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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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

Fifth Harmony just broke their long-standing social media silence, and the pop music world hasn’t stopped buzzing since. With a simple “#FifthHarmonyFollowSpree” tweet, the beloved girl group sent their fandom into an absolute frenzy — proving that sometimes the smallest gestures create the biggest waves.

Let that sink in for a moment. After nearly five years of radio silence (their last social post was a birthday wish to Ally Brooke back in July 2018), the group managed to rack up over 19,000 likes within sixty minutes. Not bad for a single hashtag, right?

The timing couldn’t feel more perfect. As we navigate through 2025’s increasingly nostalgia-driven music landscape — where Y2K fashion is somehow both vintage and cutting-edge, and millennials are introducing their kids to the songs that defined their own teenage years — Fifth Harmony’s potential comeback feels almost destined.

Their story reads like a modern pop fairy tale, albeit one with its share of plot twists. Born from the competitive crucible of The X Factor USA in 2012, the group — originally featuring Ally Brooke, Normani, Dinah Jane, Lauren Jauregui, and Camila Cabello — quickly became the soundtrack to countless coming-of-age moments. “Work from Home” still hits different at every party, doesn’t it?

But like any compelling narrative, there were complications. Cabello’s 2016 departure sent shockwaves through the fandom that rippled across the entire pop landscape. Yet somehow, that dramatic exit feels like ancient history now, especially given the whispers circulating through industry back channels about a potential reunion — minus Cabello, naturally.

“Is this really happening?” One fan’s tweet captured the collective mood perfectly. The response has been nothing short of electric, with social media platforms practically short-circuiting from the surge of theories, hopes, and emotional outpourings from the Harmonizer community.

What makes this particular moment so fascinating is its beautiful simplicity. In an era where comeback campaigns often feel like carefully orchestrated military operations, Fifth Harmony chose the digital equivalent of a warm hug — a follow spree. It’s refreshingly authentic, especially considering today’s oversaturated social media landscape.

The question on everyone’s minds: What comes next? While industry insiders have been dropping hints about a reunion throughout early 2025, nothing concrete has materialized… yet. But in this era where Taylor Swift’s re-recordings are breaking records and Y2K pop groups are selling out arenas, the stage seems perfectly set for Fifth Harmony’s triumphant return.

Whether this social media moment transforms into tour dates, new music, or simply a celebration of their legacy remains to be seen. But one thing’s crystal clear — Fifth Harmony’s influence on pop culture hasn’t dimmed one bit. Their brief return to social media has reminded everyone why they became such a phenomenon in the first place.

For now, Harmonizers worldwide are holding their collective breath, hoping this digital breadcrumb leads to something bigger. After all, in the ever-evolving story of pop music, sometimes the most exciting chapters start with something as simple as a hashtag.

Baseball broadcasts usually stick to the standard playbook — diving catches, home runs, and the occasional mascot shenanigans. But Saturday’s Athletics-Rangers matchup served up an unexpected curveball that had nothing to do with what was happening on the diamond.

During what should’ve been a routine crowd pan, NBC’s cameras caught more than they bargained for. A cap-wearing fan and his companion were, shall we say, creating their own highlight reel in the stands. The resulting footage definitely wouldn’t make it past the league’s family-friendly guidelines, forcing the network to execute one of the quickest cuts since the invention of the broadcast switcher.

The real MVPs of the moment? The commentary team, who knocked it out of the park with their handling of the situation. After a quick “our apologies to folks at home,” the lead announcer delivered an absolute gem, describing his colleague as “a handful” — a line that’ll surely make it into the Broadcasting Hall of Fame, if such a thing existed. What followed was pure gold: 30 seconds of dead air punctuated only by the sound of grown men trying (and failing) to contain their laughter.

But wait — there’s more.

Heading into the commercial break, they managed to slip in one final masterpiece: “A’s down by a few. Trying to grab a couple back…” The kind of quick thinking that makes live sports so entertaining, especially in these post-streaming era days where everything seems a bit too polished.

Social media, predictably, went absolutely nuts. “The ‘handful’ line was great… but the subtle double down of ‘grab a couple back’ on the outro was absolutely legendary!” wrote one fan, perfectly capturing the moment’s brilliance. Another chimed in with the understated observation, “Never a dull moment during an A’s broadcast.”

This isn’t exactly uncharted territory for America’s pastime. Just last month, the Phillies had their own moment when they cleverly referenced that viral Coldplay concert “kiss cam” incident — complete with their mascot’s theatrical interpretation that had the crowd howling.

For the record books, the Rangers did clinch a 9-3 victory, though that detail seems about as relevant as last year’s batting averages at this point. The real story? How a potentially awkward broadcast moment transformed into comedy gold, thanks to some quick-thinking announcers who proved that sometimes the best plays happen in the booth.

The Rangers might be chasing that playoff spot with their 70-67 record, but it’s the commentary team who deserves a postseason bonus for this performance. As for the amorous couple — well, they’ve certainly given new meaning to “seventh-inning stretch.” Though maybe next time they’ll consider the time-honored tradition of just keeping their eyes on the ball.

Football has always had a way of writing scripts that even Hollywood would dismiss as too perfect. On a crisp autumn evening at the Amex Stadium, James Milner provided yet another chapter that somehow managed to blend triumph and tribute in equal measure.

The veteran midfielder — now in his remarkable 23rd Premier League season — stepped up to take a penalty against Manchester City. At 39 years and 239 days old, Milner wasn’t just facing his former club; he was staring down the weight of history. The spot-kick? Clinical. The celebration that followed? Pure emotion.

Rather than his usual understated fist pump, Milner chose this moment to recreate the signature video game celebration of Diogo Jota — his former Liverpool teammate who tragically lost his life alongside his brother Andre Silva in a devastating accident in northern Spain earlier this year. The tribute carried extra significance given Milner’s decision to switch to wearing number 20 this season, Jota’s old number at Liverpool.

“Once Carlos [Baleba] mentioned he was looking to change numbers, it just felt right,” Milner told MyAlbion TV, his voice carrying that slight northern lilt that two decades in football haven’t managed to smooth away. “Twenty was Diogo’s number, and it seemed like a proper way to remember him.”

The timing of it all feels almost cruel in its poetry. Milner’s first Premier League goal in six years, against his old club no less, coming just months after Jota’s passing. The Portuguese forward had barely begun his married life with childhood sweetheart Rute Cardoso — their wedding just 11 days before that fateful journey back for pre-season training.

But amid the emotion, there’s a remarkable sporting achievement worth noting. Milner now sits second in the all-time list of oldest Premier League goalscorers, with only Teddy Sheringham’s mark of 40 years and 268 days ahead of him. Perhaps even more remarkably, he’s now bookended the age spectrum of Premier League goalscorers — his first goal came for Leeds United back in December 2002, when he was just a fresh-faced kid of 16 years and 356 days.

Brighton’s eventual 2-1 victory, sealed by Brajan Gruda’s winner, might fade into the statistical archives of the 2025-26 season. But Milner’s moment? That’ll stick around a bit longer. Sometimes football transcends the simple matter of points and positions — it becomes something else entirely, a canvas for human connection, remembrance, and the kind of storytelling that makes you forget it’s just 22 people chasing a ball around a pitch.

Darlings, Venice’s Lido just served up the kind of deliciously complicated drama that makes the film industry endlessly fascinating. Picture this: indie maverick Jim Jarmusch, sporting his signature shock of silver hair (still impossibly cool in 2025), found himself caught in the spotlight for reasons beyond his latest cinematic offering — though we’ll get to that sumptuous piece of work in a moment.

The premiere of “Father Mother Sister Brother” should have been a straightforward celebration of auteur brilliance meets A-list talent. Instead, it transformed into a master class in the thorny relationship between art and money — honey, when isn’t it about the money?

Jarmusch, never one to mince words (bless him), addressed the elephant strutting down the red carpet: his distributor Mubi’s rather awkward $100 million investment from Sequoia Capital, a firm with connections to Israeli defense-tech startups. The situation’s about as comfortable as wearing six-inch Louboutins to a marathon.

“I was, of course, disappointed and quite disconcerted by this relationship,” Jarmusch admitted, his trademark deadpan delivery making the statement land like a perfectly timed punchline at a funeral. The irony? His latest work — featuring the divine Cate Blanchett (who, naturally, hasn’t aged a day since the 2024 Oscars) alongside Adam Driver and Tom Waits — stands as a testament to exactly why these funding conversations matter so desperately.

But here’s where it gets juicy. Rather than serving up the expected self-righteous monologue about artistic integrity, Jarmusch dropped a truth bomb that had the press room clutching their San Pellegrino: “I consider pretty much all corporate money is dirty money.” Darling, tell us something we don’t know — but the candor? Refreshing as a Mediterranean breeze.

His latest creative endeavor, meanwhile, proves precisely why we tolerate this messy tango between art and commerce. “Father Mother Sister Brother” unfolds like a vintage Hermès scarf — three distinct patterns that somehow create one gorgeous whole. Each segment explores the complicated waltz between grown children and their distant parents, set against backdrops that span the globe with the kind of attention to detail that makes fashion houses weep.

The project, backed by Saint Laurent (Anthony Vaccarello continues to prove he’s got an eye for more than just perfectly cut blazers) and The Apartment, delivers what Jarmusch calls “an anti-action film.” Think of it as the cinematic equivalent of slow fashion — where “small details accumulate like flowers being carefully placed in three delicate arrangements.” Honestly, when was the last time a blockbuster gave you that kind of poetic meditation?

Yet even as the champagne flows and the critics swoon, Jarmusch refuses to play the expected role of artistic apologista. “One thing I don’t like is putting the onus of the explanation of this on us, the artists,” he declared, serving the kind of straight talk that’s become rarer than an original idea in Hollywood.

The whole affair leaves us with questions as complex as the vintage Valentino gowns gracing this year’s festival circuit. Can pure art exist in an impure system? Should we expect our creative visionaries to also be corporate ethicists? And darling, isn’t it exhausting that we’re still having these conversations as we barrel toward 2026?

For now, Jarmusch’s elegant tightrope walk between artistic integrity and pragmatic reality offers no easy answers — just the kind of thoughtful cinema that makes these philosophical gymnastics worth the stretch. And isn’t that, sweethearts, exactly what we come to Venice for?

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.