The platform’s esoteric watchlists and rating system appeal to cinephiles craving a different mode of discovery

I never thought I would use Letterboxd. The app’s premise of logging reviews of every film you watch felt like counting steps, and I generally prefer to exercise my pretension the old fashioned way – such as getting a BFA or frequenting art house cinema screenings where I am usually the only person under 50 in the theater.

But after I wrote about my feelgood movie for the Guardian – that would be Sullivan’s Travels, Preston Sturges’s perfect 1941 satire – I was swayed by two newsroom colleagues. “Hey Alaina, we heard you like movies,” one of them said. “What’s your Letterboxd?” I wanted to be part of the club, and signed up later that night. Now, I write thoughts on every movie I see, usually before I’ve even left the theater or closed out the streamer.

New York venues aren’t required to give out water – but nightlife workers say it could make the difference between a safe evening out and an ER visit

When the Brooklyn metal band Contract performs around New York, they expect a mosh pit: thrashing bodies shoving and jumping along to the music. They also want to make sure the amped-up, usually drunk crowd stays hydrated. Without water, a mosher might feel sick, faint or pass out. “You don’t want anyone to get injured or hurt,” frontman Pele Uriel said.

Most of the spaces Uriel plays or visits have water stations where customers can easily fill up. But some do not. The worst offenders sell bottles of water at astronomical prices, from $5 to $10. “There have been times when I asked for water, but they charged a lot, so I went to the store next door to buy some,” Uriel said.