Movies

What I’m really watching: living room comedy and upscale junk food


Like many people, I was trying to use my phone a bit less this year, and then coronavirus came along and added some pretty essential phone-based tasks to my day – among them listening to podcasts about the failings of the UK government, hanging out with friends on video app du jour Houseparty, and even doing therapy via FaceTime. (All fun and games until you accidentally put your finger over the camera seven times in a minute.)

I had been trying to wean myself off Twitter before the crisis, but Alistair Green’s skits keep pulling me back to it. He’s a comedian who is insanely good at social media, and who specialises in Limmy-ish, David Brent-esque visions of terrible middle-Englanders. His coronavirus content has been particularly impressive, offering light relief by sending up prejudice and delving into farce. Highlights include a woman whose husband won’t eat Chinese food any more, though carbonara is fine; a mock press conference where the PM zones out to think about hot buttery toast; and parental video call fails, all filmed solo and fuss-free in Green’s living room.

After briefly trying to get into TikTok – which I have decided is mostly just videos of footballers I’ve not heard of doing viral dance challenges – I’m back with everyone else over the age of 14 on YouTube. In particular, the Bon Appétit Test Kitchen has reeled me in. The US food magazine’s content seems to have become A Thing in the past year, but I’d never really got it. I love cooking, I read cookbooks when I’m bored, and Nigel Slater’s programmes are among the only shows I can rewatch endlessly, but did I need to get into a cultish online cookery channel, too?

The answer was yes, especially when you’ve got strands such as It’s Alive, in which lovely, laid-back Brad ferments things – perfect for our own new normal, where making your own mustard is a great way to kill a few hours – or Reverse Engineering, in which perfectly uptight Chris tweaks and retweaks recipes in order to replicate a mystery dish. Then there’s upscale junk-food queen Claire’s Gourmet Makes, featuring something called pizza rolls that got slightly lost in translation.

A completely wild plot … Sophie Rundle and Martin Compston in The Nest.



A completely wild plot … Sophie Rundle and Martin Compston in The Nest. Photograph: Mark Mainz/BBC/Studio Lambert

Bon Appétit isn’t the stuff of vomit-inducing viral videos, though, where someone puts cheddar cheese and cookie dough into a pie or something. Rather, it’s a place that treats food as both artful and functional, making it ideal vicarious viewing when cooking feels like an anchor to long days and even longer weekends.

And then there’s telly. I’ve been getting through it more quickly than I ever have in my six months of working on the Guardian TV desk, but, admittedly, there’s a fair amount of half-watching and double-screening going on.

I’ve been in the mood for an improbable thriller to get lost in, and The Nest (BBC One), about a wealthy couple using a deprived teenager, has delivered. Incredible loch-side setting? Check. Completely wild plot? Check. Line of Duty’s Martin Compston using his real Scottish accent? Check. Potential for one, if not all, of its leads to end up a cold-blooded killer? Check. I’ve been eagerly collating my completely unproven theories, and watching along with the linear broadcasts rather than skipping ahead so that I can drag its five episodes out as much as possible.

Whether it’s Twitter comedy, food porn or an improbable drama, there’s really no need to binge it all in one go now, is there? Unless it’s Tiger King – definitely, definitely binge that.



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