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The play 'Huw Fyw' by Tudur Owen takes audiences on a sentimental journey through the life of a curmudgeonly World War II veteran, exploring themes of PTSD, generational trauma, social exclusion, and the weight of irreconcilable grief.Starring Tudur Owen in the eponymous role, the Welsh-language production is marked by its absolute and unironic sincerity, with its heart unabashedly worn on its sleeve. The play's setting, mostly confined to Huw's grimy living room, adds to its plausibly compact and winningly persuasive nature.Despite some convoluted plotting, the play is deftly directed by Steffan Donnelly, with four very fine performances from the cast, including Owen, Leah Gaffey, Owen Alun, and Dafydd Emyr. The play's sentimentality resists tipping into mawkishness, instead offering a poignant survival strategy to cope with the horrors of war.The production's strange double nostalgia for the 1990s and 1940s adds to its uncanniness, making it a must-see for audiences. 'Huw Fyw' is currently showing at Dance House, Cardiff until 18 April, and will be touring until 8 May.

Rebuilding opens on a bleak, charred horizon, introducing Dusty (Josh O’Connor), a Colorado rancher whose ancestral land has been reduced to ash by a recent wildfire. A bank official’s blunt refusal to extend a loan underscores the decade‑long bleak outlook for the barren property.Stripped of his home, Dusty relocates to a spartan, government‑funded trailer camp and takes a humbling highway‑maintenance job. The film deepens his personal stakes through interactions with his ex‑wife Ruby (Meghann Fahy), their ten‑year‑old daughter Callie‑Rose (Lily LaTorre), and his ailing mother‑in‑law Bess, portrayed by Oscar‑winner Amy Madigan. A poignant scene shows Dusty ferrying Callie‑Rose to the local library, where they share a shaky Wi‑Fi connection for her schoolwork.Amid the trailer community, Dusty forms a tentative bond with the resilient Mali (Kali Reis), hinting at a potential romance beyond mere friendship. Their collective moments around a campfire evoke the tone of Chloé Zhao’s Nomadland, positioning the film within a growing genre of American stories about displacement and survival.Notably, the narrative avoids direct references to climate change or governmental responsibility, presenting the wildfire as an isolated tragedy rather than a symptom of a broader environmental crisis. This omission mirrors a recurring pattern in U.S. cinema, where the focus remains on personal resilience rather than systemic solutions.O’Connor delivers a nuanced performance, channeling the restrained British sensibility of his earlier work into Dusty’s quiet strength and vulnerability. His portrayal anchors the film’s emotional core, while the supporting cast—particularly Madigan’s compassionate Bess and Reis’s tough‑yet‑tender Mali—adds depth to the community portrait.Rebuilding arrives in UK cinemas on 17 April, offering audiences a contemplative look at loss, renewal, and the fragile ties that bind families and strangers alike.

When fighting erupted in Sudan’s streets in April 2023, families fled their homes, cities and even the country itself. Three years on, the exodus continues, with millions still on the move.The Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC) surveyed 1,293 displaced households in Sudan, Chad and South Sudan, exposing a grim cycle of loss. Each forced relocation strips survivors of the last remnants of their former lives.According to the findings, about 90 % of respondents have lost their homes and nearly three‑quarters report having no income. Food scarcity has become critical: more than 80 % of households in Sudan and virtually all in South Sudan regularly skip meals.Within Sudan alone, over nine million people remain displaced, while an estimated 28.9 million face acute hunger. The cumulative trauma is evident—by the fourth displacement, almost two‑thirds of individuals feel completely exhausted and depleted of resources, and roughly 65 % have been separated from family members.Despite these hardships, a remarkable degree of solidarity persists. In Sudan and Chad, one in three aid recipients continue to share their limited supplies with neighbors, strangers and newly arrived families.“In Sudan now, you are always running,” says Amina, who escaped Khartoum with four children and only the clothes on her back after her husband vanished in the early days of the fighting. “Running from war. Running for food.”Education has collapsed: only 45 % of displaced children across the three nations attend school regularly, while 18 % of households have been forced to send children to work.The NRC’s conclusion is stark. While resilience and generosity have kept the humanitarian response afloat, communities are signaling that they can no longer bear the burden alone. The mutual support that has acted as an “invisible backbone” is now stretched to its breaking point.This photo essay is provided by the Norwegian Refugee Council.

Peter Magyar, once a staunch supporter of Prime Minister Viktor Orban, has shattered the latter’s 16‑year grip on power after his Tisza Party won a landslide victory in Sunday’s parliamentary election. With 97.35% of precincts counted, the centre‑right Tisza Party secured 138 of the 199 parliamentary seats and 53.6% of the popular vote. By contrast, Orban’s Christian‑nationalist Fidesz obtained 55 seats with 37.8% of the vote, according to official tallies. Addressing a crowd of tens of thousands along the Danube in Budapest, the 45‑year‑old victor declared, “Tonight, truth prevailed over lies,” adding that Hungarians had chosen to ask what they could do for their homeland rather than the reverse. Who is Peter Magyar? Born in Budapest in March 1981 to a family of lawyers, he is the great‑nephew of former President Ferenc Madl (2000‑2005). After earning a law degree from Pázmány Péter Catholic University in 2004, Magyar began a career in corporate law and joined Orban’s Fidesz while the party was still in opposition. He later served as a legal aide to Fidesz during the 2006 anti‑government protests, married future justice minister Judit Varga (they have three children), and held several senior posts after Fidesz returned to power in 2010, including a stint at Hungary’s Permanent Representation to the EU in Brussels and a board seat at state‑owned road operator Magyar Közút ZRT. Why did he break with Orban? A 2024 scandal involving a presidential pardon for a man linked to a children’s‑home abuse cover‑up implicated Varga, then justice minister, prompting public outrage and Novak’s resignation. Magyar seized the moment, publishing a Facebook post accusing the government of corruption and releasing a recording of a conversation with his ex‑wife that suggested interference in a corruption case. Policy analyst Gábor Győri of Policy Solutions described Magyar’s departure as a “gradual estrangement” that accelerated after Varga’s fall from power. The exposure boosted Magyar’s domestic popularity, positioning him as a fresh opposition figure amid widespread voter fatigue with Fidesz. In April 2024, Magyar joined the centre‑right Tisza Party, won a seat in the European Parliament, and now stands poised to become Hungary’s next prime minister. Political analyst Zsuzsanna Vegh (German Marshall Fund) noted that Magyar’s win “dispels the myth that Orban cannot be defeated,” emphasizing his ability to unite a diverse electorate through a moderate, policy‑focused campaign rather than a radical right‑wing challenge. Scandals surrounding Magyar have also surfaced. His former wife Varga accused him of domestic violence and of using a secret recording for political gain. Earlier in 2026, Magyar faced allegations of a sex‑related scandal and drug use after compromising photos emerged; he denied drug use, describing the episode as a “honey‑trap” orchestrated by a “classic Russia‑style compromising situation.” He further claimed that Fidesz targeted him personally to undermine his campaign. On policy, Magyar pledges to revive Hungary’s stagnant economy, reduce dependence on Russian energy by 2035, and restore pragmatic relations with both the EU and Moscow. He aims to unlock EU funds frozen over alleged rule‑of‑law breaches and has previously expressed caution about accelerating Ukraine’s EU accession. Observers caution that while Magyar’s election fuels hope among young Hungarians, the real test will be translating opposition momentum into effective governance. As Izabella Nagy, a Budapest professional, observes, “Rebuilding a democracy is far more gruelling than dismantling one,” underscoring the challenges ahead for the new administration.

History’s Greatest Fails pairs author Elizabeth Day with historian Dan Jones to explore celebrated historical missteps. After a witty reunion anecdote about their Cambridge days, the duo tackles the myth of Richard III’s villainy and promises a future episode on Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, dubbed the "Ross and Rachel of early modern history."Strangely follows presenters Poppy Damon and Luke Jones as they plunge into off‑beat news stories, such as the macabre tale of a surgeon who amputated his own legs and the obscure origin of Neil Hopper’s "eunuch‑maker" moniker. The show balances factual depth with a tongue‑in‑cheek tone.Passenger Seat is a slow‑burn true‑crime podcast produced by Pennsylvania writer Tom Joudrey. The inaugural season recounts the 2012 kidnapping of Jennifer Hurst in Ohio, unraveling the puzzling motive behind the crime and the surprising gratitude she later expressed in court.Big Bro With Kid Cudi marks rapper Kid Cudi’s entry into the "celebrity podcast industrial complex". His first interview features Kylie Jenner, who drops the usual Kardashian PR veneer to discuss family dynamics, her upcoming acting role in the film The Moment, and a brief nod to Timothée Chalamet.Northern News reunites comedian Amy Gledhill with Ian Smith to spotlight odd and delightful headlines from the north of England that often slip under the radar. Regular contributors such as Stevie Martin, Alison Spittle and Phil Wang add extra comic flair.

The latest offering from writer Theo Jamieson and director Adam Lenson is a boldly conceived musical that thrusts a turbulent romance into a sci‑fi framework. The story follows a young astronaut, Daniel, who vanishes from his shuttle with barely enough fuel, prompting a quest to uncover the motives behind his reckless flight.Stuart Thompson (as Daniel) and Poppy Gilbert (as Emily) anchor the piece with performances that are both visceral and nuanced. Their chemistry captures the push‑pull of a relationship scarred by childhood bullying, parental betrayal, and a shared history of trauma, delivering songs that soar and hit hard.Visually, the production leans heavily on interstellar projections that transform the stage into a shifting cosmos, while the score oscillates between Sondheim‑style wit and full‑blown symphonic passages. This combination creates an epic sense of strangeness that distinguishes Flyby from more conventional West End fare.However, the narrative’s fragmented structure hampers its emotional payoff. The non‑chronological storytelling leaves critical gaps, and the metaphor of being "stranded in space" feels over‑extended—especially with the protagonist’s surname, Defoe, a thin nod to Robinson Crusoe. The three narrators, played by Simbi Akande, Gina Beck, and Rupert Young, often drift into digressive asides that dilute the central arc.Despite these flaws, moments of brilliance emerge, particularly in the musical’s treatment of mental‑health themes. The show hints at the potential to join the ranks of modern theatre successes like Next to Normal and Dear Evan Hansen, should its structural rough edges be smoothed.The production is currently staged at Southwark Playhouse, Borough, London and will run through 16 May. Audiences seeking a daring blend of emotional intensity and cosmic spectacle will find Flyby a compelling, if imperfect, experience.

Maria Semple's latest novel, 'Go Gentle', is a joyfully clever romantic comedy that explores the application of Stoic philosophy to modern life. The story follows Adora Hazzard, a Stoic philosopher and divorcee living on New York City's Upper West Side, as she navigates her life and encounters a handsome stranger.Semple, best known for her bestselling novel 'Where'd You Go, Bernadette', presents a unique blend of humor, philosophy, and romance. The book is a zany high-wire act that seamlessly weaves together elements of comedy, art heist, thriller, and romantic comedy.At its core, 'Go Gentle' is a paean to the virtuous joys of Stoic philosophy. Semple makes Stoicism feel fresh and exciting through Adora's enthusiasm, which is contagious and inspiring. The book fizzes with funny lines, and Semple's writing is full of charm and wit.However, the book's merry chaos sometimes tips over into disjointedness, particularly in the section charting Adora's marriage deterioration through time-stamped nuggets. Despite this, the book's main plot is ingeniously wrapped up at the end, leaving readers feeling both cleverer and sillier.'Go Gentle' by Maria Semple is published on 16 April by W&N (£20). To support the Guardian, buy a copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.

Wayne Koestenbaum's latest novel, 'My Lover, the Rabbi', defies expectations with its unapologetically obsessive prose and exploration of desire. The story centers around a man who works as an antique furniture restorer and his overwhelming desire for a man who works in a synagogue. This central fact is accepted by all characters, and the writing treats realist conventions with a kind of exalted scorn.The book's 188 chapters are short and plunge the reader into a world of carnality, confusion, and bizarrely specific detail. The title of the book is reiterated throughout, becoming almost a mantra. This insistent and anxious formality is at the heart of the book's uncanny life, matching style to subject in a brilliant and unconventional way.As the plot emerges, it seems almost 19th century in its storyline, with themes of infidelity, illegitimacy, madness, shopping, coincidences, and death. The narrator's need to discover the secret of his rabbi's attractiveness drives the plot, much like Proust's Swann. The mystery of the rabbi's allure and the death of his three-year-old son become central to the narrative, revealing vistas of unknowability.The book's whirlwind invention culminates in a final, fugue-like recapitulation, where the narrator's obsessive desire morphs into a vision of the unknowability of any object of desire. This gloriously original evocation explores what it might feel like to admit to the inability of love to triumph over death. Koestenbaum's writing is like that of the best kind of angel, unafraid to come down to earth and explore the complexities of human desire.

François Ozon's The Stranger is a lustrously beautiful and superbly realised modern take on Albert Camus's classic novella L'Etranger. Set in 1940s French Algeria, the film follows the story of Meursault, a sensitive white European who commits a racist act under the unbearable noonday sun.The film, shot in Morocco, boasts an almost supernaturally detailed sense of period and place. Ozon's adaptation brings a contemporary perspective to the book's themes of empire and race, making changes that include a critique of the original text. This approach perhaps loses some of the source material's brutal, heartless power and arguably some of the title's meaning.Meursault, played by Benjamin Voisin, is portrayed as a character with an unreadable expression of listless unconcern. His story unfolds through flashbacks, showing his dull office job in Algiers, his blank reaction to his mother's death, and his relationship with Marie, played by Rebecca Marder.The film's climax features Meursault's fatal encounter with the vengeful brother of Raymond's girlfriend, Djemila. When asked for a motive, Meursault simply says: “C’était à cause du soleil” – “It was because of the sun”. This response highlights the absurdity of the situation and the racist undertones of the act.Ozon's adaptation softens the argument presented in Camus's original work, and Meursault is ultimately condemned to death. The film emerges as a passionate act of ancestor worship in honour of a renowned French artwork, while also critiquing the original text and its representation of imperialism.