Incomplete pitches
(said to the tune of Sampha's 'Incomplete Kisses')
Penultimate post of 2025! Here’s some assorted thoughts:
The meanest thing I said about an artist this year was being unsurprised they were obsessed with Ryan Coogler’s Sinners because that particular theatremaker is all about ‘sufficiently ambitious identitarian art.’ Which isn’t to say Sinners, a vampire movie set in the Blues-fertile South with a set of twins who feel remarkably like the Krays although American commentary didn’t pick up on that, was bad. In fact, I think it was overall pretty nailed on for the project it set out to achieve. I guess I’m feeling fears of being perceived as a race traitor for saying that, despite its deeply apparent flaws, I still think Paul Thomas Anderson did a better job of directing this year.
Speaking of theatre, was there a payola conspiracy when it came to the reviews of Romans: a Novel at the Almeida? Because I don’t ever, ever, ever want to be in the theatre again and watch a female actor be given a microphone to try and make up for the fact a story about three brothers, two of whom go to boarding school, hadn’t had much in the way of women talking until about a third of the way through. Do not patronise me with your amplification. The couple behind us left with about 20 minutes to go, after a very long scene-change/needledrop of Harry Styles’ ‘Sign of the Times’ when one of the characters says his daughter made the Booker Prize longlist. Fair enough. The youngest brother had the sort of tragic gay story I thought we reserved for A Little Life only these days. In the words of Lorde: what was that?
The Malala memoir press tour. Because why was my friend texting me to say she was on the podcast Normal Gossip? It’s fascinating that an individual whose story is genuinely remarkable, what with the whole ‘Nobel Laureate before leaving school’ thing is now doing the same insipid appearances on Elizabeth Day’s How to Fail etc that it makes me think her book will have about as many insights as one of the OG Made in Chelsea cast members might. What a shame.
There is no good reason I haven’t watched Pillion yet, other than I was tired and depressed when it first came out and because of writing schedules, I’ve not managed to see it these past two weeks. But rest assured! I will be.
Same re: Sentimental Value which I also didn’t get to see at London Film Festival so will be watching next week.
If you aren’t aware of the recipes of Rosie MacKean, get to know! Her torta caprese is wonderful, and the Greek salad chips recipe I’m linking is a nice summery treat. She did a series on batch cooking before she went on maternity leave and the Big Green Pasta and choc-chip, oat, coconut and raisin cookies are heavy on my rotation now.
I didn’t mention it in my The Summer I Turned Pretty roundup, but ‘You’re it for me’ is a timelessly romantic line and I hope people use it on one another in 2026.
It may sound crazy but the amount of promotion they’re doing right now does make me believe, despite sense, that they may sneak a little Christmas special in and drop some new bits tomorrow, Christmas Eve. Which apparently is 14 weeks after the season finale dropped one Wednesday in September. And there have been ‘14’ references loads or something, idk. I’m not much into ‘Easter Eggs’ but Jenny Han is a Swiftie, so it’s her culture and we should acknowledge its relevance. If I’m wrong! Then I’m wrong. But I’m putting this here just in case I’m not. Let’s all make fun of the girl who put herself out there creatively etc etc
On this day…
2020: ‘I walked around my Tesco Express the week I took a day off work because I was too overwhelmed with the sudden promise of change listening to the High Low podcast. That week, they recommended books and podcasts like they always do, but this time, it was just reeling off a list of names and titles that anyone would have found scrolling on Instagram. I had no idea why most of these things were the thing to read based on that, so how would I know which one to begin with?’
This was a hellish time for emerging and early career black artists, especially writers. Particularly those of us who knew full well that one of us getting on the Sunday Times bestseller list was not going to stop deaths in incarceration.
2021:
2022: Not the lightest of reads, I’ll admit, but genuinely one of the ones I am proudest of. Written in response to the revelations about paedophile theatremaker Chris Goode after his death, but also covering broader questions about why the topic of child protection is so ripe for populism and yet can’t be ignored by less heated thinkers. It discusses grooming and exploitation but there are no details of those acts within the essay. If nothing else, please read the Rachel Aviv New Yorker essay on that German experiment I reference.
2023:
2024: