Liars and Saints

 Patti LuPone appeared on TV with Andy Cohen -- the appearance was recent -- and Cohen asked, "Is  Being Alive  the greatest Sondheim song?" LuPone has brains, and she answered in an admirable way. "It's not really about individual songs, if it's Sondheim. Sondheim wrote for characters; because he was so invested in his characters, it's hard to take a Sondheim song out of the story it's embedded in. I think of Sondheim in terms of a full musical score. My favorites, among his scores:  A Little Night Music, Pacific Overtures, Sweeney Todd ." Hard to argue with that. But if you wanted to make a case for "Being Alive," I think you'd want to look at the bridge. Bobby has been complaining about the idea of being coupled. Marriage is giving up your chair, your sleep, your privacy. At the same time, Bobby has conflicting voices in his head: "Don't be afraid it won't be perfect. The only thing to be afraid of is that it WON'T B

  PBS has its spotlight on a great Tim Rice song, "Heaven on Their Minds." It's the start of "Jesus Christ Superstar." We see Judas; he wrings his hands. Judas recalls an exciting era with Young Jesus; at the start, these two guys were running around scoring points for social justice, making the case for a redistribution of power and wealth. But, at some point, Jesus seemed to lose interest in politics. Jesus's story became something more than a political story; people wanted to call Jesus "God," and, terribly, Jesus seemed OK with the shift. Judas understands what will follow. If people put you on a pedestal, it's only a matter of time before people will try to kill you. At the same time, Judas can't just abandon his old friend, who (now) seems sort of repellent. Judas loves Jesus. "Believe me: My admiration for you hasn't died." This is a terrific opening--because we might not expect to identify with Judas, but Tim Rice make

 As my son approaches his 2.5 birthday, I find our lives are overwhelmed by Cocomelon. This is a series of scripted televised songs for children. I don't know how the songs entered our lives, but they won't leave. They're like crack. You have pulsing rhythms and a literally nonstop chorus of soft giggling. (The giggling is just a little creepy -- and it makes me think of porn, the way the quiet sighing is added on top of the visuals, in "post-production.") The baby-protagonists in Cocomelon have large "Charlie Brown" heads, and they walk in clumsy ways, as actual toddlers walk. If Cocomelon has a plot, that plot concerns the small crises in the life of JJ, a tiny kid with issues. These are his issues. His mother shows up late for a special school edition of "Winter Show and Tell." He feels nervous on the first day of Kindergarten. He has a friend who struggles with the jump-rope. ("Someone's in my head, saying NOT A CHANCE! Someone'

 As we approach the end of "Better Things," here is a love letter to my favorite character on television, Phil. A "retirement-phase" Californian, Phil has some unconventional ideas. She basically steals a man from the man's ailing wife; this is especially uncomfortable because she, Phil, is white, and there is a sense of white entitlement/obliviousness in Phil's behavior. (Phil also blindly alludes to one of her granddaughter's friends as a "scholarship student." The retort: "He is not a scholarship student. His father is Harry Belafonte.") No one around Phil is happy with Phil's choice of boyfriend, but Phil has a startling speech. "Yes, my boyfriend is married. But, when you reach my age, there are so many roadblocks to divorce. Questions about health, money, family, property, mental fitness, impending death. People my age do not have the luxury to clutch their pearls all the time. People my age cannot be as rigid as people

 I liked Laura Lippman's new book of stories--"Seasonal Work"--and I appreciated the many murders, false identities, affairs, acts of spying, and even allusions to the supernatural. Lippman is often thinking about power--and specifically the link between power and gender. One story takes us back to the most-eventful days of the Cold War; a housewife makes a habit of studying her neighbors (the one with conspicuous makeup under her eye, the one who stores vodka in a water bottle, the one who seems to walk far, far from "the office" on an ostensible trip to work). Through a series of amusing twists, the housewife becomes aware of Kim Philby and Philby's colleagues--and, by the end of the story, she has opted to "donate" her eagle eye to the neighboring offices of the CIA. A "bestie" invents a Match.com persona so that she can off her obnoxious girlfriend; she then plans to steal the girlfriend's spouse. A smart little girl studies her s

 One gift that Sondheim left behind was: an invitation to see canonical works in a new way. It seems that Sondheim continuously fought against popular wisdom. Hammerstein's great achievement was not "Some Enchanted Evening," but "What's the Use of Won'drin." Lorenz Hart was iffy, but DuBose Heyward wrote like a god. Ira Gershwin tried too hard. "Tonight," from "West Side Story," is an example of "purple writing." Leave it to Sondheim to view "Rent" in an unusual way. Sondheim didn't have much praise for the big, buzzy numbers, but he was fond of Jonathan Larson's quiet, little song, "Santa Fe." Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe. Sunny Santa Fe would be nice.... We'll open a restaurant in Santa Fe-- And leave this to the roaches and mice. Larson's fictional bohemian brainiac Tom Collins addresses his new love, and he (Collins) gets swept up in a daydream: You're a sensitive aes

 Some friends are planning on, or moving toward, a second child, and here is my letter to those friends. I can't generalize, but I think that having two children means that you almost never leave the house with all the supplies you need. I'm routinely stunned to discover that a crucial--THE crucial--supply is still back on my desk, on the second floor. That supply could be: the zoo pass, the functional car key, the speech-and-communication notebook, the driver ID, the cell phone. I think, once you accept that you will always be unprepared, the actual moment of discovery ("God damn it!") is a bit less irritating. It seems to help me to "draft" various events, in my head. If there is a doctor visit, I try to envision my own behaviors before they happen. So, if the visit falls apart, I may have choices to fall back on. I understand, more and more, that parenting is about "making implicit things explicit," and I'm surprised how hard this is. For ex

  NYT readers are complaining about Miranda Hobbes, from "Sex and the City." "This is not the Miranda I know." "Miranda has become thoughtless!" By contrast, I think some of the new Cynthia Nixon material is thrilling. I think people change; people can become unmoored. Alcohol intake did increase during the early stages of the pandemic; vineyards went after women, specifically, with ads about "mommie juice." It makes sense to me that Miranda would begin drinking more as a way to avoid thoughts about her stagnant marriage. I loved that the writers made Miranda so brutal this week. She applauds herself immediately after the conversation with Steve; that moment of self-congratulation is hard to watch. ("It's like I'm in a rom com!") Readers found it implausible that Miranda wouldn't take time to speak with her adolescent son before meeting up with Che--but this bit of monstrousness was exciting to me. I think Miranda's sens

 The Court Street Regal, in Brooklyn, lasted for around twenty years, matching my own tenure in New York City. For the first few of those years, I lived with a man who hated movies, and so I stuck with the television. (Even as I type the words "hated movies," I can't believe myself. Someone once said to me--"I hate movies"--and I thought,  Here is a guy I should make my life with. ) After the breakup, I fled my apartment, and I saw "Revolutionary Road" on the big screen. In my memory, time is collapsed; the guy said, "I'm out," and I immediately ran into the arms of Kate Winslet. I don't think this is accurate.  But this was the start of a love affair, and the affair often involved the Court Street Regal. For years, I would take myself to that one theater, and I'd watch big movies. Big--and often bad. But sometimes good! "American Hustle," "Fifty Shades," "How to Be Single," the new "Tomb Raider,

 Tipping a hat to Oscar Hammerstein, who is currently "buzzy" because of Gavin Creel. Sondheim said Hammerstein's best song was "What's the Use of Wond'rin," but I think the winner is "Something Wonderful," from "The King and I." This isn't really an empowering or triumphant song; it's about being with an occasionally-disappointing man, and living with ambivalence. He may not always do What you would have him do. But now and then he'll do-- Something wonderful. It's possible that the King's wife is trying to persuade herself of her own argument, even as she presents the argument: He'll always need your love-- And so he'll get your love. A man who needs your love Can be wonderful. It's a sad and painful song, and I can imagine young Sondheim, the future "Dark Prince of Broadway," studying the words. "You're sorry, grateful. Regretful, happy. Why look for answers where none occur?"

  My family has a tradition at Christmas, a "rom com" weekend. My niece chooses one--then her uncles follow suit. This year, my niece picked "Love Actually," which had some surprises. (I'd seen it many years ago.) Keira Knightley was so lovely! The Laura Linney stuff is so sad! I replied with "Walking and Talking," which I've probably blabbed about before -- and I'll just keep blabbing, and blabbing, until I die. Nicole Holofcener made her big debut with this film, and in the ensuing decades, she has continued to be "a name." In fact, the NYTimes just mentioned that she ought to score a screenplay Oscar nomination this year -- for "The Last Duel." Before "Insecure," before "Yellowjackets," Holofcener's "Walking and Talking" pointed a spotlight at a thorny friendship between two women. The women haven't found their footing. One is training to be a therapist, and she pays so little attenti

  We wrapped up "Yellowjackets" Season One. Let's see where we're at. The writers have great fun with Shauna, who seems to grasp her situation, but that's a lie. We're led to agree with Shauna that the Absentee Husband ("I need to do inventory") must be having an affair, and that the strange young boyfriend must have dark secrets and schemes. In fact, it's Shauna who is a villain--more often than not--and I loved discovering her missteps in the final hours.  I also enjoyed Shauna's anger: "I don't have a bond with my daughter. I don't even like my daughter...." And it was a thrill to see Shauna coolly eviscerate her kid at the dinner table: "You think you hold all the cards here? Have you heard of mutually-assured destruction? Let's talk about the fate of your college fund, if Daddy and I get a divorce...." I giggled through Shauna's painfully awkward "reunion brunch" with Jackie's parents. Th

  We wanted to take one child to the doctor, but the doctor had Covid. Most (not all) services were suspended. A nurse was around, but she would see you only for certain cases, maybe emergencies? Maybe if your son had a cleaver sticking out of his head? Eventually, the doctor returned, but my son couldn't see her, because, in the waiting period, my son himself had acquired Covid. My son's school barred him from participation for ten days--because, although the CDC says five days, the CDC isn't the voice-of-authority you might desire, right now. If you had a population of little unvaccinated toddlers running around, would you want to play by the "five-day" rule? I felt less sympathy for my children's teachers when they required me to return "the Shabbat Bag." Before winter break, before Covid Redux, my son had been "Shabbat Boy" for one week. I didn't really understand the assignment, but I think my son was meant to drink grape juice and

 Right after New Year's, SVU returned with a so-so episode, "Silent Night, Hateful Night." It wasn't my favorite because it had a cartoonish villain; I prefer when SVU investigates gray areas. What a treat, then, to see "Burning with Rage Forever"--this past Thursday. It's the sort of thing SVU does really well: an exploration of someone who is neither really good nor really bad. I'm talking about Carlos, whose life is a mess. Carlos allows his young nephew to play unattended; the nephew is then violated by an internet troll. Carlos finds the troll and commits something near murder; several characters observe that Carlos's behavior is fully understandable, and some are visibly relieved when Carlos gets a light sentence from a judge. Here is where my heart begins to race, because we're only through with one act; I love anticipating where the writers might go. It emerges that Carlos, stressed by the fame that comes with being a righteous vigila

 So sue me: I really enjoyed the most recent Carrie Bradshaw Saga. I'm talking about "Sex and the Widow." This is an hour about "comparing and despairing." Couples see other couples, in public, and dramatic, hyperbolic thoughts pop up. Chic Law Professor flirts with her husband at the Union Square Market; these two are surely "healthier" than Miranda and Steve, who can't make a shopping list without fighting. Charlotte is mortified to spot an "audience" during her fight with her insufferable mansplaining husband; later, that audience has its own fight, and Charlotte is the witness. My favorite moment: Miranda designs a sexual encounter with Steve, and she seems to be aiming at self-sabotage. As the encounter goes off the rails, we can read Miranda's thoughts: This was better with Che. I love Che. (And I enjoyed the specific problems with the Steve encounter: the proximity of Brady, the smelly takeout food, the unwashed hands, the dryn

 To me, Don Freeman's "Corduroy' is like another version of "Make Way for Ducklings." Both stories have innocent creatures paving a way through this crazy world. McCloskey's ducklings chat with the plastic figurines on a swan boat, do battle with menacing bicycles, and pay little attention to the irritating vehicles that think they "own" the streets of Boston. Freeman's Corduroy, a stuffed bear without a button, crazily decides that an escalator is a mountain, a furniture showroom is a palace, and a piece of a large roped-off bed is available for anyone's use. (Corduroy rips a button from the mattress and says, "This must be part of my overalls!") Like McCloskey, Don Freeman has a gift for detail: the green overalls against a sea of red, the embrace between bear and girl-owner, the shelf of distressed, unwanted clowns, giraffes, plush rabbits..... "Corduroy" is among the iconic books from the last one hundred years, and I

  "Better Things" returns for Season Five in a few weeks; Marc and I are partway through Season Four. If you're a fan, please continue.... This is a show about a "matriarchal dystopia" (according to one of the characters).  Phil, a British expat, lives near her daughter, Sam, and Sam's own three daughters, in Los Angeles. The clan of five talk and bicker--and the talk is often about sex, or pooping. (Sam resents helping her daughter to arrange a hook-up in a motel; Sam purchases a new maximum-strength toilet; Sam's youngest daughter believes that her period is the result of having been hit by a car.) Certain stories recur. Sam is unhappy with her Hollywood career, which requires her to "re-audition" for once-guaranteed roles, negotiate a tug-of-war between agents, and defer to an airhead from a younger generation.  Sam's mother, Phil, resists aging; she bathes nude in a neighbor's pool, uninvited, and she drives a car even when she know

 The world was waiting for Melanie Lynskey to land a sensational role, and now she has it. Lynksey plays Shauna in "Yellowjackets"; she is an angry, smart person with a child and a mountain of time on her hands. Shauna watches Jeopardy as she prepares supper; when a contestant confuses "Paradise Lost" with "The Great Gatsby," Shauna clucks, in sympathy, and says, "Anne! You're a dumb bitch...." Shauna has tired of the rabbit-invaders in her garden, so, within the first hour, she uses her shovel to behead a rabbit. She later asks her obnoxious daughter to defrost some Stop-and-Shop meat, but the daughter forgets, so Shauna just bakes the rabbit into her stew. ("I sliced it from mouth to anus....") A flashback to Shauna, in her youth, shows an awkward sex encounter in a car: Shauna says, "Say you love me -- Say it once." Clear-eyed, in a monotone, she adds, "You don't have to mean it. Just say it so I can finish.&qu

  One of America's greatest novelists, Anne Tyler, will have a new novel out this season. The novel is "French Braid," and it will address COVID head-on. To get ready, I picked up "Back When We Were Grownups," about a widow in her fifties who becomes convinced she is living the wrong life. The widow--Rebecca--is a quiet, scholarly person who has found herself surrounded by noise. She has inherited an "events planning" business, but really she thinks she should be in a library, writing a dissertation about Robert E. Lee. Rebecca runs a pseudo-mansion called "The Open Arms," and she buzzes through various graduations, birthday parties, and retirement parties, just ensuring that the conversation flows. She is a sort of cheerful bully. When the baker complains that her cake is ruined, Rebecca shoves some strawberries on top of the deformed half and says, "Nonsense!" When a mom calls to cancel the graduation party of her flunking-out dau

  I'm writing down my COVID experience, with the thought that it might be helpful to someone. My spouse and I went to Mexico last week. My parents were planning to look after the kids for four days. The kids would be in NJ; this would just be a short trip. Around halfway through our trip, Marc and I did a rapid test for COVID and discovered that we were both positive. We were told not to leave our room; food would travel to us; we would need to remain in quarantine and just keep testing (one test, per person, per day). This was alarming because we didn't know how long we would show up positive. Additionally, if one of us "switched" to negative, there was the chance that the "positive" spouse would be alone in a (semi-)strange land during a pandemic. The CDC said that you could leave after testing negative, or you could leave after five "self-quarantine" days, with "documentation of recovery," from a doctor. Marc's doctor offered to wr

 I'm thinking of my dog in this new year. I can't see him; my husband and I are in quarantine. (We're fine.) Wise teachers say not to start the new year with a diet; a diet is punitive, and it almost surely means that you'll end up gaining five pounds. Instead, we're all told: Practice self-care. Meditate. Take walks. Perform loving acts for the people around you. It strikes me that "self-care" is Salvy's M.O. It's what he pursues--always. Clearly, this fellow doesn't have a neurotic relationship to food. He walks, and thinks. He snuggles with his toddler. Marc and I can at least chat with Salvy via Facebook. "Happy New Year!" wrote Marc. And, oddly enough, Salvy replied. "Happy New Year!" Short, sweet, to the point. I noticed that Salvy chose not to mention my COVID diagnosis, but I'm electing not to see this as rudeness. I think Salvy is saying: "You're fine. You have Netflix. Let's not be melodramatic.&qu

 I picked up "About a Boy," by Nick Hornby, and it feels like a Jane Austen novel.  There is a wickedness in Hornby's art. The story has a mid-thirties playboy attempting to pose as a single dad--because "dad" status can win dates for you. The guy "adopts" a smart little kid, who also has an agenda. The kid wants the guy to fall in love with his (the kid's) suicidal mom.  Both characters seem entirely real. The book is worth reading just for the greatness of the Planet Hollywood scene: The uncool little boy thinks that celebrities stop by this particular restaurant, in Leicester Square, "basically all the time, when they aren't needed on-set." The little boy eventually agrees to leave Planet Hollywood--but he can't help but notice that the "cool" restaurant that acts as a substitute....actually lacks impressive decor, "like a mounted display of Michael Keaton's mask, from BATMAN" ...... The uncool little bo

  We're around halfway through the new SVU season, and fresh episodes resume this Thursday. To me, the season has been uneven. A definite highlight was "They'd Already Disappeared," about a LISK-esque serial killer who targets prostitutes (suspecting that no one will speak up once the prostitutes are missing). I also liked Olivia Benson's emotional struggles in "The 500th Episode" (when Aidan Quinn emerged and seemed nice, and then seemed not-so-nice). I loved Kat's resignation, and her challenge to Olivia: "Is the NYPD really any different now from pre-BLM days?" On the other hand, the re-packaging of Adnan Syed's story felt a bit trite and by-the-book, and I have no idea what the writers want to do with Barba. I find Barba mystifying. He basically kills a baby, then gets to keep his license because he is such a smart guy. He reappears years later as a Darth Vader figure, willing to defend even the dastardly Dylan McDermott. (And I can