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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.

James Gunn's early feature film Slither, initially released in 2006, is being re-released in cinemas ahead of its 20th anniversary. The film, a comedy horror with a heavy focus on body horror, was Gunn's first feature-length project. At the time, it was met with commercial disappointment but has since garnered attention due to Gunn's subsequent success with major franchises such as Guardians of the Galaxy and Superman.The film's plot revolves around an alien lifeform that crash-lands on Earth and takes over a small town in South Carolina. The alien larvae, resembling flaccid phallic worms, infect the townspeople through various orifices, turning them into evil minions or hideously swollen incubators. The movie features Michael Rooker, Elizabeth Banks, and Nathan Fillion in key roles.Despite its thinly conceived science fiction elements and reliance on rubbery practical effects and lame jokes, which align more closely with the style of Troma, a production company where Gunn got his start, the film does showcase Gunn's early experimentation with comic timing and musical cues. A notable scene features a killing spree set to Air Supply's 'Every Woman in the World', a technique Gunn would later refine in his Guardians of the Galaxy films.The cast, including Michael Rooker and Elizabeth Banks, appears to be enjoying the film's humor, bringing some bright spots of wit and amusement to the movie. Slither is set to re-release in UK cinemas on April 10 and will be available on digital platforms from May 1.

François Ozon's The Stranger is a lustrously beautiful and superbly realised modern take on Albert Camus's classic novella L'Etranger. Set in 1940s French Algeria, the film follows the story of Meursault, a sensitive white European who commits a racist act under the unbearable noonday sun.The film, shot in Morocco, boasts an almost supernaturally detailed sense of period and place. Ozon's adaptation brings a contemporary perspective to the book's themes of empire and race, making changes that include a critique of the original text. This approach perhaps loses some of the source material's brutal, heartless power and arguably some of the title's meaning.Meursault, played by Benjamin Voisin, is portrayed as a character with an unreadable expression of listless unconcern. His story unfolds through flashbacks, showing his dull office job in Algiers, his blank reaction to his mother's death, and his relationship with Marie, played by Rebecca Marder.The film's climax features Meursault's fatal encounter with the vengeful brother of Raymond's girlfriend, Djemila. When asked for a motive, Meursault simply says: “C’était à cause du soleil” – “It was because of the sun”. This response highlights the absurdity of the situation and the racist undertones of the act.Ozon's adaptation softens the argument presented in Camus's original work, and Meursault is ultimately condemned to death. The film emerges as a passionate act of ancestor worship in honour of a renowned French artwork, while also critiquing the original text and its representation of imperialism.

When Kristyna Janku answered a police call, she could not have imagined the revelations that would follow. The defender learned that her former coach, Petr Vlachovsky—once celebrated as the Czech Republic’s top women’s football coach—had been secretly recording Slovacko players in the changing room for four years and was in possession of child‑sexual‑abuse content. Vlachovsky’s arrest in 2023 led to a court ruling last May that handed him a one‑year suspended sentence, a fine and a five‑year ban from all football‑related activity in the Czech Republic. However, the Czech FA has yet to lodge a complaint with FIFA’s ethics committee, leaving the door open for him to coach abroad, a prospect that unsettles Janku, now playing in Poland. According to Alex Phillips, secretary‑general of FIFPRO, this scandal is merely "the tip of the iceberg," noting that many victims remain silent because they lack trusted reporting channels. He stresses the need for an independent, funded international body to investigate and sanction abuse, rather than relying on national federations that often view the issue as low priority. The Czech case mirrors a recent incident in Austria, where a man received a seven‑month suspended prison term and a €1,200 fine for covertly filming the Altach women’s team, also paying €625 compensation to each victim. Both cases underscore a pattern of inadequate safeguarding across European women’s football. For Janku, the trauma extends beyond the courtroom. She describes a lasting hyper‑vigilance in dressing rooms and public spaces, and acknowledges that while she has declined therapy offered by the Czech players’ union, the psychological scars remain. FIFPRO’s women’s football director Alex Culvin warns that the lack of decisive action fuels a culture where abuse is minimized, citing parallels with the Me Too movement and high‑profile scandals such as the Luis Rubiales incident in Spain. Victims of Vlachovsky’s misconduct report a range of consequences—from nausea and the need to change clubs to long‑term body dysmorphia—highlighting how non‑contact sexual abuse can devastate athletes whose bodies are their livelihood. While the Czech federation is reportedly revising its safeguarding policies, critics argue that without a global enforcement mechanism, perpetrators like Vlachovsky can continue coaching elsewhere, perpetuating risk for future generations of female footballers.

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.

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) continues to serve as a cinematic comfort food, delivering a relentless parade of perils—jungle treks, venomous creatures, double‑crossing allies, and larger‑than‑life set‑pieces—while never losing its playful spirit.The film’s charm lies not only in its nonstop thrills but also in a deep‑seated nostalgic longing for an imagined era when “the good guys always won.” Its creators—George Lucas, co‑writer Philip Kaufman, and director Steven Spielberg—crafted an homage to the 1930‑ and 1940‑year‑old serial B‑movies they grew up watching, such as Buck Rogers and Zorro’s Fighting Legion. Those serials, broken into bite‑size chapters before the main feature, taught a formula of relentless action that Raiders replicates with modern polish.Beyond childhood reminiscence, the film offered early‑1980s America a respite from the lingering shadows of the Vietnam War and Watergate. By resurrecting the mythic Greatest Generation—who triumphed over the Great Depression and World War II—the movie positioned its hero, Harrison Ford’s Indiana Jones, as a symbol of moral clarity in a time of “great moral obscurity,” marked by political turmoil, economic recessions, and the so‑called “war on terror.”For many viewers, the experience of watching Raiders on weekend television added another layer of comfort. The film’s frequent rotation on cable and syndication turned it into a ritual: a lazy Sunday, a remote‑controlled channel‑surf, and the inevitable arrival of Indy battling Nazis or escaping deadly traps. That sense of surrendering control to the “all‑knowing cable programming gods” amplified the film’s soothing effect.Ultimately, the story’s resolution—where a divine‑like intervention saves Indy and Marion—mirrors the audience’s desire for reassurance that, no matter how chaotic the world, a protective force is watching over us.Available for streaming on Paramount+ (US), Now TV (UK), and Disney+ (Australia).

Elvira Notari—Italy’s first and most prolific female filmmaker—crafted a vivid portrait of early‑20th‑century Naples through melodramas such as È piccerella (1922). The film opens with bustling pilgrimage scenes at the Candelora festival, juxtaposing flamboyant revelry with stark images of poverty, a visual strategy that challenged the sanitized narratives favored by the fascist regime.According to film scholar Giuliana Bruno, Notari’s work was driven by a desire to document reality, exposing class tensions and gendered oppression that Mussolini’s censors deemed unacceptable. A 1928 censorship law explicitly banned Neapolitan films featuring “stallholders, beggars, urchins, dirty alleyways,” effectively silencing Notari’s authentic street‑level storytelling.Despite directing around 60 feature films—many hand‑coloured—alongside her husband Nicola at Dora Film, only three titles (A Santanotte, È piccerella, Fantasia ‘e surdato) and fragments survive today, a loss directly attributable to fascist suppression and the prohibitive cost of sound‑film conversion.The newly released documentary Elvira Notari: Beyond Silence, produced by Antonella Di Nocera and directed by Valerio Ciriaci, reconstructs Notari’s fragmented career by collaborating with contemporary “artisans”—photographers, visual artists, novelists, and musicians who reinterpret her silent‑film aesthetics. Ciriaci notes that the absence of personal archives made the film’s investigative approach essential, turning Notari’s silence into a creative catalyst.Critics emphasize Notari’s lasting influence on Italian‑American auteurs such as Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese. Elements of her chaotic street festivals anticipate the wedding scenes in *The Godfather* and *Goodfellas*, while her raw urban tableaux echo the gritty New York sequences of *Taxi Driver*.Beyond cinematic technique, scholars like Cristina Jandelli argue that Notari’s intertitles reveal a pronounced class consciousness and a critique of women’s marginalisation in early 20th‑century Italy. Her use of Neapolitan dialect and unvarnished depictions of squalor directly opposed the regime’s propaganda‑driven vision of a unified, pristine Italy.After Dora Film collapsed in 1930, Notari retired to Cava de’ Tirreni and died in 1946, largely forgotten until recent scholarly revival. The documentary positions her as a “symbol of the right to memories,” underscoring the ongoing relevance of silenced female voices in cultural history.*Elvira Notari: Beyond Silence* will premiere at New York’s Film Forum on 6 April 2026 and tour the United Kingdom throughout April and May, offering audiences a chance to reconnect with a pioneering filmmaker whose work was once erased by fascism.

The transition from live piano accompaniment in silent cinemas to recorded soundtracks marked a turning point for movie‑goers; the Vitaphone disc system of 1926 and the optical Movietone process that followed gave films a reliable, repeatable musical identity.Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927) was the first feature to have its music and sound effects printed directly onto the film strip, allowing audiences to hear orchestrated pieces by Chopin and Gounod in perfect sync with the picture.King Kong (1933) showcased Max Steiner’s pioneering use of the orchestra to drive narrative, mood and scene transitions, laying the groundwork for the symphonic Hollywood score that dominated the mid‑20th century.Citizen Kane (1941) gave Bernard Herrmann a platform to break from the lush, “Hollywood” sound, delivering a stark, atmospheric score that emphasized psychological tension and set a new standard for dramatic underscoring.Blackboard Jungle (1955) introduced Bill Haley’s Rock Around the Clock as the film’s musical spine, proving that popular rock could boost a movie’s commercial appeal and ushering in the era of song‑driven soundtracks.Forbidden Planet (1956) featured the first entirely electronic score, created by Louis and Bebe Barron using magnetic‑tape techniques; the pioneering use of the theremin and other electronic textures opened a fresh sonic frontier for sci‑fi cinema.Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) highlighted Henry Mancini’s “symphonic pop” style, marrying a timeless hit – Moon River – with a jazzy, contemporary score that demonstrated how pop sensibilities could coexist with traditional orchestration.2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) is remembered more for its curated classical pieces than Alex North’s original score, yet the film’s bold juxtaposition of Ligeti, Strauss and Khachaturian proved that pre‑existing music could become an integral narrative force.American Graffiti (1973) assembled over 40 period songs, weaving them into the story’s fabric and proving that a soundtrack could function as a cultural time‑capsule, influencing countless later productions.Star Wars: A New Hope (1977) revived the full‑orchestra tradition when John Williams delivered a heroic, leitmotif‑rich score that re‑ignited audience love for symphonic film music and set a template for blockbuster scoring.Crimson Tide (1995) marked Hans Zimmer’s breakthrough, blending aggressive electronic pulses with a powerful orchestral choir to create the modern, hybrid sound that now defines many high‑budget action films.These ten milestones illustrate how film music has continually evolved— from live accompaniment to electronic experimentation—while retaining a core purpose: to deepen storytelling and shape audience emotion. The legacy of these scores is celebrated each April at the London Soundtrack Festival, underscoring their lasting influence on both cinema and popular culture.

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.