King leak controversy: Siddharth Anand issues strong warning after Shah Rukh Khan, Deepika Padukone set photos go viral

Just a day after social media was flooded with leaked photos from the sets of the much-anticipated action-drama King, director Siddharth Anand has issued an official statement addressing the situation. The viral images, reportedly featuring Shah Rukh Khan and Deepika Padukone shooting in Cape Town, sparked massive excitement among fans, but have also left the film’s team concerned about preserving the cinematic experience. Taking to social media, Siddharth Anand shared a note requesting fans and online platforms to refrain from circulating unauthorized content from the shoot. Emphasizing the importance of maintaining the film’s intrigue, the filmmaker urged audiences to wait for official reveals. "Request to all the fans. Please do not post or circulate any leaked multimedia from the sets of King. The team is working round the clock to ensure the best cinematic experience for everyone. Let us wait for the surprise on the big screen and for the assets to be revealed as the team of...

‘I’m not a saint’: Abel Ferrara on his wild career, rehab and nightclubbing with Donald Trump

The last time our writer interviewed him, the drugged up director dozed off then asked for coke. Now sober, he reflects on #MeToo, Italian fascism and his fight for the final cut

The last time I met Abel Ferrara, he dozed off in the middle of our interview then woke up and asked me to score him some coke. It was 1996, and he was in the UK promoting his gangster drama The Funeral – which the actor Vincent Gallo alleged Ferrara had been too blitzed on crack to direct properly – and his vampire horror The Addiction. He was on a roll, his reputation fortified by King of New York, starring Christopher Walken as a flamboyant crime boss, and the gruelling Bad Lieutenant, with Harvey Keitel as a bent junkie cop. Ferrara was the scuzzball Scorsese: no matter how celebrated he became, he never shed the patina of grime from his early days as the star and director of porn film The Nine Lives of a Wet Pussy and the infamous “video nasty” The Driller Killer.

“You were the guy I fell asleep with?” he gasps now from his bright, high-ceilinged living room in Rome. He is calling via Zoom, his laptop resting on a shelf so he can pace around as he speaks, drinking from a bottle of San Pellegrino that he clutches by the neck. “You’re the guy? I’m sorry, man! Really, really.” Then he switches tack. “You let me down! You were 24, living in London, and you didn’t know where to score?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “All right. So where could we get some now?” A sandpapery cackle fills the air as he rocks on his heels. His hunched posture and jutting jaw make him the spit of the cartoon dog Muttley. He laughs like him, too.

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