The broccolification of fun

When just enjoying yourself feels frivolous.

Last Sunday, on a whim, I checked myself into the socially-acceptable equivalent to a padded cell: a snug, 30-seater screen at my local Curzon cinema. For a whole two hours and 19 minutes (plus trailers), I laughed, near-cried and thought about nothing other than the film playing in front of me.

I realised, walking home afterwards, how much lighter I felt compared to when I’d walked in. OK, my chosen film, ‘Anora’, is not exactly a light watch. But it is also entertaining, and darkly funny, and allowed me to switch my brain off. It was the most fun I’d had in a while.

That statement, even said aloud in my head, feels like the kind of humble brag that should be reserved for a burnt-out CEO, or else the burnt-out parent of a teething one-year-old. Not me: someone time-rich, unencumbered and (relatively) unstressed.

But it was true. Looking back over the past week, I did do a few ‘fun’ things: a couple of literary events; fitness classes; listening to podcasts; dinner with friends. However, on each occasion I’d let the actual fun element fall to the wayside. For example, rushing home early from the events rather than lingering to chat and debrief over a drink with the people I’d attended them with.

The problem wasn’t a lack of leisure time. It was a fault of my value system; an inability to value fun for fun’s sake. Even in the case of the podcasts I listened to, I chose ones which felt self-improving (Typography 101! How to be better at small talk!), rather than something that would make me laugh. My whole week had been centred around things I thought might ‘improve’ me.

Without realising it, I’d barely relaxed – that is, until I shut myself in the Curzon’s padded cell. That night, I slept for a rare eight hours – and woke up calm, happy and energised (read: accidentally self-improved). I never consciously chose ‘bettering’ myself over having fun. I thought I was doing both. But it turns out, trying to fulfil both criteria at once muddies the waters. At worst, the ‘bettering’ and the ‘fun’ just cancel each other out.

It made me think of a concept coined by podcaster Caroline O’Donoghue in an episode of Continental Garbage (a miniseries of her podcast, Sentimental Garbage): ‘broccoli activity’. For context, in this episode, O’Donoghue refers to MUBI, a streaming service for ‘ambitious films’, suggesting that it transforms film from a ‘guilt activity where you’re sitting in the cinema and rotting your brain’ into a ‘broccoli activity’.

The notion of ‘broccoli activities’ resonated with me. Growing up, ‘eat your broccoli’ was shorthand for something you have to do because it’s good for you. One of my earliest memories, in fact, is finishing a portion of broccoli – left ‘til last on my plate – just so I could earn the fun part of the meal: a single, paper-wrapped toffee. What a time to be alive.

Broccoli activities are once-fun pursuits that have taken on the flavour of broccoli* : something that I really should be doing because it’s bettering, not because it’s fun and/or delicious.