Davidson stars as a convict doing community service in a home for older people, in a film that falls short on internal logic and feels like a subpar Get OutIn this retirement home horror, Pete Davidson plays Max, a graffiti artist who must work in a plush-yet-spooky facility as part of his community service. This deal is worked out by his foster father as a last-ditch effort to keep him out of prison; he’s been spiralling towards the drain since the death of his older foster brother, who apparently killed himself, and whose memory haunts Max’s dreams.You don’t cast Davidson for his everyman qualities as he’s not quite your average Joe; he’s much more plausible as, say, a TikTok star or a charismatic drug dealer. He’s also become something of an avatar for youth, one of those thirtysomethings that can credibly evoke the sensibilities of those more than 10 years his junior. It makes sense, then, to see him in this role as the one relatively young person at the retirement home, grumbling: “Best generation my fucking dick … fucking boomers.” Continue reading…

There have been times when I have eaten virtually no fruit or vegetables, but at least five-a-day felt achievable. The new ideal seems impossibleThe first mention of five-a-day, as a fruit and vegetable diet ideal was in California in the late 80s, but didn’t reach the chattering crudité classes until the mid-90s. I once wrote a food diary for a magazine, in which it turned out I’d had one vegetable across the space of a week, when someone in a cafe slipped some spinach under my fried egg. Eating five a day was harder than it looked, particularly if you didn’t like tomatoes and hated fruit. There was a bit of debate around whether potatoes counted (they don’t), whether bananas and avocados were false friends (nobody ever got to the bottom of that) and how much lettuce counted as a portion, given that it is basically air. Later, there was a little consternation at how much influence had been wielded by the fruit and vegetable industry. But the late, much-missed Michael Mosley made the adjudication in 2013 that the advice was pretty solid, and that was considered a good enough reason to follow the rule (at least for people who had the budget and headroom to follow rules).So, of course, with all its controversies having been leached out of it by the passage of time, all its strictures being not that strict, five-a-day was bound to be torched by rebels sooner or later, and in 2018 – again, it’s taken a while to percolate – the rule became to eat 30 different plants a week. The immediate problem is naming 30 different plants, never mind eating them. I tried it alphabetically and timed out at “carrot”. Seeds are also considered a plant, and herbs and spices count, but only to the value of a quarter of a point, so now you have a maths challenge, on top of everything else. Continue reading…

Summerhall, EdinburghOli Mathiesen, Lucy Lynch and Sharvon Mortimer bring absolute focus to a shatteringly powerful show of street dance choreo and techno beatsThis could be the definition of leaving it all on the floor. The performance has begun before the audience are given wristbands and enter the room. The stage is like a nightclub, a table filled with water cups to one side and a floor spotlight in the corner. Beneath an array of suspended tube lights, forming a kind of ramshackle roof, are three people lost in music: Oli Mathiesen, Lucy Lynch and Sharvon Mortimer. We are hearing Nocturbulous Behaviour by Detroit techno giant Suburban Knight. It is relentless, as are the dancers.For the next hour, you are seated spectators at a rave. The opening minutes seem impenetrable, as if the trio are surrounded by a force field, but your passivity melts away as the music shudders through us all and they respond to our whoops. Those screams disappear into a soundscape that includes sirens, punishing drums, insistent beats and otherworldly bleeps. The accompaniment is loud, heavy, an assault. But the dancers are incredibly light on their feet – butterflies who float while the music stings like a bee. They add a touch of humour, too, akin to Matteo Haitzmann’s similarly unremitting trio performance Make It Count. Continue reading…