Liars and Saints

  We flew to another country — then drove a long way — to see a revival of “Guys and Dolls.” Is this odd? I don’t care. Loesser’s musical, one of the all-time greats, is essentially a Shakespearean comedy, and so it “works” at the Stratford Festival. In a Shakespeare story, a young man or woman travels to an enchanted place (a forest or island), assumes a false identity for bizarre reasons, then makes a mess. That’s also Sky Masterson. He begins wooing Sarah by pretending certain things are true: a Havana “milkshake” doesn’t really have alcohol, a certain flight to Cuba is really just about finding a decent lunch. Complications ensue. Amazingly, Sky’s conscience begins to wake up. He finds that he cares too much about Sarah to continue pulling the wool over her eyes. At the same time, Sarah notices she has a “well of forgiveness” deeper than the well she’d imagined for herself. A casual remark from a third party points the way toward resolution — just in time. Generally, a succ...

  Before Mac Barnett “fell from grace,” he wrote a blog called “Looking at Picture Books.” This did exactly what it claimed to do. Barnett and his friend, Jon Klassen, analyzed old masterworks. They weren’t afraid to touch a nerve; they criticized Barack Obama for repeatedly reading “Where the Wild Things Are” at high-profile events (when other books could have profited from the Obama spotlight). Barnett really, deeply thought about Maurice Sendak. For example, he pointed out that Max, the hero of “Where the Wild Things Are,” doesn’t have any toys. His bedroom is joyless. It’s a bedroom designed by a parent who is struggling. (Indeed, the parent has just sent Max to sleep without having eaten dinner.) Second, Barnett pays attention to Sendak’s use of scale. The initial images are small; we see a good deal of white space. When Max escapes to the land of the Wild Things, the white space disappears. The image even seems to spill *off* the page. Max has found freedom within his ima...

  Raul Esparza is returning to Broadway. I don't have trust in Esparza's ability to select good material, but I do think his co-star, Joy Woods, has often made wise choices ("Little Shop," "Six," "Gypsy"). Could this be the year that Joy Woods wins a Tony Award? I'm ready. The Katherine Parr (Joy Woods) character in "Six" is the clearest link to the musical "Hamilton." With its goosebump-inducing conclusion, "Hamilton" reveals that Eliza has a massive Second Act, packed with political advocacy, editorial work, and business management. Something similar happens with Katherine Parr. After the death of Henry VIII, Parr writes books, fights for the education of women, and recruits a female painter for a high-profile job. I see Katherine Parr as a comment on Sara Bareilles. When told to write a love song for financial reasons, Bareilles felt repelled--and turned her repulsion into a hit ("I'm Not Gonna Write Yo...

 Sometimes, I think about my life in relation to "The Sopranos." There is that moment when Carmela barks, "AJ needs his routines!" That could easily be yours truly--talking about a different little boy. The dispute with the neighbors. If I bake rigatoni for your in-laws, that means my daughter *will* win a spot at Georgetown . My family has a similar arrangement where we back school board candidates in exchange for basic civility from our school principal. (This sometimes works!) The final scene of "The Sopranos" is treated as a kind of Rosetta Stone--what can it tell us about the mob storyline? But I'm not sure that the mob is of paramount importance in this scene. Before the nebulous final seconds, AJ offers advice to his father. "You need to relax. Remember the good times. OK? You told me that once." This is a specific observation about family life--your child will repeat your own words in front of you. (If I'm visibly stressed, my son...

 "Mother Simpson" has a terrific mystery plot: The Simpson children must reconstruct Mona's past even as events in the present become distracting. Mona's elaborate story spills out. But the core of the episode is how Homer relates to his mother. Homer is mortified to ruin a tender moment after a hyperactive fish falls from the sky and lands in his underpants. Mona (appropriately) soothes Homer. Later, Mona tries to have a serious conversation with Lisa while occasionally reassuring Homer that his cartwheels are "very impressive." A detail I love is that Mona uses the word "rapport" with Lisa. Lisa doesn't bother to brag that she knows what the word means. Instead, she expresses her delight that Mona--unlike so many other adults--has not tried to condescend to Lisa by searching for a monosyllabic synonym. Condescension is belittling *both* to the teacher *and* to the student. Of course Lisa would understand this. Finally, the episode carries its...

  One of the nicest touches in "Tony" is Mrs. Bourdain, who pounces when her son mispronounces the word "Bildungsroman." She trashes a bag of records that her husband has left in the living room -- then disingenuously says that a bag on the floor is always, categorically, just a piece of trash. When her son goes missing, she quickly gets lost in a marital fight; somehow, she forgets to keep her eyes on the prize, which is the chance to locate her son. The script doesn't "dig in" to Mrs. Bourdain's standard-variety misery. It just lightly touches on a few odd moments -- and this is enough to let us know that we have certainly met (and maybe lived next door to) someone very much like Mrs. Bourdain. There are other surprises. In an American coming-of-age movie, we might expect the flawed main characters to have hearts of gold. But Leo Woodall's character is mostly reprehensible. He seems to be cruising close to "self-destruction" territo...