Liars and Saints

 Chita Rivera's wonderful memoir indicates that she, Chita, had brains. She knew how to bite her tongue. For example, she describes Liza Minelli's insufferable behavior during the run of "The Rink." Many storytellers (e.g. Patti LuPone) would choose to assault Liza with grievances and bitter memories. But Chita (and Chita's ghostwriter) would rather opt for compassion. It's an impressive passage. As much as I love Victoria Clark, I find Clark's protestations of fatigue slightly tiresome. ("We actors are Olympic athletes!" "I was certain I was over the hill!") To this, I'd respond with clips of Chita, in her sixties, doing "Kiss of the Spider Woman." Chita basically *was* an Olympic athlete. By this point, she had already survived a traumatic car crash. I do not recall her whining about the "steep staircase" backstage. "Kiss of the Spider Woman" was like my Bible throughout high school. I did not have th

 This novel is flawed and overhyped, but it's still much better than so many options "out there." Sam is hospitalized in the early nineties; his foot is crushed. A car accident has killed his mother. He is a little boy, and he has been almost mute for six months. A girl, Sadie, visits; her sister is confined to a bed (because of cancer). Sam and Sadie bond over video games--but Sadie neglects to mention that she is logging her visitation hours as part of a "community service" project. It's not that she sees Sam as something less than a friend. It's just childish thoughtlessness. But when the secret pops out, a rupture occurs. Amazingly, after several years, Sam and Sadie reunite; they are in the Boston area, in college. They begin to *design* video games together. But their relationship always has the stain of that original sin--Sadie's betrayal. Sadie resents Sam for claiming creative ownership that isn't entirely his. Sam resents Sadie for purs

 I thought there was wisdom in spacing my two children apart--but, because of some developmental delays, I really feel that I have a pair of "terrible twos" right now. The tantrums seem symphonic; something happens in the woodwinds, then the brass section does its own thing. In these moments, I find myself asking, "What would Peter Krause do?" Krause is the star of the series "Parenthood"; he gives a subtle, smart performance, and he is often better than the intermittently syrupy writing. Krause has a chaotic household; he has to dig deep for something that resembles self-control. He reminds me of Pamela Adlon, in "Better Things"--another unusually honest portrait of domestic life. I had a weird encounter at the playground. (And I think "Encounters at the Playground" may become the title of my memoir.) I was talking to an awkward neighbor-dad about fits of rage. He was recalling that his daughter had just had a volcanic meltdown because

 In "Mean Girls," there is one character worth playing, and it's Regina George. I can't help but wonder, if Lindsay Lohan had insisted on playing Regina, might her career have unfolded in a different way? My favorite moment in the original film is when Regina observes that Cady looks pretty in a certain shirt. Cady shrugs and offers thanks. This is a major sin: The correct response would have been a needy, whiny kind of protest. ("Omigod, I look SO AWFUL!") Regina seizes the moment: "You agree with me? You personally think that you look pretty?" (Calculations are occurring in Rachel McAdams's brain.) A new anthem, co-written by Renee Rapp, imagines what Regina might say to a protege. Regina puts herself in the shoes of her audience, reciting her frenemies' questions: Where she at? What's she doing? Who's she with and where's she from? Oh, she's this. Oh, she's that. She's a flight risk on the run. She's back... S

 Ron DeSantis attended Yale and Harvard; he worked, at night, to chip away at his tuition. He also taught, briefly; there was a perception that his relationships with students were sometimes inappropriate. Though it's confirmed he occasionally attended student parties (a bad idea), the story seems to end here. When Donald Trump gained power, he appreciated the way that DeSantis would slavishly defend Trumpian missteps on Fox News. Trump rewarded this behavior by endorsing DeSantis in the Florida gubernatorial race. So Trump anointed DeSantis; DeSantis went from obscurity to fame very quickly. Trump has a well-documented love of glossiness: Ivy League degrees, telegenic profiles. Trump wants you to "look the part." But, also, Trump is deeply confused; though a part of him likes the Ivy League, he really has the greatest respect for a person who fights from penury to billionaire status. (Of course, this doesn't describe Trump himself, though Trump doesn't seem to un

  Every winter, I like to complain about the Super Bowl. This February, the event threatened to clash with my tickets for Stephen Sondheim's "Merrily We Roll Along"; my blood pressure climbed, and I recalled all the times in high school when I noticed the arts department playing second fiddle to "athletics and fitness." Then, I realized: false alarm. I stay out of many political disputes, but the Super Bowl did make my blood boil this year. It did! A family member dismissed the artist Usher as "irrelevant." I bit my tongue--but I felt an urge to point out that Usher is phenomenally talented, and that his current Vegas residency is a subject of national news coverage. In my house, the children watch Usher videos as a kind of curriculum, and we're all especially fond of Usher's appearance on "Sesame Street." It seems like marriage equality might have helped to remove football from my life, but I have married one of Earth's few Mahom

  I'm always irritated by the small-mindedness of the Oscars; a "narrative" sets in, and movies with substantial flaws become "films of the year." (In the current crop, at least one film, "Barbie," is simply a mess.) No one expected "You Hurt My Feelings" to earn Oscar nominations this year, although it's a work of art. To omit Tobias Menzies (in favor of Sterling K. Brown?) seems especially silly. Another heartbreaker: The absence of "Are You There, God, It's Me, Margaret." This is (largely) the story of a mom who moves from NYC to New Jersey. (Her husband has a new job.) The mom, Barbara, is an artist, but she drifts from her work to become involved in the PTA. Specifically, the PTA needs literally one thousand small glow-in-the-dark stars, cut from cloth, to be affixed to the ceiling of the gym. Barbara finds herself doing the cutting (and perhaps contemplating suicide).  Barbara does not share her parents' Christian

  I'm pretty sure Tomi Ungerer was a socialist, and I doubt he had warm feelings about private property -- and you can spot this subtext in his masterpiece, "The Three Robbers." This book has marauders traipsing through a village at night; they use a blunderbuss and a "pepper-blower" to amass riches. But, eventually, they stumble on a little girl, Tiffany. The girl is incapable of seeing evil -- and her love inspires the robbers to behave in a gentle way. When Tiffany spots the robbers' gold, she does *not* suggest that restorative justice is in order. Instead, like Robin Hood, she says, "Wealth is useless if you don't spend it." And the robbers then use the money to construct an orphanage; happy children grow up on the new property, and the sun shines on all the kids, always, in perpetuum. A first-rate Ungerer book has: total conviction, an absence of preachiness, and dazzling art. Kids notice, because it's impossible not to notice. I thin

  The premiere of SVU: What an interesting mess!  My family purchased prosecco and chocolate cream pie--to celebrate the occasion--but we had a few stomach bugs. A tense discussion followed: Should the premiere episode wait until everyone had a clean bill of health? Obvious answer: No. We jumped in. I know you watched, as well, so I'll keep the summary brief. In an opening voiceover, Olivia reflects on her career and on her battles, her sense of mission. (A voiceover is unusual, and it's one way that the new showrunner, David Graziano, can set himself apart.) A montage of memories includes famous shots from the most celebrated SVU episode in nearly three decades of TV writing--"9-1-1"--in which Olivia saved an abducted child, thereby losing her one chance to see the Broadway musical "Spamalot." (Curiously, "Spamalot" is now BACK on Broadway, in its first revival. Could the revival have played a role in Graziano's calculations?) The episode &quo

  How do you help someone with a severe mental illness? What counts as help, and what is, in fact, just an effort to be controlling? These seem like unusual questions for a Broadway musical--but they're a part of "Fun Home." At the climax of the show, Alison takes a drive with her dad. She knows something is very wrong--but she feels powerless, paralyzed. She stares out the window at telephone wires--a symbol of interconnectedness. She notices the creek--"partly flowing, partly frozen"--which seems to stand in for the "clogged channel" that connects her with her own father. As Alison gropes for a topic of conversation, her father does his own flailing. He proposes a trip to a bar--which is inappropriate, because Alison is a college freshman. Dad becomes lost in a reverie--a speech that he delivers to himself, not to his daughter. He offers bullshitty thoughts about a work project--a task that will never be completed. At the end of the song, we leap to

  My husband is fully smitten with his sister's grown children; when these two visit, he is radiant. He does interpretive dance, makes jokes about Taylor Swift, and volunteers to watch rom-coms. He tries to lay out professional plans for these kids; he worries, in an endearing way. He proposes a slumber party--and if his invite is declined, he is undeterred. For these reasons, I had a great time with "You Only Call When You're in Trouble," a new novel about a gay man and his grown niece. The man--Tom--cares maybe too much about his "uncle" duties. He designs a guest house on his property--and he uses a blueprint that his niece (Cecily) created when she was ten years old. Tom's boyfriend, Alan, actually walks away because he is tired of playing second fiddle. And Tom daydreams about taking charge of Cecily's problems--just swapping bodies, so that he can manage certain professional storms in the place of a confused thirtysomething. Cecily is as compel

  I do an odd dance with my family's pseudo-nanny; every Friday, she complains that one child has been swatting at the other child. I make a concerned face, and a silence fills the room--and the silence includes "meaningful eye contact." EYES OF THE NANNY:  You should solve the aggression problem for me. MY OWN EYES:  Maybe there was swatting because one child was bored, because you weren't providing any kind of activity.... At the end of this strange, subtitled, mini Gloria Swanson film, the nanny and I smile broadly at each other, and we agree to "re-team" next week. But I owe thanks to the nanny. I owe thanks because--over the summer--she presented me with an issue that I could not fully "punt on." She told me that the kitchen sink was clogged, and a flooding problem had ensued. I called a plumber, who did some investigative work and revealed that yet another visit would need to transpire, with camera equipment; the plumber needed to film certai

  Monk, the center of "American Fiction," very much wants a relationship. He stumbles on a lovely and available neighbor. They drink together, and the neighbor explains that she is disentangling herself from a current, unsatisfactory arrangement, and Monk concedes that, at his age, he needs to expect some complications. The dating process is occasionally bumpy. When Monk introduces his girlfriend to Mom, Mom, who is crazy like a fox, loudly says, "I'm really glad that you're Black!" Also, Monk is a snob, and he criticizes some of his new companion's reading selections. Finally, Monk won't disclose much about his past; when asked, he becomes defensive, and even rude. He is no one's idea of a low-maintenance date. As everyone has observed, it's terrific luck that Jeffrey Wright is in this lead role; he finds the humanity in Monk, and he never allows you to hate this main character. The problem is that everyone around Monk is a caricature. His g

  My spouse thought "Alma Mater" was a new low for "The Crown"; I did think it was tedious and self-indulgent, as usual, but still, I'd argue, it had its moments. Prince William decides to study European art. The lecturer at St. Andrews makes an observation about Giotto; this particular painter helped to bring about the Renaissance, because he made use of three dimensions. Before Giotto, you'd encounter a great deal of "flatness." When you see a human in 3-D, you may discover that you're having an "emotional experience"; you become involved in the figure's interior life, because you can recognize bits of yourself in the portrait. Meanwhile, Kate Middleton has an unusual encounter. She sees William in the flesh; he is suddenly 3-D; he is not the flat cut-out she has viewed on a TV screen. She becomes enchanted with him. She sees his frustration--how he resents always having to smile and sign autographs. Remarkably, she sees him sna

 My son has announced a kind of strike against speech therapy. I think it's brilliant. He has decided he no longer likes speech therapy, so, ten minutes in, he will begin throwing objects and shouting. I know that Louis CK is now He Who Shall Not Be Named--but I can't help but think of the first season of "Louie," when an issue arises at the local public school. A concerned teacher says, "The children are listless and sleepy after lunch...." And various parents begin to volunteer some theories: "The food isn't nutritional!" "The gym session is inadequate!" "There isn't enough fluoride in the water!" And the title character raises his hand and says: "I think the kids are sleepy because....school sucks? Remember? Right? School sucks." The speech therapist has many ideas. Josh's sister should be part of the session. Josh's sister should *not* be part of the session. No, she *can* be part of the session, bu

The best songs have double meanings; "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" could be about Oz, but it could also be about fleeing pogroms in Eastern Europe. "Killing Me Softly" was intended in a literal way; it really was about seeing a male performer, feeling "understood" by an artist. When I watch a Nicole Holofcener movie, I feel she is "strumming my pain with her fingers"; she understands who I am. This is the kind of artistic connection that Roberta Flack describes. However, on another level, "Killing Me Softly" is about sadism. It's about helpless love. The speaker is in thrall to a man, and the experience is painful: "I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on." The man is especially seductive because he isn't really "invested": "He sang as if he knew me, in all my dark despair. And then he looked right through me, as if I wasn't there." This is blinding, irrational love. Nothing is r

 "Catastrophe" is the story of Sharon, who gets pregnant by accident, and who decides to keep the baby. ("At my age, it's dicey to just yank out the fetus and hope that another might start growing, in the same spot, later, somewhere down the line....") Sharon sort of enjoys her life. She teaches small children. ("During war, you can either starve to death or feast off the corpse of your own grandmother....") She has a fun, bawdy colleague, who dreams of fornicating with the new principal. ("Look, if *I* chose to marry every time I got pregnant? Can you imagine?") ....Also, Sharon likes reading in bed; the bed itself may be three-fourths the size of her apartment, but it's an arrangement that works for her. At the beginning of "Catastrophe," a stranger comes to town: It's "pre-cancer." It's not really cancer, but the word "cancer" comes up so often in the diagnosis, you could easily start to feel confu

 My neighbor is like an alien to me; it's like I'm talking to someone who does not belong to my own species. "I have a friend," he says. "He's gay, too. He invited me to Saint Lucie for a few days, for a gay party cruise. And I thought about it. I really thought about it. But I'm nearing fifty, and my body is not what it was; I know I would just feel self-conscious...." I nod politely. I cannot begin to imagine a universe in which I would entertain a request from a "gay party cruise," and the idea of  really weighing the decision  seems comical to me. It's like if someone said, "Do you want me to pluck out your eyes and skewer them, and then roast each of your inner organs on a campfire?" ...and I said, "I'm not sure. I really need to think about this...." My neighbor (bearing gifts) is possibly Joshua's favorite person. Joshua tears open one gift--a "home edition" of Whack-a-Mole--and begins to att

A love song is the thought you have as you study the rearview mirror--the things you couldn't say when you were in the other person's presence. "I hope you don't mind that I put down in words....how wonderful life is while you're in the world." "I've seen all the movie stars in their fancy cars....But I don't want to waste more time...." "I can't stop loving you. Why should I even try?" In the musical "Fun Home," Alison narrates her father's life: Quick dashes mark the property ends. Beech Creek, a rope that turns and bends... Little squares for houses, strung along roads. The land--transfigured into topographic codes. Alison plants her father on this specific land, then she dares to consider where his thoughts may have been roving. He was gay, and in denial; he had an active mind. Four miles from our door-- I-80 ran from shore to shore. On its way from the Castro To Christopher Street. The road not taken-- Just fo

  "The Vulnerables" concerns a woman, Sigrid, who is looking back on her life. She feels some regret about never having started a family; she confesses, to the reader, that she has always suspected she cannot sustain a romantic relationship. "I tried dating someone wildly different from the last person, then another wildly different, and another, and nothing would stick." As a writer, Sigrid takes pleasure in contrarian thinking. For example, she has some questions about consent. She understands that, now, she should interrupt a romantic encounter to ask about each next step. "Can I put my hand here? And here? And here?" She doesn't dismiss the wisdom of this thinking. But what if there is loud music? What if my partner has asked to be tied up and whipped--and I mistake a "no" for a moan of pleasure? Sigrid goes on to wonder about "safe words." Why can't the word simply be "stop"? Because, in role-playing, "stop&q

  "Fiddler on the Roof" isn't aging well. The book is dusty; too many laughs feel dutiful rather than earned. Yente will steal your apples! Motel has a new "birth," but it's a sewing machine, not a human! Sometimes I just don't know,  am I talking about a dowry or the sale of a milk cow ? In truth, "Fiddler" was not universally dazzling even in its first run. Famously, Philip Roth called it "shtetl kitsch," and Cynthia Ozick said it was an "emptied out, prettified romantic vulgarization" of Sholom Aleichem's work. One problem is with the character of Tevye. Too often, he is seen reacting; he doesn't have a strong wish, and so he bounces from one child to the other, until the curtain call. (His wish for money is presented as a joke; we aren't meant to take this very seriously.) The Tevye in the show's final number could easily be the Tevye in the show's opening number; he greets news of his eviction with a

  Before the Act One curtain, a story needs to shift its gears. Rose needs to forget June, and to put her focus on Louise. The Cossacks need to disrupt Motel's wedding. Sweeney needs to commit to cannibalism. In "Kimberly Akimbo," the villain, Aunt Debra, has a scheme to move to Hawaii. But she needs a group of teens to assist with her elaborate crime; though she doesn't mention this, she really needs the help so that her own fingerprints aren't on any documents. She needs the help because she doesn't actually want to do the work.  Right before the Act One curtain, Debra secures the assistance that she needs. People have a bottomless capacity for self-delusion; this is what makes Aunt Debra interesting. As she sings of her plans, you can't help but feel queasy; there is so much tension in the room. Debra's song--"This Time"--has a double meaning. There's the sense of a promise: "I'll get it right  this time ." But time is al

 I really enjoyed "All the Sinners Bleed," one of few thrillers to make the "Notable 2023" list in the Times, and a book that caught Barack Obama's attention. The main impressive feature in this book is its protagonist, Titus, a Black sheriff in a troubled Virginia town, Charon. Titus is torn between two women; it worries him that he no longer mentions his love to his girlfriend, Darlene, but instead waits for her to say the sentence. He wants to reform his team of police, but he also sees that corner-cutting can sometimes be a valuable option. Titus is irritated when his brother skids off the rails--but he himself has his own memory of skidding off the rails, in an FBI case from his recent past. The writer, S.A. Cosby, has an eye for nuance. When a white officer shoots a disturbed Black man, protestors suggest this is a fathomless tragedy (though the Black man had been assisting in the rapes and murders of Black children in Charon). Titus doesn't get on the

 When my son is home sick from school, we do an odd dance. I know that the hours of nine to noon are my window of opportunity. Josh doesn't need many stimuli then. So, if I announce,  we'll now listen to an hour of discussion between Barbra Streisand and Terri Gross..... that's going to be OK. Around noon, Josh starts to make his own demands. "Kiss my forehead." "Kiss my ear." "Kiss my eye." "Kiss my toe." Also, he picks up random objects and thrusts them at his sister. For example, he might give her a broken crayon. "This is me  nice! " he says. "This is me  so nice! " The real war happens in the afternoon. If you're sick, you're supposed to be supine, in front of the TV. That's the rule. But there's only so much Daniel Tiger I can take. Sometimes, I have to switch to "The Simpsons," which Susie enjoys. I swear she enjoys it. She and I have a special fondness for "Bart the Lover,&quo

 "The Holdovers" has some nice moments. A bully steals a younger kid's glove, and throws it in an icy river. An observer points out that it's the irritating uselessness of the one remaining glove that makes this so cruel. That's the art of bullying. A teen goes on a "house tour" with a girl he has just met. The girl leads him to a crafting area, where little kids are making ornaments. (It's a Christmas party.) This invites eye-rolling--but the girl defends her family's tradition, and soon the two teenagers are chatting about Picasso and "Guernica." It's surprising, and it seems true to life. In another scene, a teen gets frustrated about a pinball game. Someone has claimed a spot in line--without doing the work of standing and waiting. The teen is sort of dumb and entitled, and he doesn't recognize that he is in a fight with a Vietnam vet. His discomfort takes the unfortunate form of a bad joke: "We can be a team, I'll

 My favorite moment in "A Chorus Line" is "At the Ballet," a series of stories about domestic folly. One woman recalls her parents. A young lady--twenty-two--is informed by an older man, "I'm your last chance." The marriage occurs--and, soon enough, Wife is digging mysterious earrings out of the backseat of Husband's car. The earrings are a red flag. "It wasn't something you'd want to discuss." Another woman recalls learning about subtext. "Mom would tell me I was different, with a personal flair. Different is nice, but it sure isn't pretty...." The third story is.the major punch-to-your-gut. "When I was born, Dad said,  I thought this would help our marriage, but I guess I was wrong. " These brutal stories are paired with a soaring, recurring memory of ballet class. I like the details in the chorus: the disembodied voice of the teacher, like a metronome; the steep and very narrow stairway; the girls in whi

  Occasionally, I like to step outside my comfort zone and read a political biography; it's like wearing a new hat. I think it's this same spirit that drives my husband's infrequent visits to Marie's Crisis, in the West Village. Marc is like a "convert" to Broadway; it's not his first language, but he has certain zealous feelings. At Marie's, he stares wide-eyed at a portrait of Carol Channing and asks, "What show was she most famous for?" And the question melts my heart. The pianist begins a medley from "A Chorus Line," and my spouse becomes gleeful. I could get out a chalkboard and make a "plot" diagram for the Priscilla Lopez solo; I could point out that it's the only Broadway tune I know of whose focus is on "imposter syndrome." (Such a strange song!) ....But we've moved on to "Oliver," and (specifically) Nancy's big solo. Does my date know that this is not a romantic moment in the story