Liars and Saints

  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...

  I loved this movie. Dwight Garner somewhat ludicrously referred to Marlon James's new novel as "the novel of the century." I won't say "Coyote vs. Acme" is the movie of the century, but it has the aura of a classic. Wile E. Coyote wants to sue Acme because its products are defective. You buy mechanical wings--and you find yourself immediately falling to Earth. Will Forte--in a beautiful performance--agrees to take on Wile E. Coyote's case. Wile E. Coyote cannot speak, but his face displays a range of emotions. It's just like the faces of the various sheep in "Mossy Bottom." Also, Wile E. Coyote can hold up cue cards that convey some of his more complex thoughts. Likewise, Road Runner cannot articulate motives, but Road Runner *can* say "meep meep" for "yes" and "meep" for no. The WEC/Road Runner relationship is important in our culture; it's the source of the Bob/Bart relationship in "Cape Feare...

 Niagara-on-the-Lake is a posh tourist town that traces its origins to the Revolutionary War. According to my husband, Loyalists fled the colonies and built a new life in Canada. But the rebels sought revenge in the War of 1812. Niagara-on-the-Lake was then reconstructed. The town hosts the Shaw Festival--although, in my experience, no one actually likes the plays of George Bernard Shaw. I've yet to meet someone who can't stop talking about "Mrs. Warren's Profession." Those indifferent to Shaw include the Shaw's own former creative director, who turned down the Shaw Festival's job offer several times before saying yes. Over time, the Festival's mandate has become slightly watery; there is now a vague understanding that a Festival play should have a setting that overlaps with Shaw's own era (roughly 1850 to 1950). But Marc and I just saw "Sleuth," which seemed to take place in the 1970s? So who knows. As I grow old, I find myself wishing j...