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Steve review: Cillian Murphy is in awards-worthy form in powerful film
TV & Streaming

Steve review: Cillian Murphy is in awards-worthy form in powerful film

by jummy84 September 17, 2025
written by jummy84

The pupils’ struggles are mirrored by Steve’s own; a driven educator cum social worker, escalating alcohol and substance abuse enabling him to keep numerous plates spinning while all around him falls apart.

Thus, the scene is set for a pivotal 24 hours during which the pressure-cooker environment is tested to its limits, in a powerful film where dark humour only partially masks a desperate state of affairs, distinguished by across-the-board memorable performances.

It’s an especially frantic day at Stanton Wood, on which a camera crew filming a short piece for a regional TV news programme coincides with a visit from the area’s pompous, knighted MP (a requisitely stuffy Roger Allam).

Cillian Murphy as Steve in Netflix’s Steve. Robert Viglasky/Netflix

Most significantly, though, representatives of the trust that bankrolls the project arrive to inform Steve and his staff that the buildings have been sold and the school will close in six months.

Director Tim Mielants drops that particular bombshell fairly early on, by which time he’s already skilfully established his characters, from the mayhem of Steve on what he calls “a roundabout of doom” and the equally well-meaning but more pragmatic Ullman, to the arguably unsung stars of the piece, the boys themselves.

Prominent among the miscreants is the troubled but clearly bright Shy, a mannered, captivating turn by Jay Lycurgo (screenwriter Max Porter’s own source novel was called Shy), who we first meet in a happy-go-lucky mood until a phone call from his mother reveals she no longer wants anything to do with him.

Shy’s individual collision course is punctuated by pocket portraits of his fellow students (quick-witted bully Luke Ayres and maniacal Joshua J Parker make strong impressions), often presented as straight-to-camera interviews being filmed by the TV crew – heartfelt and hilarious in equal measure.

Difficult and destructive influences they may be, but as Ullman says of the misfits in her charge, “I f***ing adore all of them.”

Jay Lycurgo as Shy, Simbiatu Ajikawo (Little Simz) as Shola in Steve. Cr. Robert Viglasky/Neflix © 2025

Jay Lycurgo as Shy, Simbiatu Ajikawo (Little Simz) as Shola in Steve. Cr. Robert Viglasky/Neflix © 2025

The scholastic/babysitting efforts of Murphy and Ullman are accompanied by integral support from nervous rookie teacher Simbi Ajikawo (aka rapper Little Simz) and Emily Watson as a (mostly) tranquil counsellor, comprising a fully-rounded cast that might suggest the film is an ensemble work more in keeping with the original book.

However, Murphy’s star power and undeniable charisma can’t help but dominate events, and it’s almost exclusively through him that we see Stanton Wood unravel at the start of its careening towards a grimly uncertain future.

He’s in awards-worthy form, those bright expressive eyes piercing through a flustered, dishevelled frame as his commitment to the kids never wavers, despite sombre upheavals in his life away from the school that are drip-fed to viewers with stylish understatement.

It’s high drama throughout and not always comfortable viewing, but Mielants and Porter use their canvas to shine a light on broader issues of social and educational systemic failure without once stumbling into preachiness.

This is responsible, intelligent film-making, more important and questioning than boarder dramas like the Oscar-winning The Holdovers and wisely side-stepping the shock value controversies of, say, 1979’s Scum.

Mielants is to be applauded for making his audience warm to a ragbag collection of ne’er-do-wells they might normally cross the street to avoid, and in Murphy’s title character he has helped fashion a poster child for underpaid, under-resourced workers navigating the obstacles that threaten the jobs they care passionately about.

One scene in particular, close to the conclusion of the film, reinforces the bond which inevitably forms between teachers and pupils; a dialogue-free snapshot that moistens the eyes to temporarily dilute the anger built up over the previous hour about the callous treatment by those in power towards a near forgotten underclass.

Steve will be released in select UK cinemas on Friday 19th September and on Netflix on Friday 3rd October.

Check out more of our Film coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what’s on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.

September 17, 2025 0 comments
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‘The Morning Show’ Review: Season 4 Is Both Utterly Nonsensical and Numbingly Monotonous
TV & Streaming

‘The Morning Show’ Review: Season 4 Is Both Utterly Nonsensical and Numbingly Monotonous

by jummy84 September 17, 2025
written by jummy84

After sending Bradley Jackson (Reese Witherspoon) into orbit and Alex Levy (Jennifer Aniston) into the arms of alt-reality Elon Musk, “The Morning Show” scales things back (relatively speaking) to focus on basic relationship drama… and makes even less sense.

September 17, 2025 0 comments
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Ed Sheeran: Play Album Review
Music

Ed Sheeran: Play Album Review

by jummy84 September 17, 2025
written by jummy84

“Old Phone”’s literal attempt to mine the past for inspiration is, at the very least, slightly new territory for Sheeran. On “Camera,” he taps back into the I-love-you-despite-your-flaws clichés of his One Direction co-write “Little Things” (“You think that you don’t have beauty-in-abundance but you do/That’s the truth”) before inverting the premise of his 2015 hit “Photograph”: “I don’t need a camera to capture this moment/I’ll remember how you look tonight for all my life.” But then again, isn’t it every childhood Clapton obsessive’s dream to one day rip off “Wonderful Tonight?” Again?

The box-ticking doesn’t end there: Play contains unworthy successors to both “Perfect” (“In Other Words”) and “Thinking Out Loud” (“The Vow,”) as well as “A Little More,” a vintage Sheeran breakup track in that it is too bilious by half. When he sings “I can’t call you crazy/’Cause you could be diagnosed” it reinforces two things we already knew about Sheeran: he’s never been able to save any of his famous empathy for his exes, and he’s never been able to really land a joke.

These obvious, odious songs pad out a couple of singles that vindicate my perhaps-unpopular feeling that Sheeran is at his most dynamic when drawing from nonwhite musical traditions. “Azizam,” named after an Iranian term meaning “my darling,” is his catchiest, most energized song since “Shape of You” thanks to its tight hook and producer Ilya’s subtle incorporation of unconventional rhythms and traditional Iranian instruments. “Sapphire,” a collaboration with the Punjabi superstar Arijit Singh, and “Symmetry,” built around a frisky, hypnotic tabla rhythm by Jayesh Kathak, are heavy-handed, but Sheeran’s sheer enthusiasm on each track—the same level of investment that made “South of the Border” work despite its profound cringe factor—sells them entirely. (I am almost certain that non-diasporic Indians will go crazy for these songs, and that’s before you factor in the appearance of Shah Rukh Khan, India’s Tom Cruise, in the video for “Sapphire.”)

These are the only songs on Play where Sheeran doesn’t sound like he’s going through the motions; he’s talked about finishing the album in Goa, and they’re sparky enough to make you wish he had done the whole album there. And of course, Sheeran is not “Mr. Political,” as he put it in 2017, but there is a bitter aftertaste to his collaborations with Indian and Iranian musicians on an album released just a day before more than 110,000 far-right anti-immigrant protesters roiled through the streets of London. These are escapist songs landing in inescapably awful times; Sheeran might be the only everyman in England who can ignore the fact that this kind of apolitical, commerce-minded Choose Love thinking ran out of steam a long time ago.

Play ends with “Heaven,” one of the album’s strongest songs, and also the song that best encapsulates all its problems. On one hand, it taps into a narrative that’s dogged Sheeran through his entire career: He may have “won both cases,” as he raps on “Opening,” referring to copyright infringement cases he won in 2023 and 2024, but that doesn’t change the fact that a lot of Sheeran’s music bears uncanny resemblance to other hits, and this one is fairly similar to both Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” and Charli XCX’s “Everything Is Romantic.” On the other hand, its combination of an easy ghatam-led groove and sweetly generic lyrics seems to find a healthy middle ground between the innovation that Sheeran says he’s too old for and the timeworn cliché that sounds so stale on the rest of the album. Then again, attentive listeners might find repetition of the same old images too much to bear when he drops lines like “Chemicals bursting, exploding/As every second’s unfolding.” Take a double shot.

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September 17, 2025 0 comments
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'A Big Bold Beautiful Journey' Review: Kogonada's Big, Bold Misfire
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‘A Big Bold Beautiful Journey’ Review: Kogonada’s Big, Bold Misfire

by jummy84 September 16, 2025
written by jummy84

That Kogonada is neither a writer nor editor credited on his third feature is the first worrying road sign on this “Big Bold Beautiful Journey,” roles he maintained on both the coolly observed, intellectual romance “Columbus” and the cozy, ruminative AI sci-fi “After Yang.”

His latest film, a drawn-out, time-hopping romance between Colin Farrell and Margot Robbie as script-y stick figures trapped by a sentient rental car into literally driving down the memory lane of their most formative episodes, features both embarrassingly earnest writing and nonsensical, incoherent editing. Perhaps someone could have asked the film’s director to step away from the camera and in on either front.

Evan Shapiro at Storytellers during the 2022 Tribeca Festival

Pairing Kogonada with screenwriter Seth Reiss’ (“The Menu”) disaster-bound dump truck of cliches feels like an insult to and an underestimation of the Cannes-crowned filmmaker’s prior proven bona fides: It’s not a drama, it’s not a comedy, it’s not a romance, but it’s kind of a musical at one point? That much I know is true.

Less discernible human characters than the shapes of people who look like them, David (Colin Farrell) and Sarah (Margot Robbie) are strangers who meet at a mutual friend’s wedding they are both attending stag. That the wedding takes place in a hotel called La Strada and on a very rainy day tells you that we are in a fanciful la-la land of cutesy cinematic references and a world in which a contrived meet-cute congeals around coincidences and pastels. Robbie, styled in a newsboy cap and oversized red coat, looks like she just came back from a semester abroad living in Soho, Londontown.

The costumes and production design are all Jacques Demy by way of Anthropologie, color-popped to impose personality on the personality-less (and with Bright Eyes and Mitski on the soundtrack to reinforce the indie tweeness). Beyond just looking cheap and CW-adjacent, the styling only reinforces the level of artifice and unwillingness to go deeper than skin or sickly cotton-candy-sweet surfaces.

David and Sarah, across nearly two testing hours that unfold at the pace you imagine being forced to relive your life’s most painful moments on the road to rediscovering your inner manic pixie dream child would, aren’t revealed to have any dreams of their own beyond the failed quest for love. (Though David’s pasted-on childhood fondness for musicals implies something adjacent to character development here.)

A BIG BOLD BEAUTIFUL JOURNEY, from left: Colin Farrell, Margot Robbie, 2025. © Columbia Pictures / Courtesy Everett Collection
‘A Big Bold Beautiful Journey‘©Columbia Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection

They are, rather, cut-outs of rom-com archetypes: David is a sad, lonely man whose father (Hamish Linklater) recently died, and Sarah is a self-confessed serial cheater whose mother (Lily Rabe, Linklater’s wife and a welcome respite, given her increasing likeness to her mother, the late Jill Clayburgh) died when she was a college freshman screwing her professor.

Back up a bit, though the connective tissue is missing here: In the opening sequence, David’s parked car gets the dreaded yellow boot due to unpaid parking tickets, a note pasted curbside directing him to an ominous rental car company that turns out to be operated out of a warehouse by an asleep-at-the-wheel Kevin Kline and cloyingly smirky Phoebe Waller-Bridge. It’s the car David takes to the wedding, and the car whose GPS, when David eventually offers Sarah a ride, that promises them both a “big bold beautiful journey,” a phrase they are meant to say back to it like some kind of greeting-card-tailored, reverse “there’s no place like home.” Said car then takes them on said journey, where each stop is outfitted with a portal-like door that allows them to enter into past milestones: break-ups, significant deaths, soul-shifting encounters with art.

The most charming sequences allows the 49-year-old Colin Farrell to dust off his song and dance skills in a performance, as his adolescent David self, in a school production of “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.” Sarah stands up from the audience to fill in the lyrics after David, confronting his then childhood girlfriend, grinds the performance to an auditorium-freezing halt. There’s another stridently mawkish sequence in which David and Sarah both re-experience their most wounding breakups — David with a woman he was engaged to (played by Sarah Gadon) and Sarah with a cableknit-sweater-clad Billy Magnussen, whom she left and ghosted in the middle of the night — in tandem.

A BIG BOLD BEAUTIFUL JOURNEY, Colin Farrell, 2025. © Columbia Pictures / Courtesy Everett Collection
‘A Big Bold Beautiful Journey’©Columbia Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection

The problem here is that David and Sarah learn or glean nothing meaningful or revelatory in rehashing old traumas; much like filmmakers, they’re observing the material as if moving slides on a Kodak wheel rather than actually engaging with them. Whereas in a movie like “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” Joel and Clementine replayed and relived the past to understand where they’ve gone wrong in the present, David and Sarah’s only lesson learned here is that they apparently belong together romantically after all, despite his mopiness and tendency toward shutting people out, and her lifelong allergy to monogamy and bohemianism. It’s unfortunate, too, that the actors seem to have an allergy to each other in the sparks department, with about as much chemistry as that between two walls that happen to be facing each other.

“A Big Bold Beautiful Journey” suffers from the fact that Kogonada, who got his start crafting online video essay analyses of his favorite films and TV shows before debuting with “Columbus” at Sundance 2017 and taking “After Yang” to Cannes in 2021, has no personal stamp on the project. This film is like a splotchy watercolor of vaguely blotted emotions next to the pointilist emotional precision of his prior two films.

Reiss’ script was a Black List find that either wasn’t reworked enough by committee or so sanded down in the studio churn that all personality was drained in the process. Cinematographer Benjamin Loeb (“Pieces of a Woman,” “Dream Scenario,” “Mandy”) shoots the film more like a cheery extended ad campaign for the AI-powered vehicle driving the characters toward catharsis, and there’s certainly nothing romantic about a movie that features multiple moments of cringe-in-your-seat Burger King product placement.

“A Big Bold Beautiful Journey” is miscalculated as a romance and a fantasy, and while I’m loath to blame a craftsman as intelligent as Kogonada entirely for the outcome, he did, after all, agree to direct this lousy script. A big, bold, beautiful bore indeed.

Grade: D+

“A Big Bold Beautiful Journey” opens in theaters from Sony Pictures on Friday, September 19.

Want to stay up to date on IndieWire’s film reviews and critical thoughts? Subscribe here to our newly launched newsletter, In Review by David Ehrlich, in which our Chief Film Critic and Head Reviews Editor rounds up the best new reviews and streaming picks along with some exclusive musings — all only available to subscribers.

September 16, 2025 0 comments
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Glossier Cloud Paint Plush Blush Powder Review
Fashion

Glossier Cloud Paint Plush Blush Powder Review

by jummy84 September 16, 2025
written by jummy84

Worn alone or with its OG bestie, Cloud Paint’s new powder formula gets all the thumbs up from me. The shades are gorgeous (there’s truly a shade for every skin tone and mood), the formula is blendable and pigmented, and let’s be honest: Blush faces more stiff competition than ever before, and this one has solidly earned a spot in my rotation. At $26 (available at both Glossier and Sephora), it occupies a similar price point as comparable blushes from Rare Beauty and Makeup By Mario. I’ve taken years to finish a single tube of Cloud Paint, and if Plush Blush is remotely similar, then I know it’ll be at least a few months before I hit pan. (The brush is nice, but I truthfully don’t see myself using it super often — although it is admittedly very cute and a collector’s item for any Glossier superfan.) All in all, I think Glossier has managed to do something pretty unique with this launch; make a powder blush that appeals to the Glossier hive, while also meeting non-Cloud Paint users where they’re at. I’d even go as far as to say this is Glossier’s most impressive makeup launch in a while, but I don’t want to make them blush or anything…
September 16, 2025 0 comments
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Jens Lekman: Songs for Other People’s Weddings Album Review
Music

Jens Lekman: Songs for Other People’s Weddings Album Review

by jummy84 September 16, 2025
written by jummy84

Lekman had long corresponded with author David Levithan, who co-wrote the 2006 novel Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, before they collaborated on songs for a novel, also called Songs for Other People’s Weddings, about a fictional but familiar wedding singer. But then, rather than just recording the songs he wrote for the book, Lekman went further, delving into the characters’ POVs to create a Sinatra-inspired standalone musical. Appreciating the resulting album isn’t contingent on the book—it’s pure Lekmanalia. But it’s contingent on how much pleasure you can stand. If the record has a defect besides the preciousness that Lekman, to his devotees, turns into an indispensable virtue, it’s the whopping length. My nervous system just can’t endure 17 tracks of uncut Jens at once; it’s a giddy squee! sustained for 80 minutes. But it has variety and inspiration throughout, and it works great when taken in two chunks, one spinning a relationship together and the other gently tugging it apart.

The story traces the arc of the romance between J, the Lekman proxy, and V. They meet at a wedding where all the guests are dressed as songs (he’s “Raspberry Beret,” she’s “Crazy in Love”), and after taking a pill that tastes like hairspray, they fall into the playful connection that will define their intimacy. It’s about being in love while also being love’s outsider, both participant and observer, a split that blurs the line between life and music—as Lekman adores doing. When V moves overseas, seeking space, J starts booking gigs just to be near her. Throughout, V is powerfully sung by Matilda Sargren, whom Lekman recruited through a youth orchestra in his hometown. V has the last word on their relationship, and J learns that his music’s purpose is not to bottle permanence but to celebrate connection, however fleeting.

The music has as many moods as love does: now light and irrepressible, now crackling with an erotic charge, then turning tentative or questioning, cozy or desolate. Duets peel off into monologues; what was joyous returns as profound. Lekman’s storytelling is exceptionally detailed and funny, kind of like a Swedish David Sedaris, and his wedding-singer avatar gives him a chorus of toothsome characters and milieus to weave through J and V’s evolving dynamic. “GOT-JFK” kicks off an ingenious suite set at a performance-art wedding in Brooklyn; later J finds himself at a singles table in Leipzig with “two sisters who look like Patty and Selma from The Simpsons/An elderly man whose lungs sound like a broken whistle/And a man who’s the embodiment of a full blown incel.” We come to realize that Lekman’s side hustle, rather than taking away from his songwriting, must inestimably feed it.

September 16, 2025 0 comments
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Liquid Mike: Hell Is an Airport Album Review
Music

Liquid Mike: Hell Is an Airport Album Review

by jummy84 September 15, 2025
written by jummy84

As far as indie rock origin stories go, “mailman moonlighting as a rock star gets word-of-mouth breakthrough, no label needed” is about as cool as it gets. Mike Maple started driving for USPS in 2020, shortly before his band Liquid Mike released its first two albums. Since then, the prolific group has put out a record a year of high-octane garage rock, drawing in a cult fanbase: Its 2023 album S/T struck a nerve on Bandcamp and Twitter, despite having almost no formal promotion; then, 2024’s Paul Bunyan’s Slingshot earned the group critical buzz and support slots with bands like Descendants, Joyce Manor, and Militarie Gun.

Like other Midwest rockers before them—The Replacements, Hüsker Dü, and Guided By Voices all come to mind—Liquid Mike like their runtimes short, their guitars loud, and their hooks easy to sing along to no matter how many beers you’ve had. The band’s first five albums were mostly inspired by Maple’s time driving the mail truck around Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, and the small-town shenanigans he and his friends got up to off the clock. Their discography is filled with “get out of this town” anthems—but on their sixth album, Hell Is an Airport, Liquid Mike asks what happens when a hometown hero’s journey takes him outside of his familiar surroundings.

A lot of what happens, it turns out, is more of the same. Most of these songs see Maple in head-on collision with the realization that the ennui of his home life won’t disappear once he hits the road. “What are you running from?/A middle-aged Houdini/Locked ice box/Works hard to take it easy,” Maple sings on “Grand Am,” pondering the hours he spent at previous dead-end jobs—now that his dream job has become his day job, was the less predictable path worth it? “AT&T” features some subtle record scratching underneath its shimmery guitar progression, as Maple drags out the line, “How the days move slow” in a way that could apply both to the hurry-up-and-wait of his life as a touring musician, or the grind that preceded it when this kind of success was just a daydream.

Maple’s fears of becoming an “out-of-touch out-of-towner” bubble to the surface of the speedy and metallic “Double Dutch,” though oftentimes Hell Is an Airport sees Maple and his band leaving town only to discover that the rest of the country embodies the same monotony they’ve been trying to escape. Abandoned malls, endless highways, and dead-eyed service workers are reminders of alienation on all fronts. Hell Is an Airport soundtracks industrial wastelands and suburban sprawl with wiry power-pop, crunched-up grunge-gaze, and even the occasional coughing fit of stoner metal.

September 15, 2025 0 comments
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Twenty One Pilots: Breach Album Review
Music

Twenty One Pilots: Breach Album Review

by jummy84 September 15, 2025
written by jummy84

This is Twenty One Pilots in its purest form. Opener “City Walls” is a five-minute litmus test, with gigantic “oh-woah” hooks, soaring choruses, fuzzy bass tones, overdriven drums, and yes, rapping. It’s also pure fan service; the deeply ludicrous $1 million music video frequently calls back to past work and the song itself interpolates their single “Holding on to You.” It’s fascinating to hear a Christian-adjacent band reprise the words “entertain my faith” as the video depicts Clancy’s submission to a religious cult, but this isn’t the band to handle those implications.

Having once contributed to the Suicide Squad soundtrack, Pilots now convey the bubbly energy of James Gunn’s Superman reboot. You don’t need to know about the Bishops’ necromancing powers to enjoy the frenetic snowboarding-game breakbeat and maniacal vocal processing of “The Contract.” There are dumb-clever antics throughout: “Garbage” teases an uplifting “Something Just Like This” piano part before Joseph blurts out “I feel like garbage!” The song “Rawfear” speeds up on the line “never slowing down,” then abruptly returns to the original tempo—because he can’t escape the cycle. There’s hardly a breather until “Cottonwood,” a loving tribute to Joseph’s grandfather, and the meditative closer, “Intentions.” There’s also “Downstairs,” a dolled-up demo from their pre-major label days, but the vestigial self-seriousness feels out of place on an album like this.

The most engaging motif in the Pilots catalog remains Joseph’s complex relationship with his fans. On Vessel standout (give or take a reggae break) “Guns for Hands,” he felt responsible for their mental health as his own deteriorated. On Trench ballad “Neon Gravestones,” he cautioned them not to glorify his death should he one day lose his battle with depression. The tension comes to a head on Breach. Earlier this year, somebody briefly stole a kick drum from Dun’s kit at a concert, and throughout “Center Mass,” the band samples another fan’s cautionary “I really don’t think you should take that!” On “Drum Show,” seemingly in response to this fiasco, Joseph pays tribute to his burnt-out bandmate, who’s “stuck between a rock and a home, two places he does not wanna go.” When Joseph says, “This has not been interesting in a while” on “One Way,” a fundamentally earnest band fully admits to disillusionment.

Twenty One Pilots’ pure pop songs—like Scaled and Icy’s “Shy Away”—are often their best, which makes their ongoing attempts at hip-hop all the more frustrating. Joseph once gave Zane Lowe a playlist of his greatest influences, and not only was Ben Gibbard on it twice, the only rapper was Matisyahu. On Breach, they sound like they maybe gave GNX a passing listen (the call-and-response on “Center Mass” is very “Reincarnated”), but their engagement with the genre remains shallow. No one has ever sounded less convincing than Tyler “gangstas don’t cry, therefore I’m Mr. Misty Eyed” Joseph singing about “empty Uzis” on “Rawfear.” But when they get the balance right, they wind up with some of their best material to date: “Mass” starts with a suitably moody verse over a two-chord vamp and ends with a genuinely exciting double-time outro.

Right now it’s hard to imagine a cultural re-evaluation for Twenty One Pilots, the way people who grew up in the ’00s eventually gave My Chemical Romance and Linkin Park (both obvious influences) their flowers. But seeing the likes of MGK attempt a similar style without the same ambition puts the duo’s merit into perspective, and at least Pilots are thoroughly committed to their uncool niche. They’d be more respected if they did away with the rapping entirely, but that would fundamentally change what this band is and why it got this far. As for poor Clancy, he fails to break the cycle and, in a Matrix Reloaded-esque twist, the rebels must find another “Clancy” to continue the fight. It’s a surprisingly sobering ending: No one here truly transcends their limitations, but it’s only a matter of time before they try again.

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Twenty One Pilots: Breach

September 15, 2025 0 comments
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Coldwater review: Andrew Lincoln-led psychological thriller will make you choke
TV & Streaming

Coldwater review: Andrew Lincoln-led psychological thriller will make you choke

by jummy84 September 14, 2025
written by jummy84

Life has a different plan though, with other men seemingly smelling the weakness in him, and making it their mission to make his life miserable. When John’s fight or flight response is triggered in a park, he runs for it, leaving a poor woman – and his own child, for that matter – in his dust as he belts it down the road. While he does later return to retrieve his daughter, the shock of the whole thing sparks him to keep running… all the way to rural Scotland.

With his family moving to the quaint and quiet village of Coldwater, it feels like a fresh start. Bible-bashing neighbours Tommy (Ewen Bremner) and Rebecca (Eve Myles) welcome them into their home and the community. While his sex life with Fiona has still hit a road block, it’s a start.

But then he runs into a local yob in an off-licence, and it all goes wrong again. No escaping the bad guys for John – they’re everywhere.

When said local yob, Angus, later turns violent with John during a run-in on a late-night jog, a chain of events leaves Angus dead, John a shrivelling wreck, and new best mate Tommy his guardian angel. At least, that’s what he thinks. Turns out his scariest bad guy comes with a wide grin, a woollen jumper, and a more-than-slight obsession with serial killers.

The incident triggers something in both Tommy and John alike, and soon the pair are in a battle of wits for control over the other. As Tommy, Ewan Bremner is deliciously creepy – played perfectly as the women around him pick up on it immediately, but with enough subtlety that men dismiss it as “just what he’s like”.

On the flip side, Andrew Lincoln is perfectly cast as John, a man emasculated from life and in need of some kind, ANY kind, of win. Most will know Lincoln as strong Walking Dead leading man, Rick Grimes, and you can sense that ability in John – he just can’t, or won’t, unlock it in himself, beaten down and depressed.

Andrew Lincoln as John and Ewen Bremner as Tommy in Coldwater Sister Pictures for ITV

Psychological thrillers have a knack sometimes of falling into the trap of having their characters make stupid decisions or cliché moves – ”Don’t go to the police!” “Go down that dark garden path!” “Let’s open this spooky door” – but in Coldwater, writer David Ireland justifies everything down to the tiniest detail, backing the mousey John into a corner.

But it’s also why I love the women of the show, who make perfect partners for their male counterparts. Fiona is the breadwinner and strong-willed, not taking fools gladly and not easily deceived. Before anything even goes wrong, she doesn’t trust Tommy – and he can sense that, keeping him on edge. This trait also explains her growing frustration with her husband, who’s so willing to take someone’s lead it almost doesn’t matter who that someone is.

Indira Varma as Fiona in Coldwater, holding window blinds open to look through them.

Indira Varma as Fiona in Coldwater. Sister Pictures for ITV

Meanwhile Eve Myles’ is deliciously deceptive as the pastor who everyone adores. Warm and inviting to everyone, there’s a hidden side to everything she does that’s just waiting to come out – she’s not even Christian, openly admitting to Fiona being atheist. It just proves how good she is at lying, something that will come in handy down the line.

There’s certainly some gripes to have with Coldwater, every now and again doing something so wild it throws you out of the realistic world that’s been created, and sometimes edging over the thrilling-ridiculous line in the wrong direction. But it does pull itself back when it needs to, creating a show that is all too easy to want more of.

Coldwater is the kind of thriller that keeps you in a chokehold from the opening moments of the first episode, and refuses to let go until the end.

By the end of the series, you’ll be left struggling to breathe… and that’s just where creator David Ireland wants you.

Coldwater is available now on ITVX.

Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what’s on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.

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September 14, 2025 0 comments
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Phish: The Siket Disc Album Review
Music

Phish: The Siket Disc Album Review

by jummy84 September 14, 2025
written by jummy84

That last sentence, as it happens, could be affixed to any of Phish’s work in the 15 years leading up to The Siket Disc. While conventional wisdom (and reams of music criticism) might suggest otherwise, they had already covered quite a lot of ground as a studio act, and they worked hard to differentiate their official discography from the scratchy bootleg tapes that catalyzed their loyal following. Among its entries was a set of dazzlingly weird compositions played live in the studio (1989’s Junta), a moody concept album that upped their emotional stakes (1993’s Rift), a brash rock album tailor-made for alternative radio (1994’s Hoist), and a tasteful, rootsy album that helped win over the jam skeptics (1996’s Billy Breathes).

During their formative gigs for fellow college students in Vermont, the appeal of a Phish show was all about what happens next—where any given song might take them, what new tricks they might reveal, what would happen when other scenes discover this wild, ecstatic music. Like so many gifted kids chasing their passion, the band’s boundless potential seemed to spur them on—even if the members seemed more interested in making each other laugh than singing in key or writing anything that might appeal to radio. As OG Phish head Tom Baggott recalls in Parke Puterbaugh’s Phish: The Biography, “It was like there was a big joke going on and all the early Phish fans knew the punchline—which was that this was gonna be something big.”

Here is the dream of every small-town weirdo, as played out on the stages of the music industry: One day you will step to the front of the classroom and dazzle everyone, from the snobby cool kids to the stuffy professors who never thought you had it in you. And once you’ve won them over, there’s no one left to please but yourself. With Phish, this posture was written so conclusively into their ascent that the trappings of mainstream success had little bearing on them. The major-label studio albums, no matter the effort and money behind them, would never hold fans’ attention like the cherished bootleg tapes. And even as they started selling out storied halls like Madison Square Garden in 1994, they had their sights set elsewhere: specifically, five miles north in Plattsburgh, New York, where they launched their own two-day festival that became the largest North American concert of 1996.

It’s an enviable place for any band—creating your own standards for success and finding an audience to achieve them with you—but it’s also dangerous territory. It’s one thing for the underdog to rise to the top of the class; it’s another thing to have to run the school. These concerns informed Anastasio’s 1988 college thesis, a heavily mythologized rock opera called The Man Who Stepped Into Yesterday. The plot, if I’m understanding it right (and I’m not sure I ever have), involves a utopian society called Gamehendge that becomes corrupted by power, then overthrown by a revolutionary, then eventually corrupted once again by that same revolutionary after he steps into power. Breaking onto the jam scene at a time when some heads saw the Grateful Dead in danger of burning and/or selling out, Anasatsio understood that good intentions and high ideals could only get you so far before real life starts to intrude.

September 14, 2025 0 comments
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