Alan Carr and Claudia Winkleman Ignite TV’s Wildest New Year Yet

Olivia Bennett, 12/14/2025 Hollywood rings in the new year with "The Traitors" drama, "The Martian’s" streaming farewell, and "Django Unchained’s" wild comeback—because in Tinseltown, endings are just dress rehearsals for the next act. Expect twists, nostalgia, and unapologetic glamour in the streaming spotlight’s constant shuffle.

Let’s roll the film from a suitably Gothic perch—a Scottish fortress shrouded in more mischief than mist. The Traitors has returned, this time with a procession of new hopefuls eager to outfox each other beneath ancient battlements and, quite possibly, the withering gaze of TV’s beloved Alan Carr. Carr—whose star power and comic abandon make even espionage seem like the best kind of parlour game—has, since winning Celebrity Traitors, ascended to something of a benevolent monarch in this oddly addictive universe. He hands off the metaphorical keys with a cheeky smirk and a warning sharper than the Highland wind, promising that host Claudia Winkleman has yet another shock tucked up her velvet sleeve. Anyone expecting a gentle ride clearly hasn’t watched television since the era of black and white.

Now, the BBC doesn’t just bring a show back—it choreographs a spectacle. This season of The Traitors lands on BBC One and iPlayer with all the ceremonial flair of a state occasion. There’s new blood, old grudges, twists hiding behind every panel of medieval woodwork. For 2026’s kickoff, viewers are treated to a double bill: the main event, plus The Traitors: Uncloaked, a postmortem hosted by Ed Gamble. Gamble, with his trademark sardonic bite, will pick over betrayals well into the night, flanked by an ever-opinionated gallery of celebrity guests. It’s less a telly show, more a national sport—Britain’s answer to gladiatorial combat, minus (just barely) the actual daggers.

While new drama stalks the moors, another staple is quietly preparing its curtain call. The streaming calendar is a ruthless beast; as one phenomenon enters, another must exit. Enter The Martian, Ridley Scott’s star-bright sci-fi epic, which is about to be hurled, rather unceremoniously, from Netflix’s ever-churning orbit. Come January 1, a whole cohort of would-be astronauts, nostalgia-seekers, and closet botanists will be left marooned, searching out physical discs or hoping for a swift digital rescue on a rival platform.

Was The Martian really a future classic? Judging by the critical swoons, the $650 million windfall, and a thumbs-up from actual astrophysicists, it’s hard to argue. Years on, the memory of Matt Damon wisecracking and problem-solving his way across the hostile red dust lingers—a high point in recent blockbuster history. Paul Sutter, one of those rare scientists whose love for spectacle matches his love for science, offered a double thumbs-up to its sense of authenticity. Seems Hollywood occasionally gets its equations right, at least when Ridley Scott’s involved. There’s something almost poignant about seeing the film slip away from the largest streaming stage—a fleeting digital afterlife for an Oscar contender that, when you think about it, is still practically in its cinematic adolescence.

And so the carousel turns. Films vanish, shows resurface, and—before anyone can dry their eyes—some old masterwork burns anew in the streaming charts. Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained, for example, suddenly finds itself resurrected as Paramount+’s unlikely hit of winter 2025. A film with ten times the style of most prestige fare and all the subversive joy one expects from Tarantino. Jamie Foxx and Christoph Waltz make vengeance look chic; DiCaprio, meanwhile, devours villainy as if it were caviar. Remind anyone else of those feverish Westerns that flickered on childhood televisions, but sharper, glossier, and—naturally—less interested in following the rules?

Award season will have its say soon enough, but Django’s belated streaming triumph underlines how mercurial the new digital canon has become. Tarantino’s blood-spattered epic might carry the “underrated” badge in certain circles, but its box office record as history’s most successful Western tells another story. Funny how work like this can be both celebrated and, inexplicably, overlooked in the cultural tide.

It’s impossible to ignore just how managed—how delightfully arbitrary—the streaming landscape feels now. Culture’s gatekeepers are no longer studio execs or network chiefs in mirrored offices, but faceless algorithms and ever-changing rights deals. Every gain has its loss: as one beloved film takes its exit, another clambers up the trending charts, ready for rediscovery or another round of debate. Yesterday’s headliner becomes tomorrow’s footnote, only to be summoned once more in some future rotation.

Perhaps that’s Hollywood’s most enduring trick—reinvention masquerading as farewell. Beyond the makeup, costumes, and endless trailers, what persists is that restless hunger for fresh spectacle. So January arrives with its annual flood of new faces and familiar legends—plotlines zipped up in novel tailoring, narratives twisted just so, and the glittering geometry of celebrity still as restless as ever.

A parting thought: Alan Carr’s mischievous benediction might apply to the whole entertainment circus, not just The Traitors—“look after the place, won’t you?” Because with Hollywood, you truly never know what awaits beyond the final curtain or the next content shuffle. In an industry where even goodbye feels temporary, tradition and subversion go hand in gloved hand. And that—more than any algorithm—keeps us coming back.

The year skitters toward its close, and—before anyone can blink—Hollywood’s carousel spins again, sweeping away last season’s darlings and dangling next year’s temptations with its usual jewel-studded swagger. January still brings its annual white noise of promises and plot twists, but one thing’s unchanged: streaming platforms continue to play puppet master, shuffling the cultural deck with a flick of their algorithmic fingers.Let’s roll the film from a suitably Gothic perch—a Scottish fortress shrouded in more mischief than mist. The Traitors has returned, this time with a procession of new hopefuls eager to outfox each other beneath ancient battlements and, quite possibly, the withering gaze of TV’s beloved Alan Carr. Carr—whose star power and comic abandon make even espionage seem like the best kind of parlour game—has, since winning Celebrity Traitors, ascended to something of a benevolent monarch in this oddly addictive universe. He hands off the metaphorical keys with a cheeky smirk and a warning sharper than the Highland wind, promising that host Claudia Winkleman has yet another shock tucked up her velvet sleeve. Anyone expecting a gentle ride clearly hasn’t watched television since the era of black and white.Now, the BBC doesn’t just bring a show back—it choreographs a spectacle. This season of The Traitors lands on BBC One and iPlayer with all the ceremonial flair of a state occasion. There’s new blood, old grudges, twists hiding behind every panel of medieval woodwork. For 2026’s kickoff, viewers are treated to a double bill: the main event, plus The Traitors: Uncloaked, a postmortem hosted by Ed Gamble. Gamble, with his trademark sardonic bite, will pick over betrayals well into the night, flanked by an ever-opinionated gallery of celebrity guests. It’s less a telly show, more a national sport—Britain’s answer to gladiatorial combat, minus (just barely) the actual daggers.While new drama stalks the moors, another staple is quietly preparing its curtain call. The streaming calendar is a ruthless beast; as one phenomenon enters, another must exit. Enter The Martian, Ridley Scott’s star-bright sci-fi epic, which is about to be hurled, rather unceremoniously, from Netflix’s ever-churning orbit. Come January 1, a whole cohort of would-be astronauts, nostalgia-seekers, and closet botanists will be left marooned, searching out physical discs or hoping for a swift digital rescue on a rival platform.Was The Martian really a future classic? Judging by the critical swoons, the $650 million windfall, and a thumbs-up from actual astrophysicists, it’s hard to argue. Years on, the memory of Matt Damon wisecracking and problem-solving his way across the hostile red dust lingers—a high point in recent blockbuster history. Paul Sutter, one of those rare scientists whose love for spectacle matches his love for science, offered a double thumbs-up to its sense of authenticity. Seems Hollywood occasionally gets its equations right, at least when Ridley Scott’s involved. There’s something almost poignant about seeing the film slip away from the largest streaming stage—a fleeting digital afterlife for an Oscar contender that, when you think about it, is still practically in its cinematic adolescence.And so the carousel turns. Films vanish, shows resurface, and—before anyone can dry their eyes—some old masterwork burns anew in the streaming charts. Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained, for example, suddenly finds itself resurrected as Paramount+’s unlikely hit of winter 2025. A film with ten times the style of most prestige fare and all the subversive joy one expects from Tarantino. Jamie Foxx and Christoph Waltz make vengeance look chic; DiCaprio, meanwhile, devours villainy as if it were caviar. Remind anyone else of those feverish Westerns that flickered on childhood televisions, but sharper, glossier, and—naturally—less interested in following the rules?Award season will have its say soon enough, but Django’s belated streaming triumph underlines how mercurial the new digital canon has become. Tarantino’s blood-spattered epic might carry the “underrated” badge in certain circles, but its box office record as history’s most successful Western tells another story. Funny how work like this can be both celebrated and, inexplicably, overlooked in the cultural tide.It’s impossible to ignore just how managed—how delightfully arbitrary—the streaming landscape feels now. Culture’s gatekeepers are no longer studio execs or network chiefs in mirrored offices, but faceless algorithms and ever-changing rights deals. Every gain has its loss: as one beloved film takes its exit, another clambers up the trending charts, ready for rediscovery or another round of debate. Yesterday’s headliner becomes tomorrow’s footnote, only to be summoned once more in some future rotation.Perhaps that’s Hollywood’s most enduring trick—reinvention masquerading as farewell. Beyond the makeup, costumes, and endless trailers, what persists is that restless hunger for fresh spectacle. So January arrives with its annual flood of new faces and familiar legends—plotlines zipped up in novel tailoring, narratives twisted just so, and the glittering geometry of celebrity still as restless as ever.A parting thought: Alan Carr’s mischievous benediction might apply to the whole entertainment circus, not just The Traitors—“look after the place, won’t you?” Because with Hollywood, you truly never know what awaits beyond the final curtain or the next content shuffle. In an industry where even goodbye feels temporary, tradition and subversion go hand in gloved hand. And that—more than any algorithm—keeps us coming back.