Pete's Pad: May

Hello again, how’s your month been?

I’m struggling to remember so many days and weeks consecutively without rain. Here’s hoping that’s not our summer over in May, but then again, if things get consistently dry again in the next few months, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my climate crisis anxiety at bay.

That’s the British weather smalltalk out they way; let’s get onto the culture.

I’m going to start with films this month, because some of the Oscar-nominated things have started filtering onto streaming services.

The best of those was probably A Real Pain, a surprisingly enjoyable buddy/cousin road movie to a concentration camp. Kieran Culkin and Jesse Eisenberg are two almost stereotypical American Jews, one a neurotic introvert, the other a chaotic extrovert, sharing a trip to Europe to find out about their recently deceased, Holocaust-surviving grandma. The bipolar swings and self-loathing are hard to watch at times (something of a theme in the last few weeks), but it’s written and acted so well that the whole thing comes off as frequently funny and heartwarming; which is pretty impressive given the circumstances.

The next best of last year’s critically-acclaimed movies was A Complete Unknown. Now I’m on record as saying that Bob Dylan is maybe the most overrated musician going, but that’s only because he’s held in such ridiculously high esteem by the ageing music press; frequently voted best of all time in music mag lists. He’s clearly a talented man, as this biopic demonstrates, but surely his legions of fans know all the ins and outs of the pivotal decade leading up to his ‘going electric’ moment. I’m being picky really, as this is nicely shot, annoyingly well acted by young Chalamet and makes the best of all the early hits, I suppose it’s just not nearly as interesting as something like I’m Not There, for instance. With only minor foibles shown among his meteoric rise, it does feel like a bit of a vanity project for old Bob.

I’m drawn to a blockbuster, if only to have an objective take on it. And given how impressive a spectacle the original Gladiator was, I felt duty bound to give the sequel a go. If you haven’t bothered yet, then don’t. This is same, same, but a wee bit different. A massively expensive waste of everyone’s time. We’re big fans of Paul Mescal in this household and there’s certainly something to be said for him having his top off, but the amount of time he spends rippling those sweaty pecs is just gratuitous - plus I don’t think he can really pull off being the big, angry brute - he’s far better as a nice lad who has trouble expressing his feelings. With this and all the Alien prequels and sequels, Ridley Scott seems intent on ruining this magnificent legacy with unnecessary codas - just retire, you’re almost 90.

Sticking with the shit, I did not care for A Different Man. It’s sort of like a crap, modern Elephant Man. I genuinely can’t understand why this was so well received. It starts off fairly promisingly, but then just meanders in that annoying A24 art house way - plot holes aplenty, characters not going anywhere, or popping up out of nowhere, flabby editing and a knowing pretentiousness to proceedings. I really like Sebastian Stan, but he did not deserve a Golden Globe for this performance.

Also offered up on Sky Cinema of late was Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, which is also a bit of a mess, but saved by not taking itself too seriously. There’s lots of enjoyable gruesomeness, but not a particularly solid storyline, so it kind of washed over me; albeit in a perfectly pleasant way.

The same cannot be said for Speak No Evil, an increasingly sinister thriller featuring James McAvoy on fine form. I won’t give it all away, but it’s one of those films in which the tension just builds and builds. I’m someone who does not respond well to pressure and actively avoids conflict, or even awkwardness, in real life, so when I’m confronted with it on screen I feel genuinely physically repelled. As in, I find myself looking away, or instinctively opening apps on my phone, so as to avoid the situation on the box. I’m alright with a bit of gore and don’t jump scare that easily, so was lapping up the climactic final half-hour, but in comparison, all the uncomfortable inter-personal dynamics and stilted dinner party conversations earlier on that had me looking elsewhere. Anyway, the moral of the story is, don’t trust anyone you meet on holiday.

Before I move onto telly, let me briefly mention a couple of older feature length things I watch of late.

Perfect Sense is something I remember downloading and watching back in the peak peer-to-peer days of 2011, although on who’s recommendation I’m not sure, because looking back at reviews, critics were not kind. Regardless of what they say, I think it’s a strong piece of work - set in Glasgow, the picture describes a pandemic which one-by-one knocks off people’s senses. This is played out via a fledgling romance between unrealistically attractive epidemiologist Eva Green and similarly unlikely-ly gorgeous chef Ewan McGregor. Their characters are quite annoying and the Terrence Malik-esque voiceover/documentary footage bits are ill-judged, but the final scene really stuck with me and the Max Richter score is exceptional.

I overheard a very amusing chat between two fairly inebriated Weegies in the loo queue at a festival earlier this month concerning Highlander - its esteemed actors, powerful soundtrack and dubious sequels. So when it popped up a week or so later when I was doing a bit of rare late night channel surfing, it felt like destiny. I have vague memories of seeing it as a youth, but sitting through it at middle age, was quite revelatory. It’s complete bobbins - let’s state that from the off - but I had forgotten quite how silly the whole thing was. Christopher Lambert is a spectacularly bad actor and most definitely not a leading man. I mean, there’s shades of Tommy Wiseau in how odd-looking and wooden he is, not to mention THAT Scottish accent. Which is made all the funnier by Sean Connery popping up as an Egyptian/Spanish knight, with his trademark Embra drawl. For a film all about swords, the fight scenes are very bad, the plot is convoluted to the point of incomprehension, and some of the creative edits/transitions really stand out as directorial flourishes. I suppose I’m going to have to watch number two now aren’t I?

And finally, as part of my dad duty, here’s a quick recommendation for the kids: Wild Robot has just popped up on Sky and is a painstakingly-animated, charming little film, ideal for anyone over five.

Onto TV and during May I watched a few decent bio-docs, all of which raised questions about the trading of objective rigour for extensive access to the stars.

In Never Too Late, Elton (Hercules - who knew?) John’s life is laid out in typically lavish style, cutting between plenty archive footage and Reginald on the US leg of his final tour. I would have loved a bit more of the dirt and bitchiness evident in his book, but it’s a glorious story overall and hard to begrudge him a fabulous send-off.

Kevin MacDonald’s assessment of John Galliano’s rise and fall is more brutal, but when it comes to the racism that rightly took him down, the precocious fashion designer is exasperatingly illusive on what really happened and whether he’s actually changed. I stuck with it, but now I’m not sure why, as he really doesn’t appear to have many redeeming qualities.

I’m also not sure why I bothered with the Freddy Flintoff one, given I don’t care for cricket and wasn’t watching Top Gear by the time he was hosting. But perhaps given how little I knew about his career or the recent accident, I became genuinely intrigued by how brutal the crash was and tough his recovery has been, while I found myself getting quite swept up in his exploits at the crease - that famous Ashes success and the seemingly inevitable drinking problems and tabloid tear down that followed. 

My favourite handsome chappy Simon Reeve is back with his latest project - something which on the face of it doesn’t seem nearly as challenging as previous exploits. Over three parts, he traverses Scandinavia, so rather than experiencing the usual poverty, corruption and conflict, he instead examined what has turned these northern European countries into model societies; consistently scoring highest for various quality of life factors. Prodding a bit deeper though, he finds Russian war paranoia among the Finns, environmental guilt from Norway’s oil-financed sovereign wealth fund, a surprising amount of gang-related gun violence in Sweden, immigration integration issues in Denmark and climate change-driven tectonic risks increasing in Iceland. 

Over on National Geographic there’s an excellent documentary on the good ship Endurance, intertwining colourised footage and of the ill-fated Shackleton Antarctic exposition with a modern mission to find the ship of the same name. The former uses dramatisations to portray the almost unbearable details of the crew’s struggles against cold, wet, starving conditions and the incredible spirit and luck that got them all home. Then, with the recent trip to the bottom of the earth, the drama is ramped up by them not actually getting proper sight of the wreck until the very final days of the voyage - with everyone’s favourite historian Dan Snow acting as hype man. 

I also chanced upon a new doc about Douglas Adams, which reminded me how much I loved the Hitchhikers Guide books, how prescient his ideas were about the future of AI, robots and technology in general, and how much he did to alert people to the need for conservation of the natural world. All the expected talking heads are present, along with some new recordings and footage of the man himself. It’s not that dramatic a tale, but for fans of his work there’s plenty of new things to learn, like I hadn’t realised how far they got in making an online version of the guide, before it died as the dotcom bubble burst; just before he carked it in 2001.

Moving from non-fiction to dramatisation, although maybe the former world have been better in this case, is the series about the shooting of Jean Charles de Menezes. Thankfully it’s been well written, based on a comprehensive investigation into the case and the terrorist bombings that preceded it. What the actors do, which a documentary couldn’t is bring to life the series of events which lead up to that poor man’s death. It is rightfully scathing of the many in the Met who were at fault prior to, during and after the event, but the programme does at least go some way to illustrating how just a few genuine mistakes, poor communications systems and perhaps understandably overzealous firearms officers combined to cause this tragedy.

I don’t know why I persist with the Handmaids Tale, but I suppose at least this is definitely the final season. It’s the same old characters pulling the same old faces; just with gradually diminishing returns. Still, Margaret Atwood’s books (which, at this stage, are long gone as source material) are increasingly and depressingly prescient, making you wish it was being viewed as intended: a cautionary tale, rather than an instruction manual.

If that series is hard work, then the Rian Johnson-created show Poker Face is a breeze. These set-piece, Columbo-style how-dunnits come via the bullshit detector of the loveable Natasha Leonie. It’s a bit like Glass Onion in bite size form, with all the fun cameos and a lack of any great consequence or unpleasantness. Some are certainly more memorable than others and the second run of episodes lacks the overarching plot that the first benefitted from - but they’re all spinning a good yarn. 

Finally, I’ve seen multiple rave reviews of The Rehearsal, but haven’t yet brought myself to watching it. Maybe I’ll brave it next month, but for the reasons outlined above, I find Nathan Fielder’s oeuvre difficult to view. I did give Nathan For You a good go and am a lover of How To With John Wilson (which Fielder produced), so I can completely understand why he gets so much praise, but from what I’ve read, his latest offering really ramps up the pseudo-reality cringe. Much like Larry David breaking new ground in the way he made Curb, while I appreciate the innovation and artistry, I just don’t enjoy the process.

And to conclude, some music.

Rather than go to another fancy restaurant for our anniversary, I figured that to celebrate 10 years of marriage, it would be fun to head back to the dancefloor. The line-ups at the Queens Park Weekender have looked strong for several years, and 2025 was no different, so we popped over the M8 on the Sunday to see/hear, among others, Optimo going back-to-back with Erol Alkan. The trio perfectly matched one another’s musical freak, playing an eclectic mix of electronic genres to the lively and friendly big-top crowd. There were quite a few oldies that got us throwing particularly wild shapes, so I feel like a top three of festival fire is in order:

Size 9 - I’m Ready: a bass-shaking journey of a track. Arguably Josh Wink’s finest work is a funky, suspenseful epic that really got the tent fired up.

Raz & Alfa - Windowlicker: a samba version of Apex Twin’s most famous track was something I hadn’t heard before, and in the moment I thought it was some very impressive live splicing, but as the Optima chaps later explained, it’s this latin-flavoured re-rub.

Soulwax - E Talking (Night Version): as one of their last tunes, this still has the raw power to absolutely annihilate a room; especially given the was definitely talking to several of the punters surrounding us down the front.

I started by banging on about the sunshine, so I’ll finish with a trio of musical recommendations to soundtrack the next time he gets his hat on.

Back from a long hiatus are Stereolab, and their latest record is a delight, full of groovy little alt-pop numbers to while away a summer’s day. One a completely different tip, the latest LP from confirmed-logophile Aesop Rock is full of engaging stories and fine production. Then to take things up a couple of notches, how about an album of slinky Norwegian disco from one of the masters of the sound, Hans-Peter Lindstrøm?