’s exactly the kind of promise fans need to hear as the band heads toward its golden anniversary.

The 2025 lineup — Maldonado alongside Bruce Watson, Michael Bluestein, Chris Frazier, and Jeff Pilson — represents yet another reinvention for a band that’s mastered the art of evolution. As Hansen prepares for his final bow this summer, he leaves behind a legacy that’s both preserved and elevated Foreigner’s place in rock history. Not bad for someone who started as “the new guy” nearly twenty years ago.

Sometimes the best encores come when you least expect them. Foreigner’s next chapter might just prove that point.

Hollywood’s playing a fascinating game of “something old, something new” as 2025 kicks into high gear, serving up two deliciously different returns to the spotlight that nobody saw coming.

In what might be the most anticipated documentary series since Peter Jackson cracked open the Beatles vault, Martin Scorsese—cinema’s eternal enfant terrible turned enduring maestro—is finally letting the cameras turn their gaze on him. And darling, it’s about time.

“Mr. Scorsese” (could the title be any more perfect?) promises to be a five-part feast for film devotees on Apple TV+. The streaming giant clearly knows what it’s doing, having learned from the runaway success of their Taylor Swift documentary that audiences are absolutely famished for intimate portraits of cultural icons—though one suspects there’ll be considerably fewer friendship bracelets at these viewing parties.

Rebecca Miller’s at the helm, and hasn’t she pulled off quite the coup? What started as a modest single episode has blossomed into a five-part series over half a decade. “Artistic freedom and access,” she says, which in Hollywood-speak typically means “I got everything I wanted and then some.” The guest list reads like the seating chart at the Governors Ball—De Niro, DiCaprio, Day-Lewis, Robbie, Spielberg. Honestly, the only way to get more star power would be to film during a solar eclipse.

Meanwhile, in a completely different corner of the entertainment universe (though no less intriguing), Sacred Heart Hospital is prepping for new patients—and honey, this particular operation has been anything but routine. After enough drama to fill a season’s worth of medical emergencies, Zach Braff has finally signed on to revive his role as the perpetually daydreaming Dr. J.D. in ABC’s Scrubs revival.

Getting Braff back into those iconic blue scrubs? Think less “smooth surgical procedure” and more “emergency room chaos.” The negotiations hit more critical conditions than a Grey’s Anatomy season finale. First, there was the location drama (Vancouver? In this economy?), then the compensation conversations that nearly flatlined the whole project. But like any good TV doctor, they managed to revive it just in time.

Now that Braff’s officially scrubbing in—alongside series mastermind Bill Lawrence—the dominoes are starting to fall. Word in the writers’ rooms is that Sarah Chalke, Donald Faison, John C. McGinley, and Judy Reyes are all circling their contracts, though Reyes’s commitment to “High Potential” is throwing more shade than a hospital privacy curtain.

There’s something deliciously symbolic about these two announcements dropping simultaneously. Here’s Scorsese, fresh off “Killers of the Flower Moon” (and that adorable viral moment with his daughter’s TikTok), opening up his creative sanctuary while Braff circles back to the role that made him more than just “that guy who directed Garden State.” It’s the circle of Hollywood life, darlings—every curtain call potentially doubles as an opening night.

And isn’t that just the most perfectly Hollywood thing you’ve ever heard?

Well, darlings, Hollywood’s golden boy Austin Butler is trading rhinestones for brass knuckles. The first trailer for “Caught Stealing” dropped yesterday, and it’s giving us everything we never knew we needed — think less “Viva Las Vegas” and more “Mean Streets” with a dash of millennial anxiety thrown in for good measure.

Darren Aronofsky’s latest psychological mind-bend throws Butler into the gritty embrace of 1990s New York City. The premise? A washed-up baseball prodigy agrees to watch a cat. Simple enough, right? Oh, honey — if only.

The casting reads like someone’s fever dream of a Hollywood poker night. Matt Smith (fresh from breathing fire in “House of the Dragon”) shows up looking deliciously dangerous, while Zoë Kravitz brings her signature electric presence as Butler’s girlfriend. Then there’s the powerhouse trifecta of Regina King, Liev Schreiber, and Vincent D’Onofrio — because apparently, Aronofsky decided to spoil us all rotten. And let’s not forget Bad Bunny, who’s clearly determined to collect movie credits like they’re Pokemon cards.

The whole affair started brewing during that wild 2022-23 awards season — you remember, when Butler was still speaking in that Elvis drawl that wouldn’t quit (and honestly, we kind of miss it). Between champagne flutes and acceptance speeches, he and Aronofsky struck up the kind of conversation that ends in movie deals. Butler later spilled to Vanity Fair that he’d first encountered Aronofsky’s work through “Requiem for a Dream” at age twelve, which… well, that explains a few things about his intensity, doesn’t it?

Based on Charlie Huston’s novel, this marks Aronofsky’s sharp turn from the intimate devastation of “The Whale” back to the frenetic energy that made him famous. Though presumably with fewer tutus than “Black Swan” — but then again, with Aronofsky, who can really say?

For Butler, it’s another deliciously risky choice in a career that’s starting to look like a masterclass in avoiding the obvious. After channeling Elvis, surviving the spice melange of “Dune: Part Two,” and now this — plus that mysterious Ari Aster project “Eddington” lurking on the horizon — he’s clearly not here to play it safe.

The trailer promises the kind of edge-of-your-seat tension that’ll have audiences forgetting to touch their popcorn. Between the neon-lit chase sequences and Butler’s increasingly panicked expressions, it’s clear we’re in for something special. And somewhere in all this chaos, there’s still a cat that needs looking after. (Here’s hoping it makes it to the credits, darlings.)

“Caught Stealing” looks set to be that rare creature — a thriller that remembers style and substance aren’t mutually exclusive. In Aronofsky’s hands, even cat-sitting becomes an descent into madness. And really, isn’t that just perfect for 2025’s increasingly unhinged cinematic landscape?