Brought to you by Alex Bennetts, Stephanie Vidot, and Sam George-Allen.
by Stephanie Vidot
One of my favourite dishes is creamed string beans and broccoli. It’s easy to make and requires only said vegetables, butter, salt, pepper and cream. You cut up the veggies, boil ’em for seven minutes or so in salted water, stick ’em in a colander and run cold water over ’em so they don’t turn droopy and sad, and then you throw ’em into a hot saucepan. The water needs to evaporate. Evaporate that shit. Now, ignoring your healthier tendencies, cut a stick of butter and let it melt into the green stuff. I love this part. My family are descended from fat-loving Francophones and butter practically flows in my veins. I don’t know where it all goes. Don’t ask. Anyway, crack some salt and pepper into your pan. Time to add a hunk of cream, stirring it into a thick white slop until it simmers. The contents of the pan should be minty green and speckled. You can add some tarragon if you want. Now dip your finger into that mess. Taste bliss.
Vin Diesel Singing ‘Stay’ by Rihanna
by Sam George-Allen
Oh my god, though, look at him. He’s obvs drunk and you can hear him breathing heavily into the microphone between phrases but ARE YOU SEEING THIS. This is a perfect internet-era piece of pure expression. This is a dialogue between two complete artistic beings, and THAT VOICE, Vinny D, where did that come from? I’ve watched this video like forty-five times and each time I feel a new emotion. That falsetto? That silhouette? That expression of pure concentration? That big sloppy kiss at the end? This is Art. Fuck all of you guys this is ART. Look how well he knows the song! Think about the questions it raises! Who is filming this? Where even is this happening? What are you saying at the end of the clip, Vinny D? Are you telling me you love me? It’s okay baby. Hush, hush. I can feel it.
Dear Steven Spieberg, This Is What I Did This Week
by Alex Bennetts
Thank you for meeting me on such short notice! Okay, here’s my pitch: The sleeper cinema hit of the year doesn’t feature Ryan Gosling in it. Actually, it’s a depressing buddy flick centred on the barely-a-roadtrip of my dad and I driving to “Port Stephens” and back again. Just stick with me, Mr. Spielberg! I’ll give you the back story.
This past week was the first time any family member has visited my new home (Newcastle) after leaving my old home (Hobart). I’d already shown Dad around the sites of the steel city (typically, under pouring rain), and by his third day we needed somewhere new to go. So: destination elsewhere, here we come. We chose Port Stephens because the volunteer at the information centre said it was ‘nice’. What a recommendation!
Now picture this, Steven (can I call you Steven?): twenty-something son with scruffy beard is driving his white-haired dad to a place that the son’s GPS device can’t actually find because “Port Stephens” is a region/municipality, not actually a singular sunny city that the tourist brochures had led him to believe. What a wacky situation! QUESTION: What kind of hi-jinx will this lead to?!
Well, this is where we subvert the audience’s expectations – because we’re aiming for an Oscar here, Mr. Spielberg, not just the box office! Because that ANSWER is: not many hi-jinx! We ended up in a small town called Salamander Bay, and, get this, the town’s information centre was hidden behind, get this… a drive through bottle shop!!!! Ha, ha, ha!!!
Wait, where are you going?! I still have to tell you about our indecision about lunch! It’s the emotional centrepiece! Please come back, Mr. Spielberg! WE HAD CHICKEN BURGERS!
David: ★★★★, Margaret: ★★