Latest news with #SquidGame-style
Metro
05-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Metro
Netflix viewers have days left to catch 'darkly funny' cult horror comedy
It's officially panic stations for Netflix viewers who have just days left to watch one of the best comedy horror movies of recent years. Ready Or Not, starring Samara Weaving, follows the story of a young bride who is invited to her new husband's house to meet his mysterious family. However, things take a dark, Squid Game-style turn when fun, innocent childhood games, such as hide-and-seek, become dangerous and very, very bloody. Weaving's character, Grace, suddenly finds herself in a fight for her life when her husband's mysterious family turns out to be super rich and also super thirsty for her blood. Tackling subjects like the wealth gap in society and the psychopathy among the uber-rich 1%, the film was also praised for balancing its blood and guts with side-splitting laughs. Wake up to find news on your TV shows in your inbox every morning with Metro's TV Newsletter. Sign up to our newsletter and then select your show in the link we'll send you so we can get TV news tailored to you. Originally released in cinemas in 2019, the acclaimed movie was made on a budget of $6million (£4.5m) and made $57.6million (£44m) at the global box office, more than earning its money back. The film was added to Netflix's library following its positive reception from cinema audiences, with the streaming service putting Ready Or Not in its already massive collection. However, it is set to leave the platform in less than two weeks, with the Tyler Gillett co-helmed film set to be unavailable in the UK after Thursday, May 15. Speaking on Reddit, Fan387 sang the film's praises, saying that it had 'its own morbid sense of humour', also saying that the soundtrack was a favourite aspect. Casual_Creator said: 'Watched this movie knowing nothing about it. Had a major blast. Such a fun movie and introduced me to Samara Weaving.' Comparing it to other films from recent years, 22Seres said: 'It ended up being my favorite horror of 2019. And it's the best fun horror movie to come out in a while. Even more than the recent Scream movies.' MothershipQ said the film had become a comfort watch for them: 'This movie rules. It's a regular watch for me. Doesn't get old, and the humor doesn't get too boring either.' The film also stars Four Weddings actress Andie MacDowall, The O.C. star Adam Brody, Canadian TV actor Mark O'Brien, and veteran star Nicky Guadagni Ready Or Not was celebrated by critics at the time, with the film boasting a Rotten Tomatoes rating of 89% and an average critical score of 7.2 out of 10. The consensus on Rotten Tomatoes reads as follows: 'Smart, subversive, and darkly funny, Ready Or Not is a crowd-pleasing horror film with giddily entertaining bite.' Ready Or Not was also co-directed by Matt Bettinelli-Olpin, as well as Tyler Gillett – the pair went on to direct the fifth and sixth entries in the Scream franchise. More Trending A sequel is planned for release soon, with Samara set to return alongside a star-studded cast including Elijah Wood, David Cronenberg, Kevin Durand, and Buffy actress Sarah Michelle Gellar. The follow-up film is set to be titled Ready Or Not: Here I Come, with filming reportedly getting underway last month—no release date has been finalised. Watch Ready Or Not on Netflix before it leaves on Thursday, May 15. Got a story? If you've got a celebrity story, video or pictures get in touch with the entertainment team by emailing us celebtips@ calling 020 3615 2145 or by visiting our Submit Stuff page – we'd love to hear from you. MORE: Netflix quietly drops all 6 episodes of 'amazing' thriller making fans cry MORE: Inside David and Victoria Beckham's £12,000,000 Cotswolds mansion with jaw-dropping outdoor spa MORE: Netflix viewers rediscover 00s sci-fi thriller with 'unexpected' twist as it climbs the charts
Time of India
24-04-2025
- Business
- Time of India
Man shared his credit card with a woman for 10 seconds– here's what happened next
In the age of virtual networking, unusual messages in professional inboxes have almost become routine. But every now and then, one interaction cuts through the noise, not for its creativity, but for how blatantly it crosses a line. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now That's exactly what happened to Harnoor Saluja , a communications professional, when she received a message on LinkedIn that was anything but work-related. What started as a simple connection request quickly turned into a moment that would catch the internet's attention– and start a much-needed conversation around personal boundaries in professional spaces. 'Yes, this is a real story. No, I wasn't prepared either' The message she received was short, surprising, and unsettling. 'I'm sending you my credit card for just 10 seconds. If you can load, you can do shopping from this.' In a now-viral LinkedIn post, Harnoor shared how the interaction unfolded– and how she processed those ten strange seconds. 'Yes, this is a real story. No, I wasn't prepared either,' she wrote, acknowledging the disbelief many readers felt. She added, half-jokingly, that she wasn't sure what the sender was actually testing– 'my internet speed, my sense of morality, or my Squid Game-style reflexes.' She continued with a creative breakdown of what crossed her mind in those brief moments: 'In those 10 seconds, I: Added a standing desk (to stand up for women in marketing), Wondered if I should buy a mic to narrate this saga as a podcast, And closed the tab like I close emotional availability: swiftly and without warning, Scrolled through skincare (because healing from this trauma needs retinol).' Her closing line summed up the entire encounter with clarity and conviction: 'If sending your credit card is your idea of 'networking,' please know– my internet may be fast, but my morals are faster.' Tired of too many ads? go ad free now Responses poured in– From applause to shared stories The internet, naturally, had a lot to say. Comments ranged from supportive to relatable, with many echoing her message while others shared their own awkward online experiences. One user jokingly remarked, 'At least he could send it for 10 minutes,' to which Harnoor responded with sharp humour: 'Even 10 minutes wouldn't buy us enough therapy for this one.' Others chimed in with notes of encouragement and admiration: 'Can I borrow your reflexes for my next solo trip? .. .just to be safe,' 'That's more like my girl,' 'Wow,' 'Proud of you, dear.' Some even revealed similar encounters they'd faced online. One shared: 'An influencer sent me a DM saying I commented on his post, so he wanted to transfer me money as a gift. I politely refused twice. He insisted until I blocked him.' A larger point about professionalism online While Harnoor's story made many laugh, it also highlighted a growing concern about blurred boundaries in online workspaces. Platforms like LinkedIn were created to connect professionals, but interactions like these reveal a disconnect between intention and respect. Her calm, composed, and clever response is what made this post stand out. Rather than confront with anger, she brought attention to the issue with clarity and grace, sparking a much-needed conversation without losing her voice in the noise.
India Today
22-04-2025
- Business
- India Today
Man sent woman his credit card 'for 10 seconds' on LinkedIn. Here's what she did next
A woman claimed a man sent her his credit card on LinkedIn for just 10 seconds and asked if she could do some shopping with it. In a now-viral post on LinkedIn, Harnoor Saluja, a communications professional, recalled the bizarre interaction with the man who slid into her DMs with this unusual offer. According to her, he said, "I'm sending you my credit card for just 10 seconds. If you can load, you can do shopping from this". advertisement Harnoor said, "Yes, this is a real story. No, I wasn't prepared either". She said she wasn't sure what the man was trying to test - her internet speed, her sense of morality, or her Squid Game-style reflexes. But in those ten seconds, her imagination took over. "In those 10 seconds, I: Added a standing desk (to stand up for women in marketing), Wondered if I should buy a mic to narrate this saga as a podcast, And closed the tab like I close emotional availability: swiftly and without warning, Scrolled through skincare (because healing from this trauma needs retinol)," she said. She concluded her post with a mic-drop line: "If sending your credit card is your idea of 'networking,' please know-my internet may be fast, but my morals are faster." advertisementTake a look at the viral post here: The post, for obvious reasons, got social media users talking. One user shared a similar story. "An influencer sent me a DM saying I commented on his post, so he wanted to transfer me money as a gift. I politely refused twice. He insisted until I blocked him." "When networking turns into a Netflix drama! The audacity is unmatched, but hey, at least he didn't ask for your OTP (yet). Stay safe, Harnoor," another user added. See the comments here: Harnoor Saluja's sharp response clearly struck a chord online. While the man's approach raised eyebrows, she used humour, and quick reflexes, to send the message loud and clear.
Yahoo
26-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
I was blindfolded and kidnapped before eating a £400 dinner
It didn't look good. I'd been blindfolded and was being bundled into the back of a Mercedes in my home city, Lyon in southeast France. You'd think that I was in major trouble, or at best, playing some kind of kink game. You probably wouldn't guess that I was simply going out for dinner. Anyone with a passing interest in cuisine is familiar with Lyon's reputation. It's long been lauded the culinary capital of France. Much of the reputation centres around bouchons, traditional Lyonnais restaurants specialising in offal, but it hasn't hurt that some of the most famous and decorated chefs in the world had restaurants here, including Paul Bocuse and Eugénie Brazier, the first person to receive six Michelin stars. Lyon is home to France's starriest food street, the aptly named Rue du Bœuf, which boasts three Michelin-starred restaurants. The city also has 14 other Michelin-starred establishments beyond this famous street. Most serve classic haute cuisine, but at one, I found myself listening to babbling brooks through noise cancelling headphones as I ate pureed vegetables with my hands. Jérémy Galvan, the chef behind Contre-Champ, doesn't play by the rules. Judging by the kidnapping, Galvan's latest project seemed set to be just as wacky. 220 Bpm, his new restaurant, opened recently, and I was one of the first to try it out. But rather than being given the restaurant address, I was told to head to Place Bellecour, Lyon's main square, and wait to be picked up. The car arrived with tinted windows, and I was blindfolded and my phone confiscated, Squid Game-style. Our driver put on an audiobook to set the mood, as we sat in the car in a state of partial sensory deprivation. I was reminded of Squid Game again as children talked in French about a fantasy world (there were headsets available in English). Some of my fellow passengers grumbled about the lack of phones, although our kidnappers had generously given us the time to message a loved one. I was far more preoccupied by unravelling the mystery of where we were going. We were heading uphill on a windy road, but the complete absence of traffic baffled me: unheard of in Lyon at rush hour. Forty minutes later, the arrival was somewhat anticlimactic. We were in the countryside, in front of a house surrounded by trees, but in the dark I couldn't deduce much more. Our phones stayed in their box, and we filed upstairs into a scene which looked as though the Michelin guide met Shipwrecked. It was small, just 14 seats arranged in pairs. The tables looked impossibly impractical, made from driftwood staggered over multiple levels and already laden with decoratively presented amuse bouches. Was that a fish's head? And where the hell was I going to put my wine glass? The waiters filed out, leather armour-like tops like characters from Assassin's Creed. Their trousers were baggy, reminiscent of gap year kids that think they've found themselves, but have actually just discovered marijuana. We had no idea what we were eating until after each course. Since the menu was as far from a steak-frites as it's possible to get, this required blind faith, although I'd requested no meat, the sole fusspot Briton in a group of stoical French diners ready to eat whatever was put in front of them. Deciphering the dishes was no mean feat. There were fried green balls that tasted like peas. An eggshell made from chocolate filled with a salty liquid – sea water? Was I actually on Shipwrecked? Choux pastry filled with a rosemary-infused cream cheese that oddly tasted like a sweet roast dinner. I was scared that I was going to eat one of the table decorations by accident, mistaking a piece of bark for one of Galvan's creations. The wine glasses arrived with no base, stems slotting neatly into holes in the driftwood, and I breathed a sigh of relief. For one of the courses, the waiters rolled out a trolley of what looked like dragon's eggs. I imagined that Galvan must have been a fantasy kid who dressed up as an elf and practised fencing with wooden swords: we'd moved from Squid Game to Assassin's Creed to Game of Thrones. They lit the eggs with what looked like Bunsen burners, and smoke filled the room. I was confused. I was also thoroughly enjoying myself. It didn't hurt that each course was accompanied by truly delicious wine pairings, served generously. What followed was such a whirlwind of flavours that muddled and delighted my taste buds all at once. Mushrooms in multiple ways: confit, fermented, in purée. Scallops served on a bed of lemon caviar, quails eggs poached in white chocolate, caramelised cauliflower accompanied with toasted almonds. A green lingot which tasted like caviar turned out to be leek. Much of what was served was seasonal, and I was told that the decor would change with the seasons as well as the menu. Young Galvan in elf ears slays an orc with his wooden sword and pulls out its beating heart. At least, that's what I imagined was the inspiration for the next course and the restaurant name, 220 Bpm. The waiters appeared in front of each table with a carcass, of which animal I couldn't say. We were invited to put our hands inside the carcass to retrieve the next dish. I felt exceedingly smug as I pulled out my own spiced beetroot patty, as the eat-everything Frenchies around me had patties, made from beef and guinea fowl hearts. Some of them visibly blanched. 'It's the climatic point of the meal, you're eating the heart of the restaurant,' said Galvan. 'But this course has a double meaning: it also forces the diners to respect the fact that meat is a sacrifice of life. We don't waste any part of the animal here.' No orcs, then. During dessert it happened. I ate part of the decor, taking a large bite of the beeswax base one of my dishes had been served upon. Perhaps all my senses were completely addled by then. After five hours of pure theatre, it was time to head home. I was relieved that there were no blindfolds or audiobooks as I digested. Although some of the dishes had been nothing short of excellent, it wasn't the most delicious meal I'd ever eaten – a couple of dishes were a little too experimental for my liking. It was certainly the most memorable, though, and thoroughly worth it, although the squeamish might want to skip the heart course. The full experience at 220 Bpm (food, wine pairings and transport from Lyon city centre) costs €455pp, or €650pp with a premium food and wine selection. Advance reservations are essential. Anna was a guest of the restaurant. Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. 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The Guardian
17-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Inside review – the wild reality show that makes you spend £400 on a cuppa
At the end of last year, MrBeast – an unfathomably successful YouTuber who revels in obnoxious demonstrations of wealth – went mainstream. He launched Beast Games on Prime Video, a sort of cloth-eared, Squid Game-style elimination show that entirely failed to twig that Squid Game was a satire. I gave it a pasting, but it went on to become Prime's second biggest series debut of 2024. As such, we now find ourselves in a weird new world. Streamers have realised that the only way they can compete with YouTube is to open the cheque book for its content and run it on their own platforms. It's what Amazon did with Beast Games, and it's what Netflix has done with Inside. The latter is a British reality show that premiered on YouTube last year. Every episode got more viewers than anything shown on BBC One, so Netflix quickly snapped up the rights to the second season. Inside will be watched by so many people that it's almost pointless for me to tell you whether it's any good or not. I can tell you, at least, that it isn't particularly original. The central conceit of Inside is that a bunch of people have to live in a house together, which makes it largely indistinguishable from Big Brother. There's a room where everyone hangs out, and a shared bedroom, and a room with a chair where everyone can directly address the camera, almost as if it were some kind of diary. The contestants must also intermittently submit to challenges, which seem to primarily involve being covered in rats and spiders, which may raise eyebrows in the I'm a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here! legal department. However, two things separate Inside from generic reality mush. The first is that it only lasts for a week, with a new episode every day, so it won't run the risk of wearing out its own novelty. The second, and by far the most interesting, is that the contestants have to deplete their own prize to survive. They start with a million pounds and, aside from basic nutrition, have to buy everything else at comically jacked up prices. Want a cup of tea? That's £400. A packet of crisps? £500. Fancy a Pot Noodle? That will set you back a grand. From this, it will be perfectly clear to everyone reading that the point of Inside is impulse control. By depriving yourself of unnecessary luxury for a very short amount of time, you have more chance of winning a life-changing sum of money. Anyone with even a shred of common sense could understand that. However, the contestants on Inside do not have a shred of common sense between them, because the contestants on Inside are all influencers. They're streamers and TikTokers and online rappers and – in a genuinely baffling turn of events – legendary former footballer Patrice Evra. One of them calls himself 'News Daddy'. They're all punishingly difficult to like. Before the first day has ended, these dimwits have blown through tens of thousands of pounds. And that is before the Sidemen start selling them miserable little cups of prosecco at £1,000 a pop, which sets off a firesale of unregulated spending. I'm tempted to keep watching purely to see if it becomes the first reality show in history where the contestants end up owing the producers money. So it's all a bit naff, but at least Inside benefits from being more watchable than Beast Games. That show was self-aggrandising to the point of psychosis, whereas this is slightly more British and low-key about things. The narration is a little bit sarcastic and Come Dine With Me – 'Let's see which influencers are having tax issues this time,' it sniffs, by way of introduction – which helps to undercut some of the shrill, full-volume attention-seeking elsewhere on the show. Plus, it's never a good thing to judge a show like this on its first episode. Like Big Brother, The Traitors and I'm a Celebrity before it, there are simply too many big personalities trying to make a splash at the same time. Once the herd has been thinned a bit, it should gain a bit more breathing room. Who knows, with time and familiarity, it might even end up becoming a bit compelling. Inside is on Netflix now.
