Liars and Saints

  I went to the Spirit Halloween store and bought "Ghostface" socks. They feature the iconic killer from "Scream," one of my favorite movies. On certain pairs, Ghostface is bathed in blood. On others, he is more "stylized"; sometimes, less is more. My daughter purchased a witch's broom (which she then began to carry, nightly, to her bed). My son bought many yards of synthetic "spider web" fabric; the choice puzzles me because my son hates spiders. Or he *claims* to hate spiders. Spirit Halloween has an annual theme. Last year, we all were treated to "the haunted subway." This year, if you visit an outpost, you'll see a spooky summer camp, with a witch, a Michael Myers, and a talking scarecrow, among other inventions. I have to deduct points from East Hanover's store because certain animatronic creatures were "mute." In other words, you would step on the "activator," and nothing would happen. It's stra...

 Recently, the NYT named its top fifty thrillers of the century (thus far) -- one of the titles was "You" by Caroline Kepnes. This is like an update of "The Talented Mr. Ripley." Almost every character is insufferable but also cunning (and so the book is sort of entertaining). "You" unfolds in the present tense. A troubled business-owner, Joe, meets a damaged aspiring writer, Beck. Joe writes in the second person -- the book is like one long letter to Beck. This makes you feel like you're in the middle of a Taylor Swift song. Things become crazy right away. Joe murders Beck's lover, a purveyor of hipster seltzer water. Beck seems interested in Joe -- but she keeps cancelling plans so that she can be with her deranged frenemy "Peach" Salinger, a descendant of J.D. Salinger. Peach eventually tries to rape Beck. The "bad faith" complications multiply. Eventually, one of the two stars is confined to a subterranean cage -- and the ot...

  This movie begins within the world of a TV show--it's really the world of "Barney the Dinosaur." But Barney is now Buddy, and he is a unicorn. I love when several people are forced together on a campus--and "BarneyLand" is a campus I have not seen in a movie before. The children mostly get along; there is also a talking backpack, which might be a reference to "Dora the Explorer." A nurse and mailman are on the periphery. Buddy the unicorn demands that everyone learn to dance. When one little boy refuses, Buddy commits murder, then covers up the corpse. The story begins to feel like a comment on Harvey Weinstein. Buddy repeatedly says, "I am the one with the power, and you will believe each of my statements." One suspicious child begins to doubt his own suspicions--the world works in a certain way, and if there is evidence to the contrary, the evidence must be wrong. We then make a jump to the real world, the actual world. Cristin Milioti is...

  In a musical, you will generally see an emotional shift right before the end of Act One. The stakes need to change. One of the most effective examples is from "Kimberly Akimbo." Right before the curtain, Kim decides that she is going to make a birthday demand: If her parents really want her to have a good day, they can promise to be different people. (Less drinking, less self-absorption, less flakiness.) Kim is essentially a child; she thinks these sorts of promises have value. We, in the audience, can sense a trainwreck in the future. Terrific dramatic choice. Another celebrated example is "Defying Gravity." Elphaba realizes that the Wizard is not what he claims to be; she decides she will wage war to free the animals of Oz. The song should feel both exhilarating and nightmarish. Hard to beat the flying, belting Elphaba. "Six" does something unusual. We don't get a curtain that "divides" two acts. But--really--there is a curtain. It falls ...

 One of the best hours I had this summer was an instructional hour; a third grader and I worked on a diorama. We had been reading "The Cricket in Times Square" by George Selden. Many of my curricular ideas come from my old mentor, Sara, who believed third graders *should* be exposed to George Selden. But Sara's third graders were New Yorkers; my own third grader has never been to Manhattan (and this is amazing to me, because my student lives in Maplewood). It's abundantly clear why "Cricket in Times Square" is a classic. First, the setting. A cricket and a mouse exchange ideas by a newsstand underneath Times Square; we're on a subway platform. The subterranean world of Tucker Mouse is wonderfully vivid; if you're a tiny mouse, then you notice every piece of detritus next to the trash can. Every candy bar wrapper is a treasure. This world is contrasted with the glamour of Times Square and Chinatown; Mario, a little boy, is the "tissue" that ...

 Clifton Fadiman sounds insufferable. He was a misogynist. He informed his daughter of his extramarital affairs by saying, to her, "I've just had a stroke. There are some women I want you to call. Share the news. Don't ask any questions. Here's the list." Fadiman also struggled to cope with daily life. When his wife/servant had a health episode, Fadiman (reasonably) chose to drive his daughter to a restaurant for dinner--and he immediately crashed the car. On the other hand, Fadiman was a revered critic for "The New Yorker"--he was brave enough to say that Faulkner was for masochists. Fadiman launched his own career by inventing 100 good ideas for book proposals--handing the list to a friend in publishing--and worming his way into a Manhattan editorial department. Additionally, he edited "Cricket" Magazine and did a high-profile translation of Nietzsche. None of this really matters--what matters is that Clifton is the father of Anne Fadiman, on...