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Steven Soderbergh’s AI‑Driven Take on Lennon’s Final InterviewThe film John Lennon: The Last Interview centers on the poignant conversation recorded on 8 December 1980 in New York’s Dakota building, just hours before Lennon’s murder. Directed by Steven Soderbergh, the documentary intersperses the full interview with archival photos, footage, and a series of AI‑generated image sequences that aim to visualize Lennon’s thoughts on peace, love, and the fading counterculture.Interviewers: Dave Sholin, Laurie Kaye, Ron Hummel (KFRC radio, San Francisco)Key moment: a stalker‑fan, later identified as Lennon’s assassin, is given a copy of Double Fantasy during the interview’s aftermath.Premiere: screened at the Cannes film festival in May 2026.Numbers Behind the Film’s Reception and ProductionThe documentary references a historic date (8 December 1980) and was released 46 years later. While specific box‑office or streaming figures are not disclosed, the review notes that the AI visuals are “second‑rate” and likened to “knockoff animated Hipgnosis album covers.” The film’s runtime and budget are not mentioned, underscoring that its critical reception hinges more on artistic choices than financial metrics.How AI Visuals Undermine Historical Documentary StorytellingThe reviewer argues that the AI‑generated clips are “blandly generic” and “heartsinkingly literal,” pulling viewers out of the intimate atmosphere of Lennon’s last words. The irony of Lennon warning that “one day we may all finally be replaced by computers” is diluted by the very AI imagery meant to dramatize his speech, creating a dissonance that weakens the documentary’s emotional resonance.What This Means for Future Music DocumentariesBy opting for AI over traditional animation or reenactment, Soderbergh sets a precedent that could encourage other filmmakers to experiment with synthetic media. However, the mixed reception suggests that without a clear artistic purpose, AI may feel like a gimmick rather than an enhancement, potentially prompting future creators to balance technological novelty with narrative integrity.

The Transformative Night in Blackpool Bronzed, with winged tips and doused in Le Male, I clamped the baby pink GHDs to my hair until they sizzled and singed it. Emerging from a cloud of cheap hairspray, I was ready for the dancefloor. I was 18 and had grown up in Blackpool, a place synonymous with hedonism and fun. I came out in high school at the age of 14 and from 16 I studied performing arts at a local college. Underage, I was smuggled into clubs and in my spare time I watched shows in our many beautiful theatres. The bright lights of the illuminations, the showgirls, the feathers, sequins and rhinestones were intoxicating. Blackpool really was – and still is – extraordinary. When the bar closed, a new adventure would begin. One night, as the sun was coming up (and as was I), a drag queen took me back to her place. I didn't know the significance of what I was about to experience, but I was to receive an education no university course could ever match. The drag queen was a Liza Minnelli tribute act. She knew every beat of every Liza film, every concert, every move of choreography. She performed as Liza in all the bars around town. Now I was ordained by being welcomed into her home. This moment could be the plot of a movie with Blackpool as a beautiful backdrop to my coming out/coming-of-age fantasy The Muppet Show That Changed Everything Was I ready to be indoctrinated? Very. She led me to the living room for a VHS screening of what I was told was one of Liza's finest performances. I was expecting Cabaret, the winner of eight Academy Awards, but not on this occasion. She sat me on the sofa and played Episode 414 of The Muppet Show from 1979, with special guest the one and only Liza Minnelli. The premise works so beautifully for exactly the same reason that The Muppet Christmas Carol is so beloved. In that film, Michael Caine gives the performance of his life in a movie almost entirely populated by felt characters, and in her guest episode Liza matches him in commitment. Take the musical number Copacabana she performs: the curtain goes up and Liza is smoking. She is the narrator, the storyteller, in a Funny Face-esque black polo neck that gives a real sense of gravitas to those Barry Manilow lyrics. Moments later, she is Lola, dancing with human-sized muppets. Or in another scene Liza holds Kermit while they sing A Quiet Thing together. Their connection is pure and tender, a thing of simplicity and gentleness. A Career Born from Inspiration As I reflect on this story nearly 20 years later, I am now 10 years sober and while life might well be a cabaret, the decadence of my early youth is firmly in the past. But I think back to this moment, which could be the plot of a movie with Blackpool as a beautiful cinematic backdrop to my coming out/coming-of-age Technicolor fantasy. I didn't know at the time, but this incident set me on the path to my current profession. Four years later, in 2011, I started making cabaret performances in south London at the famed Royal Vauxhall Tavern at nights such as Duckie, where my turns were packed full of wigs and jockstraps, fake blood and mascot costumes. In 2015, I joined the international circuit when I became part of big touring pieces of variety and circus spectacle, showing off in the US, Australia, New Zealand and London's glittering West End. I once performed a 107-hour durational piece in drag at Glastonbury and at the Adelaide fringe, as a teenage girl who wouldn't leave her bedroom. A Lifelong Dedication to Liza's Legacy Ever since that fateful night back in Blackpool in the 2000s, Liza has been a hero of mine. I saw her live in concert at the Royal Festival Hall in London in 2013. I have a Liza tattoo on my right thigh. Back in 2019, I did an eight-hour performance in an old deconsecrated church in Brighton, dressed as Liza Minnelli, performing her album Results in full, emulating through endurance art Liza's beautiful commitment to performance. Pet Shop Boys, who produced Liza's Results album, even heard about what I was up to and said my performance sounded great. The Enduring Impact of a Single Performance And if you ever see one of my shows, please understand that the technical foundation of my performances isn't drama school training or Stanislavski; it's Liza on The Muppets. Truth be told, I don't know where the drag queen in the story is now. I hope she's OK, but if I did see her I'd say: "Thank you for changing my life." Harry Clayton-Wright's show Mr Blackpool is at the Grand theatre, Blackpool, 20 May.

The End of an Era: Outlander's Final Season After twelve years on air, Outlander is concluding its remarkable journey this week. The series, which began with WWII nurse Claire Randall discovering a magic stone circle and traveling back to 18th century Scotland, has evolved into one of television's most unique and beloved dramas. As it approaches its finale, fans are left with mixed emotions—relieved for the stars who can finally rest, yet nostalgic for a show that dared to be delightfully ludicrous while maintaining historical authenticity. A Time-Traveling Romance Like No Other Outlander distinguished itself from other period dramas with its fantastical premise. What began as a simple story about a woman who falls through time to meet her true love expanded into an epic saga spanning centuries and continents. The show masterfully blended historical events like the Battle of Culloden and the lead-up to the American Revolution with personal drama, creating a narrative that was both educational and entertaining. Its attention to historical detail, from costumes to settings, earned it critical acclaim, including Emmy recognition for costume design. The Cultural Phenomenon of Outlander What started as a niche book adaptation became a global phenomenon. The show's devoted fanbase, often referred to as 'Outlander fans,' created a vibrant community around the series. Its unique blend of steamy romance, historical adventure, and time-travel fantasy appealed to diverse audiences. The chemistry between leads Caitríona Balfe and Sam Heughan became a cornerstone of the show's success, with their portrayal of Claire and Jamie Fraser setting a new standard for on-screen partnerships. The series also pushed boundaries with its frank depiction of sexuality, normalizing conversations about desire in period dramas. What Made Jamie and Claire's Relationship Special At the heart of Outlander lies the extraordinary relationship between Claire and Jamie. Unlike many period dramas that portrayed relationships through unequal power dynamics, Outlander presented a partnership based on mutual respect, desire, and intellectual equality. Their bond transcended time itself, surviving separations of decades and countless historical challenges. The show explored intimacy in a way that was both realistic and fantastical—from their wedding night where Claire teaches virgin Jamie the ways of love to more adventurous encounters like their famous scene in castle ruins. Their dynamic, marked by Jamie's term of endearment 'Sassenach' for Claire, became one of television's most beloved romances. The Legacy of Outlander As Outlander concludes its run, its legacy extends beyond entertainment. The show demonstrated that period dramas could successfully incorporate fantasy elements while maintaining historical integrity. It proved that female-led stories with complex characters could thrive in a genre often dominated by male narratives. For many viewers, Outlander provided an escape while also educating them about historical events and Scottish culture. The series' conclusion marks the end of an era for both its dedicated fans and the stars who brought these characters to life over eight remarkable seasons.

The Cannes Premiere of a Queer Horror MasterpieceJane Schoenbrun's "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma" has made its debut at the Cannes Film Festival, opening the Un Certain Regard sidebar with a bold exploration of gender identity and horror tropes. The film, which follows a filmmaker obsessed with a cult slasher franchise, represents a significant addition to the growing canon of queer horror cinema that challenges traditional genre boundaries.A Director's Vision: Reimagining Slasher TropesSchoenbrun continues their exploration of media obsession and identity, following previous works like "We're All Going to the World's Fair" and "I Saw the TV Glow." The director invents an imaginary slasher franchise called "Camp Miasma" about a transgender killer called Little Death, treating this fictional creation with complete seriousness while simultaneously critiquing horror's problematic treatment of gender. The film cleverly walks through the franchise's fictional history, from initial success to critical backlash, mirroring real conversations about representation in horror.Gillian Anderson's Showstopping PerformanceThe film features a career-defining turn from Gillian Anderson as Billy Presley, the iconic Final Girl from the original "Camp Miasma" film who has become a recluse. Anderson brings droll style and sophisticated sexiness to the role, creating a character who is both amused by and critical of the current filmmaker's attempts to reclaim the franchise. Her performance elevates the material, adding layers of meta-commentary about aging in Hollywood and the legacy of horror icons.Exploring Fantasy and Reality in HorrorAt its core, "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma" explores the relationship between fantasy and reality, suggesting that liberating escapist experiences can be more "real" than mundane existence. The film follows Kris, a young filmmaker hired to reboot the franchise, as she visits Billy in the disused camp where the original was filmed. Their relationship blurs the lines between creator and creation, with hints that the slasher character might be more than just fiction. Schoenbrun uses techniques like the split diopter shot to create dreamlike sequences that question what is real and what is imagined.The Future of Queer Horror CinemaWith "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma," Schoenbrun further establishes themselves as a vital voice in contemporary horror, particularly within the queer filmmaking community. The film's Cannes premiere positions it for potential awards attention and critical acclaim, which could lead to greater visibility for horror that centers LGBTQ+ experiences. As audiences increasingly seek representation that goes beyond tokenism, films like this that reimagine genre conventions through queer perspectives may become increasingly influential in shaping the future of both horror and independent cinema.

The Nostalgia Factor Nintendo's announcement of a Star Fox 64 remake has brought back memories for many gamers who grew up playing the game on the Nintendo 64 console. The game's 3D graphics and Rumble Pak technology were innovative features at the time of its release. The Remake Details The remake of Star Fox 64 will feature updated visuals and character designs, as well as newly voiced lines. The game's levels and layout will remain largely the same, with some minor changes. The Concerns Some gamers have expressed concerns that the remake is a rework of a game that is already 30 years old, rather than a new game in the series. There is a fear that the gaming industry is relying too heavily on nostalgia, rather than innovating and creating new experiences. The Industry Context The gaming industry has seen a trend of remakes and re-releases of classic games in recent years. This has been driven in part by the success of games like Resident Evil and Final Fantasy, which have seen significant updates and re-releases. The Future Outlook As the gaming industry continues to evolve, it will be interesting to see how developers balance nostalgia with innovation. Will the remake of Star Fox 64 be a success, or will gamers be looking for something new and different?

The Cultural Phenomenon Returns On a chilly morning at a Silvertown studio behind London City airport, the sunburst intro to Jimmy Cliff's The Harder They Come is on repeat. Dancers run through a routine studded with reggae and dancehall moves. "Get high," commands associate choreographer Neisha-yen Jones with a smile. "Get low!" The ensemble rise and dip. They do the bogle and whine around each other as their watchful director Matthew Xia nods along. They circle Natey Jones who breaks out the opening line: "Well, they tell me of a pie up in the sky." In the distance, a plane leaves the ground. From Film to Theatrical Celebration It's eight months since The Harder They Come's full-throttle takeoff at Stratford East, where the musical was so popular that it is now returning for a second run which will also serve as a eulogy for Cliff who died in November. Playwright Suzan-Lori Parks' adaptation of Perry Henzell's 1972 Jamaican film is bolstered by a handful of her own songs as well as classics including Israelites and Wonderful World, Beautiful People – plus every number on the film's monumental soundtrack. Jones is reprising the role of Ivan (played on screen by Cliff and inspired by real-life outlaw Rhyging), who arrives in Kingston from the country and is dismissed and exploited, before becoming both a hit singer and a fugitive. The Evolution of a Cultural Narrative The original was akin to cinéma vérité, directly evoked spaghetti westerns and veered into blaxploitation territory; Ivan's tale has gained greater warmth, humour and protest spirit on stage. It was the best musical I saw in 2025. "The story is a tragedy but the theatrical event is a celebration," says Xia of his production. Twenty years ago, the film was adapted as a musical with a book by Henzell, also at Stratford East. "It all started at Ivan's Nine Night," Xia recalls. "There was a massive poster of Ivan on the wall, with everyone coming, and it was told in retrospect with vignettes." Choreography and Cultural Connection Shelley Maxwell, recently arrived from Jamaica, was watching the musical in the audience one night and has since become the choreographer of the new production. She has fused the folk dance forms of revivalism and pocomania, learned in her childhood, with reggae, dancehall and moves that today's teenagers can recognise. "I wanted to tap into the youth market," she says. It's brought some enthusiastic feedback from audience members who may not know the film. "Like: 'Oh my God, they did that step I always do at a party!' It allows them to form a connection." Authenticity and Cultural Representation Xia, wearing trainers in the Jamaican flag's colours, and Maxwell, whose tracksuit has the same black, green and gold trim, were intent on instantly transporting their audience to Kingston. The opening, says the director, is an "establishing shot" with characters coming and going on Simon Kenny's magnificent multi-level set, accompanied by Toots and the Maytals' hit Funky Kingston. To borrow from its lyrics, you really can believe everything they do. Even each move in the dominoes game we see is scripted, explains Maxwell, who mapped out the market scene with precision: "Where are you going to? How heavy is the item that you're holding? This is the swing of the hips." Social Commentary Through Performance Xia, whose father came to England from Jamaica in the 1970s, praises the freewheeling realism of the film. "Lots of the background performers are just whoever happened to be in the market that day, or walking through the shantytown. Lots of the actors were people that Perry knew, they had no training." Henzell, says Xia, showed "the part of Jamaica that had always been hidden, people living hand to mouth". The musical depicts a "quartet of oppression" against Ivan, as he takes a stand against individuals representing hypocrisies of the church, law, drugs trade and music industry. Universal Themes and Contemporary Relevance The Harder They Come was both a pioneering example of independent film-making for Jamaicans and a portrait of a newly independent country. Maxwell, who grew up glued to Hollywood musicals, says it was empowering to discover a film full of the Jamaican songs she loved. "I was probably way too young when I saw it. But what I saw was the world around me." She traces how different forms of music played a pivotal part in the country establishing its identity, moving from African forms and American R&B; to mento, ska, rocksteady, reggae and the rise of Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff. Maxwell captures that chain reaction with a tantalizing question: "What's this groove becoming?" Transforming the Narrative for Modern Audiences The musical also makes its hero's actions more understandable. "In the film, Ivan becomes a kind of wanton murderer," says Xia. In the musical, "he accidentally shoots a police officer when he's under threat, is remorseful, yet also knows that if he gives himself in then that's the end of his journey". Another significant change is the depth given to the principal women – Ivan's mother Daisy and Elsa, with whom he falls in love under the eye of her authoritarian guardian, the preacher. "The moral heart of the piece now resides in those two women," says Xia. Maxwell transforms a brief sequence from the film, in which Ivan imagines a tryst with the devout Elsa, into a floor-trembling set piece when the preacher's congregation lose their robes to indulge in lustful fantasy. The male gaze of the original scene is duly excised: "it had to be like it was both of them in partnership in that fantasy world," says Maxwell, who adds that the nature of dancehall – "grinding, gyrating on another body" required her to use her skillset as an intimacy director.

The Birth of a Classic George Thorogood, songwriter, vocalist, and guitarist, recalls the creation of his iconic song 'Bad to the Bone'. Before the song's release, Thorogood's band played obscure blues songs, but they wanted to create an original hit. The Inspiration Behind 'Bad to the Bone' Thorogood explains that the song is a male fantasy, where every guy wants to be 'bad'. He drew inspiration from Hollywood movies, tough guys like Bernardo from West Side Story, and Howlin' Wolf, whom his band opened for in 1974. The Songwriting Process Thorogood followed Johnny Cash's advice for songwriters: writing down rhyming words and working around them. He started with 'bone' and incorporated 'bad', which meant 'cool' in his neighborhood. The Song's Early Days The band shopped the song to Muddy Waters, but his manager rejected it, saying Muddy wouldn't record a blues song by a white guy. Thorogood and his band rehearsed the song to make recording efficient and minimize costs. The Rise to Fame 'Bad to the Bone' took off when classic rock radio stations began playing it, placing it alongside songs by Led Zeppelin, Steve Miller, and The Rolling Stones. Young listeners considered it a classic. Terminator 2 and Arnold Schwarzenegger The song gained further popularity when it appeared in Terminator 2. Arnold Schwarzenegger called Thorogood, saying in his Terminator voice: 'Your song. Give it to me. Now.' The Legacy of 'Bad to the Bone' Thorogood reflects on the song's impact, stating it's an over-masculine chuckle and not to be taken seriously. The song brings out the 'lion in the mouse', and its popularity endures to this day. Jeff Simon's Perspective Jeff Simon, the band's drummer, shares his experience of recording 'Bad to the Bone'. He recalls George working on the song and the band's blues influences.

The Lead: A Tale of Repression and Hidden DesiresThere's a common greeting in the Outer Hebrides: the lineage-establishing "Who do you belong to?" By the time this question is posed to 22-year-old gay Harris islander John-Calum Macleod, or Cal, in Douglas Stuart's new novel, there is a sense that Cal is his father John's beyond the ordinary claims of blood – the latter's sway containing undercurrents of domineering ownership.The Novel's Core Themes: Repression and Self-Denial in a Conservative CommunityThe book opens with the two conducting a strange ritual over the phone, performed regularly ever since Cal moved to Edinburgh to study textiles: John, a precentor, reads to Cal in Gaelic from the New Testament and has him sing back "with the full power of his belief". The verse John recites – which prefigures the novel's themes of repression and self-denial – urges the faithful to guide the errant and to stay vigilant against temptation. After receiving Cal's assent, John orders him to return home, ostensibly because Cal's maternal grandmother, Ella, is sick. Though John lives with Ella in her croft house, she is his ex-wife's mother and thus not his responsibility.Set within a tight-knit Free Presbyterian community of farmers, weavers and fishers in what appears to be the 1990s, John of John tells the story of Cal's uneasy homecoming. It's a reprise of the parable of the prodigal son and an ardent exploration of the half-lives of queer men condemned to love, pine and suffer in silence. Intimate yet epic in scale, it contains equal parts pastoral drama, tale of familial fracture, love story and inquiry into various forms of loneliness: the loneliness that can reside between fathers and sons, between lovers, between man and God, and between a small place and the big world.Character Analysis: Complex Relationships and Hidden TruthsJohn disapproves of Cal's appearance, his sartorial choices and his long, "flame-coloured" hair, disturbed "by the confused signal they were sending, the strange tension between the masculine and the feminine". Cal's disinclination to be "saved" creates a rift between them that later erupts in violence. Meanwhile, childhood friend and hookup partner Doll gives Cal the brush-off, cross that he's been away for so long. Wearied by his ultraconservative environment, where connection feels out of reach, Cal takes a fancy to his dad's sole friend, confirmed bachelor Innes MacInnes. Cal is struck by Innes's "gentleness, his benevolence – which Cal had never appreciated before, which, if he were honest, he would have said he found boring, unsexy in younger men".This, however, can never be the merry May-December romance Cal wishes it to be. Innes and John are lovers, we learn fairly early on, and it is this pair's tortured relationship since their teenage years – kept secret from everyone, including Cal – that forms the novel's centre of gravity. Masters of discretion, John and Innes are, to townsfolk, neighbouring sheep farmers. The first time we see them alone together, at Innes's, they go through the motions of a long-established routine, allowing themselves to draw close only after John has made sure each room is empty and they are really alone. Later, as John prepares to leave, Innes loudly seeks his assistance over an unspecified "two-man job", "all in case someone should find out and ask what exactly John Macleod was doing upstairs in the MacInnes house at such an ungodly hour".Literary Context: Stuart's Evolution as a StorytellerThe novel tries their bond in ways small and big. Aside from the difficulty of Cal, there is the matter of John's other liaison with a married man, and the tenancy of Ella's house soon to be transferred to Cal's mother. Innes floats the idea of John moving in with him but intuits "how, even under the threat of homelessness, a life together with him seemed no consolation at all". John is a man tormented by the idea of his own depravity: "He loved God. He loved Innes. He loved God and God hated how he loved Innes." At one point he entertains the possibility of Innes, Cal and himself being a family, but even in fantasy, the thought of Cal being gay, like him, remains unimaginable: "They would live like this every day, be useful, peaceful, happy on their land, looking forward to the day Cal married a local girl and filled their croft with grandchildren."The novel is outstandingly canny and wrenching on self-contempt, on the toilsome art of deceit, and on the contradictions we all contain, as well as the friction that can exist between the personal and the collective. As secular values gain ground, there is the suggestion that John and Innes living together could deal a death blow to their local congregation, leaving us wondering whether John and Cal will – or can – come out to one another. Amid all this, Stuart finds the space to touch on crofter subservience to absentee landowners, the scorn and prejudice of mainlanders, and the place of the Western Isles within the English imagination.Critical Reception: A Complex but Ultimately Rewarding ReadJohn of John is certainly enthralling, but the ambient Weltschmerz and the characters' frequent self-pity can be draining. Stuart's first two novels, the Booker-winning Shuggie Bain and its follow-up, Young Mungo, were feats of heartfelt, operatic storytelling, composed as though in defiant response to our age of irony and subtlety. Despite their occasionally miserabilist tenor, the emotions felt guileless and real, whether Shuggie's love for his doomed, alcoholic mother, Agnes; Jodie's for her brother Mungo; Mungo's for his birdkeeping neighbour James or his own doomed, alcoholic mother, Maureen. The impoverished Glaswegian milieus where they were set – marked by Thatcherite ruination, homophobia, sexual predation and sectarian strife – made for sobering reading; but these were novels so lavishly and graciously imagined, so very moving, that you gladly faced up to their gloom.Here Stuart leans heavily on melodrama and sensationalism as a shortcut to tragedy. Towards the end, the novel is eventful to a fault and surfeited with pathos: we have a pregnancy; an attempted shotgun wedding ("What in the world of Thomas Hardy?" says Cal); a death and a momentous departure from the island. While this book will not appeal to those with a low tolerance for excess, diehard romantics will find much to love; I see Cal, John and Innes – knottily entangled and imperfectly endearing – being cherished with readerly devotion. And that is no small feat.

The Wasp revisits the fraught relationship between Heather (Cassandra Hercules) and Carla (Serin Ibrahim) at Southwark Playhouse, London, offering a revenge‑driven narrative that aims for Hitchcockian tension but ultimately feels under‑nourished.The Revenge Narrative and Its Baroque AmbitionsThe play frames its conflict as a revenge fantasy, positioning Heather as a successful professional who returns to torment her former bully, Carla, now struggling with poverty, a fifth pregnancy, and an unhappy partnership. Director James Haddrell leans into stylised, baroque set pieces—buzzing wasp sounds, mirrored scenes, and a tarantula‑hawk metaphor—to dramatise the lingering trauma of childhood bullying. Critics note that the first act ends abruptly while the second act shifts tone, creating a disjointed rhythm that dilutes the intended suspense.Box Office and Audience Reception SnapshotNo specific ticket‑sale figures released for the current run (through 30 May 2026).Audience feedback on social platforms highlights appreciation for the strong cast but echoes the criticism of uneven pacing.Critical consensus points to solid performances but a lack of genuine jeopardy in the plot.Impact on Discussions of Bullying, Class, and Modern TheatreBeyond its theatrical merits, the play surfaces pressing questions about the long‑term effects of bullying, the role of class and privilege in power dynamics, and whether revenge can ever provide catharsis. By juxtaposing Heather’s professional success against Carla’s socioeconomic decline, the production invites debate on whether systemic factors excuse abusive behaviour and how trauma reverberates into adulthood.Looking Ahead: Revenge‑Thrillers on the StageIf future productions aim to blend thriller aesthetics with social commentary, they will need tighter narrative cohesion and clearer stakes. *The Wasp* demonstrates that ambitious staging alone cannot compensate for a plot that struggles to sustain tension, suggesting that upcoming playwrights may pivot toward more nuanced explorations of vengeance rather than overtly sensationalist set‑pieces.