Tom Cruise's girlfriend Ana De Armas has threesome on the beach in racy scene from new thriller
The Cuban beauty stars in Eden, which is in fact based on a true story.
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Directed by Ron Howard, it follows European settlers arriving on Floreana Island in the Galapagos Islands.
Ana's character, The Baroness, is depicted having a passionate threesome on a beach.
Eden also stars Jude Law, Vanessa Kirby, Sydney Sweeney and Daniel Brühl.
Meanwhile, Oscar nominated star Ana, 37, and Tom Cruise, 63, recently went public with their romance.
They were photographed holding hands during a picturesque getaway in Vermont.
The actress — first linked to Tom in February — starred in Bond's No Time To Die in 2021.
Her latest role was with Keanu Reeves in From the World of John Wick: Ballerina.
Back in May, The Sun revealed that Cruise had cast Ana as the star of his next blockbuster film.
A source at the time said: 'Tom and Ana have grown closer over the past couple of months and he has huge respect for her as an actress.
'He is developing a new film and he has approached Ana to be his leading lady.
"Ana is one of the best actresses in the business as far as Tom is concerned and he wants her by his side in the new movie.
'Tom has a lot on his plate at the moment, with his new Mission: Impossible film being released later this month and another film called Judy in the works.
'But this new project is really exciting for Tom and he wants Ana to be in it with him.'
The couple were also seen in London at the Oasis comeback gig at Wembley stadium, having flown into the capital in Tom's £1million helicopter.
The Sun previously revealed that three-times married Tom splurged tens of thousands of pounds on a trip to New York in May.
It included chartering his own chopper to take Ana from central London to Heathrow Airport.
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The Guardian
6 hours ago
- The Guardian
The Guide #204: The local dystopian TV shows captivating global audiences
I'm scandalously late to The Eternaut (El Eternauta), the Argentinian dystopian thriller that was released way back in April on Netflix. I inhaled all six episodes of the show's first season only a few weeks ago, after a glowing review on the podcast The Watch (which was also fairly late to it, making me feel a little better about my own finger-off-the-pulseness). Anyway, it's absolutely terrific, an end-of-the-world chiller that is vividly, realistically rooted in the socio-politics of the country in which it is set. This despite a premise that sees Buenos Aires beset by an unseasonal flurry of what turns out to be killer snow. That specificity, as anyone familiar with The Eternaut will know, is mixed into the story's foundations. The show is based on Héctor Germán Oesterheld's 1957 comic strip of the same name, which proved eerily predictive of the civil unrest and lurch into authoritarianism that would beset the country in the following decades. Of course, the reason for said unrest is very different: in the show and comic, an alien invasion causes the snowfall, while in real life it was in response to the installation of a military dictatorship. But the effects are similar: distrust between communities, paranoia and violence. Indeed, Oesterheld would be a victim of the turmoil he imagined in his strip: having joined a leftist group opposed to Argentina's ruling military junta, he, as well as his four daughters (two of them pregnant) and four sons-in-law, were disappeared in 1977, and a new appeal to find the family members was launched in the wake of Netflix's adaptation. Said adaptation goes light on anything overtly political, but it pulses away under the surface. For example, the show's primary character Juan (played by the veteran Argentinian character actor Ricardo Darín) has been aged up from the original series into his 60s – old enough to remember the days of the junta and be uniquely chilled by the prospect of societal breakdown. Juan is haunted by memories of the Falklands war, still a traumatic conflict for some. And at a time when the country is experiencing the effects of a new, hyper-individualist rightwing government, plenty have thrilled to the show's gentle ethos of collectivism as its characters work together to keep something resembling a society afloat (though The Eternaut's paean to solidarity might be undermined for some by its use in one scene of generative AI). The Eternaut is just one of an eastern seaboard-destroying wave of foreign-language dystopian or post-apocalyptic series available, and readily lapped up, by English-language viewers. Once the only role the likes of Seoul, Cairo or Buenos Aires would play in end-of-the-world dramas was to be vaporised, flooded or beset by zombies in Hollywood productions, as a way to demonstrate the threat that (the far more important) American cities were about to face. Now though, thanks to the continent-crossing capabilities of streaming, audiences are able to see other countries' often terrifying visions of societal collapse. And those visions come in so many shapes and sizes. In Korean drama Black Knight (Netflix) air pollution has rendered oxygen a much-fought-over commodity, hoarded by elites in gated communities. In the surveillance state hellscape of Dutch series Arcadia (Channel 4) the public are given 'citizenship scores' that determine their quality of life, while Agnieszka Holland's 1983 (pictured above, Netflix) imagines that communist rule in Poland extended into the mid-00s, even as the rest of the iron curtain fell, resulting in an isolated and consequentially brutal police state. Meanwhile, the Nigerian animated series Iwájú (Disney+), Spanish drama The Barrier and Brazilian drama 3% (both Netflix) all imagine futures where the privileged are walled away from the rest of a struggling society. It seems notable that many of these shows are on Netflix. The streamer's global expansion march has seen them throw money at original programming everywhere from Turkey to Taiwan, and in quite a few of those territories the result has been dystopian dramas, a genre you have to assume the streamer's famous all-powerful algorithm considers appealing to audiences outside those territories. Which is understandable: the fear of the end of the world is a universal one. What I find most absorbing about many of these series is a sense of hyper-locality, of being rooted in the traditions, styles and concerns of the specific country. Consider the show Families Like Ours, available on BBC iPlayer, which takes a very real threat to Denmark – rising sea levels – and pushes it to terrifying (and, some claim, impossible) extremes, with its population of 6 million forced to leave the country and become climate refugees. It's a predicament depicted in a matter-of-fact, almost mundane fashion, with characters shrugging reactions to each new grim development like frogs in boiling water. Families Like Ours is directed by Thomas Vinterberg, the film-maker behind Festen and The Hunt and veteran of Denmark's Dogme 95 film movement, who here applies its deadpan sensibility to something deeply serious. The result is markedly different from traditional disaster movies, rooted in Danish cinematic traditions and energised by its deepest fears. The same, of course, applies to The Eternaut. A second season, that will conclude the story, is in production, and won't arrive until 2027. I definitely won't be so desperately late to it when it arrives. Sign up to The Guide Get our weekly pop culture email, free in your inbox every Friday after newsletter promotion If you want to read the complete version of this newsletter please subscribe to receive The Guide in your inbox every Friday
Telegraph
7 hours ago
- Telegraph
Jodie Whittaker is far too good for this contrived Aussie thriller
You'd be forgiven for thinking you've seen something like this before, as the Australia-set thrillers have been coming to our screens thick and fast recently (see also The Last Anniversary, The Secrets She Keeps, Apples Never Fall). This one, which had a brief showing on Paramount+ in 2023 but is now on ITV1, stars former Doctor Who lead Jodie Whittaker. Sadly it's so lacklustre that Whittaker might wish that she'd opted to eat kangaroo genitalia on I'm a Celebrity with Ant and Dec instead. Since hanging up her sonic screwdriver, Whittaker has spread her wings in eclectic roles. She played an imprisoned single mother in gut-punch BBC drama Time and was the standout star of Netflix's factual drama Toxic Town. Here she loses her native Yorkshire tones to adopt an Australian accent. I'm no expert in Antipodean linguistics, but she does a decent job. Set on the stunning New South Wales coast, One Night follows three women – Tess (Whittaker), Simone (Nicole da Silva) and Hat (Yael Stone) – who remain haunted by a harrowing event during their teens. Twenty years later, Simone writes a thinly disguised novel about that fateful night. It reopens wounds in cathartic ways. There's the germ of an interesting drama here about trauma and truth, justice and healing. But whenever it looks about to emerge, it gets bogged down in repetitive flashbacks or clichéd contrivances. Supporting characters are uniformly ghastly – either leering small-town gangsters, spoilt kids or self-serving adults. Worst of all, there's a fatal flaw at the heart of the story. Simone stole Tess's tragedy for her own gain, yet we're supposed to sympathise as she makes her friend's pain all about her. Stretched out over six episodes, One Night moves with all the urgency of an asthmatic koala. With its ocean views and high-flying female friends, it's a try-hard Sydney spin on Big Little Lies. Whittaker is rawly convincing as a sexual assault victim whose repressed memories come bubbling to the surface. Tess is a mass of body issues: bulimic, covered in tattoos, prone to pulling her hair out. There's a wordless scene in the finale where Whittaker acts her socks off with facial expressions alone. It's just a shame the script isn't in the same league as her performance. One Night is available now on ITVX and begins on ITV1 on Saturday 16 August at 9.30pm
The Herald Scotland
17 hours ago
- The Herald Scotland
Moving through Solid Air: the genius of John Martyn
Martyn, he would later write, was an 'amazing, robust guitar player and had a combative Glaswegian swagger, which immediately made him more than just another 'new Dylan'… To me, he was like a jazz musician, brilliant at improvising, be it with his voice or on his guitar, with a very free sense of timing'. Blackwell was inspired to sign Martyn to Island, despite his label being chiefly known at that time as a home of Jamaican music. Martyn's Island debut was London Conversation, released in October 1967, when he was all of 19. Recorded in the space of a single afternoon, its songs – all but three of which were written by Martyn – showcase his dexterous acoustic guitar playing and his way with lyrics, as on 'Ballad of an Elder Woman'. One of the three non-originals was Bob Dylan's Don't Think Twice, It's All Right. The album was a promising start. Asked in 2008 by the journalist Johnny Black how he felt about the album, Martyn responded: 'I'm amazed at how many young people buy it! People come up to me and they give me albums to sign and that's one of them! There it is. They are influenced by it, it's very strange. Though I find it very straight now'. By the time of his second album, The Tumbler, which went on sale in December 1968, much had changed. 'Between the two albums', Martyn is quoted today as saying on his website, 'I got exposed to London, you see, and at that time the [guitar] heroes were about, you know, [Bert] Jansch and Davey Graham, and I just kind of listened a lot to music that I hadn't listened to before, and I met [jazz flautist] Harold McNair…. met loads of people all of a sudden. Between the two I just met all these people that were older and more experienced than me musically. That's the reason for the change'. The Tumbler, which was produced by Al Stewart, was more expansive than the debut. A second guitar, and a bass guitar, had been added to the mix. '[Martyn's] voice was beginning to slur bluesily through the words', Blackwell notes approvingly in his autobiography, The Islander, 'and John's fast, precise guitar had taken an incredible leap'. Martyn's next two studio projects, both in 1970, were Stormbringer! and The Road to Ruin, both of which teamed him with his new wife, Beverley (nee Kutner), a talented backing singer whose voice can be heard on Simon and Garfunkel's album, Bookends. Martyn returned as a solo artist in November 1971 for Bless the Weather, which featured Danny Thompson on double bass and Richard Thompson on guitar, and was notable for such tracks as Glistening Glyndebourne, in which Martyn's guitar shimmers hypnotically through an Echoplex tape echo unit. 'Among the flood of primarily reflective albums released this past year', wrote a Rolling Stone critic, 'I think that Bless The Weather is almost in a class with Joni Mitchell's Blue and Jackson Browne, though it is vastly different from either'. As Blackwell writes, Bless the Weather led to 1973's Solid Air which, that same year, led to Inside Out: 'a trio of classic, critically revered albums where John moved through different states as the sings became more ambient and abstract'. Of the three, Solid Air has come to be seen by many as its creator's finest hour. Read more John Martyn was born Ian David McGeachy in New Maldon, Surrey, in September 1948; his parents, both professional singers, were Greenock-born Tommy McGeachy and his Belgian-born wife Beatrice (Betty). The couple's marriage did not last long, and Ian, while still a toddler, was moved to Glasgow to be looked after by his father and his grandmother, in the latter's tenement house in Tantallon Road, near Queen's Park. He was educated at Langside Primary and then, in 1960, at Shawlands Academy. He became fascinated with the acoustic guitar work of Jansch and Graham and practised endlessly on his own guitar. Hamish Imlach became something of a mentor, too. Graeme Thomson, author of the excellent Martyn biography, Small Hours, records one academy pupil as recalling that Martyn's development on the guitar was 'phenomenal'. John's first public performance was at Langside Halls, in the latter half of 1965. The venue, he told Johnny Black in 2008, was 'about seventy yards from my house. Somebody didn't turn up so they got me to play for half an hour which was a long time as I didn't have that many songs'. He became a regular fixture at folk clubs in Glasgow, Edinburgh and elsewhere, his expertise and reputation steadily growing. In the spring of 1967, writes Graeme, Martyn, just 18, boarded a train at Glasgow Central, bound for London. His girlfriend at the time, unaware that he had left, waited in vain for him at Shawlands Cross, expecting to go on a date with him. In the capital he played such renowned clubs as Les Cousins and began his association with Chris Blackwell and Island. His fourth solo album, Solid Air, may not have charted, but it remains to this day an accomplished and highly-regarded piece of work. As one contemporary review, in Melody Maker, put it: 'How do you begin to describe a guitarist as sensitive and accomplished as John Martyn? Every new album expands one's appreciation of his ability'. As recently as 2021, Classic Rock magazine was moved to describe it as one of the 10 must-have folk-rock albums. Hugh Fielder writes: 'Running his acoustic guitar into a rocker's array of effects pedals, Martyn picks and strums his way through a set of songs that snake about among jazz, blues, folk and rock – the driving 'Dreams By The Sea', the mellow 'May You Never' and the tripped-out exorcism of Skip James' 'I'd Rather Be The Devil'. Despite most of Fairport Convention turning up for the recording, the sound is still sparse – leaving more room for the mesmerising atmosphere'. To Pitchfork online magazine, Solid Air is an 'astral-folk masterpiece that embodies the British songwriter's mercurial artistry'. Read more On the Record: The album contains one of Martyn's most popular songs, the yearning 'May You Never', which was subsequently covered by, amongst many others, Eric Clapton, Rod Stewart and Newton Faulkner, and was recently accorded the 'Soul Music' treatment on Radio 4. In January 2009, Martyn and his band played a special gig in HMP Long Lartin, Worcs. Erwin James, writing in the Guardian, described there electrifying, emotional impact that the song's lines had on the hard men who were present: "Those lines meant so much to us, among us the down, the defeated, the betrayed and the betrayers – an anthem for relationships, a hymn to friendship and love... The words could not have been written for a more needy audience. As he sang, the depth of our exposure was near tangible". Reviewing the album upon its release, in the US publication, Creem, one writer was so taken with 'May You Never' that he declared it 'not only one of the best songs he's ever written, it's one of the best songs I've ever heard. Beautiful and stark, it's a song to a friend, really a benediction, a toast ... In short, I can't think of a young, rising musician with more talent or imagination than John Martyn, and I don't know of any better introduction to him than this album'. Another fine song on the album, 'Don't Want To Know', sees the narrator opting defiantly for love over evil, for a better world than we one we currently have, the one in which 'glistening gold …[makes] sure it keeps us hypnotized'). The album opens with the tender 'Solid Air', written by Martyn to Nick Drake, the troubled, brilliant acoustic guitarist and singer-songwriter whom he and Beverley had befriended. 'You've been taking your time/And you've been living on solid air', it begins. Drake, who had just released what would be his final studio album, the starkly beautiful Pink Moon, had been suffering from mental health issues; he died the following year – November, 1974 – after an overdose of antidepressants. The three solo albums Martyn made between 1971 and 1973 – Bless the Weather, Solid Air, and Inside Out – are the work of a singular talent. Of the trio, Solid Air remains the most influential and most admired; not for nothing did Q magazine once describe it as one of the best chill-out albums of all time. 'Song for song', Graeme Thomson concludes in his Small Hours book, 'Bless the Weather is arguably a more downright beautiful compositional work, but Solid Air is replete with an elusive and intoxicating atmosphere which makes for a deeper listening experience'. * Graeme Thomson's book Small Hours: The Long Night of John Martyn (Omnibus Press), is available in paperback at £12.99
