Liars and Saints

 One of my guilty pleasures when traveling is a trip to any near-my-hotel movie theater.  Often, I can finesse this as an effort to identify "local color" -- the quirky indie palace that Judy Blume built in Key West, the terrific museum-slash-screening-room in Miami.  It's a different story in San Juan, Puerto Rico. The Caribbean Cinema is just like AMC -- by another name. What I can say is that it's really nice to see a movie without the Nicole Kidman speech. Without the guy who drives a race-car. Without the booming voice and its nonsense declaration: "LIGHT is OUR HERO...." I felt a little more virtuous when I visited the bookstore. There in San Juan, I picked up "Dear Dolly," a series of "agony aunt" letters that Dolly Alderton wrote for publication in her early thirties. Immediately afterward, I met a waitress with an abiding passion for Alderton's work. "I read her memoir last year....and I plan to read it again one decade ...

  "The Correspondent" is an unusual mystery story. Sybil has a secret about her past; the secret rears its head in the present. In the present, family relationships are strained and Sybil herself sometimes behaves in odd ways. Sybil's daughter--Fiona--is determined to solve the mystery. Fiona enlists the help of a family friend, Rosalie. But Sybil sees this bond as a kind of betrayal. Ruptures occur; Rosalie keeps pushing. In a heroic display of self-control, Sybil decides to make a change. She hears her friend; she recognizes good intentions. She offers a confession. All is (sort of) well. As the family story unspools itself, little subplots pop up. These are like the victim stories on "The Pitt." A Syrian desk worker tries to climb the professional ladder in the United States. A beleaguered Dean of English considers allowing non-students to audit courses at the University of Maryland. Joan Didion--yes, Joan Didion!--seeks editorial feedback for her draft of ...

 Sam Raimi has the gift of "bad" taste: You're going to see corpses in his films, whether you're streaming "A Simple Plan," "Dr. Strange II," or "Evil Dead." Also, Raimi has an eye. His work is visually stunning. In his new movie, "Send Help," you're treated to a plane crash, a wild boar attack, and a brief trip to the Land of the Dead. Each of these interludes is brilliant; you're seeing the work of an artist. For a long while, "Send Help" seems to be a retelling of "Misery." (Recently, Rachel McAdams worked with Kathy Bates; I wonder if this led to certain ideas.) The twist is that--with "Send Help"--the "James Caan" guy is in no way sympathetic. He is an asshole. So you're disoriented. You can't just cross your fingers for the James Caan guy. His potential victory would be a sad thing to contemplate. In the Kathy Bates role, Rachel McAdams is transcendent. She never misj...

  It was a surprise to see the NYT piece on Sondheim yesterday. My favorite mini-essay was from Renee Fleming, who reflected on "Not While I'm Around." This song--like so many others--has been mistreated by Barbra Streisand. By removing the song from its context, Streisand drains the song of some of its power. What moves me in "Sweeney" is that Tobias is making a "victim outcry." He is complaining. Because the nature of Tobias's complaint is so disturbing, the words do not flow from his mouth. He also feels that he has to *solve* the problem--though the necessary steps are well beyond his capability. (Because I'm watching "The Pitt," I'm weirdly aware of this kind of subtext right now. The woman who is trafficked seems to communicate with her eyes. The victim of molestation seems to have a conversation with herself--before getting upset and walking out the door.) Not to worry, not to worry. I may not be smart, but I ain't dumb...

 My son is strongly attached to "The Spongebob Movie--Search for Squarepants." Josh hasn't fully mastered adverbs--he doesn't see that "very" often requires an additional adverb--so his statement of protest is slightly malformed. "I very  want  to see this movie!" Josh enjoys any discussion of undies, toilets, gassiness--his zeal is such that he doesn't just laugh. After laughing, he turns to you to make sure that you, too, have seen and appropriately valued the potty joke. He is especially fond of Patrick Starfish, who wears a skimpy loincloth under an immense belly. At times, Josh's delirium causes him to stand up out of his theater seat and do a kind of celebratory bouncing dance. (We've seen "Spongebob" twice; the second time, we braved faux-blizzard conditions, though the public school system had officially "thrown in the towel.") Clearly, Josh has inherited certain dominant alleles from his biological father, w...

  "After This" is a novel about trauma. Sources of trauma--for men and women. John Keane fights in World War II; on a bad day, he finds himself holding a dying young man. The man--Jacob--is a stranger. Keane returns to New York--having lost three toes--and names his own son Jacob. When the son dies in Vietnam, John represses his grief. A useful strategy--until it isn't useful anymore. In this strange and moving story, John has a "foil"--his other son, Michael. Michael is the opposite of Jacob--impetuous, loud. As a child, Michael finds himself in his family's car during a windstorm--the entire family has bolted from the beach, and the adults are unprepared. As everyone eats sandwiches, Michael realizes that he could easily cause chaos. He just needs to roll down one window of the car. The storm will send all the paperware--the cups, plates, napkins--flying through the air. As Michael grows older, he is consistently an irritant for John. (This is because Mich...