Liars and Saints

I promise this will be my final "Good Wife" post. I watched most of Season Five--the fabled season, the one where "Good Wife" regained its momentum--and I agree with the world that "The Last Call" is a special hour. Basically, Season Five chugs along like a freight train, and it reaches maximum speed shortly after Will's death--and then the train slows down a bit (and then, in Seasons Six and Seven, the train just melts into a puddle of mush). The brilliant thing about "The Last Call" is its subversive approach to death. The writers take time to imagine, in depth, what a "day after" would resemble for each of the major characters, and the many smart decisions are surprising and memorable: *Eli, political genius, marches right toward his next speech. He forgets that the teleprompter is not his friend, so he finds himself cracking jokes about "my nervous husband" and "the man I spend my bed with." *Kalinda, beloved

 Midway through the love affair of George and Martha, George asks if Martha will accompany him to a scary movie. (It's my impression that James Marshall liked scary movies. The "Tunnel of Love" sequence--in "The Amusement Park"--seems to tip a hat to Hitchcock's "Strangers on a Train.") Martha is nervous, but George just ignores the concern. The two choose to see Vincent Creepo in "The Mummy's Toe." (One ticket costs five cents.) Of course, during the actual screening, it's *Martha* who has fun (while a frightened George pretends to look for his glasses under a seat cushion....Uncharitably, Martha speaks up: "You don't WEAR glasses....") The butt in the air, the fragile popcorn kernel in the giant hippo-fist, the wide-eyed scaredy-dog in the background: This is art. I'd very much like to be with Martha, viewing Vincent Creepo, out and about in the world again.

 My arch-nemesis is Glen Weldon, a culture reporter for NPR. I have never met this person, but I listen to his work for "Pop Culture Happy Hour," and I have issues. Basically, everything in Glen Weldon's work is a thing that I find somewhat grating in my own work; it's just that Glen Weldon is much more successful and prolific than I am. At times, Weldon seems to deliver an (unconscious) parody of NPR's general political-correctness overdrive. For example, if I remember correctly, he worried that the "Lion King" remake (the one with Billy Eichner) employed very few African actors (only African-American actors). I'm not saying it's *wrong* to wring one's hands about this; I'm just saying the act of wringing hands in that moment was so very NPR ....And to *not* insert a prelude: "I realize what I'm about to say will verge on self-parody...." This seemed striking to me. Also, Glen Weldon worried that the new movie "Superno

 In its second hour, "It's a Sin" becomes dazzling. One way to understand Davies's work is through the lens of dramatic irony. This term refers to any moment when we know things the characters do not know. ("Mad Men" was also a major factory for dramatic irony.)  So--for example--we see one character rejecting another's blow-job offer when London enters the picture. ("You're from London? That's dangerous...." As if HIV would not have traveled to smaller towns.) The scene becomes odder still when the London boy makes a bold claim: "HIV is only in New York. People from London are fine." In another corner of Davies's world, a young woman struggles to help a friend with HIV. Should she shatter the mug this friend was drinking from? Should she wrap the mug's shards in a towel -- and bury the towel? Should she always be wearing rubber gloves? You feel the sense of panic when the friend's sister visits: She cannot begin t

 It's clear to me that Jerry Pinkney often thinks about mercy. Pinkney's great triumph--"The Lion and the Mouse"--has a powerful lion showing mercy to a tiny irritant. The lion could crush the mouse, but instead sets the mouse free. (Pinkney suggests that it's this act--as least as much as the mouse's later craftiness--that inspired him, and moved him to complete a re-telling.) In a later volume, a sort of companion piece, Pinkney re-tells the story of the Grasshopper and the Ants. My understanding is that some versions of this piece have a sour ending. The ants have toiled all year, and the grasshopper has goofed off. In winter, the ants will not make room for the grasshopper in a warm den. Let the grasshopper reap what he has sewn! Pinkney rejects this ending and has the queen ant invite the nervous grasshopper for tea. It's an extraordinary moment, because the ant doesn't explicitly state that she is saving the grasshopper's life. And she doesn&

 "It's a Sin" is the work of Russell T. Davies, who also wrote "A Very English Scandal," one of my favorite TV "efforts" in recent years. Marc and I are only one hour into "It's a Sin"--but it's worthwhile, so far. This is the story of three intersecting journeys--three gay men in their late teens, in England, in the early eighties. The flashiest guy is an aspiring actor; his move from a remote island to London involves many hours of new and interesting sexual situations, and his major professional ambitions also seem to become a main theme. Another guy, Roscoe, is in danger of being forced to move to Nigeria with his father; this move would presumably force an "inner conversion" from homosexuality to a more-conventional path. Roscoe rebels via drag; he also finds himself in London. The third, the one I like best, is a somewhat repressed tailor's-apprentice (?) in a shop--who lies to his parents about colorful nights out

After "Weekend with Wendell," Kevin Henkes returned with a *second* mouse masterpiece. This one seems to tip a hat--boldly--to Beverly Cleary. Cleary wrote "Ramona the Brave"; Henkes wrote "Sheila Rae, the Brave." And, indeed, Sheila Rae has courage. She enjoys studying lightning during a storm, and she dares to giggle when the principal walks by. She imagines that her maraschino cherries are the eyes of dead bears (and she eats five). The biggest transgression: Sheila Rae announces she will walk him by a NEW UNAUTHORIZED ROUTE. (You really travel back to childhood here. Sheila Rae shivers with excitement as she "crosses streets" and "turns corners." Oh, to derive a thrill from having crossed a new street!) Of course, Sheila Rae doesn't really know herself, and her story takes a shocking turn. But Sheila Rae's sister comes to the rescue-- Friends can embolden each other --and all ends well. Big sis and little sis walk into their

 A show lives or dies by the strength of its character development. I can't think of a character more gripping than Alicia Florrick, in the hour called "Hitting the Fan." This hour--from the fifth season of "The Good Wife"--has Alicia plotting to start her own law firm. I've skipped around in the series, but my understanding is that Alicia has a mix of motives: (a) selfishness, (b) reasonable anger w/r/t the way she has been treated, and (c) a desire to distance herself from her boss, whom she (inconveniently) loves.  Alicia's secret is unearthed. Phones are thrown at walls. Vases are shattered. And Alicia becomes spell-binding: She doesn't crumble or scream. She offers counsel when possible: "Anything you say now could be used in a deposition." "Document everything." "Get all the files into the Cloud...." Alicia maintains her steely face until she finds herself alone in an elevator and then--for around three (just three

 I have forgotten what time zone I'm in, and many days I'd like to moan loudly from noon to midnight. I haven't changed out of PJ pants in quite a while, and if I go for a walk in these pants, I'm really embarrassed -- but not embarrassed enough to re-think the PJs-in-public move. Josh is having a better time. He has a dawning awareness of his environment. He sometimes seems to have an interest in kissing his own reflection, in the mirror. And he can get thrills from a very simple game: He hands a small block to you, studies your delighted face, then takes the block back. Over and over and over. Social congress! We're reading: *"A Weekend with Wendell." (An actual twist at the end!) *"Max and Ruby: Holiday Treasury." (A good winter for snow-day literature....) *"Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse." (One of us can't get enough of Mr. Slinger....and his semi-circles....and his way of saying "Howdy" .....Great writing!) ....And

 My favorite Times reporter is Gilbert Cruz, who just put together a smart "photo-essay" on the thirtieth birthday of Demme's "The Silence of the Lambs": https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/02/14/movies/silence-of-the-lambs-anniversary.html Cruz includes all the fun trivia: only twice before had a movie taken best actor/actress/film/director/screenplay at the Oscars; Gene Hackman thought the script was offensive; "Lambs" changed the way horror/psychological thriller terrain was perceived in Hollywood (and paved the way for David Fincher). There is some writerly quirkiness in the Cruz piece; Cruz points out that the Jodie Foster resolve/vulnerability mix is really the secret to the film's success (more than Hopkins's flashiness). Cruz says "Demme loved a (Jodie Foster) close-up," and he provides filmic evidence. ("This isn't even the closest-up of the close-ups.") "SOTL" is neither all-good nor all-bad--and

 Most people know the bare bones of "The Ugly Duckling": a baby looks different and is mocked, but eventually the baby grows to be a magnificent swan. Don't make easy assumptions about difference! Difference can be good. Jerry Pinkney tells the full story, and it's more harrowing than I would have thought. Like Joseph, the ugly duckling becomes separated from his siblings. He spends many months on an odyssey. Hunters almost shoot him; dogs almost eat him. He tries to dwell in a farmhouse, with a nasty cat, but he misses the water too much. By this point, he has encountered so much cruelty, he isn't sure he deserves to live. He assumes strangers have ill will (though they're sometimes actually friendly). By luck, our hero makes it through the winter and finds "his people." He rejoices. He says he is grateful to have lived through all the pain he encountered--because, now, he can *really* appreciate happiness. Jerry Pinkney has won many awards--most no

 My husband is a bit more plugged-in to current indie cinema than I am, so, through Marc, I just became aware of "Cowboys." This is an unusual Western set in Montana; at times, it feels like Maile Meloy story material. A transgender child, born to a bipolar father and a narrow-minded mother, struggles to get by in school (and everywhere). "I'm a boy," says our hero, and no one listens. The mom in question won't allow the purchase of Apache figurines at the local dollar store; instead, all toys must involve some form of pink. We see all this through flashbacks. At the same time, in the present moment, our hero has gone missing with his father--and we follow the cops as they try to locate both vanishing acts. That's a lot! At times, the movie leans on cliches; the transgender kid who doesn't want pink cowboy boots is someone Amy Bloom described, and with more nuance, back in the late nineties. The kid who taunts his cousin seems like a hasty selection

  I haven't written much about the love affair between my husband and my little toddler. It is what you might imagine. When Marc comes downstairs, there is literally always an elaborate game of peekaboo; Josh sometimes shrieks as he tries to track Marc's disappearing head. (The thrill!) Parenthood can do strange things; for example, it you can give you superhuman levels of tolerance for a short film called "Five Little Ducks." This is a cartoon in which a mother loses her ducks--one by one--until five have disappeared. There is a verse for every missing duck. Every. Damn. Duck. And my husband actually returns to this movie--with glee--several times per day. Both father and son like contact sports, so Josh will sometimes charge at Marc's legs--with his walker--and Marc will form a "human vee" at the last moment. Under the bridge! This Valentine's Day, my family is of course spending a great deal of time with the hippos George and Martha, and specifica

 "Maggie's Plan" is a deft, ironic journey story by Rebecca Miller, daughter of Arthur Miller. Maggie, our star, would like to have a child on her own. She falls in love with Ethan Hawke, who seems to be in the dying stages of a marriage to Julianne Moore. The single-mom plan evaporates. Maggie finds herself married to Ethan Hawke. All is well! But this is just the end of Act One. Years into the marriage, Maggie discovers she is still unmoored. Ethan Hawke may be *technically* divorced from Julianne Moore, but the two still love to gab on the phone about whether Moore should accept various academic appointments in Denmark. (The two are wonderfully self-absorbed academics, and their specialty is "crypto-fictive narratology.") In one brutal scene, Ethan Hawke has Maggie pick up his--his!--kid from Dalton (it's basically Dalton)....because Ethan has a work call. Later, it emerges that Ethan's work call was canceled, and Ethan spent the hour chatting with Ju

 One of my favorite writers--and owner of a career I seriously covet--is Kevin Henkes. The picture book "Owen"--winner of a Caldecott Honor--is perfect evidence of Henkes's eye for detail and his light touch. The story concerns a mouse who loves his safety blanket. A weirdly nosy (angry?) neighbor, Mrs. Tweezers, feels it's time for the blanket to "move on." Mrs. Tweezers advises Owen's family about the "blanket fairy." (You take the kid's blanket at midnight, and you replace it with a dollar....) But Owen is not hard of hearing, and he foils the plan by covertly stuffing his blanket down his sweatpants. Next, Mrs. Tweezers urges Dad to dip Owen's favorite blanket-spot in vinegar. Owen shrugs and chooses a different corner to sniff. It's impossible to destroy the blanket, because this blanket offers crucial help during "hair trims," "nail clippings," "doctor visits," and other scary events. Also, the bl

 David Ayer wrote "Training Day," which won an Oscar for Denzel Washington and a nomination for Ethan Hawke. After this, I imagine everyone wanted to work with him. This explains "End of Watch," and its starry Oscar-caliber leads, Jake Gyllenhaal and Anna Kendrick. And it explains the presence of critics'-darling Michael Pena. "End of Watch" concerns two cops--buddies--who stumble on cartel affairs in Los Angeles. Their discoveries soon mean that they're potential targets for an assassination. Meanwhile, our buddy cops wonder why the feds are hesitating to take action against the cartel; after all, evidence of murder and human trafficking in L.A. is starting to grow, and grow, and grow. Meanwhile, the bond between Gyllenhaal and Pena deepens. Gyllenhaal is tortured and bookish; Pena is likely smarter, and less snobby. The two argue about dating, about curse words, about their attitudes toward men who are homosexual. Gyllenhaal announces he is takin

 Tomi Ungerer's final book--"Nonstop"--shows us a post-apocalyptic world. Everyone has fled Earth for the moon. Everyone, but Vasco--our lonely hero. Vasco is in continuous danger of being annihilated. He has a crafty shadow who often points in the right direction. For example, the shadow pushes Vasco around a corner--just before the entire scene explodes. ("JUST IN TIME!")  Vasco wanders through barren landscapes; one patch of graffiti says, "DON'T HOPE: COPE." For a while, Vasco seeks shelter on a boat (it's called "NOAH")--but eventually the boat loses its battle against "shredding reefs." Tomi Ungerer, the writer and artist, lived through traumatic events in World War II (and wrote about those events, unforgettably, in "Otto," a war tale about a teddy bear). "Nonstop" seems to be about war, and about climate change; it's about adapting to shifting realities. Don't hope. Cope. Of course, it'

 I spent Sunday evening alone; this was my first evening alone in approximately two years. Obviously, the only option was to eat ice cream and watch "A Simple Favor." You know this one. It's Anna Kendrick as a somewhat repressed widow in suburban Connecticut. She has a young son, and she records a daily "vlog," with "advice for moms."  A stranger comes to town. It's Blake Lively, and Blake doesn't have Anna's hangups. Blake swears freely (and Anna feels this should lead to a deposit in "the oopsy jar" ....) Blake does not feel compelled to pretend her life is sunnier than it is; she frankly suggests that she is hanging on by a thread. Blake basically "beds" her husband while still in Anna's presence. And Blake delightedly takes in Anna's "never have I ever" confession; this involves Blake gleefully calling Anna "a brotherfucker." Then Blake disappears. It seems she has dumped her own child on

 "Promising Young Woman" is polarizing--which is a good sign. This is the story of Cassie, who works in a coffee shop. She once made her way through parts of med school, but a brilliant classmate, Nina, was assaulted, and Cassie dropped out to take care of Nina. Others now look at Cassie--others, including Nina's mother--and ask, "Why can't you move on?" The assailant--who seems pretty clearly modeled on Brett Kavanaugh--emerges unscathed. He begins a medical practice and becomes engaged to a "really solid find." A stranger comes to town. This stranger has new information about the assailant. Cassie suddenly finds herself pursuing vengeance; abductions are staged, hitmen are hired. And we're only part-way through Act Two. This movie has a wonderful one-two punch at the end; the first twist involves Bo Burnham, and the second takes place in a kind of woodsy luxe lodge. The story has true shape-shifters, and our heroine is actually an antiheroine

 This is maybe not strictly new--it came out toward the end of 2018--but it's newish.  The "young adult" version of "Just Mercy" has Bryan Stevenson graduating from Harvard and heading off to Alabama. An incident occurred in Bryan's past. In his mid-eighties, Bryan's grandfather found himself the victim of a robbery. Some kids wanted to steal a TV. But--truly senseless--the kids also murdered Bryan's grandfather. An 85-ish guy! What could this grandfather threaten the kids with? What danger did he represent? Fueled by anger and wonder, Bryan sets out to heal the world. He stumbles on one terrible case after another. A man--clearly innocent--gets saddled with a murder charge; he is on his way to death-by-court-ruling. When Stevenson provides compelling evidence that witnesses have lied, it would seem that reasonable doubt is on the table. But racism leads to further delays, and delays, and delays. Elsewhere, Bryan discovers that children can sometimes

 "Sinister" is a movie with a terrible title. I'm fully against affixing a lazy adjective to a movie--and calling it a day. This would be like re-christening "Anna Karenina" as "Sad." Or re-branding "Middlemarch" as--simply--"Dramatic." "Sinister" should be called "Home Movies," or "The Writer." Anyway, what is this film? It's a partial update of "The Shining." A writer, Ethan Hawke, moves his family to a new locale, because he wants to jumpstart his career. But Hawke withholds some information. The new house is actually the sight of a terrible crime: Five or six family members were once found hanging from a tree in the backyard. The sixth family member--a child, and possibly the murderer--has never been located. Odder still: The killer (or someone else?) has left a snuff film in the attic. Several snuff films. There's the hanging scene, but also footage of a drowning, footage of a car

 So many things I couldn't anticipate about having a toddler. For example, Josh (18 months today) tends to believe that the behavior he observes is the exact behavior that he should replicate. So, if I feed him, he in turn tries to feed me. I hand him a carrot, he slurps the hummus off the carrot, and then he deposits the chewed-up carrot back in my hand (a gift). Josh also constantly feels my hands in his hair -- so, in turn, he climbs behind the couch and surprises me by restyling my own "coiffure." I like to rub my forehead against Josh's -- not for any special reason -- but I believe Josh now thinks this is a universal form of greeting. When I hand him a doll, he very slowly bows his head to the doll, then administers an Eskimo kiss (while quietly squealing with delight). That's all for this week. Our books: *"Birthday for Frances." Hoban's dry observations about his head badger's lunacy -- Chef's Kiss! *"The Snowy Day." Obvious

"Oliver Button" is the tale of a proto-gay kid, a boy who would rather not play football, a boy who would like to dance. Oliver's parents--initially baffled--decide to sign Oliver into a dance class. (You sense Tomie dePaola's eloquent silence here. What kinds of fights have transpired between the parents? Oliver hasn't noticed them; we, the readers, will not notice them.) Dance works wonders for Oliver--but, at the same time, life trudges on; villains berate Oliver with sidewalk graffiti. ("Oliver Is a Sissy.") With quiet heroism, Oliver prepares for a Talent Show; we witness the show, and we think Oliver might win. And yet the victor is Roxie Valentine. Ah, well. Time for a celebratory pizza. There is a final, startling coda: Oliver returns to school and notices that someone has crossed out the word "Sissy." In its place, you see the word "Star." I like this book for the obvious reason (it's my life story), but I also like the s

 "The Woman in Black" is a fine choice for a dark wintry night; it's a journey story. Daniel Radcliffe needs to prepare an old deserted mansion to be sold. But the townspeople seem not to want him there. And creepy events transpire; toy clowns seem to move in shadows, a sinister ghost-woman wanders around the lawn, a child-villager swallows lye and convulses and dies. You don't see a movie like this for the plot; you certainly don't watch for Daniel Radcliffe's performance. (Roger Ebert was right to point out that Mr. Radcliffe's abilities are limited.) You watch for the stunning vistas and the creaky Victorian interiors. And you watch this one because--like any good horror movie--it gives major character actors a chance to chew scenery. "Woman in Black" has theater legend and Oscar darling Janet McTeer; we see her wrestling the spirit of her dead child (at the dinner table!), and we see her murmuring crazily by the graveyard. You won't get *