Latest news with #Blockbuster
New York Post
11 hours ago
- Entertainment
- New York Post
‘Big Brother 27' star Amy Bingham reveals what happened before the live feeds that caused her eviction
Amy Bingham has important insight into her eviction from 'Big Brother 27.' The 43-year-old insurance agent exclusively told The Post how her relationship with Rachel Reilly caused her to become a big target in the game — even before the live feeds turned on. 'So initially what people don't see is the live feeds from Tuesday to Sunday, before Showergate happened, right away people were saying, 'You're putting yourself as a target because you're close with Rachel, you've got to distance yourself, you can't be close with her. They want her out,'' Bingham recalled. Advertisement 9 Amy Bingham on 'Big Brother 27.' CBS 9 Amy Bingham in her interview with The Post. The New York Post 9 Rachel Reilly on 'Big Brother 27.' CBS Advertisement 'Everyone was telling me that was a problem — but I couldn't help it. I'm still gonna be friends with her,' she continued. 'So I knew that was putting me as a target because they couldn't get her out because she was saved. So that's what was being said to me first before Showergate. So Showergate happened after all these conversations and being told I was being put on the block because of that.' But Bingham clarified that Reilly, 40, is 'absolutely not' the reason why she went home in the second week. 9 Amy Bingham after being evicted on 'Big Brother.' CBS 'I'm the reason I went home because of my stupid conversation I had with Vinny,' she explained. 'That was what targeted me with Jimmy.' Advertisement Bingham noted that house targets Keanu Soto and Kelley Jorgensen winning powers that saved them from the block doomed her, as well. 9 Amy Bingham and Rachel Reilly hug on 'Big Brother.' CBS 'It was bad luck,' she said. 'This might sound crazy, but I was praying two days before I left the house, and I woke up and I had a dream I was sitting and talking to Julie [Chen Moonves]. So, it was like, 'I'm going home this week. This is my sign. This is my message, all the powers against me.'' In addition, Bingham acknowledged she made a huge mistake telling Vince Panaro that she didn't trust Jimmy Heagerty. Advertisement 9 Jimmy Heagerty on 'Big Brother 27.' CBS 9 Vince Panaro on 'Big Brother 27.' CBS 'He's a lying snake because he is, and I knew that on day two, and I was dying. Like, you guys pay attention, he's lying to everybody!' Bingham expressed of Heagerty. 'And Vinny reminds me of my brother, so there was some familiarity and comfortability I think by telling him. Dumb move on my part. That was my downfall. Essentially that was why Jimmy had it out for me and was petty and wanted to put me up as a renom, even though strategically, it wasn't best for his game.' 9 Amy Bingham, Will Williams on 'Big Brother 27.' CBS 9 Amy Bingham with Julie Chen Moonves on 'Big Brother 27.' CBS Bingham, however, stands by her decision to call Heagerty a 'snake' as she walked out of the house. Advertisement 'I knew I was going out the door anyway if I didn't win the Blockbuster,' she said. 'It was already like a done deal. So once I didn't win the Blockbuster, which sucks, I knew was going home for sure.' 'Big Brother 27' airs Sundays, Wednesdays and Thursdays on CBS and Paramount+.
Mint
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Mint
Amitabh Bachchan shares 50-year-old Sholay ticket priced at just ‘ ₹20'. Internet nostalgic
Megastar Amitabh Bachchan just took his fans on a nostalgic trip down memory lane by sharing a priceless memento—an original cinema ticket from Sholay, his iconic 1975 film. And the price? A jaw-dropping ₹ 20. The actor, known for his poetic musings and deep reflections, shared the rare find on his blog. Alongside photos from his weekly meet-and-greet outside his Mumbai home, he posted a picture of the 'preserved' ticket with evident emotion. 'The SHOLAY ticket… kept and preserved… ₹ 20!! The price… !!!!!??' he wrote, stunned at the sheer contrast with today's movie-going experience. Drawing a parallel with present-day theatre prices, Bachchan remarked, 'I am told that is the price of an aerated drink in Theatre Halls nowadays… is that a fact?? So much to say, but say not… affection and love.' Directed by Ramesh Sippy, Sholay remains a landmark in Indian cinema, with Bachchan's portrayal of Jai and his camaraderie with Dharmendra's Veeru etched into Bollywood history. In his blog, the 81-year-old also reflected on the creative power of the night. 'It is the silence of the hour when the awakening occurs… the mind that thinks, excels… at times the best,' he wrote. He added: 'Excess is a cess that is desired to be seized, else it absorbs the activities of mind and body and the senses .. disposed utilities has been a leaning for some .. storing of utilities has been the learning from some .. which some to be accepted and executed is the excess that cesses the mind and and body .. and the regret in the other is the pain of not doing the 'do'." Amitabh's deeply personal post sparked waves of nostalgia online, with fans reminiscing about the era of single-screen cinemas and ₹ 5 samosas. One fan wrote, 'The cost of an aerated drink in the theaters nowadays might be much more than ₹ 20, but really 20 rupees for the Sholay tickets during those days, unbelievable!! How much would it be in today's time and the overall turnover of that Blockbuster movie.' Another user commented, 'I am astonished to see ₹ 20 Sholay ticket. It has a sentimental value.' 'what an honor for you that someone has kept that Sholay ticket and what a thrill for them to have you sign it,' the third user wrote.
Express Tribune
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Express Tribune
THE END OF AN ERA?
Back in the mid-2010s, when the idea of 'binge-watching' was still novel, you could impress someone you met at a party by saying you watched Black Mirror. The streaming service Netflix had already changed how people rented movies—killing Blockbuster with the casual cruelty of convenience—but now, it wanted to change what people watched. By the time Stranger Things dropped in 2016, the game had already changed. The show, with its mix of Spielbergian nostalgia and synth-scored sci-fi, hit audiences like a cultural bomb. Kids dressed up as Eleven for Halloween. Adults argued over the ethics of what happened in the Upside Down. Netflix had hit a bullseye. And more importantly, it had found its business model: make people stay subscribed, not just for content, but for connection. Fast forward to 2025. Stranger Things is nearing its final season. Squid Game, the Korean thriller that became a global parable about class, is also wrapping up. And the streamer, now sitting atop a global empire of 270+ million subscribers, faces the kind of existential question that haunts legacy studios and tech giants alike: What happens when your biggest hits stop hitting? Shows like Stranger Things, The Crown, The Witcher, and Squid Game weren't just were global cultural events, they brought in millions of subscribers, shaped social media discourse, and most importantly justified Netflix's spendthrift content budget to nervous investors. The blockbusters that built the brand Stranger Things wasn't Netflix's first original hit—but it was the one that felt tectonic. House of Cards and Orange Is the New Black had kicked off the 'prestige streaming TV' era, giving Netflix credibility in awards circuits and pop culture columns. But Stranger Things was different. It had meme power. Fandom. Merchandising potential. It was a world that extended beyond the screen—and into Funko Pops, comic cons, and even retro-style video games. By the time Season 4 dropped in 2022, it had clocked over 1.3 billion hours of viewing — making it Netflix's second most-watched English-language series ever, only behind Wednesday. Kate Bush's 1985 track 'Running Up That Hill' became a Gen Z anthem nearly 40 years later, charting in multiple countries — a symbol of how a single show could ripple through pop culture, music charts, and fashion. Then came The Witcher, with its CGI monsters and Henry Cavill's brooding charisma. Adapted from Polish fantasy novels and games, the show became Netflix's answer to HBO's Game of Thrones—minus the incest and prestige polish. Though critically uneven, it made money globally. But nothing prepared anyone for Squid Game. Then came Squid Game. Released with minimal fanfare in 2021, the South Korean thriller became an overnight global phenomenon. Within 28 days, 111 million accounts had tuned in. It wasn't just the most-watched Netflix show in history at the time — it reshaped the perception of international content. It proved that language was no longer a barrier; if the story was good enough, audiences would follow. It tapped into a pandemic-era malaise: economic anxiety, social isolation, the sense that we were all playing some perverse, rigged game. Netflix reported that 142 million households had watched it in the first month. It became the platform's biggest show ever at the time, helping to stem a slowdown in growth and proving the viability of non-English language content in global markets. While Stranger Things and Squid Game were pop-cultural tsunamis, they weren't alone in making Netflix what it is. The Crown lent prestige and awards legitimacy. Bridgerton brought in the romance crowd with period drama and redefined inclusivity in costume storytelling. The Witcher pulled in fantasy lovers post-Game of Thrones. Money Heist (La Casa de Papel), a Spanish-language crime thriller, became a bankable brand globally, despite originally being a flop on Spanish TV. Even lighter fare like Emily in Paris, Outer Banks, or reality TV hits like Love is Blind and Too Hot to Handle drove viewership numbers and kept the content wheel spinning between prestige projects. Netflix had a machine: fund broadly, promote smartly, find a breakout, ride the wave, and double down. But as the biggest shows begin to sunset, the cracks in the model are becoming visible. The problem with blockbusters Unlike linear TV, which offered seasons year after year at regular intervals, Netflix binge-dumped content. Stranger Things seasons dropped two years apart. Squid Game took even longer to follow up. In between, Netflix relied on a pipeline of content to keep subscribers around — a gamble that became harder as competition intensified. Enter Disney+, HBO Max, Apple TV+, and Amazon Prime — all offering their own prestige fare, some with legacy franchises (Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones), others with buzzy new titles (Severance, The Bear, The Boys). Suddenly, Netflix was no longer the only game in town. Worse still, the streamer's own release model may have backfired. Releasing an entire season in one go made for headlines, memes, and cultural moments — but those moments were fleeting. Compare that to HBO's week-to-week strategy, which allowed Succession, Euphoria, and The Last of Us to dominate conversations for months. Netflix's shift from a growth-at-all-costs model to a more mature, revenue-focused one was inevitable. With subscriber growth slowing in North America and Europe, and saturation looming in mature markets, the company has introduced ads, cracked down on password sharing, and flirted with licensing content to others — all moves that would've seemed blasphemous five years ago. These aren't signs of desperation so much as maturation. But they do signal the end of a certain kind of Netflix era — the one defined by wild experimentation and blank-check funding for passion projects. Remember when Netflix gave the creators of Game of Thrones $200 million to make The Three-Body Problem? Or funded Martin Scorsese's $160 million The Irishman? Today, Netflix is far more surgical. And that could be good — or very bad — for riskier storytelling. So what does Netflix have coming up to replace its aging giants? First, there's the second season of Squid Game, a high-stakes gamble if ever there was one. Series creator Hwang Dong-hyuk returns, but can lightning strike twice? The sleeper hit had the advantage of novelty and zero expectations. Season two carries the weight of history. Then there's One Piece, the anime adaptation that shocked skeptics with its success. A second season is confirmed, and if it continues to grow, Netflix may have a long-running franchise on its hands. Wednesday, the gothic teen spin-off of The Addams Family, became the most-watched English-language series in Netflix history. With Tim Burton and Jenna Ortega returning for Season 2, it's arguably Netflix's biggest active asset now. Also in development are adaptations of The Chronicles of Narnia, fresh Avatar: The Last Airbender content (after a lukewarm start), and another round of The Witcher, albeit without Cavill. These all carry potential — but also risk. The 'middle show' crisis One of Netflix's quieter dilemmas is what insiders call the 'middle show' crisis. While top shows get massive budgets and marketing, and cheap reality shows get renewals because they're inexpensive to produce, mid-budget, quality series often fall through the cracks. Critically loved shows like Mindhunter, Glow, Archive 81, and 1899 were cancelled despite strong fanbases. The algorithm, it seems, doesn't reward slow builds. Netflix has trained audiences to look for the next big thing — but that leaves little room for cult hits to grow organically. This is where competitors are gaining ground. Apple TV+ is patient and prestige-focused, willing to let shows like Slow Horses or For All Mankind build over time. HBO has decades of reputation in nurturing quality. Even Amazon is doubling down on genre bets and global reach. Netflix, in contrast, sometimes seems caught in its own system: make everything available, see what pops, cut the rest. Is Netflix currently the place for prestige drama? Bingeable fluff? Global storytelling? True crime? Live events? The platform's breadth is unmatched, but with that comes dilution. Disney+ has Marvel and Star Wars. HBO has high-end drama. Prime has genre and scale. Apple has polish. Netflix… has everything, but stands for less. Yet there's a problem with lightning-in-a-bottle shows: they don't last forever. Stranger Things is bowing out with its fifth and final season. The kids have grown up. The charm of '80s nostalgia is wearing thin. Squid Game's creator, Hwang Dong-hyuk, always intended it as a critique of the very systems that made it a commercial juggernaut. Even The Witcher has lost its lead actor, Cavill, and faces declining buzz with each season. So what is Netflix doing to prepare for life after its flagship titles? The answer, predictably, is a little of everything. But whether it sticks is another question. The franchise factory approach In recent years, Netflix has shifted strategy. Rather than hope for breakout hits, it's trying to build franchises intentionally. That's meant spinoffs (like Stranger Things: The First Shadow, a prequel stage play, and potential animated series), sequels (Extraction 2, Enola Holmes 2), and universe-building (The Witcher: Blood Origin, though critics would rather forget it existed). It's also meant poaching talent and IP from traditional Hollywood. Deals with the Duffer Brothers (Stranger Things creators), Shonda Rhimes (Bridgerton, Inventing Anna), and Ryan Murphy (Dahmer, The Watcher) were meant to lock in brand-name storytellers. But results have been mixed. Shonda's Bridgerton universe continues to deliver, especially in international markets. Murphy's shows rack up views, but rarely become cultural events. Netflix has also bet big on international hits — Korean dramas, Japanese anime, Indian thrillers, Spanish heist sagas (Money Heist was a phenomenon). In 2023 alone, Netflix spent over $1 billion on Korean content. It's a smart hedge: local-language shows with global appeal often deliver better ROI than expensive American productions. But is any of it iconic? Does it break through the noise like Squid Game did? Not quite yet. Algorithms don't create magic Netflix's advantage, and maybe its Achilles heel, is its data. It knows what people watch, when they stop, what thumbnail makes them click. This has led to a model of commissioning content that feels more like market research than art. The result is a sprawling catalogue of 'good enough' shows: entertaining, formulaic, and largely forgettable. Think of the dozens of crime thrillers, rom-coms, and reality dating shows that get a weekend spike, trend for two days, then disappear into the abyss of the 'More Like This' section. Critics call this the 'content treadmill.' It's not about making hits. It's about making enough to keep churn low and engagement high. But this risks turning Netflix into a utility — like cable TV — rather than a tastemaker. In contrast, HBO (now Max) still tries to brand itself as a curator. Apple TV+ has a leaner slate but wins Emmys. Disney+ rides the strength of 80 years of IP. Netflix has volume, but volume doesn't inspire devotion. Live sports, ads, and the YouTube pivot In 2022, Netflix launched an ad-supported tier. This marked a seismic shift in its business model, long held up as the 'no ads' disruptor. But with subscriber growth plateauing in key markets, the company needed new revenue streams. The next frontier? Live content. Netflix has started dabbling in live comedy specials (Chris Rock: Selective Outrage) and is reportedly exploring sports rights. It recently struck a deal with WWE to stream Monday Night Raw starting in 2025. This is less about prestige, more about stickiness. Sports and live events bring consistent, appointment-based viewership — something Netflix has never had. There's also a move toward interactive and short-form content. Bandersnatch tested interactive storytelling. Korean Physical: 100 shows how global reality TV can cross borders. The streamer even acquired game studios and is quietly developing mobile games tied to its IP—hoping that users won't just watch Squid Game, but play it. If this all sounds like a pivot toward being a hybrid of YouTube, cable TV, and Xbox — it kind of is. One thing Netflix still lacks is its own massive IP universe. Disney has Marvel. Warner has DC. Amazon has The Lord of the Rings. Netflix's biggest assets (Stranger Things, Squid Game, Bridgerton) are original, but don't have the longevity of 60-year-old comic book characters or fantasy epics. It tried to fix this by spending lavishly. The $200 million The Gray Man franchise (with Ryan Gosling and Chris Evans) was meant to be the next Bond. It didn't quite land. The $450 million acquisition of Knives Out sequels promised a new detective franchise—only for the second film, Glass Onion, to burn hot and fast, then disappear. When you don't own the underlying IP, you don't own the future. And Netflix, for all its streaming dominance, is still renting its place in the culture. What next? The question isn't just what shows come next—it's what kind of company Netflix wants to be. Does it double down on prestige? Go full global? Turn into an interactive tech platform with games and live events? To survive post-Stranger Things, it might have to do all of the above. Already, Netflix is releasing more reality TV (Love Is Blind, Too Hot to Handle), more animated fare (Arcane, The Dragon Prince), more docu-series (The Tinder Swindler, Beckham, American Nightmare). It's diversifying, not in the name of art, but insurance. But the real answer might lie in how it nurtures the next wave of talent. The next Squid Game won't be found by an algorithm. It will come from some obscure writer in Seoul, or Karachi, or São Paulo, with a story that cuts through noise and speaks to this chaotic, collapsing, post-pandemic world. The hits of Netflix's past were surprising, risky, plain weird even. BoJack Horseman, Dark, Sex Education, Russian Doll. The next era of Netflix might require less strategy and more instinct. Because you can build a business on data. But culture? That still takes vision.
Montreal Gazette
3 days ago
- Montreal Gazette
Freed: Technology is making us useless
I was driving home one recent night on a winding set of streets and expressways near LaSalle when my GPS went black. I suddenly realized I'd been blindly following Google Maps with no clue where I was. Now I was cruising down a street called Shevchenko Blvd. in the middle of who knew where. I spent the next few minutes driving aimlessly about, searching for familiar street names, hopelessly lost in my own city. Then, fortunately, my GPS clicked back on and took command. Like many people, I'm losing whatever sense of direction I once had. But it's only one of many human skills that are atrophying, as technology does more and more for us and we do less and less. We have apps to remember our appointments, split our restaurant bills and remind us which TV series we're watching and what episode. We have others that locate where we parked our car or forgot our keys, and more that will ghostwrite our wedding and condolence notes. As machines take over more human tasks, we humans are becoming useless. For instance: Directions The GPS is a mixed blessing for the directionally disabled like me. When travelling, I no longer stop regularly to ask directions from pedestrians who answer: 'Go three streets past the Blockbuster store that closed, then left at the condos where the church once was, then right at the big tree that was destroyed by lightning last year. 'But if I were you, I wouldn't start from here.' Instead, we get turn-by-turn GPS commands that treat us like four-year-olds. 'Turn right in 300 metres … 30 metres … five metres. 'You have arrived at your driveway! Turn right, stop car and climb seven stairs.' Even my most directionally savvy friends worry they're gradually losing their inner compasses by not using them. Meanwhile, I miss the random strangers I often chatted to when asking directions. But there's no point stopping anyone today. They'll just shrug their shoulders, then pull out their phone, type in your destination and politely hand it to you. Math It was always my thing, calculating everything from restaurant tips to taxes just for fun. When friends bought calculators, I refused, but then one day my phone just came with one. It soon became hard not to double-check my math with the phone, which was faster and better, until gradually it took over my job and my skills faded. Recently, I tried to calculate the cost of a magazine subscription for one month versus a year, by dividing the annual rate by 12. But I barely remembered how to do mental long division, using my old high school rules: Calculate how many times the denominator goes into the numerator — or was it vice versa? Multiply the numerator by the quotient (whatever that is), then carry the one (from where?) Take an Advil because my head hurts. Let the calculator do it. Calculating tips is another vanishing skill as we simply push the 15, 20 or 'exorbitant tip' buttons. Recently, Quebec ordered restaurants to deduct taxes when calculating tip percentages. So a bistro I was at with friends last week has stopped offering tip 'options' until they update their credit card machines. Instead, we had to calculate our own tips on a $277.64 bill split five ways, and our entire table of college graduates was paralyzed. Not surprisingly, everyone soon reached for their phones. Writing It's still something I love, but for phone emails, my big thumbs often make big mistakes. Recently I've started dictating my messages because my phone makes way fewer typos than I do. The downside is when my wife suddenly speaks to me, her 100 words get inserted into my half-dictated message, so I'm always hissing 'Shhhh — I'm dictating!' The upside? The dictation spellcheck almost always gets it write. Repairing things It's another lost skill because today's electronic parts are simply replaced, not repaired. Decades ago, you could bang on your car's starter solenoid, or tinker with the carburetor. Now there's a complex fuel injection system that even your garage mechanic just replaces, because no one understands its electronics. What other skills will disappear as technology takes over? Will people get lost in their own homes when their home GPS system goes offline and doesn't announce 'Turn left in hallway in seven feet, then turn right to living room'? Will remembering faces become another lost skill because our phones do it for us, flashing the names of everyone we meet? Perhaps a future teenager's remark will be: 'Hey, you actually recognized that person yourself, like just with your brain. WOW!' Then again, think of all the wondrous new superskills everyone's developing instead, like knowing how to Zoom with your mom in N.D.G., or ask AI important questions like: 'How can I make a vegan banana bread?' Or being able to shout 'Hey Siri, where's my phone?' and have it answer: 'I'm here, Josh! I'm here!'
Hindustan Times
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Maargan OTT release: When and where to watch Vijay Antony's crime thriller
Maargan OTT release: Vijay Antony's Maargan finally has an OTT release date. Fans of the actor were in for a surprise on Friday as the actor's production house Vijay Antony Film Corporation took to their official Twitter account to share the update that Maargan will be streaming on Prime Video from July 25. (Also read: Sarzameen Twitter reviews: Viewers find Ibrahim Ali Khan 'miscast' in 'average' patriotic drama ft. Kajol, Prithviraj) Maargan OTT release: Vijay Antony earned praise for his performance. Where to watch Maargan? In their new post on X, the makers wrote "The Blockbuster thriller #Maargan is now streaming on @PrimeVideo🔥🦉Watch now." About the film Maargan is directed by Leo John Paul. It is a supernatural investigative thriller that released in theatres on June 27. The film also stars Ajay Dhishan and P. Samuthirakani in pivotal roles. Upon release, the film did well in theatres and also in the Telugu circuit. Vijay Antony thanked the Telugu audience and industry stalwarts who supported the film's release. 'Suresh Babu garu and Ram Anjaneyulu garu gave Maargan a grand Telugu release. Suresh Babu garu has even promised to release all my future films in Telugu. I'm grateful to Leo John Paul for crafting such a good film and happy to have introduced Ajay with this project,' he said. Maargan revolves around an investigation that is set in place to uncover the mystery of a serial killer who targets women with a strange serum that turns their bodies black. Subsequently, a high-ranking police officer Dhruv (Vijay Antony) sets out to catch the culprit. Dhruva suspects Aravind (Ajay Dhishan) to be behind the killings. However, as the investigation progresses, he uncovers more shocking truths. The film received praise for its genre elements and a smart scerenplay. The film has been produced by Fatima Vijay Antony, with Vijay also scoring the music of the film.
