Liars and Saints

*Howard Ashman won his first Oscar--Best Song--for "Under the Sea." Fair enough, but one could easily hand him an Oscar for "Kiss the Girl" (also nominated), "Poor Unfortunate Souls," or his masterpiece, "Part of Your World." I'm just saying. *"The Little Mermaid," like its follow-up, "Beauty and the Beast," is a celebration of intellectual curiosity. Ariel, a little gay boy in disguise, would wish to devour the world. What does she want to do on solid ground? Talk to people. "Ask them my questions and get some answers...What is a fire and how does it--what's the word?--burn.....? When's it my turn? Wouldn't I love to *explore* the shores up above?" Clearly, this is echoed with (bookish) Belle's: "For once, it might be grand...to have someone understand...I want so much more than they've got planned...." *A reason "Mermaid" works so well is that its heroine and villain

What a shock it was to attend a panel this weekend on conversion camps. These are places where confused people send their gay children to be molded into "non-gays." Obviously, the camps do not attain their (twisted) goal, and obviously, they do a great deal of psychological harm in the process of not-attaining-the-twisted-goal. What is surprising (to me, at least): *These camps still exist all over the U.S. Very few states have banned them. *Joanna Gaines, host of "Fixer Upper," and subject of many empty "People Magazine" pieces, attends a church officially in favor of conversion camps. A while ago, her husband wrote a cowardly piece asking us all just to agree to disagree--and so one wonders if he is also secretly a fan of the Vichy regime. *Those scenes in the Lucas Hedges and Chloe Grace Moretz movies where the campers gather and, following instructions, scream anti-gay insults at the most vulnerable kid ... are taken from actual life. *In at

The greatest pop song of all time is Robyn's "Dancing on My Own." This isn't a shocking or iconoclastic pick. Many, many people would choose this song. What I'm offering here is just my own idiosyncratic love letter to Robyn. A cliche of MFA programs is that a writer should "show, not tell," and that's not necessarily valid. You can, in fact, "tell," if you make things interesting. (Some people would say a good deal of Philip Roth's writing is "telling" -- but it's telling with a sui generis, compelling voice, so we read along, anyway.) Still, I enjoy "showing." Spotting the strange details in an interaction that others would overlook--and revealing depths of character through those details. That's what makes reading fun, if you ask me. One example: In Taylor Swift's classic "You Belong with Me," Taylor reveals to a would-be boyfriend that she's "listening to the kind of music [y

You're nothing if you aren't obsessed....In preparation for the release of the live-action version of "Aladdin," here's some Howard Ashman trivia: *Ashman did not begin as a lyricist, but as a shlub with a day job (who wrote plays for fun). Ashman's early plays were not well-received. *After the dazzling success of "Little Shop of Horrors" and "Little Mermaid," Ashman had a dream. A passion project. It was *not* "Beauty and the Beast." Read that again. Ashman's project was *not* "Beauty and the Beast." Ashman had a dream of turning "Aladdin" into a musical. Yes. Ashman moved *directly from MERMAID* to "Aladdin." *At some point in the vexed, endless "Aladdin" drafting process, Disney people approached Ashman and asked if he'd dream up a musical version of "Beauty and the Beast." No! said Ashman. No! Ashman's dream was "Aladdin." *And yet Ashman could be

When people mock Anne Tyler as too safe, too dated, it's useful to point to "Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant." This is her masterpiece, as she herself would admit. It's about a woman, Pearl, who becomes embittered when her awful husband abandons the family. Overwhelmed by stress, Pearl isn't an ideal mother. Her children, Jenny, Cody, and Ezra, are frightened of her. Here's Jenny, thinking about her mom: Mother was a dangerous person--hot breathed and full of rage and unpredictable. The dry, straw texture of her lashes could seem the result of some conflagration, and her pale hair could crackle electrically from its bun and her eyes could get small as hatpins. Which of her children had not felt her stinging slap, with the claw-encased pearl in her engagement ring that could bloody a lip at one flick? Jenny had seen her hurl Cody down a flight of stairs. She'd seen Ezra ducking, elbows raised, warding off an attack. She herself, more than once, had been

*There was an era when Taylor Swift would have big, high-profile break-ups, and then she would dissect what had happened in precocious songs. Ms. Swift seemed thoughtful-beyond-her-years. She attracted lustrous admirers, including James Taylor and Neil Young. The big break-up songs--especially "Dear John" and "All Too Well"--had details you might expect from a short story. The refrigerator light, the tee ball team, the photo album on the counter. (The songs were also remarkable for their exploration of ambivalence; Swift clearly loved the men she was writing about, despite their foibles. The shifting between distaste and fondness made for compelling writing.) Like her friend, Lena Dunham, Ms. Swift seemed able to hover about herself, and to comment on her own foolish behavior with a sense of humor: "Wondering which version of you I'll get on the phone tonight...." *It seemed--in her "Red" phase--Swift was trying to ape Joni Mitchell. Sh

Some thoughts on the eve of April 26..... A Tay Tay Song I Hate: "Gorgeous." Again, "hate" is a strong word. I just agree with the NYT here: This song very quickly runs out of ideas. I think it's weaker than--say--"All Too Well"--because there's only one actual character (Taylor herself). The two men in the song are sketchy outlines at best. Chekhov said, for a successful story, you need both a He and She, and, really, this song has only a She. A Tay Tay Song that Is Over-rated: "Shake It Off." It's charming, but I don't really buy the argument. If I physically shake, after a traumatic event, I'm actually not any better or emotionally stronger. It's a paradox that Tay Tay's songs of forthright wallowing are far more comforting to me than "Shake It Off." The Tay Tay Song that Made Me Love Tay Tay Songs: "You Belong with Me." Obviously. The exuberance! The detail! The short skirts, tee sh

Some thoughts on an august 1980s debut....from the Coen brothers... An angry man goes off the deep end when he discovers that his wife (Abby) is sleeping with an employee. The man, Marty, hires a hit man, the diabolical Visser (who seems to share DNA with the chilling bad guy in "No Country for Old Men"). Visser's assignment is to bump off the wife and the boyfriend (Ray)--but Visser knows there is a better plan. If Visser kills Marty with the wife's gun, then the police will assume the wife did the crime. Visser can doctor a photo to persuade Marty he went ahead with his task, and then collect his money, "off" Marty, and disappear. The problem is that Abby's gun goes missing, and this leads to a startling murder-via-premature-burial, a tense cat-and-mouse chase, and a final victory for Abby. Not one, not two, but three people wind up dead. The bizarre series of coincidences and misinterpretations seems almost comical; more than anything, the plot

A musical I hate: "The Sound of Music." Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's back up. "Hate" is such a strong word! But I'm hoping to provoke--here. "A lark who is learning to pray"--? WTF? And there's really very little character development among the nuns. And the songs Richard Rodgers added to the movie version--"Something Good" and "I Have Confidence"--are one big lumpy, watery mess. I also feel like the deck is stacked unfairly and tediously against the Baroness. You make someone a Nazi sympathizer, and you more or less hand your audience an engraved tablet saying: "SIDE WITH MARIA! SIDE WITH MARIA!" How much more interesting--and more daring--the show would be, if Rodgers and Hammerstein had given the Captain an *actual* struggle in the Second Act. A musical that is overrated: "The Last Five Years." Yes, I would listen on repeat, but I would listen for Norbert Leo Butz's performance, and not for th

People sometimes think ambivalence is a lack of feeling, but it's actually the opposite. It's too much feeling. It's being pulled in two directions at once. It's a favorite theme in the work of Sondheim: "Marry me...a little....Love me...just enough..." And: "You're sorry/grateful. Regretful/happy. Why look for answers where none occur?" What distinguishes Taylor Swift's work is that the writer is consistently injecting ambivalence into pop songs. While Ariana Grande tends to insist on *one* emotion--"I'm so f***ing grateful for my ex"--Tay Tay, by contrast, recognizes that we tend to feel one thing *and its opposite* in the same moment. We are confused and torn up. We cannot keep track of our warring impulses. I feel this on an almost constant basis: Right now, for example, I hate the fact that I'm at work, and I'm bored, and I also want to do a good job, and I'm pleased to see some of the people I work with

We're all thinking about April 26--it will be a big Taylor Swift day, of some sort--so here are a few anticipatory thoughts: *Ms. Swift made a serious error when she released "Look What You Made Me Do." She had been silent for a long while, and this was her big comeback statement. It didn't work, because it seemed bitter, self-absorbed, and melodramatic. She had had a small feud with another musician, and this feud required images of zombies and petulant ghosts of Taylors Past? An instructive contrast: The return of Ariana Grande. Ms. Grande went silent after a genuinely shocking and traumatic thing occurred in her life, the bombing in Manchester. When Ms. Grande returned, it was expected that she would sing something openly mournful. Instead, she gave us the intriguing (and chart-topping) "No Tears Left to Cry." This song is fascinating because it leaves Ms. Grande's pain in a *mostly subtextual* place. You're left to infer what she must have go

A musical I hate: "The Lion King." I admire Julie Taymor's work in "The Lion King," but I think the material itself is unworthy of Taymor. It's like dressing a turd in a Balenciaga gown. I find "The Lion King" especially appalling after the work of Howard Ashman--a genius who breathed new life into Disney, and who wrote with effortless grace. "The Lion King" is a series of snoozy platitudes. "From the day we arrive on the planet...and....blinking...step into the sun...." (Thanks for that "blinking," Tim Rice!) I especially hate when Timon bans Pumbaa from rhyming "down-hearted" with "farted," as if "farted" were a scandalous word. (That's the evening's one big attempt at humor.) This show sometimes makes me want to slit my wrists. It's a tradition for Disney to pad its adaptations of film material with weaker new songs when moving to Broadway. I'm glad B'way's

A few thoughts on Ruth Reichl's "Save Me the Plums," now causing waves in bookstores: *Reichl says, in childhood, she was drawn to fairy stories. In such a story, there would often be a "magic door," a portal to another world. Reichl understood that food could be her own magic door. By paying very close attention to the things she was eating, Reichl could begin to narrate fairy stories of "a different sort." She could have an adventurous life. (Reichl can also be unsentimental about writing. She says a gift of newspaper-writing is: seeing your carefully-crafted words from yesterday "wrapping up today's fish." Writing is a job, just as fish-preparation is a job.) *One thing that inspires me about Reichl is her sense of empathy. Reichl does not describe her adversaries with a sense of incomprehension. Instead, she takes the time to understand where people are coming from. So, for example, Reichl tangles with her advertising director, bu

A couple of writers understand how funny Jane Austen could be. One is Amy Heckerling, who based "Clueless" on "Emma." Another is Whit Stillman. Stillman's "Love and Friendship" comes from an early work by Jane Austen, "Lady Susan." (Stillman took that work and paired it with the title from another Austen work--"Love and Friendship." I like this title very much because it so confidently lays out Austen's themes. Love. And friendship. Yep. That's what we're looking at here!) Lady Susan is like Emma Woodhouse, but more exaggerated in her hypocrisy. She plots and plans. When she has an affair with a friend's husband, she blames the friend for any resulting drama. "If she were going to be jealous, she shouldn't have married such a charming man!" Lady Susan wants power from a nearby family, so she congratulates herself on having spent a few minutes with the small children of that family. "I've al

As we all get ready for the big Carol Reed trilogy at Film Forum, some thoughts on "The Third Man".... *Famously, Graham Greene wrote the script for this movie. It shares some DNA with Greene's "The Quiet American." In both cases, a rather naive American man ends up in a foreign country and learns some home truths, in an unpleasant way. *Greene could be masterful with subtext. In one of my favorite moments in "The Third Man," Joseph Cotten seems to be having a public argument with a man about what kind of book he should write next. But--really--the meat of the conversation is: "Mind your own business. Don't investigate your friend's death." The audience tries to understand the weird tension in this dialogue. Watching at home, you know precisely what is going on. A little dramatic irony. *Another treat in this movie is the use of "misdirection." We think Joseph Cotten is being forcibly dragged to his execution, but in f

To me, one of the most exciting things about this coming Easter Weekend is the start of Film Forum's Trilogies series. I don't know if I'll see any of the films at the actual theater, but I'm hoping Film Forum will inspire me to see some smart rentals at home. (This is often how Film Forum "works" with me.) The Trilogies series highlights many directors, and three of them have special value in my book: *Francis Ford Coppola. Of course, the FF series will put the "Godfather" series front and center. I am happy for any chance to recall Marlon Brando stalking his tiny grandson with a big orange in his mouth: Brando is a monster, yes, but even a monster can be good with children. I'm happy to recall Connie's transformation, and the sinister final Fredo scenes, and little Michael arriving at Ellis Island, dwarfed by the mysterious Americans around him. So many unforgettable characters! *Carol Reed. Mr. Reed didn't make a real trilogy,

A few thoughts on the new Andrew Davies PBS version of "Les Miserables": *In the Davies adaptation, Valjean's early story seems to be a mirror image of Fantine's story. (We lose this in the musical, which unwisely abandons the narration of Fantine's past, except to have her murmur, in her "American Idol" ballad, "He slept a summer by my side....") As Fantine falls under the spell of a demon, Valjean falls under a different spell--a spell belonging to a powerful wizard, the Bishop of D---. As Fantine makes her way through a story of lies, secrets, half-truths, curses, and reverses, so, too, does Valjean. But the similarities end there. * Unlike  Fantine's Boy Toy, the Bishop is a force for good. The Bishop's scenes-- maybe  the most iconic scenes in the novel--unfold through a series of startling twists (big surprise). Valjean lies: He presents himself as a paying guest, then steals  silver . In turn, and our jaws drop, the Bishop li

I sense no one is watching the new PBS version of "Les Miserables"--it's up against "Game of Thrones," inexplicably--but here are some things to consider, anyway: *The writer is Andrew Davies, beloved for his adaptation of "Bleak House." (Also recommended!) *Every set in this Victor Hugo PBS adaptation is stunningly beautiful. Whether or not you care about the plot, you can enjoy the bustling city street, the shady grove, the mansion that belongs to the royalist nincompoop. It's like you're in a painting. *The characters are boldly-drawn and compelling. The first hour gives us three plots: Fantine with her boy toy, Valjean wrestling with Javert, and little Marius struggling against his grandfather. Note the intrigue! The boy toy doesn't actually want seriousness with Fantine, so he tries to escape the romance by persuading lovelorn Fantine that the breakup is *her own* idea. (Like something from "New Girl"!) Javert torment

Philip Roth's memoir "Patrimony"--a book I return to again and again--reads like a thriller. The nemesis is introduced to us in the first sentence. It's a strange condition that causes half of Roth's father's face to cave in on itself. Roth was heavily influenced by Kakfa, and there's a Kafka-esque quality to this opening. "He woke up and found his face was gone." You think of Gregor, in "The Metamorphosis," waking to discover that he is a cockroach. Or the guy in "The Trial," realizing he is under threat of persecution, and no one can explain what he has done wrong. That's life! People get breathless about "American Pastoral," but there's a substantial minority of critics arguing that this isn't Roth's best work. Daphne Merkin and Lorrie Moore are in this minority. Merkin prefers Roth's more personal writing; she cites "My Life as a Man." Moore likes the intellectual playfulness o

"Working" (Robert Caro). I'm a sucker for a writer-tells-his-trade-secrets book, and that's what we have here. Also, it's significantly shorter than everything else Caro writes, and short is good (if you ask me). "Save Me the Plums" (Ruth Reichl). I'm a fan of Reichl's titles--"Tender at the Bone," "Not Becoming My Mother"--and here we have a book with "plums" front-and-center. Reichl is talking about eating--I assume--but she's also talking about experiencing the world. "Save me the plums." Be sure I get my share. I'll do what I must to "taste" the world. (Am I overthinking one sentence? I don't believe so!) "The Border" (Don Winslow). John Sandford says Winslow is one of the best and most-underrated writers at work today (and Sandford would know). Winslow writes sprawling, "Godfather"-esque epics about drugs and cops and deals gone wrong. I like the title &quo

What you may not know about Sondheim is that, in the sixties, he wrote a "TV musical" called "Evening Primrose." I haven't seen it. Here's what I know: The star was the handsome closeted guy who played Norman in "Psycho," Anthony Perkins. The show involved a mannequin who wanted to experience the world, or something like this. (Sondheim says--"Keep them surprised!"--and there you have it.) What do you get when you tell a story from the point of view of a mannequin? You get the chance to "de-familiarize." When we de-familiarize, we describe mundane things from an alien perspective, in an effort to make those things "new again." Sondheim's acolyte--Howard Ashman--famously used a "de-familiarizing" technique when he had Ariel, the Little Mermaid, dream about life on land: Flipping your fins, you don't get too far. LEGS are required for...jumping...dancing... Strolling around on those.... What'

One thing Philip Roth does so well, in his memoir, "Patrimony," is to make everyone a larger-than-life character: *The father. Roth's unforgettable portrait of his own dad reaches a climax as the dad struggles to understand a diagnosis. Basically, the dad's life is over. There's a tumor wrapped around his optic nerve. The dad bravely spits out his questions for the doctor--he has written the questions on a paper, and there are misspellings, and all of the nouns are capitalized--and the doctor does not mince words. Roth sits in awe of his stoic father, then Man and Son return home to have some soup. Roth cringes as his father berates his girlfriend: "You're not opening the soup properly! You hold the bottom! The bottom! Hold it now!" Accumulated pain spills out. The father goes on to say: "You're not heating this properly! Take it off the stove! It's too hot! Too hot!" Roth then watches as his dad attempts to ladle (cold) soup

"Best. Movie. Year. Ever." According to this book, 1999 was the Hollywood year to end all Hollywood years. "The Insider." "The Sixth Sense." "Fight Club." The list goes on. Do you have it in you to read 400 pages on a serendipitous year for film-making? I think *I* do. "Party of One." This is a memoir, a few years old, by a gay man, about his awkward coming-of-age. It's in the air now, simply because the author blurbed Andrew Rannells's memoir (which I recommend). In "Party of One," a gay man uses various pop songs (I imagine Celine and Mariah may be involved) to narrate the tale of his  maturation,  or semi-maturation. It's shocking to me that I haven't read this. "Maybe You Should Talk to Someone." I did just finish this one--and though the earnestness is occasionally tiresome, and the editor could have been a bit more ruthless, several stories are breathtaking. I was especially fond of the seve

In "Patrimony," Philip Roth remembers his grandfather, Sender. Mr. Sender Roth had a very fancy shaving mug, and Philip would study it with wonder. Here, Philip tells a story: My grandfather Roth had studied to be a rabbi in Polish Galicia, in a small town not far from Lemberg, but when he arrived in America alone in 1897, without his wife and his three sons, he took a job in a hat factory to earn the money to bring his family over and worked there more or less most of his life. There were seven children....The shaving mug inscribed "S. Roth" had seemed to free my grandfather--if only momentarily, if only for those few minutes he quietly sat being shaved in the barber's chair late on a Friday afternoon--from the dour exigencies that had trapped him and that, I imagined, accounted for his austere, uncommunicative nature. His mug emitted the aura of an archaeological find, an artifact signaling an unexpected level of cultural refinement, an astonishing superflui

*My shrink recommends a healthy attitude toward bodily functions. "The baby's poop is a gift to you," he says. "Don't forget. An offering! Celebrate the poop!" When his own children ask about death, my shrink becomes very serious. "I will continue to fart after death, " he says, "but my farts will travel everywhere . All over the cosmos!" *"The Happiest Baby on the Block" suggests that if you swaddle too loosely, the baby will wriggle out of the cloth, and then maybe fall prey to SIDS. ("Don't worry," says the writer, in a not very reassuring tone. "Most studies say that if the blanket is very thin, then SIDS won't happen. Probably babies die only when the blanket is a bit too heavy!") The book goes on: "Don't make the swaddle too tight. If it's too tight, the baby's legs will suffer. You'll be looking at hip dysplasia, somewhere down the road." *My mother has advice,

Sondheim nerds, I have to say a few things about the opening of "Mirror, Mirror": Who's that woman? I know her well, All decked out head to toe. She lives life like a carousel: Beau after beau after beau. Nightly, daily, Always laughing gaily, Seems I see her everywhere I go. Oh-- Who's that woman? I know I know that woman, So clever, but ever so sad. Love, she said, was a fad. The kind of love that she couldn't make fun of She'd have none of. Who's that woman. That cheery, weary woman Who's dressing for yet one more spree? Each day I see her pass In my looking-glass-- Lord, Lord, Lord, that woman is me! The song is about having insight into one's flawed condition--without having the will to change that condition. It's like a sequel to "The Ladies who Lunch," where Elaine Stritch seems to *understand* that she is an embittered, drunken jokester, while also wishing not to change her reality. Do you notice that the opening of "M

At the same time Bruce Springsteen released "The Rising," he released a lesser song, "Lonesome Day," which I also enjoyed: Baby, once I thought I knew Everything I needed to know about you Your sweet whisper, your tender touch But I didn't really know that much Joke's on me, it's gonna be okay If I can just get through this lonesome day Lonesome day I like these lines first because they're funny. "I didn't really know that much": A slogan for the human condition! I also like that the speaker is sort of old and wise; he can laugh at himself. ("Joke's on me.") And these lines also set up a problem we'll follow through the song: how to get through a lonesome day. Hell's brewing, dark sun's on the rise This storm will blow through by and by House is on fire, viper's in the grass A little revenge and this too shall pass This too shall pass, darling, yeah, I'm gonna pray Right now, all I got's this

If you're reading this dishy Lori Gottlieb memoir already, then please enjoy my gallery of favorite characters: (1) The cranky TV writer who hates everyone and everything . Gottlieb mentions that this guy has turned his misanthropic thinking into several wicked hit TV shows. Which makes me think we might be talking about a writer for "Veep"? Hard to know. I love the twists in this guy's story. You think he's despicable, then you hear some hints about the alcoholic father, and you get that fun texting-to-make-you-stop-texting scene. And of course the guy's fondness for his dog. Gottlieb's insistence on loving this guy--despite the guy's self-loathing--makes for compelling reading. (2) The woman with the leaking, gangrenous leg stumps . It's this woman who persuades Gottlieb to leave her TV career--her meetings with Clooney and Aniston--and attempt medical school. You can't make these bits up. (3) The woman who might die, but might not, but