John Cena and Jessica Biel collect paychecks in a soulless and synthetic slab of corporate product that hints at what we can expect from the Paramount-Warner merger

After a windy road, this week it finally happened. The day that Hollywood, and many of those who are invested in it, had been dreading, the grimly inevitable disappearance of Warner Bros as it was consumed by what is now known as Paramount. The two once-classic studios will become one – Skydance, the David Ellison-owned company that has infinitely more money than common sense or base-level creativity.

The week has seen many, including the Guardian, speculate about what we may be able to expect, what kind of films the billion-dollar behemoth might now be releasing. Warners after all has created classics such as Casablanca, The Exorcist and 2001: A Space Odyssey while Paramount has been behind The Godfather, Chinatown and Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Just imagine what the combined might of these two prestigious, industry-defining studios could achieve with the promise of 30-plus theatrical releases a year, huge amounts of money and considerable manpower at play.

After being cancelled, former Vanderpump Rules star Stassi Schroeder is fighting for redemption with her own show – never mind what her family and friends think

Across the 2010s, Stassi Schroeder was the star of Vanderpump Rules, the hit reality TV show that tracked the near-psychopathic interpersonal relationships between the staff at Lisa Vanderpump’s peak-millennial restaurant SUR. From the moment she appeared on screen – all statement necklaces and crispy flatironed hair – it was clear that Schroeder was an early master of the reality genre. While the cast were all villainous in their own ways, she stood apart for her singular mix of charisma and chaos.

For eight years, Schroeder slapped her friends, belittled her bosses, bullied other women, insulted customers and was generally terrible at her job. But despite the frequent physical and psychological violence, she remained a firm audience favourite. In the years since, she has spoken about the impact this kind of adoration can have on a person: the worse she behaved, the more she was rewarded with attention from producers and the adoring – and admonishing – public. For a time, she was the people’s princess of darkness. That was until 2020, when she discovered there are limits to what even blond, leggy reality TV prodigies can do.