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What would Henrik Ibsen’s iconic heroine Nora look like in today’s Britain? In this bold re‑imagining, playwright Anya Reiss transports the 19th‑century drama into a world of high‑salary banking, social‑media façades and post‑pandemic consumer excess. Set against a sleek, white‑goods‑strewn stage designed by Hyemi Shin, the story follows Nora (played by Romola Garai) as the wife of a lucrative London banker, Torvald (Tom Mothersdale), who is also battling drug addiction. Though presented as a “trophy wife”, Nora is far sharper than her husband realises – she has secretly rescued the family from financial collapse and funded Torvald’s recovery, all while maintaining a veneer of festive, pre‑Christmas splurging. The familiar Ibsen plot points survive the update: a blackmail threat from Torvald’s colleague Nils Krogstad (James Corrigan) and a visit from the destitute, marriage‑for‑money‑failed friend Kristine (Thalissa Teixeira). Their interactions expose the tension between outward affluence and hidden desperation. Reiss’s version is unmistakably contemporary, peppering dialogue with references to Instagram, a stock market rattled by conflict in the Middle East, and the relentless pursuit of material status. This backdrop reframes the marital power struggle as a clash of class and modern capitalism, asking whether love can ever be insulated from market forces. Despite the heavy thematic load, the cast delivers a series of compelling performances. Garai’s Nora oscillates between calculated seduction – even donning a provocative nurse’s outfit for a flirtatious dance – and a keen intellect that refuses to be reduced to a mere commodity. Her portrayal suggests that, for Nora, the body has become a form of currency, yet she remains acutely aware of the performative nature of both marriage and motherhood. Notably, the children appear only through baby‑monitor audio, a deliberate choice that underscores the couple’s emotional distance and mirrors the original’s focus on Nora’s internal emancipation. The climax arrives in a charged confrontation where Nora questions, “Is love meant to be subject to the market?” The line encapsulates Reiss’s preoccupation with the commodification of intimacy, even as it feels like a summarising refrain rather than a fresh revelation. Ultimately, the production offers a nuanced, if occasionally over‑engineered, vision of Ibsen’s feminist aspirations. It hints at a future where Nora and Torvald might seek couples therapy to untangle their financial and emotional entanglements – a decidedly modern resolution. A Doll’s House runs at the Almeida Theatre, London, until 23 May.

In the spring of 2002, the modest Free Butt pub on Brighton’s seafront buzzed with a restless energy. Future stars such as Natasha Khan, then a university art student, danced atop the bar while the Yeah Yeah Yeahs thundered through their first UK dates. Behind the scenes, band frontmen like Guy McKnight of Eighties Matchbox B‑Line Disaster served pints, and budding engineers like Steve Ansell of Cat on Form fine‑tuned the sound. The atmosphere felt like a rite of passage, where any performer could slip from a cramped stage to national attention.Unlike the neatly branded scenes of New York’s garage‑rock revival or London’s Libertines‑driven hype, Brighton’s early‑2000s scene resisted a single aesthetic. Rock groups emerged from rehearsal rooms and tiny clubs with wildly different looks and sounds, creating a cultural mosaic rather than a monolithic movement.Electrelane’s guitarist recalls recording their debut Rock It to the Moon in a studio once owned by the Levellers, and crafting their sophomore effort inside a former public toilet. These unconventional spaces proved surprisingly fertile, underscoring the city’s DIY spirit.By the turn of the millennium, the big‑beat dominance of Fatboy Slim and Skint Records had faded, making way for a grassroots rock surge. Sea Power relocated from Reading to Brighton, drawn by the city’s “dilapidated charm and fresh sea air”. Their self‑organized Club Sea Power nights at the Lift offered a chaotic yet liberating platform that eventually caught Rough Trade’s attention.Women played a pivotal role in shaping the scene’s infrastructure. Promoters Lisa Lout and Anna Moulson, both still active, booked seminal shows—including the Strokes’ first UK gig at the Lift in 2001—and helped launch the Great Escape festival. Their efforts ensured that bands such as the Pipettes, Electrelane and Bat for Lashes could share stages and media coverage.Artists recall the city’s palpable sense of belonging. Rose Dougall of the Pipettes describes a landscape where “alternative culture was on every street, from vintage shops to the colour of the houses,” and where “small venues made it feel attainable to launch a project.” Similarly, Brakes frontman Eamon Hamilton contrasts Brighton’s walk‑able, collaborative vibe with London’s darker, more competitive energy.Music journalism mirrored the scene’s intensity. Everett True and photographer Steve Gullick launched Careless Talk Costs Lives in 2002, a deliberately short‑run magazine that championed female writers and bands at a time when the industry was still heavily male‑dominated.As rents surged through the 2010s, many of the cheap flats, rehearsal rooms and iconic venues that underpinned the scene vanished. The Free Butt closed, independent record stores shuttered, and the once‑abundant low‑cost infrastructure dwindled, prompting a migration of creative energy down the coast to places like Margate, Ramsgate, Folkestone and Shoreham.Nevertheless, the remnants of Brighton’s network continue to nurture new talent, from the Kooks to Dream Wife and Gazelle Twin. The city’s strength lies not in a singular sound but in its capacity to host a “constant collision of wildly dissimilar bands,” allowing artists to develop authentically and fearlessly.

The planet is in the grip of an unprecedented climate emergency. The past three years rank as the hottest on record, emissions remain at historic highs and the world is edging ever closer to the critical 1.5°C threshold that scientists warned must not be crossed. In response, a trio of creators – actor Megan Prescott, filmmaker Bree Essrig and self‑described “climate narrative strategist” Jessica Riches – have launched Headline Newds, a series of bite‑size videos released through the non‑profit arm of Adam McKay’s Yellow Dot Studios. The series pairs climate data with the visual style of OnlyFans models, aiming to capture attention where traditional messaging has struggled. The concept echoes McKay’s own gamble with The Big Short (2015), where he hired Margot Robbie to explain complex mortgage‑backed securities while bathing. By swapping finance for climate, the creators hope to avoid the “long, boring explanation” that often alienates viewers. The debut episode, titled The Sun is Daddy, features Prescott gradually disrobing while arguing that solar power could satisfy global energy demand using less land than the fossil‑fuel sector. She frames the argument with the line “Daddy is a giver,” blending sensuality with a factual claim. Provocation is intentional. The Yellow Dot website admits the clips are likely to be taken down on Instagram and YouTube for breaching content policies, but they will remain accessible on OnlyFans, a platform perceived as more tolerant of adult‑oriented material. That platform may also be where the series makes its biggest splash. While mainstream users might approach the videos with a pre‑formed understanding, OnlyFans subscribers are less likely to expect in‑depth climate analysis, potentially making the stark facts about “impending global collapse” more memorable. Only the first episode is currently live, and critics note that the solar‑energy message is already widely accepted, questioning whether the series is reaching beyond basic awareness. Future installments promise sharper focus. An upcoming episode, Spank Banks, will see dominatrix Eva Oh name the banks that profit most from fossil‑fuel projects while delivering a literal spanking. Another short clip features model Sabrina Jade outlining the oil industry’s tactics to downplay its environmental impact, all within a two‑minute runtime that includes more “pelvic grinding” than typical educational content. Whether Headline Newds proves a catalyst for change remains uncertain. It has already generated the media buzz it sought, but its capacity to translate provocation into concrete climate action will likely be judged by any follow‑up series and measurable shifts in audience behaviour. Headline Newds can be watched on YouTube, Instagram and OnlyFans.

Joe Eszterhas, the swaggering pitchman of 80s and 90s Hollywood, has lived a life of excess and creativity. He wrote hits like Jagged Edge and co-scripted Flashdance, earning a then-record $3m for his Basic Instinct screenplay.Eszterhas's life story is a harrowing, rollicking immigrant's tale that whisks its hero from his birth in war-torn Hungary through the refugee camps of Allied-occupied Austria to the US rust belt. He covered the Kent State massacre as a cub reporter and interviewed Charles Manson in prison.Now 81, Eszterhas is plotting a Hollywood comeback with a rebooted Basic Instinct. He received a reported $2m from Amazon MGM studios for his script and stands to make a further $2m if and when it is filmed. The new story juggles copycat serial killers with elements of the supernatural.Eszterhas has always relished a good public scrap, and his reboot is described as anti-woke. This has sparked concerns that he may be co-opted and become a political football. However, Eszterhas insists that he is not afraid of controversy and sexuality.Despite his past struggles with drinking and drugs, Eszterhas has been clean and sober for decades. He has written a 750-page memoir, Hollywood Animal, and told his Tinseltown war stories on a recent multi-part media podcast, Ugly, Irresponsible, & Childish.

Tens of thousands of people have been hired by Scale AI – a firm 49% owned by Meta – to train artificial‑intelligence models by scraping Instagram accounts, harvesting copyrighted artwork and transcribing pornographic soundtracks, according to the Guardian.Scale AI promotes its Outlier platform as a flexible, expert‑driven marketplace, recruiting professionals from medicine, physics and economics to "become the expert that AI learns from."Workers, however, say the reality diverges sharply from high‑level model refinement. They describe tasks that involve massive personal‑data scraping and content that many find morally uncomfortable.Outlier is managed by Scale AI, which holds contracts with the U.S. Pentagon and other defense companies. Its chief executive, Alexandr Wang, is hailed by Forbes as the world’s youngest self‑made billionaire, while former managing director Michael Kratsios served as science adviser to former President Donald Trump.One contractor noted that users of Meta platforms would be shocked to learn their photos and friends’ images are being harvested for AI training, with workers manually reviewing profiles to extract data.The Guardian interviewed ten Outlier contributors – many also journalists, graduate students, teachers or librarians – who took the gig work out of economic desperation. One said, "A lot of us were really desperate" and felt compelled to accept the unstable, low‑pay assignments.These gig workers, dubbed “taskers,” often feel they are training their own replacements, expressing “internalised shame and guilt” over contributing to the automation of creative professions.Law firm Clarkson, representing AI gig workers, estimates that hundreds of thousands of people worldwide now labor on platforms like Outlier. Taskers report bait‑and‑switch recruitment tactics, where advertised high salaries are replaced by lower‑paid projects after onboarding.All contributors are monitored through a tool called Hubstaff, which can screenshot browsers to verify work. While Scale AI claims the software is only for accurate payment, workers describe it as constant surveillance.Assignments have ranged from transcribing pornographic audio and labeling photos of dead animals or dog faeces, to annotating diagrams of infant genitalia and violent police scenarios. One doctoral student recounted being promised “no nudity” only to receive explicit porn clips.Scale AI says it shuts down any task flagged as inappropriate and does not accept projects involving child sexual‑abuse material or pornography, though workers note that publicly available images of minors have been used for training.Social‑media scraping tasks required workers to tag individuals by name, location and age, sometimes pulling data from accounts of users under 18. One task asked contributors to order Facebook photos by the subject’s age, prompting ethical unease.In addition to personal data, taskers were asked to harvest copyrighted artwork, with strict instructions to avoid AI‑generated images and select only hand‑drawn pieces. Scale AI maintains it does not ask workers to violate copyright standards.Scale AI’s client list includes major tech firms such as Google, Meta and OpenAI, as well as the U.S. Department of Defense and the government of Qatar, highlighting the growing demand for labelled data as AI models scale.Some workers reported interacting with ChatGPT and Claude, and speculated they might be training Meta’s upcoming model, code‑named “Avocado.”OpenAI announced it ended its partnership with Scale AI in June 2025, citing its supplier code of conduct that mandates ethical treatment of all workers.Despite irregular pay, occasional mass layoffs and the unsettling nature of many tasks, many taskers remain on the Outlier platform, hoping the AI future will eventually improve conditions. One said, "I have to be positive about AI because the alternative is not great."In response, a Scale AI spokesperson stated, "Outlier provides flexible, project‑based work with transparent pay. Contributors choose when and how they participate, and we regularly hear from highly skilled contributors who value the flexibility and opportunity to apply their expertise on the platform."

On Halloween night in 2022, the 33‑year‑old Los Angeles‑based musician Angelo De Augustine collapsed at home, experiencing a cascade of sensory failures that left him unable to see, hear or move properly. Family members rushed him to the hospital, where doctors ran extensive tests but could not pinpoint a diagnosis, ultimately sending him home with a warning to return only if he became completely deaf or blind. Faced with a semi‑incapacitated body, De Augustine’s sole focus became completing the album he had been crafting for the previous year, Toil and Trouble. He admits he believed he might not survive the illness, yet he pushed through the pain, hoping to finish the record before his presumed death. De Augustine’s career had been gaining momentum. After his 2014 debut Spirals of Silence, he joined Sufjan Stevens’ label Asthmatic Kitty for 2017’s Swim Inside the Moon and later co‑produced the acclaimed 2021 collaboration A Beginner’s Mind. A 2019 track, “Time,” from the album Tomb, amassed over 31 million streams after featuring in Zach Braff’s film A Good Person, but the artist was too ill to capitalize on its success. Recovery was gradual and arduous. Over three years De Augustine relearned basic functions—walking, speaking, hearing, and playing instruments. Those challenges informed his newest work, Angel in Plainclothes, an album that contemplates mortality and the fleeting nature of life through ethereal soundscapes. Musically, the record draws on influences ranging from Nick Drake’s wistfulness to early Paul Simon’s lyricism. Tracks such as “Spirit of the Unknown” celebrate simple joys, while the lead single “Mirror Mirror” uses a reflective metaphor to describe his feeling of being a ghost watching life from the sidelines. He records from a studio he calls “A Secret Place,” emphasizing the intimate, introspective tone of the project. Recent research, De Augustine notes, suggests that chronic stress can overload the central nervous system, causing the body to shut down—a possible explanation for his 2022 episode. He points to the relentless pressures of the music industry as a likely source of that prolonged anxiety. Born to musical parents—his mother Wendy Fraser sang on the Dirty Dancing soundtrack—De Augustine originally pursued soccer before injuries redirected him toward music. Largely self‑taught, he began writing original material without formal lessons, a factor he believes gives his songs a distinctive edge. During his convalescence he moved back in with his mother, unable even to prepare meals. A breakthrough came when he discovered that immersion in water alleviated his symptoms, prompting a deeper awareness of his stress levels. A disciplined regimen of physical and mental exercises helped rewire his nervous system, gradually restoring his ability to play guitar and sing. When his health permitted, De Augustine returned to the studio, this time enlisting collaborators such as string arranger Oliver Hill, harpist Leng Bian, producer Thomas Bartlett (aka Doveman), and his mother on percussion. Drummer Jonathan Wilson contributed drums and offered his Topanga Canyon studio for the track “The Cure,” a song that likens illness to addiction. The album’s sonic palette is enriched by antique instruments—a bowed psaltery, aquarion, Marxophone, bass recorder, train whistle, 1960s German guitaret, miniature accordion, and a 1990s synthesiser version of a Japanese koto harp—underscoring De Augustine’s penchant for unconventional textures. After a five‑year hiatus from live performance, he returned to the stage last year, describing the experience as “amazing” despite its challenges. Though he acknowledges he is not yet fully healed, he feels he is emerging as a blend of his former self and a newly humbled individual who no longer takes life for granted. Reflecting on his journey, De Augustine says, “For so long my only focus was to be a great songwriter, and perhaps I paid the price for that. Now I’m trying to live a good life rather than chase outcomes.” Angel in Plainclothes was released via Asthmatic Kitty on 24 April, offering listeners a glimpse into his renewed perspective and artistic resilience.

A24 marketed Kristoffer Borgli’s second English‑language film as a darkly comic romance, pairing Zendaya and Robert Pattinson as a seemingly picture‑perfect couple on the brink of marriage. The studio’s teaser, a faux wedding announcement in the Boston Globe, amplified the buzz that began with the trailer’s release and even earlier Reddit speculation. The narrative follows Charlie (Pattinson) and Emma (Zendaya) through a series of sun‑lit flashbacks that culminate in a tense pre‑wedding dinner. During a “worst‑thing‑you’ve‑done” game, Emma confesses that, as a depressed teenager in Louisiana, she once planned a mass shooting and even practiced with her father’s rifle, though she never pulled the trigger. This revelation serves as the film’s central twist and propels the story into a moral quandary about forgiveness and trust. Critics note that the film’s premise is deliberately provocative. Borgli, known for his satirical take on cancel culture in Dream Scenario, uses Emma’s confession to interrogate America’s obsession with gun violence. By placing the “thought crime” in the hands of a Black woman—contrasting with statistics that over 95% of mass shooters are male and more than half are white—the director forces a reversal of the usual gendered narrative surrounding firearms. The twist has provoked strong reactions from survivors and advocacy groups. Tom Mauser, who lost his son in the 1999 Columbine shooting, called the plot “awful” in a TMZ interview, while 2019 school‑shooting survivor Mia Tretta told USA Today that such a storyline “shouldn’t be joked about.” Parkland survivor Jackie Corin offered a more measured view, urging the film’s stars to use their platforms responsibly and questioning whether the project rises to the ethical standards their influence demands. Beyond the controversy, the film boasts technical strengths. Arseni Khachaturan’s cinematography creates a lush visual palette, and the editing maintains a brisk pace as the wedding day approaches. The climactic ceremony—described by many reviewers as the film’s “pièce de résistance”—forces Charlie and Emma to confront the fallout of Emma’s secret amid a chaotic, alcohol‑fueled toast that lays bare the fragility of their relationship. In the final scene, the couple reconvenes at a diner, echoing the opening “can we start over?” motif. The ambiguous resolution suggests that exposing one’s darkest thoughts may either deepen intimacy or foreshadow further turmoil. Overall, ‘The Drama’ is both a compelling watch and a flashpoint for debate about how cinema engages with the United States’ endemic gun‑culture. Whether the film succeeds as a thought‑experiment or merely courts outrage remains a divisive question that will likely fuel discussions well beyond its theatrical run.

Billy Livsey, an American musician who arrived in England in the 1970s, transitioned from touring with Slim Chance and Gallagher & Lyle to writing hits for Shakin’ Stevens, Elkie Brooks and Paul Young before being tapped to write for the teen pop group Five Star. In the mid‑80s Livsey co‑wrote the chart‑topping single “System Addict” with Gary Bell, and a few months later his publisher suggested a partnership with lyricist Peter Sinfield. After a brief exchange of a rough melody, Sinfield asked Livsey to pen the words over the phone, resulting in the lyric sheet for what would become “Rain Or Shine.” The demo featured the renowned session vocalist Tessa Niles, whose résumé includes touring with The Police and singing on Eric Clapton’s “Layla” on his Unplugged album. Livsey recalls that her effortless delivery set the tone for the final recording. Recording took place at London’s iconic Mayfair Studios, a venue that had hosted legends such as George Michael and Tina Turner. Livsey admits he “stole” a sequencer fragment from Donald Fagen’s “New Frontier” to give the track a subtle, progressive‑pop edge. Five Star’s lead vocalist Deniece Pearson remembers the demo’s female vocal as a revelation compared to an earlier male‑sung version of “All Fall Down.” Her father and manager, Buster Pearson, urged her to “listen to the lady on the demo and articulate your words.” Because she was wearing braces, Deniece deliberately over‑enunciated to keep the metal from sticking to her lips – a quirky detail she still laughs about. Studio sessions were far from smooth. Frequent electrical glitches prompted Livsey to joke, “Gremlin. Gremlin.” Yet he remained confident, insisting that such hiccups often precede a hit record – a prediction that proved accurate. Upon release, “Rain Or Shine” became a staple of Five Star’s live repertoire, earning spots on Top of the Pops, the Royal Variety Performance and the Miss World stage. During a tour, a fan pulled Deniece into the audience pit, only to be rescued by her “hunky Italian” security guard, a moment she now recounts with affection. Today the song closes the group’s concerts as an encore, with audiences singing along and often moving Deniece to tears. She credits Livsey’s melodic craftsmanship, noting that the 80s songwriting formula – a strong melody followed by soaring vocals – remains the song’s enduring charm.

The Guardian’s weekly podcast roundup highlights a varied selection of new audio series, offering listeners everything from light‑hearted celebrity banter to hard‑hitting investigative journalism.Funny You Ask – In a delightfully candid moment, Mindy Kaling exclaims, “Oh, this is a quizshow?!” upon hearing Ike Barinholtz’s latest podcast, which blends trivia with rambling conversation about topics as eclectic as Chevy Chase and New Jersey Italian cuisine. The show positions itself as a breezy, low‑stakes alternative to the crowded celebrity‑interview market.Assume Nothing: What Happened to Mary Glasgow? – Host Nathan Edgar revisits the 1991 tragedy at Stradreagh mental hospital, where nursing assistant Mary Glasgow died after a patient altercation. Through interviews with Glasgow’s daughter Emma, the series treats the case as both a detective narrative and a memorial, probing whether the incident was an isolated mishap or a symptom of systemic failures.Single Ladies in Your Area – Comedians Amy Gledhill and Harriet Kemsley continue their third series, a witty exploration of 30‑something singledom. Recent guests have included Jameela Jamil and Catherine Bohart, who discuss topics ranging from “mean flirting” to the quirks of a “lesbian louche life.”The Overturn – Partnering with the Future Justice Project charity, Marnie Duke examines potential wrongful convictions, notably the case of former sub‑postmaster Robin Garbutt, imprisoned for his wife’s murder. The series asks whether the broader Post Office scandal could cast doubt on the prosecution’s narrative.Amityvilleville – Host Alex Goldman (of Hyperfixed and Reply All) teams up with Vice writer Caroline Thompson to watch all 91 films inspired by the Amityville haunting, beginning with the 1979 classic The Amityville Horror. Their commentary blends humor with genuine enthusiasm for the genre’s most bizarre entries.