'Trash' Kim Kardashian slammed as she lands major role in the Bratz movie: 'Why is she an actress now?'
Kim Kardashian has been fiercely scolded after it was reported she has an acting role in the upcoming Bratz movie, with disgruntled fans so furious by the casting news that they're urging others to not give over their money to see it.
On Wednesday, it was confirmed that Amazon MGM Studios landed the live-action movie revolving around the famous doll line after a bidding war.
Deadline reports that businesswoman Kim, 44, is 'being eyed to play the villain in the project.'
The news, however, has rattled social media users who have hit out at the decision to cast Kim and have begged cinemagoers to not part with their hard-earned cash to further line the pockets of the Kardashian family.
In a Reddit post titled 'When are we, as a society, finally going to move past the Kardashians?' one furious user said: 'Nobody asked for this. Why is Kim an actress now?'
Another agreed, adding: 'As someone who grew up with Bratz it pains me to have to give this a miss, but I hate the Kardashians and don't want to give any of them my money.'
'I refuse to watch anything she is in or buy any product she is associated with,' a third added.
A fourth continued: 'Both Bratz and the Kardashians needed to go straight in the trash circa 2010 but here we are continuing to watch the dumpster fire burn bright.'
'Guys don't give this money please,' said another.
A sixth blasted: 'Maybe, collectively, if we stop giving them attention, any attention, **they will go away**.'
The Bratz fashion dolls previously took center stage in the Bratz: The Movie, released in 2017.
Directed by Sean McNamara, the film was the first live-action based on the doll line after numerous direct-to-video animated films and a television series.
The new Bratz film update comes after the success of Greta Gerwig's Barbie, which smashed box office records following its release in 2023.
Kim's acting career has certainly ramped up in recent years.
In 2023, she played a lead role in Ryan Murphy's anthology thriller American Horry Story: Delicate.
She has since reunited with Ryan for his upcoming legal drama, All's Fair, which also stars Naomi Watts, Niecy Nash, Teyana Taylor, Sarah Paulson, and Glenn Close.
Kim also serves as an executive producer on the series, set to premiere on Hulu in the fall.
Prior to working with Ryan, Kim has made appearances as herself in the sitcoms 2 Broke Girls and How I Met Your Mother, as well as 90210, Last Man Standing, and 30 Rock.
In April, legendary actress Glenn Close heaped praise on Kim's acting capabilities.
Speaking to DailyMail.com, she said: 'Frankly, if she wants to be an actress, that's one road. But she could be. She's a great executive.
'She's a great businesswoman. She's a very, very involved mother. She's getting her law degree.
'So, I think she has huge potential and that she's fulfilled already as a woman. And frankly, I will be fascinated to see what she chooses to do.'
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The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
Less death, more social media: Formula One films decades apart reveal a changed world
'Let's try to get the season off to a good start, shall we? Drive the car. Don't try to stand it on its bloody ear.' Have you watched the movie? It's about a rule-breaking American Formula One driver, the kind who blows past blue flags and crashes into his own teammate. You must have heard of it. They shot it in real race cars, across some of the most prestigious circuits in the world. It even had contemporary world championship drivers making notable cameos on the track. If you've never watched 1966's Grand Prix, now is the time to do it. This summer's blockbuster slot may belong to F1; and its director, Joseph Kosinski, may have gone to extraordinary lengths to capture the visceral speed of the fastest class in motor sport. But John Frankenheimer got there first. The close parallels between the two films have gone largely unremarked in the reviews. Six decades ago, when the glamour of the sport was peaking, Frankenheimer set out to capture its thrill, daring and inescapable danger. He fixed cameras to the chassis of Formula Two cars – the same substitute Kosinski has used – that hared round Brands Hatch, Spa, Monaco. Like Kosinski, he spliced real race footage into his own. His American lead, James Garner, did his own driving, just like Brad Pitt. There are even occasional shots in Kosinski's film that seem to pay tribute, intentional or not, to its predecessor – the moment that recalls Frankenheimer's stylistic use of split-screen, or when Pitt jogs around the old Monza banking. F1 the Movie, to be clear, is a billion-dollar industry giving itself a full valet – shampooed squeaky clean and buffed to an impossible sheen. But it's also the kind of sports-washing I'm prepared to indulge for the sake of the pure adrenaline thrill. After watching Top Gun: Maverick at the cinema, I walked straight back in for the next screening and sat in the front row so I could pretend to be in the cockpit. At the Imax this week I was practically climbing into the screen. I was definitely the only woman my age leaning into the turns, and wishing they would stop cutting back to Pitt's face so that I got more track time. For a bit of perspective, I had gone with my father, a man with a decades-long following of motor sport and a habit of nitpicking at movie details. Ten minutes into F1's opening track sequence he leaned over, and I braced for a critique of the pit crew's refuelling technique. 'We can go home now,' he whispered. 'It's good enough already.' A movie that can impress my father with its motor racing action deserves all the hype it gets. But neither he nor I had anticipated just how much it would remind us of Grand Prix – or how well that 59-year-old work would stand up in comparison. The Silverstone marching band, paraded past the clubhouse by a moustachioed sergeant-major, has given way to night-race fireworks in Las Vegas, and the ruinous cost of running an F1 team has jumped from a few hundred thousand to £100m. The stomach-buzz as the asphalt whizzes beneath you remains the same. Putting the two stories side by side does, however, show you interesting ways the sport has changed. Grand Prix's opening lingers, fetishistically, over images of working pistons and twisting wrenches. Such lowly mechanical details are almost entirely absent in F1, where the team headquarters looks like a space station and every element of the engineering process is rendered in gleaming sci-fi. There's also a lot less death. Frankenheimer's crashes are genuinely shocking – not because the stunts are realistic (and they are) but because of the bluntness of their outcome. Drivers are catapulted from their seats to fall on whatever part of the landscape they meet first. Spectators aren't safe either. The fact that horrifying incidents are a part of the public's fascination with Formula One is a recurring theme. F1 still plays on the life-or-death stakes, but does it in a very different way, as you'd expect from a film licensed by the governing body as a big-screen advert for the sport. It's also pretty keen that everyone you meet on screen shows motor racing in a good light. Team principals are loving family men! Drivers' managers are cuddly BFFs! People cycle eco-consciously to work! Everyone is so empathic and good at giving advice! It was the latter that had me balking at the chutzpah. There's a point where our hero tells the rookie to stop thinking about his social media. The hype, the fan engagement – 'it's all just noise,' he says. This in a movie that was produced, at phenomenal cost, as a method of growing hype and fan engagement. The film's only baddy, meanwhile, is a corporate investor, who we know must be a bad 'un because he spends his time schmoozing The Money in hospitality. Here's a game for you when you're watching F1: try to go two minutes without seeing or hearing the name of a brand that's paid to be there. I left the auditorium still blinking the name of accountancy software. By contrast, Frankenheimer's film seems bracingly honest. In Grand Prix, the drivers may have moments of self-reflection but they're also uncompromisingly selfish in their pursuit. The philosophical Frenchman Jean-Pierre Sarti suggests they live in denial: 'To do something very dangerous requires a certain absence of imagination.' 'Why do we do it? Why not tennis, or golf?' It's the question at the centre of every motor-racing film. In Le Mans, Steve McQueen answered by stripping out everything but the sound and feel of the track. F1's hero describes the feeling when he's 'flying' (not for nothing does he arrive walking down the tarmac, carrying a duffel like a certain fighter pilot). Perhaps that's what makes motor racing ripe for big-screen treatment – it's the most literally escapist form of sport there is. If F1 gives it the glossy treatment, Grand Prix sees beneath the sheen.
Telegraph
an hour ago
- Telegraph
Inside Roger Federer Inc – where business never stops booming
Inside the 1886 Club, a ritzy pop-up cabin on the banks of the Savannah River in Augusta, Roger Federer was holding forth for Mercedes-Benz private clients hand-picked to savour a 'once-in-a-lifetime' Masters experience. While this year marked his first visit to Georgia, he felt instantly at home, with both the man and the setting symbolising an aesthetic universally admired and yet impossibly out of reach. He sauntered on stage for an obligatory interview about his career, but what mattered most to the audience was that he had turned up in the first place. Such is life in his rarefied air: a realm where, beyond the niceties, all anybody wants to do is bask in his glory. Even two and a half years into retirement, Federer exerts the same effect wherever he goes. Crowds do not swoon over him at a Coldplay concert in Zurich because of his talents on percussion, or go giddy at the 24 Hours of Le Mans over his dexterity with the ceremonial flag. They acclaim him purely as the ultimate sophisticate. It promises to be the same at Wimbledon over the next fortnight: Federer will be there, the All England Club confirms, but for the third straight summer not to coach or to commentate, merely to grace the place with his presence. When you are a personal friend of the Princess of Wales, the club's patron, and when you can reduce Centre Court to raptures just by arriving in the royal box in a beige suit and polka-dotted tie, who needs to work for a living? It is this strange alchemy on which a suite of luxury sponsors have leapt, transforming the most stylish player of his age, indeed any age, into the embodiment of opulent allure. Just as Anna Wintour, Vogue 's departing queen bee and a self-confessed Federer groupie, demands that he sit next to her at catwalks, so Mercedes supply him with their latest supercar every six months, calculating that the very sight of him at the wheel will provide that extra assurance of quality. Except it is not just a product he is selling, but an entire way of being. His vast endorsement portfolio – spanning everything from Rolex watches to Lindt chocolate, Sunrise mobile networks to Jura coffee machines – stands as testament to his ineffable Swissness. Even the country's department of foreign affairs describes how Federer's ambassadorial virtues are rooted in an image of 'grace and refined excellence'. What makes him unassailable as a brand magnet, though, is his astounding longevity. By the time his 10-year contract with Uniqlo, the Japanese clothing giant, expires in 2028, he will have been out of the game for over half the deal's duration. This was a problem for Nike, his backers for two decades, who believed that he retained his value only for as long as he actively competed. By contrast, Tadashi Yanai, Uniqlo's founder, envisaged his seamless evolution from eight-time Wimbledon champion to middle-aged mannequin. And he was prepared to reward him as such, to the tune of £22 million a year. It is an agelessness inconceivable with any other icon. In 2019, the year Federer reached the last of his 10 Wimbledon finals, he recorded annual earnings of £68 million, with 92 per cent of that amount derived from his commercial tie-ups. Nobody else on the global sporting rich list – not Lionel Messi, not Cristiano Ronaldo – could hold a candle to this proportion. LeBron James was the closest, on 59 per cent. As a gentleman of extravagant leisure, Federer's status as king of the billboards has become only more bulletproof. In 2023, he collected £81 million despite having hung up his racket the previous year. The pattern is paradoxical: at the same time as Federer claims to feel ever further removed from his feats on court, the world's most prestigious labels can hardly wait to renew their associations with him. Central to this phenomenon is the fact that he remains untouched by scandal. While Tiger Woods, the one athlete who could once rival him for corporate pulling power, was torpedoed in 2009 by revelations of serial infidelity, Federer has endured as the safest of bets, with no lurid entanglements and no skeletons lurking in the closet. He and his wife Mirka, a Slovak-born former player briefly mentored by Martina Navratilova, have been inseparable since they shared their first kiss on the final day of the 2000 Sydney Olympics. Even the symmetrical make-up of their family, with two sets of twins – the girls, Myla and Charlene, were born in 2009, with boys Leo and Lenny arriving five years later – resembles a work of precision engineering. There is such a premium on putting Federer's face to anything that he has amassed £29 million simply for promoting Barilla pasta. His apparent absence of any culinary credentials was no impediment to him signing on the dotted line, earnestly announcing in 2017: 'Pasta has been a part of my daily life for so many years that this partnership was a natural.' The most eye-catching expression of this alliance came when, after Italy's lifting of its most severe lockdown restrictions in 2020, he travelled to a small Ligurian town to engage two girls in a socially-distanced game of rooftop tennis. Although it made for a sweet advert, it still seemed miraculous he was banking an eight-figure sum for this. As Andy Roddick told Federer's biographer, Christopher Clarey: 'The thing I'm most jealous of is not the skill and not the titles – it's the ease of operation with which Roger exists.' Federer's smooth adaptation to alien environments was on full display last year at Dartmouth College in New Hampshire, the smallest of America's Ivy League universities, as he gave the graduation speech. The appearance was not without design: Isabella Godsick, the daughter of his long-time agent Tony, was among the graduates. In his address, delivered in a priestly robe befitting his investiture as a 'doctor of humane letters', he sought to dismantle the popular notion that everything he did was effortless. 'I spent years whining, swearing, throwing my racket,' he explained, 'before I learnt to keep my cool.' When eventually he mastered this art, making it seem as if the most outrageous shots could be conjured without a bead of sweat, his cachet in the eyes of the wealthiest suitors increased exponentially. The young firebrand who, in 2002, was offered a relatively meagre £440,000 annual retainer by Nike had morphed by 2010 into the calm connoisseur, a human advertising hoarding for the highest-end companies on the planet. Today, the vast industry of Roger Federer Inc. continues to thrive, peddling the seductive myth that you too can be like Roger, eating the same exquisite confectionery and sipping the same Moët champagne. Just as he did with his single-handed backhand, an art exhibit in itself, he is curating a style built on an elusive ideal. To study him up close is to see how assiduously he maintains his own mystique, treating his thousandth sponsor meet-and-greet as if it is his first. In Augusta, he patiently made each of Mercedes' top-tier clients feel like the most important person in the room. You wonder, however, if this life of schmoozing the high-rollers can sustain him indefinitely. Is it making him, dare one say it, a little listless? There was a suspicion of this at the Masters when, tiring of being asked about the verdant fairways, he said: 'Enough already with the golf. Seriously, I would love to start playing tennis again two or three times a week, getting myself back on an exhibition court, maybe filling up a few nice stadiums around the world. The training, I miss it a bit, to be honest.' When Federer announced he was retiring with his usual immaculate choreography, a script with the 'RF' logo on his desk and replicas of Wimbledon's golden Challenge Cup in the trophy cabinet behind him, he made an emotional promise to his fans, declaring: 'I will never leave you.' In a sense, this pledge has yet to be fulfilled. Yes, he has had various valedictions at Grand Slam tournaments, but none with a racket in his hand. The only exception he made was for the Princess of Wales in 2023, as the two exchanged groundstrokes in a video acknowledging the Wimbledon ball boys and girls. Federer's caution has been due largely to the fragile condition of his left knee, which deteriorated to such an extent in his later years that his swansong, in doubles with Rafael Nadal at the 2022 Laver Cup in London, looked precarious until the last minute. According to Roddick, he was suffering so much at the 2021 event in Boston that his crutches were being hidden from public view. The pathos of that ending has kindled an intense public appetite for him to return, even in the hit-and-giggle exhibition format. As Roddick puts it: 'Everyone wants a chance to see him one last time. He was hurt, we got him for a doubles match, and then that was it. It doesn't feel like enough.' A persuasive argument, of course, is that Federer owes his disciples nothing, having elevated his craft to such an unheard-of standard that his footwork was likened to Nureyev's and his artistic vision to that of Picasso. How much more breathless adulation does anyone need? The issue is that the demand to see him don his tennis whites again, even at almost 44, is off the charts. When he embarked on an express circuit of Latin America in 2019, he banked £7.7 million in six days, packing out stadiums from Santiago to Quito, Mexico City to Buenos Aires, with the fervour around his Argentina date compelling Diego Maradona to tell him: 'You were, you are, and will always be the greatest. There is no other like you.' All this was accomplished without Nadal, his perfect foil, across the net. As soon as they joined forces in Cape Town in 2020, in aid of Federer's foundation, the occasion drew over 51,000 people, the largest attendance ever recorded for a tennis match. You can imagine the rock-star reception they would attract if they decide, as men of independent means, to head out on the road for a reunion tour. This is why the idea holds such appeal for Federer, who, for all his sincere efforts at humility, has an acute appreciation of his worth. The grandeur of his entrances at Wimbledon in 2009, when he would peel off a multi-pocketed military jacket to reveal a diamond-white waistcoat with a golden Nike swoosh, still constitutes perhaps the most ostentatious flex in sport. The Laver Cup, which he conceived both as a tribute to past legends and as tennis's answer to the Ryder Cup with its 'Europe versus World' dynamic, could hardly be called an exercise in understatement either. The lavish spectacle, with non-playing team members watching courtside on leather banquettes, smacks of a giant 'RF' trade fair, with fan zones dedicated exclusively to approved sponsors hawking Federer's cars, Federer's clothes, Federer's sunglasses. Even the deckchairs were emblazoned with Swiss marketing. Federer has been desperate to imbue the event with passion and sporting significance, to the point of once instructing Alexander Zverev, in full view of the cameras: 'I want a fist pump or a 'let's go', every f------ point you win. And every point you lose, you f------ take it.' The irony was that he had never acted this way in team sport before, even when flying the flag for Switzerland at the Davis Cup. It illustrated the hollowness of the enterprise, with Federer trying to make a spectacle that essentially meant nothing look as if it meant everything. It is the fundamental problem with the Laver Cup, as it rolls on to San Francisco in September: that for its pretensions to be sport of substance, it serves little purpose beyond burnishing Federer's cult of personality. The pity is that he still resists any shift into television commentary, where he could offer a degree of technical expertise unparalleled in the booth. He has admitted that he did consider it, only shelving the plan when he realised how critical he would have to be of the players. Perhaps his most impulsive move was to decide, six years ago, to invest in a then little-known Swiss footwear company called On, whose creators first experimented by crafting shoes from lengths of garden hose. Federer called them to arrange dinner, clarifying that this time he was seeking not sponsorship but a personal investment. Having negotiated three per cent equity, he used his international profile to turn a Zurich start-up into an £8.2 billion behemoth, with its own limited-edition range christened 'The Roger'. When On was listed on the New York Stock Exchange in 2021, 31.1 million shares were sold at £17.47 each, giving Federer a stake worth £262 million – nearly three times the total he amassed in 24 years as a tennis professional. It is at this point that you wonder if Federer's life is celestially ordained, with even his rare gambles somehow striking gold. The reality is more that he understands, better than just about any sports star in history, what his strengths are and exactly how he can monetise them. Even in elder statesman mode, he is tennis's version of an omniscient being, hovering above all he surveys. Whether it is using shoes to catapult himself towards billionaire status, or enlisting singer Ellie Goulding to sing at his last match over a video montage of his greatest hits, Federer is the man who orchestrates his own drama, who writes the scripts of which nobody else could dream.
Daily Mail
an hour ago
- Daily Mail
EastEnders star shares heartbreak over the tragic death of beloved brother in emotional post
Former EastEnders star Sean Maguire has shared his heartbreak over the loss of his brother Darren in an emotional new post on Instagram. The LA-based actor, 49, who starred in the BBC soap as Aidan Brosnan in 1993 before going on to launch a pop career, opened up on his agony on a recent post by Scottish singer Lewis Capaldi. Taking to the comments on Lewis' post about his comeback single Survive, Sean admitted that he'd been going through a 'tough time' and had broken down in tears after listening to one of Lewis' songs. He penned: 'Lewis been a fan for a while. Don't like talking about this s****. But having a tough time just now. Lost my brother six months ago. Holding it together. 'But dropped my kids off this morning and played 'someone you loved' and hit differently. Then burst into tears.' He concluded: 'I didn't know I needed it. Maybe I did. Had to pull the car over and keep singing and crying. Thank you for the therapy. Really thank you. You helped me get back up. X.' Taking to the comments on Lewis' post about his comeback single Survive , Sean admitted that he'd been going through a 'tough time' and had broken down in tears after listening to one of Lewis' songs Sean's comment was met with several supportive messages from other Instagram users, many of whom shared their own stories of grief and heartbreak. Sean, who first found fame as Grange Hill's Tegs Ratcliffe in 1988, previously shared the news of his brother's death on January 15, four days after his passing. Taking to Instagram alongside a video of images of his sibling over the years, Sean shared: 'I've struggled to find the words or even choose the pictures for this. Because it means that it's real but for those who don't already know our beloved brother Darren Maguire passed away on Saturday, 11th January. 'He passed away peacefully surrounded by his family. He was a truly remarkable man, friend, son, brother, and father. 'He was so loved by everyone that knew him. I'm still in so much shock. 'I can barely form a sentence, but I know the world has lost one of its most beloved people and I have lost my best friend. We love you Darren and we'll never stop loving you. Now go make them laugh and dance heaven.' During Sean's almost year-long stint on EastEnders, he portrayed the role of troubled drug addict teen Aidan. Sean left the soap in 1993 after a turbulent 11-months on the Square, during which his character suffered homelessness and depression before returning to Ireland in an attempt to reconnect with his parents. Sean's comment was met with several supportive messages from other Instagram users, many of whom shared their own stories of grief and heartbreak After leaving Albert Square, he embarked on a pop career, bagging eight top 30 hits including Good Day, which peaked at an impressive number 12 in the UK singles chart. He has since enjoyed a successful career in the United States, with a steady stream of minor roles leading to recurring part in fantasy drama Once Upon A Time. Last year, he appeared in popular show Death in Paradise as it marked its 100th episode - 13 years after he appeared in the first ever episode. Sean moved to California in 2000, becoming a US citizen in time to vote in the presidential election. The TV star is a proud father to three children, who he shares with wife Tanya Flynn.
