Good morning. We’re rounding up some of 2025’s biggest scene-stealers – more on that below, along with the businesses caught up in Donald Trump’s trade war and Pierre Poilievre’s plans for next year. But first:

• Trump says he supports strikes on Iran in a meeting with Netanyahu
• The government is investigating after a man dies waiting in an Edmonton ER
• As Germany considers conscription, its young stand divided

There’s been plenty of spectacle over the past year. Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another featured a long, dizzying car chase through the dips and hills of the California desert. The Toronto Blue Jays’ Ernie Clement delivered a joyful, totally unnecessary slide into home plate during the World Series’ final game. New York City Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani charmed the absolute pants off U.S. President Donald Trump at the White House, while 87-year-old author Joyce Carol Oates eviscerated Elon Musk on his own platform.

Okay, technically this all happened in the past two months, because my holiday brain can’t remember much before that. Fortunately, a few of my Globe colleagues helped out with the performances that stuck with them through 2025.

Rose Byrne in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You

Rose Byrne is a gravitational force. While the Australian actress is best known for her comedic work, often of the supporting variety – Bridesmaids was Kristen Wiig’s show to steal, while the Neighbors films were Seth Rogen’s babies – she has always felt like a remarkably magnetic presence all the same. But with her new, deeply dark dramedy If I Had Legs I’d Kick You, the actress finally gets to be the singular focus – literally.

Playing Linda, a therapist and mother who must navigate a series of nerve-shredding crises that metastasize every few minutes, Byrne is filmed by director Mary Bronstein in a series of sustained and extreme close-ups, ensuring that the actress’s face is not only in the centre of the frame but often filling it entirety. It is not only the performance of the year, it is the apex of Byrne’s entire career – one that is, we can only hope, just beginning. – Barry Hertz, film critic

Bad Bunny in Puerto Rico

The new year had barely begun before Bad Bunny claimed it as his own. Five days into 2025, the Puerto Rican artist born Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio released Debi Tirar Mas Fotos, a 17-track ode to his homeland. While the album leans heavily on the reggaeton sound that has made Bad Bunny one of the world’s top-selling artists, it also features salsa, bomba and plena influences. Its promotional materials included images of a sapo concho, Puerto Rico’s only native frog; Jacobo Morales, the iconic Puerto Rican filmmaker; and the pava, a straw hat closely linked to Puerto Rico’s working-class history.

I know all this because DTMF, which was my most-streamed album of 2025 by a long shot, compelled me to learn it. Bad Bunny created a piece of art that demanded more of its listeners than mere listening – a remarkable feat considering he sings in Spanish. Pop music seldom has politics so clear, they transcend language.

But if you missed it in the music, you caught it in the tour. This summer, Bad Bunny embarked on a 31-date residency in San Juan – notable not just because several concerts were reserved for Puerto Ricans only, but because the artist refused to perform at all in the United States. It was a one-two punch, rebuking the colonial mainland while championing – and adding a reported US$400-million in tourism dollars to – his island home.

In 2025, as countries around the world began a stark renegotiation of their relationship with the U.S., DMTF served as a masterclass in culture-driven pride and protest. It’s a blueprint worth carrying into the new year. – Rebecca Tucker, deputy editor, Arts & Books

The Panthers’ mascot in Florida

The great thing about sport is its ability to tack wildly between the sublime and the ridiculous, often within the same moment.

As performances of the year go, the Jays in October and Team Canada in the first skirmishes of our border war are easy ones.

But what jumps to my mind is Viktor E. Rat. The Florida Panthers mascot (they’ve got two of them, and the other one is, less compellingly, a panther) is a steady presence during the NHL playoffs. So viewers have seen a lot of him these last few years.

Viktor has that thing great mascots (and also maybe great rats) have: presence. He inhabits the moment. If the Panthers are up, he’s exultant in the stands. If they’re down, he’s enraged. I got on an elevator with him once. He was panting and you could feel the heat coming off him. He still took time to gnaw on my head in a friendly way. He wants everyone to feel seen.

During each Panthers’ home game, the team honours a veteran of foreign wars. They call it “Heroes Among Us.” It’s a solemn moment in the midst of the stupidity. They do a little intro and flash pics of the soldier when he was young. They play the national anthem, and the veteran salutes the flag up in the rafters.

One night during the Stanley Cup finals, the camera angle was such that you could see Viktor, framed in the background, mirroring that salute. His ra