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Rock and roll saved the world — or at least that’s how the story went back in 1985. Four decades later, as we approach Live Aid’s 40th anniversary, both BBC and CNN are pulling back the curtain on what might be music’s most audacious shot at global change.

Remember that sweltering July day? Queen strutting across Wembley Stadium, Madonna in her prime, Bowie being, well, Bowie. Now, Brook Lapping and Ronachan Films are diving deep into the day that turned rock stars into would-be world saviors. Their ambitious documentary series isn’t just another greatest-hits package wrapped in nostalgia — it’s getting down to the nitty-gritty of how a bunch of musicians decided they could tackle global hunger.

The treatment’s different on each side of the pond. BBC’s going with a three-parter called “Live Aid at 40,” while CNN’s taking the longer route with “Live Aid: When Rock ‘n’ Roll Took On the World” spread across four episodes. Sure beats those choppy YouTube clips we’ve been making do with, right?

Behind the scenes, executive producer Tanya Shaw’s team has been doing some serious heavy lifting. They’ve dug up rare footage, tracked down the key players, and — perhaps most intriguingly — gotten some pretty heavyweight political figures to weigh in. We’re talking Bono and Sting (naturally), but also former President Bush and Nigeria’s Obasanjo. Not your typical rock doc lineup.

Here’s where it gets really interesting: BBC’s throwing in over six and a half hours of extended concert footage that hasn’t seen the light of day since ’85. Jonathan Rothery, their head of popular music TV, clearly knows what the people want — a chance to time-travel back to when rock still thought it could change the world.

But let’s not kid ourselves. As we sit here in 2025, watching celebrities launch their latest charitable ventures on TikTok and Instagram, Live Aid’s legacy hits different. The whole “white savior” debate? The questions about celebrity philanthropy? They’re all getting airtime. Bob Geldof’s still fighting back, mind you — called the criticism “the greatest load of b***ocks ever.” Classic Geldof.

The numbers still boggle the mind, though. Two billion viewers. Over a hundred countries. Billions raised. The series tracks how this monster of a concert somehow morphed from passing the hat around to reshaping international aid policies. Not bad for a day’s work.

Some genuinely fascinating bits are coming to light. Phil Collins doing the impossible by playing both London and Philadelphia (imagine trying that without a private jet). Ethiopian politicians Dawit Giorgis and Berhane Deressa offering perspectives from ground zero of the crisis. It’s the kind of stuff that makes you realize just how many moving parts were involved.

BBC’s Emma Hindley nails it when she calls it an “irresistible and entertaining ride.” Because that’s what it was — part concert, part telethon, part global group therapy session. For better or worse (and there’s plenty of both), Live Aid rewrote the playbook on celebrity activism.

Looking back from 2025, as influencers launch charitable NFT collections and AI-generated benefit concerts stream in the metaverse, Live Aid feels almost quaint. But that’s exactly why this documentary series matters. It’s catching a moment when rock and roll truly believed it could change the world — and for one remarkable day, maybe it did.

Sometimes the best comedy isn’t scripted — just ask Micah Richards, who’s quickly becoming CBS Sports’ most reliable source of unintentional entertainment during Champions League coverage. The latest chapter in this ongoing saga? A post-match interview that had the former Manchester City defender making his now-trademark dash from the studio set, thanks to some expertly timed banter from Inter Milan’s Denzel Dumfries.

Picture this: A thrilling 3-3 draw between Inter and Barcelona had just wrapped up at the Estadio Olimpic Lluis Companys. The CBS Sports panel — Kate Scott, Jamie Carragher, Thierry Henry, and our unfortunate fashion victim Richards — settled in for what should’ve been routine post-match analysis.

But nothing’s routine anymore when it comes to Richards’ wardrobe choices.

Dumfries, still catching his breath after a two-goal heroic performance, seemed ready to play nice when Richards tossed him what appeared to be a softball question about his favorite pundit. “Oh this is tough, You, you are my favourite,” Dumfries started, before delivering the perfectly timed punchline: “But remember what Marcus said, your suit was a little bit too small!”

The studio erupted. Henry and Carragher — never ones to miss an opportunity for some good-natured ribbing — practically fell out of their chairs laughing. And Richards? Well, he did what any self-respecting pundit would do when faced with such savage criticism — he fled the scene entirely.

Here’s the kicker: this isn’t even the first time Richards’ supposedly snug attire has become the talk of the football world. Just weeks earlier, following Inter’s quarter-final victory over Bayern Munich, Marcus Thuram had kicked off this whole fashion critique saga by pointing out that while everyone else’s suits looked fine, Richards’ appeared to be “a bit tight.”

The recurring bit has transformed what could’ve been just another night of Champions League analysis into must-see TV. It’s breathing fresh life into football punditry, a field that sometimes takes itself a tad too seriously. And Richards, bless him, has embraced his role as the panel’s good-natured punching bag with admirable grace.

Oh right — the actual football. Lost somewhere between the fashion critiques and studio exits was a absolutely bonkers semi-final first leg. Inter twice surged ahead through Thuram and Dumfries, Barcelona twice answered through Yamal and Torres, Dumfries struck again, and then Sommer’s own goal leveled things at 3-3. But somehow, that’s become the footnote to the real entertainment.

Maybe that’s just where football is headed these days — when the lines between sport and entertainment blur, sometimes the best show happens after the final whistle. Just make sure your suit fits when you’re covering it.

Netflix’s Dazzling Sweep at Peabody Awards Signals Streaming’s Golden Age

Darlings, the 85th Peabody Awards just dropped their winners list, and honey, Netflix isn’t just winning — they’re absolutely dominating the conversation. The streaming giant sashayed away with six gleaming trophies, proving that sometimes more really is more (especially when it comes to quality content).

Let’s dish about the highlights, shall we?

The raw nerve of “Baby Reindeer” — Richard Gadd’s gut-punch of a series that had everyone talking at last month’s industry soirée — leads Netflix’s victory parade. It’s the kind of brave, unflinching storytelling that makes even seasoned critics catch their breath. And don’t get me started on Andrew Scott’s deliciously dark turn in “Ripley” — that black-and-white masterpiece that’s more sumptuous than a vintage Dior gown. (The Caravaggio references? *chef’s kiss*)

HBO|Max (still getting used to that clunky rebrand, darling) proved they haven’t lost their magic touch, snagging four wins. Their surreal gem “Fantasmas” — Julio Torres’s fever dream of a series — is exactly the kind of boundary-pushing content that keeps the industry from getting too comfortable in last season’s ideas.

The documentary category this year? Absolutely fierce. Twelve winners that aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty with the messy bits of reality. “The Truth vs. Alex Jones” landed like a meteor, while “Will & Harper” showed us that sometimes the most powerful stories are also the most personal. (Will Ferrell and Harper Steele’s road trip had this columnist reaching for the tissues — and not just to blot my waterproof mascara.)

But here’s the real tea: This year’s winners are serving up global perspectives like never before. FX’s “Shōgun” finally gave us the Japanese-centered narrative we’ve been craving — proving that sometimes the best way to revamp a classic is to flip the script entirely.

PBS (still elegant after all these years) claimed three wins, including that absolute knockout “Mr Bates vs The Post Office” — which didn’t just win awards, it literally changed British law. Talk about impact, sweeties.

The ceremony itself is set to sparkle at the Beverly Wilshire on June 1, with Roy Wood Jr. working the room. Andrea Mitchell’s getting her flowers with the Career Achievement Award, while “SNL” — that eternal enfant terrible of American TV — snags the Institutional Award. After 49 seasons, they’re still serving looks and laughs.

In an era where everyone and their publicist is launching a streaming platform, these Peabody winners remind us what really matters: storytelling that makes us think, feel, and occasionally gasp into our champagne. It’s not about the platform, darlings — it’s about the power of the story.

And that’s the kind of tea that never gets cold.

Another television titan is trading their dawn patrol for destination unknown. Steve Doocy — Fox News’ longtime morning show stalwart — is ditching those brutal 3:30 AM wake-up calls for something decidedly more civilized. After logging an almost incomprehensible 31,607 hours of live television (yes, somebody actually sat down and counted), he’s joining the growing exodus of veteran broadcasters who’ve decided enough is enough.

Let’s be real. Those hours are brutal.

“The show is great. I love the show — but the hours suck,” Doocy admitted to Mediaite with the kind of refreshing honesty you rarely get from TV personalities these days. After nearly 6,828 pre-dawn wake-up calls, who could blame him for wanting to hit the snooze button permanently?

But hold the retirement party champagne. This isn’t so much a farewell as it is a rather brilliant reinvention. Doocy’s trading that infamous “curvy couch” for what might be television’s cushiest new gig — roaming correspondent extraordinaire. “Coast-to-coast host” is his new title, and it comes with a deliciously strategic twist: a home base in Florida, with appearances three days a week from anywhere between “the Carolinas to the Keys, from Middle America to Mar-a-Lago.”

Speaking of Mar-a-Lago… Even former President Trump couldn’t resist weighing in with a characteristically Trump-esque farewell: “You’ve always treated me fairly — sometimes a little more fairly than other times, but that’s okay.” Classic.

The human story here? It’s written between the lines of those endless pre-dawn drives. “When my kids were growing up, I never had breakfast with them. I was always here,” Doocy shared. Now he’s swapping those morning show monologues for breakfast with grandkids — a plot twist sweet enough to make Hallmark jealous.

Fox News clearly knows what they’re doing. With FOX & Friends still crushing the competition (drawing 1.5 million viewers and outpacing CNN and MSNBC’s morning shows combined), this arrangement keeps their golden goose while letting him spread his wings a bit. Smart move, considering how many familiar faces have been stepping back lately — Hoda Kotb, Lester Holt, Chuck Todd, just to name a few.

Perhaps this signals something bigger in the shifting sands of television news. As veteran broadcasters increasingly seek flexibility over tradition, maybe the future of morning news isn’t anchored to a Manhattan studio after all. Could be it’s wherever the story — and the storyteller — happen to land.

Oh, and those signature neckties? “You may never see me in a necktie again,” Doocy quipped. Now that’s what freedom looks like in 2025.

There’s something beautifully fitting about Kylie Minogue accepting one of Australia’s highest musical honors from a Los Angeles stage bathed in disco lights. The Ted Albert Award for Outstanding Services to Australian Music landed in the hands of Melbourne’s own pop princess-turned-global-icon — well, virtually at least.

Beaming in from her American tour, Minogue’s trademark warmth cut through the digital distance. “17-year-old me would not be able to compute the life that music has given me,” she shared, her voice carrying that same sparkle that first captured hearts with “The Locomotion” decades ago.

The 2025 APRA Music Awards ceremony painted a rather peculiar picture. Most winners were notably absent — though for the best possible reason. They were too busy commanding stages across the globe, a bittersweet testament to Australian music’s growing international clout. Strange how success sometimes means empty seats at home, isn’t it?

The night’s most touching moment came courtesy of Minogue’s nephew Charlie, who accepted the award alongside father Brendon and brother James. “My first Kylie show was in 2011, I was five years old,” he recalled, his words wrapped in genuine family pride. “Since then, I’ve been lucky to attend almost every concert.” Some things, it seems, really do run in the family.

Fresh from turning Coachella into their personal punk playground, Amyl and the Sniffers grabbed Song of the Year with the gloriously unruly “U Should Not Be Doing That.” Meanwhile, Troye Sivan — whose bold exploration of queer narratives has helped reshape pop’s landscape — clinched Songwriter of the Year while continuing to captivate American audiences.

Kevin Parker proved yet again why he’s Tame Impala’s secret weapon and pop’s favorite collaborator. His double-win for work on Dua Lipa’s “Houdini” sparked serious industry chatter about creating new categories. After all, how do you properly recognize Australian songwriters who’ve become global hitmakers?

The electronic scene got its due recognition when Dom Dolla’s “Saving Up” claimed Most Performed Dance/Electronic Work. Sydney outfit Royel Otis (remember when they were just starting out?) snagged Emerging Songwriter of the Year. But perhaps nothing speaks louder about Australian music’s reach than Grammy-winning producer Keanu Torres taking home the International Recognition Award — his fingerprints are all over everything from Taylor Swift to Beyoncé, and yeah, even those Drake and Kendrick tracks everyone’s been dissecting on social media.

Then there’s Sia, whose 2016 hit “Unstoppable” refuses to, well, stop. Claiming Most Performed Australian Work Overseas for the second year running, it’s a reminder that great songs don’t always follow the typical hit-and-fade pattern.

As Minogue reflected on her current tour — where she seamlessly weaves together everything from “The Locomotion” to tracks from “Tension” — she captured something universal about music’s enduring magic: “Whatever we give and whatever it might take from us, we receive more.” In 2025’s increasingly fragmented musical landscape, Australian artists seem to be giving — and receiving — more than ever before.

Turnstile just threw the rulebook out the window — again. The Baltimore hardcore heroes have unleashed a double-shot of sonic exploration that’s already setting the music world ablaze, proving why they’re the band everyone from punk kids to pop stars can’t stop talking about.

Their latest offering arrives as two distinctly different tracks, packaged with the kind of artfully crafted music video that’ll probably end up in some film student’s thesis come 2025. “Seein’ Stars” floats through the speakers like some beautiful fever dream, with Turnstile pulling off what might be their most ambitious collaboration yet. The track features both Blood Orange’s Dev Hynes and Paramore’s Hayley Williams, creating something that shouldn’t work on paper but absolutely soars in practice.

Then there’s “Birds” — raw, untamed, and exactly what you’d expect from a band that cut their teeth in Baltimore’s sweaty basement shows. The contrast between these two tracks tells you everything you need to know about where Turnstile’s headed.

The accompanying visual piece — a joint effort between frontman Brendan Yates and guitarist Pat McCrory — feels like flipping through someone’s memories on fast-forward. The first half unfolds in dreamy reverse motion: dancers moving like they’re underwater, DJs lost in their own world, pool players frozen in time. But just when you’ve settled into its rhythm, “Birds” crashes through like a wrecking ball at a meditation retreat.

Speaking of visual poetry, there’s something almost ritualistic about the outdoor sequence accompanying “Birds.” Picture this: a sun-drenched hillside that wouldn’t look out of place in last year’s “Talk to Me,” while drummer Daniel Fang orchestrates what can only be described as organized chaos. Bodies collide, people smile, and somehow it all makes perfect sense.

These tracks serve as our first real taste of Never Enough, dropping June 6th — the band’s fourth full-length and their first since Glow On had Grammy voters scratching their heads trying to categorize it. This time around, Yates has stepped behind the production desk, suggesting we’re about to witness yet another evolution in the band’s sound.

What’s refreshing about Turnstile’s approach to success is how genuinely uninterested they seem in playing by anyone else’s rules. Yates said it best himself: “Music can reach people in so many different ways and different scales. The impact it can leave on someone is impossible to measure.”

The band’s got a packed summer ahead — kicking things off with a Brooklyn record release show on June 5th before hitting the festival circuit hard. From Primavera Sound to Glastonbury and Ottawa Blues, they’re about to be everywhere. Maybe Charli XCX was onto something at Coachella when she predicted a “Turnstile Summer.”

Based on these new releases, summer 2024 is shaping up to be equal parts mosh pit and meditation session. And honestly? That’s exactly what music needs right now.

Just when you thought Florida couldn’t possibly get more… Florida, 2024 kicks off with a barefoot man wrestling an alligator on one of the state’s busiest highways. Because of course it does.

The protagonist of this particularly Floridian tale? Mike Dragich — a Marine veteran turned MMA fighter who moonlights as a licensed alligator wrangler. Known on social media as the “Blue Collar Brawler,” Dragich probably didn’t expect his dinner with family to be interrupted by a call about a prehistoric party crasher attempting to cross Interstate 95 near Jacksonville.

Picture this: Rush hour traffic zooming past in both directions while a guy in camo shorts and a sleeveless shirt — sans shoes, mind you — squares off against a massive gator in the median strip. The scene was so quintessentially bizarre that the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office felt compelled to post a “yes, this actually happened” notice on Facebook.

“If you were cruising down I-95/I-295 on the Southside yesterday and thought you saw a barefoot man wrestling a giant alligator in the median — nope, your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.”

Armed with nothing but a catch pole and what can only be described as next-level audacity, Dragich engaged in the sort of standoff that would make even the most hardened Floridian do a double-take. The gator — clearly not having received the memo about proper highway etiquette — responded with a display of tail-whipping and jaw-snapping that would send most reasonable folks sprinting in the opposite direction.

But then again, reasonable isn’t exactly the first word that comes to mind when describing someone who willingly goes toe-to-toe with a 400-to-600-pound apex predator. Dragich, who shares his state with roughly 1.3 million other alligators, managed to snare the beast’s neck and drag it toward the shoulder. What happened next looked like something straight out of a Carl Hiaasen novel come to life — the veteran-turned-wrangler actually mounted the thrashing reptile rodeo-style and taped its formidable jaws shut.

“Never in my wildest dreams,” muttered an awestruck witness off-camera, perfectly capturing the collective sentiment of everyone watching this surreal spectacle unfold.

Yet beneath the theatrical surface of this highway drama lies a more complex reality. Florida’s rapid development increasingly pushes humans and alligators into closer contact, creating what wildlife officials diplomatically term “nuisance alligator” situations. For licensed trappers like Dragich, these calls represent a necessary but somewhat bittersweet service — captured gators typically end up processed for their hide and meat, a fact that adds a sobering footnote to these dramatic rescues.

The whole operation required a small army of coordination: Dragich, the Sheriff’s Office, Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, and the Florida Highway Patrol all played their parts in this roadside production. It’s becoming an increasingly common dance in the Sunshine State, where wildlife management often collides with public safety in the most spectacular ways possible.

Dragich later posted about the incident on Instagram with a cheeky “Why did the alligator cross the road? 🐊‼️⚠️” — but the underlying message is clear: as Florida continues its relentless expansion, these wild encounters aren’t going anywhere. Though perhaps not all future incidents will feature quite so much barefoot bravado or rush-hour drama.

Welcome to 2024 in Florida, folks. Where reality continues to outpace fiction, one roadside wrestling match at a time.

Nike’s latest release hits different. The Kobe IX Low Protro EM Mambacita isn’t just another sneaker drop — it’s a heartstring-tugging tribute that lands right when women’s basketball keeps smashing viewership records in 2025.

Dropping on May 1st (what would’ve been Gigi Bryant’s 19th), this $180 piece of basketball history somehow manages to be both a technical masterpiece and a gut-punch reminder of what we lost that foggy Sunday morning in 2020.

The design? Pure poetry in motion. Black and white mesh (yeah, like those Mamba Team uniforms) creates this clean canvas that just… works. Then there’s these killer metallic gold accents that catch the light just right — including this Mambacita heart hangtag that’ll probably make you pause for a second. They didn’t miss a beat with the personal touches either: Gigi’s name on the left heel, her number wrapped in a heart on the right. Small stuff that hits hard.

But let’s talk performance, because you know Kobe wouldn’t have it any other way. The React foam midsole? Bouncy as hell. That carbon fiber plate in the outsole? Lateral stability for days. Even the tread pattern looks like it means business — these aren’t some display-case queens we’re talking about.

Here’s the thing though — Nike’s playing this launch differently. No flashy campaigns, no over-the-top marketing blitz. Just letting the story tell itself. And sure as sunrise, these are gonna vanish faster than a crossover when they hit the SNKRS app at 10 AM ET. (Pro tip: Set those alarms now, because the resale market’s already getting wild).

The whole thing’s part of this bigger push from Nike, with Gigi Bryant “Mambacita” jerseys dropping at $120 a pop. Money’s going to the Mamba & Mambacita Sports Foundation — doing the real work of getting kids who might not otherwise have a shot onto the court.

Sometimes a shoe transcends being just… well, a shoe. Between the WNBA’s explosive growth this season and youth basketball participation numbers climbing, the timing feels almost cosmic. It’s like this perfect storm of legacy, technical excellence, and straight-up emotion, all wrapped up in one release.

Real talk? This drop isn’t about hype or collectibility (though watch those resale prices soar). It’s about promises kept. Dreams passed down. A future that’s still unfolding, even if two of its biggest champions aren’t here to see it. And maybe that’s the whole point — some legacies just keep growing, one sneaker at a time.

Hollywood’s latest power move has tongues wagging, and darlings, it’s absolutely delicious. Guy Ritchie — master of quick-cut chaos and witty British mayhem — is stepping behind the camera for the Road House sequel. Now that’s what you’d call a plot twist worthy of awards season.

The first film became Prime Video’s unexpected golden child, racking up 80 million views faster than a Hollywood divorce settlement. (And speaking of settlements, let’s just say the streaming compensation drama from the first round makes those Real Housewives reunions look tame by comparison.)

Jake Gyllenhaal’s return as Dalton feels practically inevitable — those cheekbones simply demanded an encore. But here’s where things get spicy: Doug Liman, who helmed the first installment, didn’t exactly leave the party quietly. “Nobody got compensated,” he declared with the kind of candor usually reserved for 3 AM after-party confessions. The man had a point, though. Welcome to the brave new world of streaming economics, where even A-listers sometimes leave the table hungry.

Ritchie and Gyllenhaal’s reunion feels less like coincidence and more like Hollywood’s version of matchmaking. Their previous collaboration on “The Covenant” clearly left both parties wanting more — rather like that first date that ends with immediate plans for a second.

Speaking of our dear Mr. Ritchie… Has anyone checked on him lately? Between “Fountain of Youth” with Krasinski and Portman, “Wife & Dog” with that devastatingly talented British trifecta, and his small-screen ventures, the man’s schedule looks busier than award season’s most in-demand stylist. One has to wonder if he’s discovered some sort of time-turner situation — and if so, darling, please share with the class.

The production team reads like the guest list at Vanity Fair’s Oscar party. Charles Roven and Alex Gartner are bringing their Atlas Entertainment muscle, while Gyllenhaal’s Nine Stories Productions joins forces with Josh McLaughlin. Will Beall’s handling the script, presumably between sips of whatever magical elixir keeps Hollywood’s top writers functioning during deadline season.

But let’s talk about what this really means for the industry. The success of the first Road House remake — itself a love letter to Patrick Swayze’s 1989 classic — proves that streaming has graduated from Hollywood’s backup plan to its main stage. Though some industry veterans (no names mentioned, but their initials might be D.L.) still pine for the old ways like last season’s Prada.

With “The Gentlemen” Season 2 commanding Ritchie’s attention through spring, we might need to practice patience before this particular establishment opens its doors. But in an industry where timing is everything, perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. After all, good sequels, like fine wine and revenge, often benefit from a little extra time to breathe.

Hollywood’s latest deep dive into action territory comes with a fascinating twist — Chris Hemsworth trading his thunder god credentials for submarine credentials in “Subversion,” a waterlogged thriller that’s making waves across the industry.

The pitch? Think “Die Hard” meets “Das Boot,” with a dash of cartel drama thrown in for good measure. Amazon MGM Studios has tapped Hemsworth to play a Naval commander caught between the devil and the deep blue sea when a drug cartel forces him to play maritime taxi driver with their questionable cargo. Because apparently, being Thor wasn’t enough pressure for our favorite Australian export.

Speaking of pressure — Patrick Vollrath’s stepping into the director’s chair, fresh off confining Joseph Gordon-Levitt to the claustrophobic confines of an airplane cockpit in “7500.” Seems the man has a knack for making audiences squirm in enclosed spaces. The script comes courtesy of Andrew Ferguson, whose “Blood Rush” has been turning heads faster than a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon.

Hemsworth’s career trajectory is getting more interesting than a Netflix algorithm gone rogue. Hot off what’s being whispered about as a career-defining turn as Dementus in “Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,” and with another date with destiny in “Avengers: Doomsday” penciled in, he’s clearly not content just being the pretty face who swings a magic hammer.

The production’s heading down under this fall — convenient for Hemsworth, who can flex those acting muscles (and those other muscles, let’s be honest) on home turf. With Lorenzo di Bonaventura’s production banner behind it, “Subversion” promises to be more than just another B-movie with bargain-bin special effects.

Between this and “Crime 101” — which boasts a cast list that reads like an Oscar party guest list with Mark Ruffalo, Barry Keoghan, and Halle Berry — Hemsworth is building an empire faster than crypto crashes. The man’s determined to prove he’s got more range than his character’s workout routine.

Let’s face it — submarine thrillers have always been Hollywood’s pressure valve for testosterone-fueled tension. From “The Hunt for Red October” to “U-571,” there’s something deliciously cinematic about watching grown men sweat it out in metal tubes while depth charges play percussion. Add Hemsworth’s star power to that mix, and summer 2025 might just have found its non-spandex blockbuster.

The real question? Whether “Subversion” can surface above the endless stream of streaming content and actually make waves at the box office. But with this creative team at the helm, chances are this won’t be just another waterlogged action flick destined for the bargain bin.