Liars and Saints

My main love is for characters who are not genteel, not dull. I like characters who fail to "fit in." And so my heart belongs to Sam Gross, a cartoonist who died recently. Gross seemed to enjoy little weirdos. A frog donates his frog legs to "the kitchen," but then he refuses to take the back exit; he wheels his amputee cart through the dining room, and he looks with horror at all the diners. A deranged penguin hovers like an angel above his earthbound friends; he says, "It's the flippers. You just haven't been flapping them hard enough." A snail falls hard for a tape dispenser and says, simply, "I don't care. I love her." Gross invented dream worlds. He had a sense of authority, and he didn't waste words. As always, God is in the details: Note the "bug eyes" on the frog (below).

 "Succession" pointed the way toward its own conclusion; it has been pointing for a few seasons. The show seemed to suggest that Roman was headed toward some kind of death; we saw him throwing himself in front of an angry crowd, and we saw him amping up his nihilistic language ("Dad, you're a monster," "nothing matters," "forcing the election of a fascist is just an act of producing good TV"). Roman didn't literally die, but his final scripted moments--"we're bullshit, we're clowns"--seemed like a kind of *spiritual* self-annihilation. The relentless backstabbing between Shiv and Kendall ("you're dirt," "you're unwell") seemed to be building toward a final betrayal. The actual betrayal was a delight; it led to one of the best lines this season ("I love you, but I can't stomach you"). Also, this scene had the most startling moment in a long while, I think; it's the moment when

 Adele once said "the artist of my life is Beyonce." Well, for me the answer is Nicole Holofcener. I think Holofcener is on par with Mike White, and I think she is weirdly undervalued, year after year. Holofcener made five--actually five--stunning movies with Catherine Keener. These two seem to have parted ways (I can't unearth an explanation), but Holofcener continues to do her spiky, bewitching thing--with Edie Falco ("Steady Habits") and with Mellisa McCarthy ("Forgive Me"). There isn't a single dud in this list of titles. One theme that fascinates Holofcener is gift-giving. In "Walking and Talking," a couple has a fight about a mole; the fight is really about Anne Heche's controlling behavior. Heche's fiancee pretends to rise above the tension--but he later packs his biopsied mole into a tiny ornamental box, and presents the mole as a "pre-wedding surprise." This awkward moment ("Look, I'm being FUNNY!"

  As Salvy nears his seventh birthday, he is shedding weight beautifully. And he had a chance to make a new friend, “Gusto,” but I (the owner) fucked things up. Gusto’s parents were throwing a dog-centric party, and they had actually invented an e-vite with striking graphic elements, and it just seemed to be too, too much. I said “no,” and I’m not sure that Salvy is ready to forgive me. In his middle age, Salvy loves solitude and the outdoors. This is so different from the early years, when he constantly wanted a cuddle. I try to suggest that I’m OK with the change—no one has to be “one thing,” all the time, year after year—but I’m torn. I’m getting practice in wearing a brave face. My husband and I are in New York this weekend, and we have stumbled upon Manhattan’s first exclusive Dental and Orthodontic Spa for Canines. Guess what? It’s in Tribeca. Just seeing the facade was great fun; we imagined Taylor Swift calling and requesting a teeth-bleaching session for her French bulldog. (S

  I’m seeing “Sweeney Todd” tonight, and the thing that has me humming is just language: Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop… Does a business, but I’ve noticed something weird: Lately all the neighbors’ cats have disappeared…. Wouldn’t do in *my* shop. Just the thought of it’s enough to make you sick. And I’m telling you, them pussy cats is quick…. People in Sondheim’s world are batty and shrewd, just like real people. Here is a “filibuster” answer, when someone inquires about human meat pies: What’s my secret? Frankly, dear, forgive my candor…. Family secret…. All to do with herbs! Things like….being careful with your coriander…. That’s what makes the gravy grander…. Even a streetwalker’s sales pitch is lyrical and precise and so strange: How’s about a little mischief? A little jig-jig? A little bounce around the bush? Wouldn’t you like to push me crumpet? It looks to me, dear, like you’ve got plenty there to push…. One reason people say this work is “Shakespearean” is that each major characte

 It's possible to forget that Tina Turner was a writer. But she was; she wrote books and lyrics. The first time she recorded a self-penned song, she memorialized her hometown: A church house, gin house.... A school house, outhouse... On Highway Number Nineteen.... The people keep the city clean. They call it Nutbush... Oh, Nutbush.... Nutbush city limits.... Turner needs very few brush strokes to paint a picture: Life is church, gin, school, toilet. Rinse and repeat. "City" is a grandiose term; this town is a few shacks and some fields. And "limits" seems to be both a noun and a verb: Nutbush severely "limits" the people who try to build a life in the church house, the school house. Twenty five was the speed limit. Motorcycle not allowed in it. You go to the store on Fridays.... You go to church on Sundays... They call it Nutbush... Having decided to play with the word "limit," Turner comments on your speed, and on the type of vehicle you mig

  After an emphatic non-literary period, my son has returned to books. This is the greatest thing. I don't really know what Josh is absorbing, but I know he is happy to sit on my lap and half-listen to the stories of Rosemary Wells. I love these stories, so the pleasure is unfeigned, and this is one of the easiest half-hour segments in any particular day (for now). Rosemary Wells is.a role model for Judy Blume--and how could you ask for a fancier pedigree? Wells pays close attention to how people actually behave, and you can see this work in the subtlety of her stories. For example, two little bullies want to tease a small kid for wearing water wings to a pool party. The bullies don't understand that they're bullies--and they persuade themselves that squeezing the little boy tightly, brutally, is just a way of "giving a hug." In another story, a rabbit buys oozing wax fangs "for Grandma," but then he shoves the fangs in his own mouth and makes them ooze,

 We wrapped this season with an enjoyable and trashy four-part melodrama. A young sociopath builds an online network called "Shadowerk," where you can recruit a kind of Taskrabbit guy to murder your enemy. (It's an interesting plot to choose, because Jeffrey Toobin has recently written about how the internet has made events like January 6 "easier to plan." Toobin asks, if Timothy McVeigh had had internet access, what might have happened beyond Oklahoma City? ....McVeigh is named in the final "SVU" episodes of this season.) Olivia's victory over the sociopath is inevitable, but the process involves a fun, surprising interlude where Benson's team watches spy-cam footage of a dumpy little office in Ohio. The Ohio office workers complain about low toner, bad coffee, a requirement to stay after hours. These discussions recall some of the little dramas within Olivia's own office: This has been a year of tense conversations about SVU dress code, s

 I like to think about the mechanics of plot; I'm going to suggest something here. One of my favorite stories is "Floating Bridge," by Alice Munro. In this story, a woman believes she is dying of cancer. In a way, she welcomes the news; she is frozen within her life, and she is tied to a guy with a roving eye, a guy who tends to belittle her. Halfway through the story, she is upset to learn that her cancer is actually in remission--and she will have to live. It's in a phase of deep bitterness that she meets a man on the road; the man eventually kisses her. She is startled by her own moment of adultery; she finds herself looking at life in a new way, with "tender hilarity." She laughs at the ridiculousness of her own problems; we last see her bobbing awkwardly on a floating bridge. What I like in the story is that we're led to think we'll get a big answer: Will the heroine stay with or leave her spouse? But that's not actually crucial. What is cru

  My niece, my husband, and I are following Taylor. I felt that Taylor's private life had hit rocky terrain back when she released "Lavender Haze": Staring at the ceiling with you... Oh, you don't ever say too much.... This was ostensibly a love song--but it also seemed to be a complaint that Joe Alwyn had become boring? It's not difficult to imagine Joe neglecting to "say much." My niece wants Taylor back with Harry Styles; by contrast, I like the Dylan O'Brien rumor. After all, Dylan did sci-fi, in "The Maze Runner." And Taylor had her sci-fi moment, in "The Giver." "Could it ever be Jake?" asks my husband. "Or was he too mean? With his indie records?" These questions don't really require an answer. The weeks pass; rumors of an impending memoir begin to circulate. My fellow Tay stans and I trade bubbly statements of approval...Would that the rumors were true!!!! "On another note," says my husban

  One thing I like about Brooke Shields is that she pounds the pavement for work. It's not clear to me that she has substantial acting talent; she has been nominated for many Razzie ("Worst Actress") Awards, and in fact she once had a nomination for "Worst Actress of the Century." But she keeps going--in "SVU," in "Grease," "Wonderful Town," "Chicago," in "Lipstick Jungle." She likes to work. (Shields herself has charming candor when she discusses her career. She says that Malle's "Pretty Baby" is "the one and only good movie I've ever been in.") The new Shields documentary makes a surprising argument. The script suggests that the idea of "Lolita" (young Shields, Britney Spears, Natalie Portman) wasn't all that "popular" before the 1970s. In the 50s and 60s, sex symbols were adults; they were in the tradition of Rita Hayworth and Marilyn Monroe. In the 70s, Glor

  "Impossible People," by Julia Wertz . The writer Kate DiCamillo said, "It doesn't matter how fancy your sentences are. Good writing happens after you study and listen to people. Good writing is a product of listening, and telling the truth." Julia Wertz confesses to us that she spent her twenties in a drunken haze, in an illegal basement apartment in Greenpoint. She couldn't fall asleep before downing two or three bottles of wine. On Christmas, she found the one non-Christian liquor store in her neighborhood, and she congratulated herself on having taken a healthful walk to arrive at the store. Once, she stripped naked in the street and passed out; somehow, hours later, she found herself awake in her own apartment, next to a neatly folded stack of her discarded clothing. Wertz pushes back against AA, even as she appreciates the ritual. "I couldn't tolerate the God stuff, so I just thought of God as a Group of Drunks." "AA says you're

  Through tutoring, I get a little taste of the narcissism of the teen years; I can see what my 2035 and 2036 might feel like. My student sends me screenshots of math problems, and I solve them, and there is no "acknowledgment of receipt," no note of thanks, no "got it." I don't mean to whine; I really like my student, and I even like the mild craziness of these email discussions. And, on the flipside, my student is incredibly patient with me. I consistently screw up my formulas; I label a secant as a tangent; I conflate opposite angles with adjacent angles. Sometimes, my clamminess seems (to me) like adequate grounds for termination, but my student is really gracious as she quietly corrects my mistakes. I think we both breathe a sigh of relief when we can put math away and turn to "A Raisin in the Sun." Walter is denigrating his own neighborhood; this is just a sign of insecurity, and his rival knows it, and his rival indirectly taunts him about his w

 I can't watch more than twenty consecutive minutes of TV; I fall asleep. So Marc and I aren't done with the Michael J. Fox documentary. But the reason I'm watching--despite the fact that I'm mostly uninterested in the Fox filmography--is the title. "Still," as an adjective: It's something that Fox cannot be. His condition means that he is always moving; there is a twitch in his finger, or in his face. "Still," as an adverb: Despite his condition, Fox is *still* working. (In fact, recent jobs, including this documentary, and including Fox's villainous turn in "The Good Wife," seem so much more captivating than any Robert Zemeckis project.) Many documentaries feel staged, because they are staged. But "Still" manages to capture moments that feel "real." There is a scene where Tracy Pollan is trying to help her spouse keep up with text messages. Fox says, "Tell my cousin,  The beach awaits! " And Pollan sa

  With its new showrunner, SVU has made some odd choices. Benson has been sometimes uncharacteristically mean; when she shouted at Churlish for having planned an undercover operation, she seemed unaware that anyone smart, in Churlish's position, would have handled the bartender the way Churlish did.  Benson also seemed weirdly unempathetic when dealing with Velasco; yes, it makes sense to put a killer behind bars, but a sentient human being might say to Velaso, "Hey, I understand where you were coming from." There was a slightly sadistic edge in Benson's exchanges with Velasco; this doesn't feel like Benson. (I did love one suggestion in "Bend the Law." Velasco helped a killer to go uncorrected; the killer then killed again. By saying to Betty Buckley's character, "I'll sort of help you in your own quest to evade legal scrutiny," Benson is acting just the way Velasco has acted.) I have to give credit to the showrunner, David Graziano, f

 My good fortune is to have a neighbor who speaks my language; he is as odd as I am, and any coffee-table chat is better than a big-budget movie. "Last week," he says, "I almost became addicted to oxycontin. I took one pill; it wasn't prescribed; I found it in a dusty cabinet. And the next day, I thought,  I'm feeling fine but probably I should take one more ...." As my neighbor speaks, I sometimes have the suspicion that he *wants* to be represented, in writing, in my blog. "I turn 50 this summer," he murmurs. "My spouse and I were thinking about Paris, but we've decided to fly to Pig Island. You have to take a plane to a plane to a boat. The island is infested with pigs, and they swim up to you so you can toss bread crumbs...." I say, "I recall that you really enjoyed the Netflix series on Jeffrey Dahmer. Just purchase a few fat true-crime paperbacks, load up on bread for the pigs....and you've planned a beach trip for the

  Kelly Fremon Craig made a beloved debut, "The Edge of Seventeen," then she waited almost ten years to make a follow-up. That's because she needed to find a story that seemed urgent; she wasn't going to write sentences just for the sake of writing sentences. "Are You There, God," is partly the story of a little girl, Margaret, but it's equally the story of Margaret's mother, Barbara. A New Yorker and artist, Barbara suddenly finds she has shed both of these identities in a move to New Jersey. Barbara masks her discomfort -- but it's evident in her failure to buy furniture, her strained interactions with the PTA, and her awkward jokes about lawn care. As she tries to find her footing, she must also manage her daughter (without *seeming* to manage her daughter). The movie takes time to notice exactly what happens between a parent and a busdriver, when a parent is sending her child on a first solo trip into Manhattan. Meanwhile, Margaret watches th

  In one set of Henkes picture books, it's assumed that animals and toys have rich inner lives, though they can't speak to humans.  A fine example is "A Good Day," the book that led the Times Book Review to crown Henkes as "a genius." In this one, various woodland animals are bereft. A bird loses her tail feather; a dog becomes tangled in a leash; a squirrel drops his nut. These are lively characters, and we feel for them in their moments of crisis. Tension builds; a rupture occurs. The ending is a complete, satisfying reversal of the start -- just like the end of Stephen Sondheim's "Gypsy." It looks so very, very easy. I like Henkes best when he has a "busy" plot -- as in "A Good Day," "Sun, Flower, Lion," "Waiting." Also, it's notable that he seems to work with fewer and fewer words as his career progresses; he is pushing himself to tell a story in the lightest, most streamlined way. He isn't st

  At two years of age, my daughter sings Johnny Mercer and Cole Porter; I guess I'm bragging, but it seems that's not the worst thing in the world. If you screen Johnny Mercer clips for a child, you find yourself acting as narrator *and* censor; you don't want to say, "Judy Garland just *looks* like she wants to kill herself. Audra McDonald actually *did try* to kill herself...." I don't want to generalize, but I have a theory about genetics. I believe I am more patient with my son than with my daughter. I believe this is because the things that agitate my son are a set of items sort of foreign to me; I can be patient and curious, during a tantrum, because I don't actually see myself in Joshua's behavior. But Susie is wired exactly the way I am -- and if she is at her worst, I am reminded of aspects of myself that I find difficult. I believe the converse is true for my spouse. Another weird thing about genetics: There is sometimes a wordless understand

 "Somebody Somewhere" is three for three this season; this past Sunday was about fear. Sam begins voice lessons, and she makes seemingly casual references to her "heavy voice" and "all the work I need to do." It turns out that, as a teen, Sam had heard these slightly nasty remarks from her teacher -- and she took them to be the gospel truth. In fact, the teacher might have been having a bad day -- or the teacher might have been simply wrong. But Sam had wanted a reason to shoot herself in the foot -- and she seized on the deadly thing that the teacher had offered to her. In a parallel story, Joel worries that he can't attend a friend's wedding because he no longer gets along with God. And his friend has the correct response: "I need you there; it's about you and me. We'll leave the God stuff for later." These neurotic, shy people speak my language. Also, I'm so interested in Sam's mom -- who cannot remain in the nursing ho

  Timothy McVeigh grew up not far from my own hometown, in the “white flight” suburb of Pendleton, in western New York. (In a recent election, approximately 67 percent of Pendleton residents voted for Donald Trump.) McVeigh struggled with the mechanics of the English language, but he was a forceful writer. And he loved guns. He was never anything like a survivalist; he was an extremely conservative Republican. But his occasional references to survivalist thought have clouded his own (very cloudy!) image — for many Americans. McVeigh loathed Bill Clinton, and his distaste for the federal government gained steam after the disaster in Waco. (In fact, McVeigh planned his bombing to coincide with the anniversary of the Waco fire.) Also, McVeigh had decided on a certain narrative of American history:  The Second Amendment means that I, personally, have a right to stockpile assault rifles, and if the President attempts to tamper with that right, then I’m obligated to respond with violence. Je

 Most Wednesdays, I travel to Newark for an 11 AM screening at the Cityplex. The charge is $6.50 and, inevitably, no other fan is in the building. The ticket-takers seem puzzled and even distressed by my appearance. Once, the vendor had to cancel a prayer group to make way for me. The assumption was that no one would be paying to see Julia Roberts, in "Ticket to Paradise," so the "Paradise" screening room had become a setting for Bible study. I sat, in awkward silence, as the disciples of Christ exited the theater. I tend to travel to Newark right after therapy -- so I find that I'm "raw" and ready to weep. I cried not just for Julia Roberts, but also for Gerard Butler, in "Plane." It seemed that -- stranded on an island of machete-wielding killers, in Indonesia -- Butler was having a hard, hard day. This building is not for me. I know it because, at the start of any showing, Shaquille O'Neal appears on the screen, and he says, "Welc

 I think you can often tell in the first paragraph whether a book has star power, and the opening of "Officer Buckle" is among the all-time greats. Officer Buckle knew more safety tips than anyone else in Napville. Each time he thought of a new one, he thumbtacked it to his bulletin board. SAFETY TIP #77: NEVER stand on a SWIVEL CHAIR. Each sentence is more ridiculous than the last, and there is a buildup to the punchline: the image of Buckle tumbling from his own swivel chair. Buckle travels to schools, but the kids don't listen to him. It's only when he acquires a dog--Gloria--that he attains a real audience. Kids suddenly seem to tune in. Buckle assumes this is because of his own charisma--but, really, Gloria is gently poking fun at the lecture .... poking fun "from the shadows." Tension gathers around the edges of the story; an eruption occurs. The ending is surprising and inevitable. There is a "message," but it's handled with a light touc

 Lisa Kron wrote a beloved play, "Well," and she adapted "Fun Home," and now she is writing for Bridget Everett. "Number Two" refers to Everett's episode 2.2., but it also refers to "doing number two," or pooping. Everett spent her childhood writing silly songs about her own body parts, and you can see that spirit in her current TV show. People have explosive diarrhea while chatting on iPhones. ("This is a new level of intimacy!") A trip to the local sex shop introduces viewers to a new product: the "Clone-a-Pussy." Running parallel to the raunchiness is this strange current of sadness. I especially like Tricia, who finds herself in limbo after her divorce. This should be a "new chapter," but Tricia spends her evenings sending nasty DMs to her former friend through a fake Facebook account. Also, Tricia can't escape the people who conflate her with her former friend -- even though, in her new job, she wears a

 The Tony Award nominations are a big deal in this house. Our recurring questions are: *Where is Phillipa Soo? *Where is Laura Linney? *Gavin Creel? Alex Joseph Grayson, for "Parade"? It's a truism that *roles* win awards; actors don't actually win awards. If you're in the shoes of a flashy, dynamic, volatile character, then you have a shot at the prize, even if you yourself aren't especially insightful. If that's the case, we should give a loud cheer for Julia Lester ("Into the Woods") and Ruthie Ann Miles ("Sweeney Todd"). These are roles (Little Red, Beggar Woman) that pop up periodically on Broadway, and before this year, they had *never* attracted "Tony" attention. To me, the part of Kimberly Levaco is tailor-made for a Tony. Kimberly is dying, heroic, flawed, and capable of enormous growth, within a two-hour journey. It doesn't seem difficult to score awards with that kind of material--so it's especially delightf

  What a total thrill Chita Rivera's memoir is. Ms. Rivera has a spotlight right now because she is the most nominated performer in Tony history; as of yesterday, she shares the distinction with Audra McDonald (as well as Julie Harris). Here are the Chita stories that leap out at me: *Before "Spider-Woman," Chita wanted to deny herself. She thought the lead role should go to Donna Murphy. Fortunately, Murphy couldn't dance--and someone (actually a NYTimes critic) understood that the role really belonged to Chita Rivera. *Chita developed her "physical vocabulary" for Aurora by studying Brent Carver. Carver would practice certain gestures when he day-dreamed about Aurora. These gestures also became *Chita's* gestures. *In the wardrobe department, Chita told a colleague that Anita, in "West Side Story," should wear just one earring. Why? "Because she's a pirate, don't you think?" *Chita especially admired Bea Arthur, who understo

 It's odd to connect "Parade" with "Into the Woods," but both are thorny depictions of marriage. (Guess who does it better? Sondheim does it better.) "Into the Woods" has a struggling Baker and his smart wife; the two fight over goals and decisions, but the unexpected turmoil of a major quest causes them to rediscover their love for each other ("It Takes Two"). This moment of celebration is especially powerful because you know--very soon--one of the spouses will die. "Parade" is essentially the same story, although the writers forget to show us even a minute of warmth between the spouses in the First Act. When the husband eventually sings, to his wife, "I will never understand what I did to deserve you," he is really speaking for the audience, and for the writers themselves. No one can understand Lucille's devotion to Leo, because the story--as presented by Uhry/Brown--doesn't fully make sense. That said, it's

  I have tried to become a shusher. This is because of a novel called "Florence Gordon," about a woman who stands up for herself. In that novel, Florence observes a man cutting in a CVS line. She approaches him calmly and says, "You've upset all these people behind you. You don't take what is not yours, you don't touch anyone without permission, and you don't cut in line. It's called civilization." The key to shushing is to be deeply kind. You say, "I'm sorry, I'm just having trouble hearing the show...." Of course, you have nothing to be sorry about--but that's just a little slice of political fiction. It's a social lubricant. My greatest shushing moment occurred in "Kimberly Akimbo." I politely informed the man next to me that his phone really couldn't and shouldn't make any guest appearances in Act Two. Fortunately, Act Two is completely thrilling--so, even if my request had little staying power, the