(5) Why is the Mahjongg scene so effective in "Crazy Rich Asians"? Because the idea for the scene was planted very early in your evening--at the very start of the movie. When we first see the protagonist, she is teaching economics through a staged strategy game. She schools her opponent, then discusses the difference between "playing to not lose" and "playing to win." That moment sits like a time bomb in your head, so that, when the protagonist meets her nemesis for a final showdown at the Mahjongg table, you have a curious feeling of satisfaction. You may not even make a conscious link between the opening and the climax. But your subconscious is doing work, even as you eat your popcorn. That's good writing. It's the kind of thing that distinguishes a mere machine (a competent, lifeless script) from an animal (something that "lives and breathes," like "Bridesmaids" or "Beauty and the Beast.")
(4) Adam Goldman. I really miss "The Outs," and I don't know if the third season--the final part of a "Jedi"-ish planned trilogy--will ever materialize. It's true that the second season didn't attain the levels of greatness you saw in the first. That said, I really, really enjoy this show's attention to workplace tedium: people using inappropriate language in a cubicle, someone having a covert, whisper-y wardrobe consultation via Skype, a dreadful office worker sneezing directly into his trash can. Platonic love between Mitchell and his beanbag associate. And the beanbag itself: Forced whimsy in a corporate environment. Goldman has "an eye." He is like Greta Gerwig, collecting data from daily life, then unloading it via "brain dump."
I admire, also, AG's effort to use a cast whose ethnic/racial diversity approximates something you might actually find in New York City. And I like when he reunites with Oona in Season Two. "What a fun restaurant!" he says. "Very LATE-SERIES Sex and the City." Because a gay man and a media addict would certainly distinguish between early-series and late-series SATC. "You're such a Charlotte," says Oona, coldly. And the inevitable, the only, response: "That's RUDE! F*** you."
(3) Sondheim, etc. Some other things to worship in "No More." Do you notice the internal rhyme? "Comes the DAY you SAY what for? ..." And the double-appearance of the verb "to leave." "What you've left undone, and, more, what you've left behind." And the switch from "no" to "all" in the final stanza, as the Baker begins to accept that he is going to return to the world. We're no longer talking about "no more riddles, no more quests." Now we're talking about "all the wolves, all the lies, the false hopes, all the witches." A small twist--and it's deliberate. This is the man who once played with a homonym in this way: "That's what woulds are for--for those moments in the woods." When the thing that you, in the audience, hear is: "That's what woods are for--for those moments in the woods."
(2) Taylor Swift. "Rolling Stone" has ranked literally every single one of her songs. The "Reputation" choices that make the top thirty are predictable: "Dress," "Call It What You Want," "Gorgeous," "Delicate," "Getaway Car," and "New Year's Day." Fair enough. But are we not paying adequate attention to "I Did Something Bad"? So much storytelling in so few words. The faux-penitent bad girl toying with her narcissists, getting sucked into whirlpools of amour fou. Melodramatic allusions to Salem, and to Victorian "fallen women": "I can feel the flames on my skin, crimson red paint on my lips." This, to me, seems on par with "Delicate"--at least.
(1) Lena Dunham. I was asked, last night, to recommend a TV show to a college student, and I didn't hesitate. I'm pretty certain my all-time favorite show is "Girls." And I'm a bit tired of people saying, "I just stopped watching. I just found those people so repellent." Because: Who said fictional characters needed to be appealing? Do you find yourself longing to form a deep, close friendship with Macbeth?
As we get distance from "Girls," we will see, more and more, how brilliant it was. Those stand-alone "indie film" episodes: Do we not see their impact in present-day new episodes of "Atlanta"? In the long, charming "Insecure" segment in which Issa runs off with a semi-stranger? The tale of the frenemy: Is this not something we see, right now, in the "buzzy" series "Big Little Lies"? Pushing the camera to investigate things it hasn't really studied before: The weekday dinners of depressed, not-glamorous women in their twenties, the painful erotic encounters involving these same women, the particular challenges facing a non-hipster coffee-shop proprietor in Green Point, post-gentrification. "Girls" helped people to understand it's OK to give a camera to someone who's not a straight white man, and, with that knowledge, power-brokers have since green-lighted "Broad City," "Inside Amy Schumer," "Better Things," "Insecure," Sarah Silverman's "I Love You, America."
You think the impact of Lena Dunham had nothing to do with the birthing of these recent shows? Think again. Dunham taught people it's OK to be in the creative "driver's seat," even if you don't look or sound like Martin Scorsese. She blazed trails--not on her own, but, really, who ever does anything on her (or his) own? Dunham remains my lodestar. Attention must be paid.
(4) Adam Goldman. I really miss "The Outs," and I don't know if the third season--the final part of a "Jedi"-ish planned trilogy--will ever materialize. It's true that the second season didn't attain the levels of greatness you saw in the first. That said, I really, really enjoy this show's attention to workplace tedium: people using inappropriate language in a cubicle, someone having a covert, whisper-y wardrobe consultation via Skype, a dreadful office worker sneezing directly into his trash can. Platonic love between Mitchell and his beanbag associate. And the beanbag itself: Forced whimsy in a corporate environment. Goldman has "an eye." He is like Greta Gerwig, collecting data from daily life, then unloading it via "brain dump."
I admire, also, AG's effort to use a cast whose ethnic/racial diversity approximates something you might actually find in New York City. And I like when he reunites with Oona in Season Two. "What a fun restaurant!" he says. "Very LATE-SERIES Sex and the City." Because a gay man and a media addict would certainly distinguish between early-series and late-series SATC. "You're such a Charlotte," says Oona, coldly. And the inevitable, the only, response: "That's RUDE! F*** you."
(3) Sondheim, etc. Some other things to worship in "No More." Do you notice the internal rhyme? "Comes the DAY you SAY what for? ..." And the double-appearance of the verb "to leave." "What you've left undone, and, more, what you've left behind." And the switch from "no" to "all" in the final stanza, as the Baker begins to accept that he is going to return to the world. We're no longer talking about "no more riddles, no more quests." Now we're talking about "all the wolves, all the lies, the false hopes, all the witches." A small twist--and it's deliberate. This is the man who once played with a homonym in this way: "That's what woulds are for--for those moments in the woods." When the thing that you, in the audience, hear is: "That's what woods are for--for those moments in the woods."
(2) Taylor Swift. "Rolling Stone" has ranked literally every single one of her songs. The "Reputation" choices that make the top thirty are predictable: "Dress," "Call It What You Want," "Gorgeous," "Delicate," "Getaway Car," and "New Year's Day." Fair enough. But are we not paying adequate attention to "I Did Something Bad"? So much storytelling in so few words. The faux-penitent bad girl toying with her narcissists, getting sucked into whirlpools of amour fou. Melodramatic allusions to Salem, and to Victorian "fallen women": "I can feel the flames on my skin, crimson red paint on my lips." This, to me, seems on par with "Delicate"--at least.
(1) Lena Dunham. I was asked, last night, to recommend a TV show to a college student, and I didn't hesitate. I'm pretty certain my all-time favorite show is "Girls." And I'm a bit tired of people saying, "I just stopped watching. I just found those people so repellent." Because: Who said fictional characters needed to be appealing? Do you find yourself longing to form a deep, close friendship with Macbeth?
As we get distance from "Girls," we will see, more and more, how brilliant it was. Those stand-alone "indie film" episodes: Do we not see their impact in present-day new episodes of "Atlanta"? In the long, charming "Insecure" segment in which Issa runs off with a semi-stranger? The tale of the frenemy: Is this not something we see, right now, in the "buzzy" series "Big Little Lies"? Pushing the camera to investigate things it hasn't really studied before: The weekday dinners of depressed, not-glamorous women in their twenties, the painful erotic encounters involving these same women, the particular challenges facing a non-hipster coffee-shop proprietor in Green Point, post-gentrification. "Girls" helped people to understand it's OK to give a camera to someone who's not a straight white man, and, with that knowledge, power-brokers have since green-lighted "Broad City," "Inside Amy Schumer," "Better Things," "Insecure," Sarah Silverman's "I Love You, America."
You think the impact of Lena Dunham had nothing to do with the birthing of these recent shows? Think again. Dunham taught people it's OK to be in the creative "driver's seat," even if you don't look or sound like Martin Scorsese. She blazed trails--not on her own, but, really, who ever does anything on her (or his) own? Dunham remains my lodestar. Attention must be paid.
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