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The Age
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Age
Still waiting for Mr Darcy? He might be closer than you think
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a straight single woman in possession of a dating profile must be in want of a miracle. Ghosting. Breadcrumbing. A risky double- or triple-text followed by the anxious wait for a response. Love languages and attachment-style quizzes. How to embrace the divine feminine, red nail theory, black cat energy. Red flags, green flags, beige flags. The endless swipe, swipe, swipe into the abyss, and ultimately, the ick. Countless rules and tricks and loopholes – did Lizzy Bennet have to put up with all of this? Would she have? Or would she have hitched up her skirts, told Darcy to shove it, and gone off to get a job in a laundry somewhere, instead of suffering the seemingly inescapable indignities of modern dating? As this winter turns bitter and the instinct to burrow dials up to 11, most Friday nights, you can find me swaddled in a fleece blanket burrito on the couch, getting all my romantic fulfilment from fictional men written by women. 'I'm not into Uber sex,' says Agathe, the protagonist of Jane Austen Wrecked My Life: a French film in which an idealistic writer gets swept into her own Austen-style romance in the English countryside. 'I'm not living in the right century.' As if on cue, my phone lights up beside me. It's a picture message from this guy I met on an app more than a decade ago, but never got around to meeting in person. I know without even unlocking my phone that he has sent me a photo of his semi-erect penis. I turn my phone over. I turn the movie up. It can be tempting, in the ashes of yet another failed talking stage or mildly traumatic situationship, to want to retreat into fiction. Romcoms never leave you on 'read'. Romance novels never gave anyone an antibiotic-resistant UTI. Stay lost in a world of costume dramas long enough, and you begin to wonder if dating wasn't easier two centuries ago. Back then, all you had to do to be some hunky aristocrat's manic pixie dream girl was to be refreshingly outspoken, broke, and crap at the pianoforte. The whole criteria for being someone's Prince Charming was to simply not have a secret fiancee. The thought of purchasing a love spell from an Etsy witch would send half these characters into a coma. But some nagging familiarity dogs me as I enter my fourth hour of Regency-era romance, and it's not because I've seen these films before. It's because I've lived them. When I was 18, I met some version of Captain Wentworth, the main love interest in Persuasion. My Wentworth was as gorgeous and impulsive as the original, with a Brummie accent that made him read dangerous and sexy, and tattoos from his ankles to his earlobes to guarantee that my mother would never approve. Dating in Melbourne in 2025 is brutal, but it wasn't much better two centuries ago. When we couldn't make our relationship work, young love and gap years as fleeting as they are, I put an ocean between us and yearned from afar for a decade. Life may have moved on for us both, but a part of me is still waiting for my Wentworth's return; braced, I think, for a long, long email from him that never comes. And throughout the second half of my 20s, I found myself tangled up in an emotional affair with a man who belonged to someone else. Though it hadn't started nefariously – it was a friends-to-lovers trope if I ever saw one – it dragged on too long, and now, each time I revisit Sense and Sensibility, Mr Ferrars' stuttering charm recalls late-night conversations I'd sooner forget. I wish I could sit down for brunch and mimosas with Ms Steele and have both of us deflate with the relief that neither of us ended up with the wrong guy. Say nothing of the countless Mr Wickhams in my rearview mirror: roguish, dashing, manipulative, the perfect person to project all my limerence onto. Don't even mention all the grinning, smooth-brained Mr Bingleys I've swiped through: the golden retriever boyfriend personified, most content when chasing a ball or his family's approval. The flighty and deceitful Mr Willoughbys with their hidden agendas, the charming and scheming Mr Elliots – and all the many, many, many earnest and embarrassing Mr Collinses who fancy themselves a Darcy. I've tried it on with them all, learning nothing except that when it's not right, it's always wrong. Hey Siri, play Manchild by Sabrina Carpenter. Loading This year is Jane Austen's 250th birthday, and somehow, she is as relevant as she has ever been. Each modern adaptation proves it: Bridget Jones' Diary and all her sequels, Clueless, and – because I have no taste (see my romantic history above) – even Netflix's Persuasion are delicious little treats on which I can't keep from bingeing. Like Taylor Swift songs and horoscopes, it's so easy to take Austen's work and lay it like a filter over your own life, tracing the similarities and disregarding the differences, until it feels as though it was written just for you. Because dating in Melbourne in 2025 is brutal, but it wasn't much better two centuries ago. At least women's ability to stay out of poverty is no longer tied to how well they cater to the male gaze. At least we can vote. Now, eloping with a hot scoundrel won't ruin your life; it's just fodder for your writing career. (Just kidding.) (Kind of.) But I have a confession to make: deep down, the misguided romantic in me still wants something phenomenally unrealistic. Despite a decade of disappointment and mortifying stories, despite living my life according to the Bechdel Test, despite endless anecdata about unsatisfying (if not downright dangerous) heterosexual relationships, sometimes I eschew all my hyper-independence and can admit – to you and only you – that I would really like a romantic hero to stride across a foggy moor and rescue me from myself. I want Paul Rudd to call me gorgeous and annoying, then kiss me on a staircase, like he did to Alicia Silverstone in Clueless. Sometimes, when my dopamine drops and nobody is looking, I even get lonely enough to fall back into the embrace of that unholy trio: Tinder, Bumble and Hinge. All the archetypes are there, too. Fred Wentworth, 31 Six foot with a six-pack on six figures, since apparently that matters. George Wickham, 26 Looking for my Tinderella. NO GOLDDIGGERS (I do not have any gold to dig). Eddie Ferrars, 24 Ethically non-monogamist entrepreneur. Me and my missus are looking for a third. Colonel Brandon is there too. In Sense and Sensibility, he's an older gentleman who falls in love with giddy, flighty Marianne, and waits patiently for her to see through Mr Willoughby's charade. These days, he's the leathery fifty-something who exclusively dates 20-year-olds because they're 'less complicated' and 'more sexually adventurous' than women his own age. Robert Ferrars, from the same novel, was always second best to his brother. Now, his profile pictures are exclusively group shots, leaving you to wonder – hope – if he's the good-looking one in the crowd. William Elliot, sexy layabout and heir to the Elliot estate in Persuasion, would have half a dozen catfish profiles on sugar baby websites, seeking a wealthy Mrs Robinson figure to fund his comfortable lifestyle. Women aren't immune to this, by the way. Every delusional, self-important woman – including me – believes herself to be a sensible and headstrong Lizzy Bennet but is actually a giddy Lydia, or a socially inept Miss Bates who mistakes herself for an it-girl like Emma Woodhouse. We all know a Charlotte Lucas or two or 10, who, despite deserving the world, wound up deep in the suburbs, cleaning up after Mr Collins. Like Anne Elliot before us, we've all wondered if our first love might show up on our wedding day to speak now or forever hold his peace. You either die an Emma or you live long enough to see yourself become a Mrs Bennet. I'm sure that if I'd ever made it through Mansfield Park or Northanger Abbey, I'd spot parallels between Fanny Price and Catherine Morland and all the women I know, too. Times may change, but people rarely do. Funny how the red-pilled hivemind fantasise about returning to traditional values. You can't get much more traditional than the 18th century, and all those women ever did was marry for money and status. If I match with Kevin, 33, do I get an estate in Toorak and 4000 a year, too? But no matter how many of these characters I meet in real life, no matter how many times I've found myself living out the plot of Austen's novels, it never ends the way I've been taught to expect it to. That's the thing about books and films: they make you forget that the story doesn't end after the acknowledgments. Surely Lizzy and Darcy would be at one another's throats within a week. Emma and Knightley's lust would fade and they would fall right back into their bickering sibling dynamic soon enough, depressing them and creeping everyone else out. Wentworth, red-pilled and resentful, would throw his hard-earned success and Anne's passive classism back in her face each time she asked him to unload the dishwasher. There are happy endings, and then there are happily ever afters. So why do I still believe? My relationships with all of Austen's archetypes may have eventually broken down, but not because those guys were awful (although most of them were), or because I was the whole problem (although often I was). It wasn't because they were frogs playing princes, or because I'm a sidekick convinced she's a protagonist. I'm not sensible, patient Anne Elliot. I'm not an effervescent Emma Woodhouse, or rational and cautious Elinor Dashwood. There's nothing I wouldn't give to be Cher Horowitz, but then, I'm not as endearingly messy as Bridget Jones, either – but someone is. My Wickham is someone else's Wentworth. For every Mr Elton seeking his Miss Hawkins, there's a serious and steady Knightley waiting to be scandalised and delighted by his Emma. Isn't it so nice to believe, however foolishly, that the great big romance of our lives is just a swipe and a few plot twists away? I saw a psychic last week and she confirmed that I still have a few big love stories ahead of me. She also told me that I'm about to come into great wealth and that my late dog is running around the afterlife in a bow tie, so I'm wont to trust every word out of her mouth. Argumentative and judgmental as I am – in an endearing way, I swear – I'd like to believe that the universe has laid a path for me that leads to Mr Darcy. I've been waiting 30 years. Someone tall and awkward, moody and quippy, difficult to impress but unendingly loyal, socially confused, terrible at parties – wait, am I describing my dream man, or myself? While I wait for him to show up, if he ever does, there are endless adaptations and modern retellings to occupy my Friday nights. A little delusion keeps hope alive. Here's the real silver lining. Although my life doesn't much resemble those of Austen's protagonists – no bonnets, no trips to Bath for the sea cure – I do have something better; something her heroines dreamed of. Despite disappointments and unsolicited dick pics, my story belongs to me. I have my own money, my own home, a full and wonderful life that doesn't hinge on marriage or inherited wealth. I'm not a piece of fruit left rotting in the sun just because I haven't made my way to Pemberley yet. Whether I meet 'the one' tomorrow or spend my whole life fostering dogs and watching period pieces, I'll be fine, and so will you. I can be – I have always been – my very own Mr Darcy.
Sydney Morning Herald
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
Still waiting for Mr Darcy? He might be closer than you think
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a straight single woman in possession of a dating profile must be in want of a miracle. Ghosting. Breadcrumbing. A risky double- or triple-text followed by the anxious wait for a response. Love languages and attachment-style quizzes. How to embrace the divine feminine, red nail theory, black cat energy. Red flags, green flags, beige flags. The endless swipe, swipe, swipe into the abyss, and ultimately, the ick. Countless rules and tricks and loopholes – did Lizzy Bennet have to put up with all of this? Would she have? Or would she have hitched up her skirts, told Darcy to shove it, and gone off to get a job in a laundry somewhere, instead of suffering the seemingly inescapable indignities of modern dating? As this winter turns bitter and the instinct to burrow dials up to 11, most Friday nights, you can find me swaddled in a fleece blanket burrito on the couch, getting all my romantic fulfilment from fictional men written by women. 'I'm not into Uber sex,' says Agathe, the protagonist of Jane Austen Wrecked My Life: a French film in which an idealistic writer gets swept into her own Austen-style romance in the English countryside. 'I'm not living in the right century.' As if on cue, my phone lights up beside me. It's a picture message from this guy I met on an app more than a decade ago, but never got around to meeting in person. I know without even unlocking my phone that he has sent me a photo of his semi-erect penis. I turn my phone over. I turn the movie up. It can be tempting, in the ashes of yet another failed talking stage or mildly traumatic situationship, to want to retreat into fiction. Romcoms never leave you on 'read'. Romance novels never gave anyone an antibiotic-resistant UTI. Stay lost in a world of costume dramas long enough, and you begin to wonder if dating wasn't easier two centuries ago. Back then, all you had to do to be some hunky aristocrat's manic pixie dream girl was to be refreshingly outspoken, broke, and crap at the pianoforte. The whole criteria for being someone's Prince Charming was to simply not have a secret fiancee. The thought of purchasing a love spell from an Etsy witch would send half these characters into a coma. But some nagging familiarity dogs me as I enter my fourth hour of Regency-era romance, and it's not because I've seen these films before. It's because I've lived them. When I was 18, I met some version of Captain Wentworth, the main love interest in Persuasion. My Wentworth was as gorgeous and impulsive as the original, with a Brummie accent that made him read dangerous and sexy, and tattoos from his ankles to his earlobes to guarantee that my mother would never approve. Dating in Melbourne in 2025 is brutal, but it wasn't much better two centuries ago. When we couldn't make our relationship work, young love and gap years as fleeting as they are, I put an ocean between us and yearned from afar for a decade. Life may have moved on for us both, but a part of me is still waiting for my Wentworth's return; braced, I think, for a long, long email from him that never comes. And throughout the second half of my 20s, I found myself tangled up in an emotional affair with a man who belonged to someone else. Though it hadn't started nefariously – it was a friends-to-lovers trope if I ever saw one – it dragged on too long, and now, each time I revisit Sense and Sensibility, Mr Ferrars' stuttering charm recalls late-night conversations I'd sooner forget. I wish I could sit down for brunch and mimosas with Ms Steele and have both of us deflate with the relief that neither of us ended up with the wrong guy. Say nothing of the countless Mr Wickhams in my rearview mirror: roguish, dashing, manipulative, the perfect person to project all my limerence onto. Don't even mention all the grinning, smooth-brained Mr Bingleys I've swiped through: the golden retriever boyfriend personified, most content when chasing a ball or his family's approval. The flighty and deceitful Mr Willoughbys with their hidden agendas, the charming and scheming Mr Elliots – and all the many, many, many earnest and embarrassing Mr Collinses who fancy themselves a Darcy. I've tried it on with them all, learning nothing except that when it's not right, it's always wrong. Hey Siri, play Manchild by Sabrina Carpenter. Loading This year is Jane Austen's 250th birthday, and somehow, she is as relevant as she has ever been. Each modern adaptation proves it: Bridget Jones' Diary and all her sequels, Clueless, and – because I have no taste (see my romantic history above) – even Netflix's Persuasion are delicious little treats on which I can't keep from bingeing. Like Taylor Swift songs and horoscopes, it's so easy to take Austen's work and lay it like a filter over your own life, tracing the similarities and disregarding the differences, until it feels as though it was written just for you. Because dating in Melbourne in 2025 is brutal, but it wasn't much better two centuries ago. At least women's ability to stay out of poverty is no longer tied to how well they cater to the male gaze. At least we can vote. Now, eloping with a hot scoundrel won't ruin your life; it's just fodder for your writing career. (Just kidding.) (Kind of.) But I have a confession to make: deep down, the misguided romantic in me still wants something phenomenally unrealistic. Despite a decade of disappointment and mortifying stories, despite living my life according to the Bechdel Test, despite endless anecdata about unsatisfying (if not downright dangerous) heterosexual relationships, sometimes I eschew all my hyper-independence and can admit – to you and only you – that I would really like a romantic hero to stride across a foggy moor and rescue me from myself. I want Paul Rudd to call me gorgeous and annoying, then kiss me on a staircase, like he did to Alicia Silverstone in Clueless. Sometimes, when my dopamine drops and nobody is looking, I even get lonely enough to fall back into the embrace of that unholy trio: Tinder, Bumble and Hinge. All the archetypes are there, too. Fred Wentworth, 31 Six foot with a six-pack on six figures, since apparently that matters. George Wickham, 26 Looking for my Tinderella. NO GOLDDIGGERS (I do not have any gold to dig). Eddie Ferrars, 24 Ethically non-monogamist entrepreneur. Me and my missus are looking for a third. Colonel Brandon is there too. In Sense and Sensibility, he's an older gentleman who falls in love with giddy, flighty Marianne, and waits patiently for her to see through Mr Willoughby's charade. These days, he's the leathery fifty-something who exclusively dates 20-year-olds because they're 'less complicated' and 'more sexually adventurous' than women his own age. Robert Ferrars, from the same novel, was always second best to his brother. Now, his profile pictures are exclusively group shots, leaving you to wonder – hope – if he's the good-looking one in the crowd. William Elliot, sexy layabout and heir to the Elliot estate in Persuasion, would have half a dozen catfish profiles on sugar baby websites, seeking a wealthy Mrs Robinson figure to fund his comfortable lifestyle. Women aren't immune to this, by the way. Every delusional, self-important woman – including me – believes herself to be a sensible and headstrong Lizzy Bennet but is actually a giddy Lydia, or a socially inept Miss Bates who mistakes herself for an it-girl like Emma Woodhouse. We all know a Charlotte Lucas or two or 10, who, despite deserving the world, wound up deep in the suburbs, cleaning up after Mr Collins. Like Anne Elliot before us, we've all wondered if our first love might show up on our wedding day to speak now or forever hold his peace. You either die an Emma or you live long enough to see yourself become a Mrs Bennet. I'm sure that if I'd ever made it through Mansfield Park or Northanger Abbey, I'd spot parallels between Fanny Price and Catherine Morland and all the women I know, too. Times may change, but people rarely do. Funny how the red-pilled hivemind fantasise about returning to traditional values. You can't get much more traditional than the 18th century, and all those women ever did was marry for money and status. If I match with Kevin, 33, do I get an estate in Toorak and 4000 a year, too? But no matter how many of these characters I meet in real life, no matter how many times I've found myself living out the plot of Austen's novels, it never ends the way I've been taught to expect it to. That's the thing about books and films: they make you forget that the story doesn't end after the acknowledgments. Surely Lizzy and Darcy would be at one another's throats within a week. Emma and Knightley's lust would fade and they would fall right back into their bickering sibling dynamic soon enough, depressing them and creeping everyone else out. Wentworth, red-pilled and resentful, would throw his hard-earned success and Anne's passive classism back in her face each time she asked him to unload the dishwasher. There are happy endings, and then there are happily ever afters. So why do I still believe? My relationships with all of Austen's archetypes may have eventually broken down, but not because those guys were awful (although most of them were), or because I was the whole problem (although often I was). It wasn't because they were frogs playing princes, or because I'm a sidekick convinced she's a protagonist. I'm not sensible, patient Anne Elliot. I'm not an effervescent Emma Woodhouse, or rational and cautious Elinor Dashwood. There's nothing I wouldn't give to be Cher Horowitz, but then, I'm not as endearingly messy as Bridget Jones, either – but someone is. My Wickham is someone else's Wentworth. For every Mr Elton seeking his Miss Hawkins, there's a serious and steady Knightley waiting to be scandalised and delighted by his Emma. Isn't it so nice to believe, however foolishly, that the great big romance of our lives is just a swipe and a few plot twists away? I saw a psychic last week and she confirmed that I still have a few big love stories ahead of me. She also told me that I'm about to come into great wealth and that my late dog is running around the afterlife in a bow tie, so I'm wont to trust every word out of her mouth. Argumentative and judgmental as I am – in an endearing way, I swear – I'd like to believe that the universe has laid a path for me that leads to Mr Darcy. I've been waiting 30 years. Someone tall and awkward, moody and quippy, difficult to impress but unendingly loyal, socially confused, terrible at parties – wait, am I describing my dream man, or myself? While I wait for him to show up, if he ever does, there are endless adaptations and modern retellings to occupy my Friday nights. A little delusion keeps hope alive. Here's the real silver lining. Although my life doesn't much resemble those of Austen's protagonists – no bonnets, no trips to Bath for the sea cure – I do have something better; something her heroines dreamed of. Despite disappointments and unsolicited dick pics, my story belongs to me. I have my own money, my own home, a full and wonderful life that doesn't hinge on marriage or inherited wealth. I'm not a piece of fruit left rotting in the sun just because I haven't made my way to Pemberley yet. Whether I meet 'the one' tomorrow or spend my whole life fostering dogs and watching period pieces, I'll be fine, and so will you. I can be – I have always been – my very own Mr Darcy.
New York Post
12-06-2025
- New York Post
Where to find thoroughly modern amenities in ye olde Ireland
Across Ireland, historic properties are keeping up with the times and upping their hospitality game with new suites, modern amenities and cutting-edge wellness. But is all this new coming at the expense of Ireland's ye-olde-timey charm? In Cork, bookings are booming at a former butter merchant's mansion built circa 1820 known as the Montenotte. Yet, it's not the urban resort's 19th-century bones or the Regency-era façade that are winning it awards — it's a collection of newly built luxury cabins. 4 From ancient castles to cutting-edge eco-accommodations like Montenette, Ireland's lucky charm is changing with the times. Small Luxury Hotels of the World 4 Montenette is a former butter merchant's mansion built circa 1820. Handout The first of their kind in the country, the cabin-suites by architect Henry J. Lyons and interior designer Róisín Lafferty (both of Dublin) are inspired by understated Japanese design. They're crafted with floor-to-ceiling windows, charred larch wood and private terraces for an indoor-outdoor experience — not exactly hallmarks of old-school Irish architecture. Nonetheless, the suites recently won at the European Awards for Hospitality Experience and Design in London last fall. Meanwhile in County Donegal, a dog-friendly eco-resort dubbed Lough Mardal Lodge offers luxury yurt glamping. So does the organic Fernwood Farm in County Galway, where the glamping experience is a geodesic 'Treehouse Dome.' Even the luxury hotel Dromoland Castle in County Clare is putting on a fresh face. The 15th-century castle was once the ancestral seat of the O'Brien family, direct descendants of Brian Boru, the 11th-century king credited with uniting Ireland. Now, in the very forests where Irish warriors once fought to expel Viking intruders, visitors can partake in a 'forest bathing' experience where the castle's resident yoga instructor leads a 'slow, mindful walk' through the grounds. Inspired by the Japanese practice of shinrin-yoku, forest bathing's early proponents included Justin Bieber and Gwyneth Paltrow. 4 Ennui is out, sophisticated pampering is in. Chris Singer photography Dromoland's Castle Spa has also been upgraded with Dr. Barbara Sturm, a German 'molecular cosmetics' line whose super anti-aging serum runs a cool $900 per 100-milliliter bottle. Over in County Mayo at Ashford Castle, another leading five-star castle hotel dating back to the Middle Ages, the spa recently launched a partnership with another pricey, science-backed (and non-Irish) skincare brand. 'Our recent Augustinus Bader launch in the spa aligns with global wellness trends, offering the latest in skincare science,' said Niall Rochford, Ashford Castle's managing director. He also assured that traditional Irish ingredients and rituals remain on the menu. It's important, he said, that 'modern luxury enhances, rather than overshadows, the castle's deep sense of place.' 4 High adventure definitely has its fans here at Ashford Castle. Ashford Castle While offerings and amenities may change, Rochford said that Ashford's philosophy is still rooted in the old Gaelic saying 'Céad míle fáilte' ('a hundred thousand welcomes') — a type of service he described as 'genuine, intuitive' and 'deeply thoughtful.' 'At its heart, modern Irish hospitality is not just about service,' said Rochford. 'It's about storytelling, connection and a spirit of generosity that leaves a lasting impression.' While tourism trends like glamping, wellness and high-end skin care have become more common across Ireland, it's the experiences economy that has changed the most in recent years, per Siobhan Byrne, founder and CEO of Adams & Butler. Her company organizes bespoke experiences for travelers, from guided oyster shucking to boat tours of castles only visible from the water. 'Americans are the best tourists because they're always interested in doing things and learning, and Ireland is great for that.' Siobhan Byrne, founder and CEO of Adams & Butler 'Our clients aren't going to kiss the Blarney Stone or go to the Cliffs of Moher,' said Byrne. 'They want to meet real Irish people.' But if you're still keen on ticking the latter off your list, an advisor like Byrne can direct you to a local farmer's path, offering the same epic views without none of the tourist crowds. There are even rental properties and experiences only accessible through a travel advisor — such as a private castle in County Fermanagh, with its Earl in residence, or a private Jameson tasting with the Jameson family in their home. One of Byrne's American clients who was 'worth about a gazillion dollars' recently went to Ireland's rugged west coast to visit the Aran Islands, a remote archipelago where the most luxurious hotel is a meager three stars — not the obvious referral for a high-net-worth individual. 'He loved it because he wanted to hear about the islands' unique history, the people and the folklore,' said Byrne. 'People don't come to Ireland just for the sake of vacation anymore. They want to learn something or experience something different, and that's what real luxury is.' So while the Emerald Isle leaps forward with trending accommodations, luxury spas and new-age experiences, its greatest asset remains its people. 'Irish people are friendly, and they're interested in visitors,' said Byrne. 'Americans are the best tourists because they're always interested in doing things and learning, and Ireland is great for that.'
Metro
22-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Metro
Inside the iconic London cinema that is ‘haunted' by spooky actors
Casper, Moaning Mytrle, Slimer and Sam Wheat might be some of the most famous ghosts ever to appear on a big screen, but would you ever expect to see one of them sitting next to you at the cinema? Well, if you go along to one of the oldest independent cinemas in London you might end up with a spooky plus one. The Prince Charles cinema in Leicester Square has long been rumoured to have scary goings on since it opened in 1962, but now fresh building work seems to have stirred up ghouls of the past. Staff have always feared that the building, which has now been listed as an asset of community value (ACV) in a bid to help save it, had otherworldly goings on. It has been fighting for the last year to stop it from closing after its current lease is due to expire in September, and the building's owner wants to raise the rent. But in the last six months, it isn't protestors or campaigners that have been having their say. Ben Freedman, the cinema's managing director, told Metro that there have been two unexplained floods, lights, and the water supply randomly turning off and on, as well as mysterious leaks. To finally put it all to rest, the cinema called in a professional ghostbuster (after all, who you gonna call) to get to the bottom of what has been happening. Ben called in Barri Ghai – who hosts the TV show 'Help! My House Is Haunted' to undertake an overnight investigation. Ghai told Metro 'It is highly plausible the cinema is teeming with spiritual activity' and took the newspaper to show him exactly what he might find. The ghoul expert thinks London is one of the most haunted cities in the world, and the Prince Charles might not even be the most haunted venue in the capital. Just around the corner is the Drury Lane theatre, which is widely considered one of the most haunted in the world. Among its otherworldly denizens are thought to be the spirits of the Regency-era comedian Joseph Grimaldi and a fearsome figure known as the Man in Grey, who patrols the upper circle in a riding cloak and tricorne hat before dematerialising into the wall. But it isn't just the cinemas and theatres that are haunted in London too, with some of the capital's most haunted pubs just around the corner from the Prince Charles. And while Metro didn't catch a glimpse of the Man in Grey, Casper or even so much as a tiny bit of slime on one of the sofa's the night helped to get to the bottom of whether there are ghosts there or not. The presenter used state-of-the-art technology, which revealed several floating energies on screen illuminated by a series of moving white lines and dots. Audio scanning devices also picked up the sounds of a childlike voice when the expert introduced himself in a seemingly empty maintenance storage room. Ghai told Metro: 'Due in part to its rich and diverse history, London is one of the most haunted cities in the world. 1. Theatre Royal Haymarket, London 2. Oldham Coliseum 3. Theatre Royal, York 4. Adelphi Theatre, London 5. Theatre Royal, Margate 6. Lyceum Theatre, Crewe 7. Theatre Royal, Bristol Source: Sky History 'There are many locations across the capital that may look unassuming and are seemingly benign, but they house dark, gruesome, and sometimes rather terrifying pasts.' More Trending He added: 'I am also a bit of a magnet for spirits and find that my higher connections allow me to gather amazing evidence time and time again.' 'Our investigation has confirmed that there are active spirits in the cinema building.' Has it helped solve the age-old question of whether ghosts are real? Maybe it is step in the right direction, and Mr Freedman thinks there can't be any other explanation. He said: 'None of these costly and damaging mishaps makes any sense…and if not ghosts, then who?' Get in touch with our news team by emailing us at webnews@ For more stories like this, check our news page. MORE: Woman's search for 'hero' who chased down phone snatcher outside London Waterlooo MORE: Pubs warn new Guinness brewery 'could spike the price of beer' and is 'arty farty' MORE: M25 lorry crash causes severe 60-minute traffic delays for drivers
Economic Times
18-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Economic Times
Bridgerton Season 4: Will Benedict face rivalry for Sophie's heart? New teaser hints at romantic tension
Benedict Bridgerton has long stood as the most enigmatic member of the Bridgerton family. In Season 4, his story takes center stage as a chance meeting with a mysterious young woman named Sophie at a masquerade ball. Tired of too many ads? Remove Ads Benedict's Turn in the Spotlight Tired of too many ads? Remove Ads Sophie's Secret and the Cinderella Parallels Returning Cast and Fresh Additions Tired of too many ads? Remove Ads 2026 Release and Future Seasons What Lies Ahead for Benedict and Sophie? FAQs Are they filming Bridgerton season 4? Are Penelope and Colin together in real life? As anticipation builds around the upcoming Bridgerton Season 4, a new teaser has offered a glimpse into what lies ahead for fans of the Regency-era lavish period series will now turn its focus to the second Bridgerton son, Benedict, whose path to romance appears more complicated than teaser reveals the beginning of a love story between Benedict and Sophie , but also hints at the emotional and social obstacles that may stand in their his older brothers, Anthony and Colin, who have each found love and marriage, Benedict Bridgerton has long remained an enigmatic figure within the Bridgerton 4 will finally place him at the centre, following his unexpected encounter with a mysterious young woman — Sophie — at a masquerade ball hosted by Violet the ball appears to be the setting for a magical beginning, the Bridgerton season 4 teaser indicates that Benedict's journey will be far from straightforward. Just as he notices Sophie, described only as the 'Lady in Silver,' she is seen being whisked away by another scene teases the possibility of rivalry and heartbreak, suggesting Benedict's pursuit of Sophie may not be the fairytale romance fans by Yerin Ha, Sophie Baek is based on the character Sophie Beckett from Julia Quinn's 2001 novel An Offer from a Gentleman, the third book in the original book is the illegitimate daughter of an earl who is forced into servitude by her stepmother. Disguised in elegance for the ball, she captures Benedict's attention — but returns to a life of servitude once the clock strikes season promises a Cinderella-style narrative laced with Regency drama, societal expectations, and forbidden Benedict struggling to navigate his heart's desire and Sophie guarding her identity and dignity, the season sets up an emotionally charged Thompson returns as Benedict Bridgerton, with Yerin Ha taking on the role of Sophie. Other series regulars, including Jonathan Bailey (Anthony), Simone Ashley (Kate), Nicola Coughlan (Penelope), and Julie Andrews as the voice of Lady Whistledown, will also reprise their season will further explore the dynamics of the extended Bridgerton family and introduce new characters like Lady Araminta Gun and Rosamund has confirmed that Bridgerton Season 4 will premiere in 2026, and will comprise eight episodes. In addition to the fourth instalment, the streaming platform has greenlit Seasons 5 and 6, confirming the franchise's long-term Jess Brownell revealed in May 2024 that the writers' room was actively scripting the new season, while production is progressing viewers are rooting for Benedict and Sophie, the teaser makes it clear that love in the world of Bridgerton rarely arrives without it is social hierarchy, competing suitors, or internal hesitation, Benedict's challenge will not just be to find Sophie again—but to fight for their right to be will have to wait until 2026 to see how this slow-burn romance 4 began filming in September 2024. Although the lengthy gaps between Bridgerton seasons have tested fans' patience, creator Shonda Rhimes has revealed that the team is actively exploring ways to accelerate the show's production The actors said they are just good friends in real life
