When I was a kid, Death Becomes Her was my favourite film. If you haven’t seen it, the basic premise is that Goldie Hawn and Meryl Streep play two women aged 50-ish who hate each other and discover the fountain of youth in the Hollywood Hills.

They both pay a fortune to drink a magical brew that throws the ageing process into reverse. Or, as Lisle, the witchy, ageless procurer of such magic, says: “Drink that potion, and you’ll never grow even one day older. Don’t drink it, and continue to watch yourself rot.” The catch, as they both discover, is that they can’t grow old because they can no longer die, no matter how hard they try to kill one another.

As a 10-year-old, I loved watching the slapstick silliness of Goldie Hawn smacking Meryl Streep in the face with a shovel and the then-gr

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