“Monkey Man” was shot and completed in 2021, and Netflix soon after acquired the rights for around $30 million, but it’s been on the shelf for three years and they‘ve all of a sudden decided to get rid of it? What gives?
It turns out, according to an in-the-know source, that it was the portrayal of a fictional right-wing Hindu Nationalist character in the film that worried Netflix about their future dealings in India. And even though they had paid more than twice the production cost, they decided to give the film back to the producers, which is what caused the long delay.
Universal and Peele eventually took a particular liking to the film, so much so that they suggested possible editing changes and delayed the release until what they thought would be the right date.
It’s as simple as that. In the end, it was all about politics and optics for the streaming giant, especially since India has become the current top growth market for Netflix. Co-Founder Reed Hastings has mentioned that a majority of the service's next 100 million subscribers would most likely come from India.
Universal/Jordan Peele's "suggested possible editing changes" in question:
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cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry
bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.
there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.
but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.
your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.
the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.
he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?
heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—
he gulps.
it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—
(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)
the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).
it��s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.
he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.
bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.
you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.
"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.
as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.
as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.
as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.
his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.
you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.
“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.
your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.
he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.
but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.
he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.
there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.
your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.
then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.
he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.
five minutes, huh?
like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.
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one thing that i've noticed and begun to seriously appreciate upon rereading the watch novels is --
sam and sybil are not in love when they get married.
they like each other, but they aren't in love. and i think this is why sybil seems to be kind of in the background of men at arms and feet of clay, like, sure, she's his wife and he appreciates her and cares for her but he doesn't love her -- yet.
and i think it's the knitting moment at the end of jingo when it happens to him. like that john green quote about how you fall in love slowly and then all at once? i think the moment when he comes home and she's been trying to knit him socks but she's no good at knitting and so it ends up being a scarf instead of socks -- i think that's the "all at once".
and then after jingo, suddenly sybil matters more to him, appears more in his thoughts, he's so proud of her in the fifth elephant for everything she does (she is such a badass in the fifth elephant), and it's the cigar case she gave him that is what he longs for amd desperately needs to hold onto in night watch, the memory of her. she's much more important to him and his perspective in the later watch books, and yes the doylist interpretation is that sir terry developed the relationship more as he grew as a writer because he didn't feel like he was very good at writing romance, but i like the watsonian interpretation --
that sam vimes was not in love with sybil ramkin when he married her, but instead fell madly in love with her along the way.
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Isn’t it crazy how hard some people on this website pushed the narrative that Biden “is just trying his best” “doing what he can in a broken system” “is expressing remorse, which Trump wouldn’t do” when it just broke the US has signed off on billions’ worth of bombs and jets, hot on the heels of Biden signing off on a bill that defunds the UNRWA?? Like isn’t that just something. It’s almost like he’s gleefully partaking in the extermination of Palestinians, and the whole “tensions between Israel and the US are rising!!!!” thing they played hard into was all for show and posturing. It’s almost like the US never faltered for a second in its position in this genocide—which is to continue funding it 6 months in and counting.
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