Liars and Saints

About Halloween: *Shopping for your child? Do not invest in the cute, clingy "bat shirt." You'll be spending time outdoors. Go for the loose and thick "doggie" hoodie that can slide itself on top of three or four additional layers of clothing. Nurses should dispense this advice in the NICU; the words should be printed, in gold, on laminated cards. *"A Simple Plan" isn't a conventional horror movie, but it's a product of Sam Raimi, the godfather of horror. Thus it has spooky ravens, ravenous rodents, blood and gore, rotting flesh. Also, it's a splendid vehicle for Bill Paxton and Billy Bob Thornton. This may be my ideal Halloween movie. *You will see a father melting down with his tween daughter. The tween daughter is dressed in a strapless Bride-of-the-Monster gown, and the father is screaming, "I told you, it's freezing outside!" You might wish to judge the father. Instead, state and repeat these words, in your head: "Th

  It's the end of the week, and I'll leave you with a great picture book. In "Emile," a little old captain, Captain Samofar, is walking along the ocean floor. A shark prepares to attack. Watching from afar, Emile the octopus chooses to make a move. He tosses a rock in the shark's mouth, and he saves Captain Samofar. Thus, a friendship begins. Emile (having been "sponsored") adapts to his new life on the land; he amuses humans by twisting his tentacles to resemble an elephant, a sleigh, a car. He drinks from eight "toast-glasses," all at once. He plays Debussy and accompanies himself, and accompanies himself, and accompanies himself, with each of his "arms."  This is essentially "Crictor" and "Rufus" by another name; a stranger in a strange land tries to "get to know the territory." I think that nothing beats these images.

 Taylor Swift has a new album out, and the NYT has implied that it's among the worst albums of her career. It seems like a good time to consider one of Swift's songwriting idols, James Taylor (who plays a role in Swift's "Begin Again"): Whenever I see your smiling face, I have to smile myself-- Because I love you. Yes, I do. And when you give me that pretty little pout, It turns me inside out. There's something about you, baby--  I don't know. This is so well-crafted, it seems "artless." The speaker is floored by one face--so floored, he can't find words. ("There's something about you, baby; I don't know.") I thought I was in love a couple of times before-- With the girl next door-- But that was long before I met you. Now I'm sure that I won't forget you... The speaker's love is so great, it makes former loves seem like delusions. ("I forget their names now; I'm so very tame now....") I think the br

 We're having Board of Ed elections here in Maplewood, and my husband has a grown-up approach; he calls and interviews the candidates, he posts a lawn sign, he daydreams about hosting a "meet-and-greet." All this inspired me to listen, for a bit, to a debate--and I now think I'm making an informed decision. I do think I'm in a Christopher Guest movie, because the "bad" candidate has a sign that says: "Students COME first." I can't begin to imagine why--among words--the one you'd want to italicize is COME. In the town square, Marc and I meet a rival political thinker. "I'd love to give you this flyer about Smith; it explains his sterling credentials...." I shake my head firmly and say, "I'm good, thanks." But Marc says, "Full disclosure: I'll be supporting the other candidate. Would you like to have a chat about that?" I expect hits from "The Music Man" to start playing; red and blue ba

  First, I had a few issues with this movie. I didn't love how Billy Eichner sometimes seemed to believe he was the first gay person putting a gay love story on the screen; earlier, and sharper, writing has come from Adam Goldman and Chris Kelly ("Other People"), among others. I did not see "Pride and Prejudice" transported to Fire Island, but people like that one, too. I do think the commentary on "straight" representations of gay lives is pretty funny. Gay suffering is a moneymaker; Lillian Hellman's "The Children's Hour" is one of many examples of the "let your gay character die" principle, in writing. "Brokeback Mountain" and "Power of the Dog" borrow from Lillian Hellman, in some ways. But to play devil's advocate: suffering is also a major part of storytelling just because suffering is interesting. I'd rather see a fight than a slo-mo depiction of falling in love. And the pain of the closet

 Angela Lansbury won a Tony for "Gypsy"; Ethel Merman did not. Lansbury spoke candidly about the role of Momma Rose. She said she (Lansbury) brought emotional and intellectual understanding to the work; the implication was that Ethel Merman was a bit less of an artist. When I think of Lansbury, I think of Mrs. Lovett in "Sweeney Todd"; the recording makes you believe there really is a person called Lovett, somewhere in history. There isn't any winking at the audience; you'd think Angela Lansbury really does sound the way she sounds. There seems to be no gap between the actress and the role she is playing. Everything Lansbury does in "Sweeney" is iconic, but my favorite of her many great moments is "Wait." Here, she is trying to persuade Sweeney Todd to put aside his obsessive groaning about the "on-hold" status of his murder-efforts--put this aside, for just a bit: Don't you know, silly man? Half the fun is to plan the plan.

 There is a gap between my son's receptive and expressive language -- meaning that he can often comprehend what you're saying, but his ability to respond is (at the moment) limited. (In some corners, it's deemed unwise to tell your child's story; the story belongs to your child, and not to you. I've weighed pros and cons, and I've considered that apraxia is nothing to be ashamed of; writing about it is likely good for everyone. I don't want to be Momma Rose; I don't think that's what I'm doing. Oh, I don't know.) My assignment is to hold a ball in one hand, and to forcibly press my lips together with the other hand. Then the lips pop and I say BALL. Again and again and again. If my son responds in turn, there is to be a ticker-tape parade; candy should fall from the sky. Crowds should cheer; elephants should gather and trumpet. If no response occurs, I'm meant to shift the subject; fatigue is fatigue; "shame on you" is surely no

 One bright spot from my week is "Four Stars," a hit from "Girls5eva." This is a spoof on "the empowerment anthem," in which a female belter admits she isn't perfect. "If you're too school for cool....and you're treated like a fool...." "I know that I'm a handful, baby; I know I never think before I jump...." One thing I admire in "Four Stars" is the specificity: "I'm done with playing it cool; I kinda *liked* high school. There. I said it. I don't regret it. Women are an ocean of secrets!" I also admire the terrible similes. "Like delicious bread, I'm ready to rise!" "I'll do it my way--like Sinatra or Burger King." It's worth applauding "Girls5eva" for making Sara Bareilles branch out, and for allowing the lunacy of Renee Elise Goldsberry to really, really flower. I'm inspired by these weirdos. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3Sy6extUwg

 My admiration for John Mayer's gift is really about "My Stupid Mouth": My stupid mouth Got me in trouble. I said too much again-- To a date over dinner yesterday. I could see she was offended-- She said, Well....anyway.... This is shockingly low-stakes and so honest. Mayer--known for saying dumb things--has perhaps compared his own penis to David Duke. He is kicking himself. Well....anyway.... We bit our lips-- Looked out the window. Rolling tiny balls of napkin paper.... I played a quick game of chess with the salt- and pepper-shaker. The song gets funnier: There is a gap between the speaker's self-pity and his awkward dinnertime performance. The lips, the napkins, the salt-shaker: God is in the details. One more thing.... Why is it -my- fault?  Maybe I try too hard.... But it's all because of this desire. I just want to be liked. I just want to be funny.... Looks like the joke's on me! A punchline: The speaker, having vowed never to comment again, suddenly

  My town is in a frenzy because a maybe-rather-limited teacher forcibly half-removed a student's hijab. She immediately apologized and said she had thought the hijab was a hoodie. A part of the apology was missing, I think. A shrewder teacher might have said: "If I'm honest, there was likely some unconscious aggression in what I did. On a better day, I could have just really committed to using my words..." But perhaps honesty isn't really an option in this country; many Maplewood lefties are furious at the teacher. I think some of this fury comes from self-hatred; I think, on one level, many lefties can imagine themselves making the same mistake the teacher made. Acknowledging little bits of *pervasive* Islamophobia is difficult; it's easier to go after one teacher. I feel for everyone in this story. All this reminds me of a moment from my days in front of the classroom. I was working as a substitute teacher, and I spotted a certain mom I'd had friendly c

 Faulkner had Yoknapatawpha County; Elizabeth Strout returns again and again to certain fictional parts of Maine. My favorite village is the world of Ezra Jack Keats's imagination. This world seems to be Brooklyn, or something like Brooklyn. You get a hill for sledding, a shadowy area for big kids, a large apartment complex, an alley, a mailbox. That's all you need. The main figure in Keats's world is Peter, a little boy who (famously) stores a snowball in his pocket; storing the snowball will mean "fun on another day." Peter has certain struggles: evading the big mean boys, writing and mailing a letter, learning to whistle, coping with his sister Suzy. Peter also has a compelling sidekick, Archie, whose main drama involves bonding with, then managing, an especially spirited cat. Additionally, there is the mysterious Amy, a friend of Peter's; Peter invites Amy to a party, and this taboo-busting gesture leads to a schoolyard scandal. ("Peter, what are you

  We might assume that "I Don't Wanna Fight" is an anatomy of the Ike/Tina years, but actually the song wasn't written for Tina. It was written for Sade. Tina just inherited the draft. There's a pale moon in the sky-- The kind you make your wishes on. Like the light in your eyes-- The one I built my dreams upon. It's not there any longer-- Something happened somewhere.... And we both know why.... The skilled writers start with one of the five senses; they start with sight. You spot a pale moon in the sky, and your thoughts drift to a transition--from day to night. The speaker is leaving one phase of life and entering something new. I hear a whisper in the air-- It simply doesn't bother me. Can't you see that I don't care? Or are you looking right through me? It seems to me that lately-- You look at me the wrong way, and I start to cry. Could it be that maybe-- This crazy situation is the reason why? A shift from sight to sound; the speaker hears so

  One recurring struggle in this house has involved the Dr. Brown bottle. People in America sometimes snap and murder their children--and there are all sorts of reasons--but certainly the Dr. Brown bottle ranks among the contributors. I hate, hate, hate the idiots who designed this bottle--who felt that the only way to feed an infant was via a five-part contraption--a contraption requiring its own special cleaning apparatus. I hate that the nipples continuously rip, so that there is a constant mystery: Is my child rejecting milk because he is ill? Because he is teething? Because the nipple I bought  literally yesterday  no longer works? I imagine that the people at Dr. Brown are men, and they have found personal Betty Drapers to raise their own children. So they themselves are shielded from the consequences of their idiocy. (Another group of men is the group that controls carseats in 2022. Just typing the word "carseat" makes me shudder with rage and roll my eyes in boredom.

  One "student" of Tom Petty is John Mayer; once again, we see quietly witty verses and a simple chorus: Take all of your wasted honor-- Every little past frustration-- Take all of your-so called problems. Better put 'em in quotations. Say what you need to say. Mayer is arguing with himself; he is lightly mocking his own self-seriousness. This is just appealing. Walking like a one-man army-- Fighting with the shadows in your head. Living out the same old moment-- Knowing you'd be better off instead, if you could only-- Say what you need to say. Mayer scolds himself for being emotionally tight-assed, "fighting with the shadows in your head." (Notably, Mayer mocks himself for being the opposite thing--a verbally flatulent Hannah Horvath--in the song "My Stupid Mouth." "I'm never speaking up again....it only hurts me....") Even as the hands are shaking-- And your faith is broken-- Even as the eyes are closing-- Do it with a heart wide op

 To me, one of the most gripping episodes of "Better Call Saul" is "Bagman"; as others have noticed, the writing feels like Shakespeare. Lalo Salamanca--a kind of Iago, without a conscience--finds himself in need of bail money. Specifically, he needs seven million dollars. He knows he can get this money from a cartel he is linked with, but he can't leave his cell to travel to the desert of New Mexico. So he sends his lawyer; he knows his lawyer craves cash and power; also, he doesn't really care if the lawyer is murdered. Lalo enjoys drama; a death would be intriguing, at least. Worse things could be imagined. To mix "play metaphors," our Macbeth, our lawyer, Saul Goodman, tells his wife he is going to fulfill Lalo's command. ("To think! I could be a FRIEND OF THE CARTEL!") Mrs. Goodman has concerns--but there's no stopping Saul. Saul picks up the cash--two massive duffle bags--and he begins his long, long trek back toward Albuque

  I can't speak about everyone's surrogacy experience, but my own has been endlessly surprising. When Leah began this process with Marc and with me, her two kids sent us Crayola images. One is a tiger ("tie-ger"), and another is a tropical bird, maybe a parrot. Finally, there is an image of Leah, with a tiny speck inside her belly; the speck has a line with an attached caption ("We love you!") I have therefore appointed myself as an art teacher to the two kids (I'm sure they're not crazy about this), and I like to ask them about their sketchings. When they visited me in New Jersey, they went on an intensive search for pencil sharpeners, then one child produced a portrait of my dog, Salvy. The kids also produced impressions of my babies; one of the two would mimic Susie's hesitant walk and her inevitable tumbling. We all trade movie recommendations. The kids wanted me to see  Uncharted  -- and, just to be clear, this is Antonio Banderas, Mark Wahl

 Audra McDonald's time is precious, and I'm sad she is spending so much of it on the increasingly smug show "The Good Fight." I've lost some interest in the show because the characters don't really grab me; the writers seem to want to be wry about current events, and then they want to congratulate themselves for their wryness. One particular issue I have with "The Good Fight" is that it's giving a sizable part of its last season to two completely new characters -- and neither character is totally compelling. The Kings made this same error with "The Good Wife," and it's surprising they are repeating history. By contrast, I'm impressed with "Better Call Saul," which has one stable of characters; the relationships get weirder and more tortured, and the last season is (finally) a powder keg. All that said, I liked Audra's story in Thursday's "Good Fight." Audra's Liz Reddick ("Reddick" sound

 Tom Petty became a solo act in the 1980s, and his ensuing hit, "Free Fallin," seems to be part of the National Anthem; it just seems to be a thing that has always existed. She's a good girl -- loves her mama. Loves Jesus and America, too.  She's a good girl -- who's crazy about Elvis. Loves horses -- and her boyfriend, too. Who is the speaker? Who is the young woman? "She's a good girl" -- This seems to be a sincere statement, but is it also a way of sneering (just a little bit)? And it's a long day livin' in Reseda. There's a freeway runnin' through the yard. And I'm a bad boy, 'cause I don't even miss her. I'm a bad boy, for breakin' her heart. The speaker -- seduced by "the freeway" -- has severed ties with his Jesus-loving girlfriend. He is sad to admit that he is a "bad boy" -- but maybe he is excited, too.  Now all the vampires walkin' through the Valley Move west down Ventura Bouleva

 There are two people in my mommy group: my friend Vanya and, also, yours truly. We have some favorite topics: (1) Disliking other mommies. Vanya reports that her mother-in-law sits on a gilded chaise longue and allows the little one to throw expensive objects against the wall. It's only when the little one is frothing at the mouth, dancing satanic dances, that the MIL erupts in a terrifying rage. This happens again and again. If Vanya tries to establish boundaries, the MIL says: "You're really being oppressive...." (2) Making fun of Maplewood. Vanya knows someone who wanted to stage important scenes from the Old Testament -- as a kind of educational opportunity. She wanted to have a Moses doll swimming in a swimming pool (i.e., baby Moses floating down the river). She had to run out the door, so she asked her husband to do the finishing touches. But her husband grabbed the wrong inflatable pool; he grabbed the one designed to resemble a watermelon. So, finally, he

  We all know there is something slightly alien about Nicole Kidman; what exactly did she discover within Scientology? Is it true that she doesn't have access to a few of her kids? Can it be that--as she says--she has never had work done to her face? ("To be honest, I'm completely natural.") When she found greatness in a script about a woman who considers fucking the ghost of her dead spouse (resurrected as a ten-year-old boy) -- what was happening in her head? When she went on to say that "Birth" was a major highlight within her filmography -- again, what was the rationale? We tend not to dwell on the mysteries of Nicole Kidman, because she can be so mesmerizing on-screen, but Chloe Fineman is here to wake us up. Chloe Fineman has "turned subtext into text." Nicole Kidman is a stunning robot-Martian, and Fineman is her greatest interpreter. Happy weekend. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a22c8NPNOPI

  "The Music Man" is a bit like "Better Call Saul"; it's about a charismatic con man and a series of crimes. Harold Hill wants success -- but he has a touch of "Slippin Jimmy" in his soul. He offers to teach children music, but he can't read music; he uses a tactic called "the think method." (If you think about the Canon in D, you'll just somehow master it.) This isn't a really satisfying way to live -- and Harold partly understands his situation -- but old habits die hard. Meanwhile, Harold's antagonist -- his Inspector Javert -- is a tough-minded librarian who is in mourning. She knows who Harold is, but when Harold uses some of his sparkle to brighten the lives of little children in the Town Hall, the antagonist has a hard time imagining how she should proceed. The Times already described what is puzzling about the current Broadway revival. It seems like Hugh Jackman is afraid to play a con man; he is just sort of quiet and

  My spiritual guide, my child's physical therapist -- she has left the building. I know because I just paid for the final session; when your child turns three, he is moved out of Early Intervention. Any intervention down the road will no longer count as "early." I often think of my spiritual guide (and people say your therapist is most effective for you *after* your therapist has died). When I change a diaper on my kid, I insist that he stand up; I will no longer attempt to pin him to a table and hold his limbs so he doesn't throw himself to his death. My guide said, "As soon as he stands, you're done with the changing table. No more." Without any apparent segue, my guide said, "Pay attention to your marriage. Your children will leave. If your only topic of adult chit-chat is  Joshie's new monkey drawing .....then you're in trouble." My guide said, "Sensory issues? Who doesn't have sensory issues? Are you telling me YOU like t

  Ezra Jack Keats tells memorable stories without preaching, and he invents characters who seem to be people you actually know. "Pet Show" concerns Archie, who would like a ribbon in a local contest. His cat has a mind of its own; the cat has (temporarily) disappeared. This is a moderately high-stakes issue; it's painful to consider life without a ribbon. But the clock is ticking. Necessity is the mother of invention: When it's clear the cat won't turn up on time, Archie thrusts an empty jar at the judges and says, "This is my invisible germ, Al."  I just like the chaos of the setting (which seems to be Brooklyn?) -- and I like Archie's scrappiness. In a final twist, Archie has an opportunity to be greedy, but he instead chooses to be kind. Nothing earth-moving, and Ezra Jack Keats isn't shaking his fists from a pulpit -- but you do remember the final act of kindness. This is a quiet but brilliant book. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9sQIAkBlq4

 One of my favorite writers, Donna Leon, just turned eighty. A college writing teacher, Amy Bloom, introduced me to Leon; back in 2002, I think Leon was already publishing one novel per year, and the trend has continued all the way to the present. Leon seems refreshingly unpretentious; she has said she will continue to write mysteries until the process is "no longer fun." Then she'll stop. Among Leon's starry admirers was (the late) Ursula LeGuin, who observed that Leon's writing "never becomes perfunctory." It's a great comfort to me every March to visit Guido Brunetti, Leon's fictional detective, and to "see" Venice, which is both an unbelievably beautiful place and a corrupt swamp, an overrun zoo, a weight sinking into the sea. I'm never unhappy to meet with Brunetti's foolish boss, his fiery wife, his cunning secretary. And I especially like Brunetti's wryness and intelligence; this guy understands that the world is brok

  I have another thought about turning forty. You notice little trends in "the culture." Let's say you're watching "The Making of Whitney Huston's CINDERELLA," on NBC. It's revealed that Brandy didn't *want* to play Cinderella; she thought that the role belonged to Whitney herself. And Whitney said, "Sweetheart, I am THIRTY THREE YEARS OLD. I'm no Cinderella." This is so strange, because you watched Whitney in your childhood, and she seemed basically to be on the verge of old age--but you watch now and say, "Thirty three! If she'd taken care of herself, she could have had six or seven extra decades!" You might listen to Adele's disturbing album, "25," released when Adele was (allegedly) 25. On this album, Adele complains that she is "running out of time." What the fuck is she talking about? Also, she recalls far-off days "when we were young." WTF? Also, let's say you have a fondnes

 As we get ready for the big Taylor Swift month, I've been listening to "Reputation," which seems better, as the years pass. "Reputation" is weakened by Ms. Swift's silly Kanye West obsession, which just isn't as interesting as she thinks it is. But sometimes Swift puts Kanye aside, and she writes incisively about her love life, which is still sort of fascinating in the "Reputation" days. (Now, today, I can't find Joe Alwyn fascinating.) I think the highlight of "Reputation" is "Getaway Car," which is just astonishing. Swift was in a bad relationship with Calvin Harris, and she left him to be with international film star Tom Hiddleston, but she understood that she was using Hiddleston just as a distraction (though Hiddleston seemed unaware). The insights this moment yields are fun: "Nothing good starts in a getaway car." I'm especially fond of Swift as a noir antiheroine, sending a brisk note to Hiddleston: