Five Things Right Now

(5) It's the season of Nicole Kidman. Not only is "Destroyer" on the way, but also we can expect the second truckload of "Big Little Lies."

Here are some things I've learned from reading obsessively about Nicole Kidman. She doesn't care too much if the art that emerges is perfect. She just keeps making movies, as an act of exploration. I really buy that rhetoric. Maybe I'm just diva-smitten. Kidman insists on having a busy work schedule, because, otherwise, she becomes shy and forgets to trust her instincts. For "Destroyer," she demanded to play both her character-in-youth and her character-in-maturity. ("I wanted the full story, even if this required CGI.") As a Dostoyevsky-reading child, Kidman developed an interest in human behavior, and that interest hasn't really led her too far astray yet. Thank you for bearing with me.

(4) As you prepare for "Merrily We Roll Along," there is one other thing you should note about "Not a Day Goes By." At the end, the speaker observes: "Until I die, I'll die day after day after day..." This is something you can get away with in a poem. Two different understandings of death: the literal one, and then death-in-life, life as paralysis. All of this seems so effortless, you forget to consider the care that went into the drafting.

(3) There is a difference between padding-for-commercial-reasons and padding-that-feels-light-and-airy. Why is that?

When I saw the soul-dead new "Grinch," I observed that several interludes were not very clever and did nothing to push the plot along. They were there to fulfill some kind of corporate mandate. In "Charlie Brown Christmas," there's padding, as well, but it doesn't feel that way. Snoopy impersonating a penguin isn't necessary. Lucy bizarrely insisting that January snowflakes are superior to December snowflakes: not necessary. But also: not soul-dead. Delightful. The world is strange.

(2) There's an odd controversy over having adults play kids in "Mockingbird."

I wish people would direct their thoughts to loftier planes. It seems entirely reasonable to me that an adult could play a kid onstage: Adult actors should be imaginative and capable of playing a child, persuasively. For Pete's sake, on Broadway, Sarah J. Parker once played a dog. Theater, by its very nature, allows for experimentation; in some ways, it is *more* flexible than movies or TV. (I fell in love with theater, in childhood, when someone used two flashlights, to represent the headlights of a racing car, in "Once on This Island.")

(1) Who ought to get a Golden Globe for "Assassination of Gianni Versace"?

If anyone, it's Judith Light. At times, her work bordered on scenery-chewing. But, at the least, she wasn't ever easy to take your eyes off of. Light said, early in her career, she made a choice not to turn opportunities down in the interest of being high-minded. She was not going to wait for Chekhov. She was going to do the work God handed to her--whether that was a soap opera or "Who's the Boss." She wasn't interested in glamour or prestige--just working. How that commitment has paid off! What a compelling Third Act we are witnessing! God Bless Her.

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

The Death of Bergoglio

It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic. She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

Liars and Saints

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