Liars and Saints

  I'm not going to rain too much on anyone's parade, but I will list my objections first: *Ariana Grande was the wrong candidate. She has obvious reverence for Kristin Chenoweth--which is touching--but she isn't on par with Chenoweth. It's clear that Grande made a choice to attempt a Xerox copy of Chenoweth's various brilliant moves--and I'm disappointed. (Was Annaleigh Ashford judged to be "too old"?) *The meandering book scene before "Defying" is almost fatally tedious. *It is impossible to make sense of Fiyero. (I understand that this is because he actually represents a mishmash of two characters from the novel.) *The Galinda/Glinda discussion adds nothing to the story, and it certainly doesn't merit inclusion in a movie that is already much too long. *Glinda's sudden decision to befriend Elphaba--because of an awkward dance--leaves me scratching my head. Maybe an actor stronger than Grande could have persuaded me to believe in thi...

  "The Glamorous Life" is an extraordinary Sondheim number in which a small child lies to herself. She is lying about her mother. She wishes her mother were around--but it's too painful to admit this, so she instead glorifies her mother's theatrical profession. (Audra McDonald has explained that she likes this song because it's kind of a horror story; it's what she sometimes imagines that her own daughter thinks about her.) Sandwiches only-- But she eats what she wants when she wants! Sometimes, it's lonely-- But she meets many handsome gallants! The little girl contrasts her own lonely life with her mother's adventures. When she approaches something like honesty, she interrupts herself. ("BUT she eats what she wants when she wants!") Sometime this summer-- Meaning SOON-- She'll come traveling to me! Sometime this summer-- Maybe JUNE-- I'm the new place she'll see! The girl has received a vague letter from her mother, and she inte...

 "I wish that more clothing options rejected the unicorn-flower-heart motif. This just seems like a celebration of meekness. My son has power tools on his clothing. Why won't my daughter wear a power-tool print?" My neighbor gets a far-off look in her eyes. "I have an answer," she says. "When my mother died, I became very, very interested in shopping. Very interested." This sobering memory seems to take hold of my neighbor, seems to render her mute. Then she continues. "You can trick your daughter into wearing STEM outfits. There is a company that celebrates autonomy, research, ambition--but everything is done in shades of pink and purple, so it's acceptable to a kid." I have nothing against pink and purple; they're just colors. My daughter now wears STEM dresses. She (mostly) likes them. And I realize I'm not fully consistent with my social-justice crusade. For example, today, I'm seeing "Moana 2," and I'm alrea...

  The NYT has named its 100 books of the year; I'm never crazy about this list, and I'll add my own titles here. *"The Devil at His Elbow." Alex Murdaugh came from a crime family, but he took things "farther" than anyone he was related to. He developed an addiction to Oxy, and he began stealing from his clients to fund his need. But his law partners were on the verge of finding out--so, to create a distraction, Murdaugh murdered his own wife and son. But then the murder plot threatened to unveil itself--so, as a *new* distraction, Murdaugh arranged to have himself shot in the head. This is an insane story, and "Devil" is a work of art. *"War." Like "Wicked," this is a frenemy tale, the story of Joe Biden and Bibi Netanyahu. As Biden grows increasingly uncomfortable with Bibi's self-serving and thoughtless behavior, he falls back on an anecdote. "Let me tell you about when I met Golda Meir...." Eventually, an Israel...

  One of my main issues with "Wicked" is the end of Act One. Nobody in all of Oz-- No wizard that there is or was-- Is ever gonna bring me down! First, "was" does not rhyme with "Oz." Second, the repetition of "is" in this clunky sentence leaves something to be desired. Finally, how could a "wizard that was" bring Elphaba down? One assumes the wizard is dead? So.....huh? And the writing never really "coheres" when a character is declaring his (or her) undying love: Somehow I've fallen under your spell... And somehow I'm feeling it's UP that I fell! But I think that Stephen Schwartz does a nice job with human pain. I'm recalling "God Help the Outcasts"--and also "In the Wasteland," the highlight from "Children of Eden." In that latter song, Eve just repeats one line over and over. "Abel, my child, you must not die. You must not die. You must not die. You must not...." This...

 The "glue" in a story can be a place; in an Agatha Christie mystery, often, a set of characters in one house dances through various complications, until a climax is reached. "The White Lotus" is also about a setting; without a fancy resort, the people we meet would never have any reason to speak to one another. Another kind of story, a  Bildungsroman , follows a character through multiple journeys. We're not just at a hotel. We might bounce from country to country. The "glue" is the central character, not the place. That's "Baby Reindeer"--a Dickensian tale, a spin on "Oliver Twist." The central figure, Donny, starts his odyssey with the mother of his ex-girlfriend. The mother has boundary issues, so she allows Donny to be a boarder; she dresses him in the clothing of her own dead son. In turn, Donny shares nothing about his private life, and, in fact, he endangers the person who is being so (apparently) generous to him. This i...

  A gift of rewatching "The Sopranos" is that one notices Toni Kalem--who made a mark as Big Pussy's widow, but also as a talented writer. Kalem drafted "All Happy Families," for which Edie Falco earned an Emmy nomination. There's an obvious contrast between Mrs. Big Pussy and Carmela. Though Mrs. Big Pussy endures a tragedy (the disappearance of her spouse), she might not choose to rewrite her own story. Freed from Sal, Angie starts her own business and fights her own battles. The battles aren't pretty, but they're at least interesting. By contrast, Carmela's story is bleak. She wriggles out of Tony's grasp, but to what end? She attempts a course in still life painting, and complains that the task is difficult. (Tony asks: "Difficult? So why do it?") Carmela then begins a relationship; the brief affair is unimportant, except that it leads to one memorable scene. Complaining to her father that "men will always see me as married...

  I actually have never seen the Robert Zemeckis film "Death Becomes Her"; when I mentioned this to a Broadway vendor, he looked at me with obvious confusion. I bought my (Broadway) ticket for the chance to see Jennifer Simard--and only for the chance to see Jennifer Simard. Also, I'm on vacation, and I'm hoping not to learn anything. No learning. No deep thinking. No "Our Town," no "Yellow Face." The only option was: "Death Becomes Her." It feels strange to say this, but the Broadway version of "DBH" is essentially a rewrite of "Sweeney Todd." Helen Sharp, a meek, unsuccessful writer, watches in silence as her future is ripped from her hands. The best possible response is murder. But, having sought (and achieved) vengeance, Helen discovers that it's not quite what she had hoped for. Is it possible to live without the desire for revenge? And if revenge "leads to hell," then why is it still (sometimes) irr...

 An early standout from "The Simpsons" pits Lisa in a battle against herself.  "Mr. Lisa Goes to Washington" starts with a patriotic essay contest. Homer has fallen in love with "Reading Digest," in part because it has taught him how to refashion gingerbread-family cookie cutouts as tools to create "meatloaf men." When he sees an ad for a "patriotic essay" contest, Homer informs Lisa. Lisa's essay, about freedom, of course wins her a spot among the finalists. She travels to D.C. to enjoy the many aesthetic and culinary offerings of the Watergate Hotel. But, having overheard the plotting of a corrupt politician, she experiences a crisis of faith. Rather than cave in to cynicism, she rewrites her essay, which becomes a stunning indictment of cronyism, "Cesspool on the Potomac." She loses the contest, but she helps to ensure that her bribe-taking nemesis goes to jail (where he becomes a born-again Christian). Lisa's faith...

 I'm reaching the six-month mark of my semi-return to work; most days, I have a student, and some days, I have two. There is also some copy-editing. I continue to notice how relieved I am to have these small tasks, which would have just seemed annoying back in my twenties. My son is fascinated by the idea of work. "Are you going to work?" he'll ask me, if I'm just walking two yards to reach the bathroom. "Bye bye," he'll say, as he inappropriately wanders through the private property of a neighbor I've never met. "I'm going to  work. " Finally, Josh seems to understand that ambivalence is a common response to "compensated projects." He wonders if life is better with work, or without work. He hasn't quite mastered an either/or question, so the way he asks is cute: "Papa....or work or  no  work ?"  It's like living with a little philosophizing Hamlet. The SAT is predictable and tedious, but I get tiny rewar...

  Jesse Eisenberg has been studying the work of Kenneth Longergan--which is a smart choice. No script comes within spitting distance of "You Can Count on Me." Lonergan's wonderful story concerns troubled siblings who reunite after years of estrangement. Both siblings have difficulties with boundaries. The tension grows until a rupture occurs; although it's clear that these two people love each other, it's maybe for the best if one lives on Mars, sending letters now and then, keeping a distance. Jesse Eisenberg's new movie doesn't have (a) Kenneth Lonergan's wit, (b) Kenneth Lonergan's understanding of plotting and suspense, (c) Lonergan's eye for detail and his ability to create "organic" shifts in tone, (d) Lonergan's sense of economy, his way of saying only what needs to be said. But why not borrow from the greats? If you're choosing a role model, choose Kenneth Lonergan. The favored Lonergan topic is a pairing of adults who...

  Peter Swanson has a gift for killings. For describing them. His most recent novel opens with a man luring a woman onto a hotel balcony; the man then grabs the woman and throws her to her death. In another memorable scene, a little boy is tired of having to visit his senile grandfather in the guest room. So he quietly smothers the old man. This sets off a lifelong interest in murder. In the major set-piece encounter, a woman understands that she needs to attract her captor. So, despite being handcuffed, she finds a way to rip off a piece of her own ear. The gushing blood creates a false impression: She has committed suicide. When the captor creeps close, the wily woman opens her eyes and goes in for the kill. Much about "A Talent for Murder" is a success--from the title to the opening to the startling coda. Swanson loves Patricia Highsmith; she is credited at the end of the novel. Swanson's Lily Kintner is a 2024 version of Tom Ripley; it's not possible to "like...

 My daughter has entered her teacherly phase; she is caring for a small cloth duck, an ornament for a Christmas tree. She bathes and feeds the duck, and brushes its teeth. Also, she tries to take care of me. I once read, in my Montessori days, that small children should be able to manage with a simple drinking glass; teach a child to hold a glass with two hands, and then no training wheels are necessary. But my daughter inevitably spills her milk and turns to me, and struggles to help me manage my own frustration. So, last week, she said: "Just give me the cup with the lid. The other one will make a spill." There are limits to Susie's abilities. Yesterday, she held out a wrapper with turkey residue. She dangled the residue in front of her dog--then said, "Bad dog! Bad dog!" She was responding to Salvy's natural interest in the turkey residue. I disputed Susie's assessment--but I'm not sure I "reached" my daughter. One never (or one rarely) ...

  "Tammy Faye" is an overstuffed show with strong performances; beneath the miscalculations, there is a simple story trying to be heard. This is the story of Tammy Faye herself. She comes from nothing--almost literally nothing, because she eventually confesses that it's a source of wonder for her just to have access to a warm bath. She meets a puppeteer, Jim, who wants to help to bring "Church" into American living rooms (through the television). But Jim's gifts are limited--and Tammy Faye's are not. It is soon clear that TF has a "Princess Di" aura; she can empathize, and she quickly becomes something like the voice of her generation. When Jim turns out to be a cad (and worse), Tammy Faye enters her "solo" phase. (She is 39.) She is crafty about her decisions; no one will call her Mrs. Bakker, and no one will dissuade her from wearing excessive mascara. Like Di, Tammy Faye makes waves with her outreach to "the gays" (specif...

  Oscar Hammerstein was capable of perfect lines; people keep returning to a song from "State Fair," even if people have sort of forgotten the movie. I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm. I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string. I'd say that I have spring fever-- But I know it isn't spring. What makes this special is that the melody actually "jumps"; like a puppet on a string, the melodic line is jerked in one direction, then in another. Having described her own restlessness, the speaker can get to the heart of the matter. In the bridge, the song reveals itself to be an "I Want" declaration: I keep wishing I were somewhere else-- Walking down a strange new street-- Hearing words that I have never heard-- From a boy I've yet to meet. This is the "forefather" of "Something's Coming," from "West Side Story"; the speaker has a half-defined wish for adventure. The song builds to a climax: three detailed, ...

  In my favorite film, "Rear Window," James Stewart becomes convinced that his neighbor has committed a murder. Stewart observes--like a filmgoer--as his neighbor does strange, wordless things. Stewart is watching a silent film, trying to make inferences, considering possible interventions. I have admired my neighbor for years. He speaks a mile a minute, and his brain is teeming with conspiracy theories. He believes that he bought his house from the children of Nazis; he says these emigres hid in the house, and never left, for many decades. The children buried their Nazi parents in the backyard--and, when my neighbor enlisted the help of gardening experts too quickly, chaos ensued. My neighbor thinks that the couple on Walton gets off on privately torturing dogs. He thinks that the owners of the local pub secretly hate children--and they express themselves by spitting in certain bowls of soup. Also, in his particular vision, our local Fourth of July is a seething cauldron of ...

  Lisa Kron is one of America's most interesting writers. After a play and a musical, she is kicking butt with "Somebody Somewhere." Her most recent script asks questions about gift-giving (a favorite topic of mine). A gift can be an expression of love, a subtle form of aggression, a farcical error, a mystery. Sam arrives late to a softball game because she has stopped to pick up donuts. She already knows that her friend Fred is trying to lose weight; he has made a point of saying this. But Sam fails to read the room. The donuts seem fun, but they also seem like a way of undermining Fred, a way of declaring war. Fred's wife bluntly (too bluntly) says, "I wish you hadn't brought food. I see what you do to your body, but you don't need to drag my spouse down, as well." This is obviously brutal--but, if there weren't some truth in the remark, it wouldn't sting at all. In a parallel scene, a group of church ladies presents two gay men with a gift...

  Jami Attenberg attended Johns Hopkins, where she was sexually assaulted. She was discouraged from reporting the incident, but she made a report. Various deans came to Attenberg with an option: You can have the guy expelled, or you can allow him to attend weekly therapy sessions. At this point, vicious rumors were circulating with regard to Attenberg. She didn't want to ruin a life. She chose the weekly therapy sessions. A year later, after Attenberg had attempted suicide, she was connected with her own series of therapy sessions. The sessions didn't achieve anything, and Attenberg stopped going, and no one seemed to notice. What followed was heavy drug use and aimlessness. Attenberg wrote three novels, then her publisher dumped her. A fourth novel found its way to Jonathan Franzen; this happened by accident. Franzen offered a blurb--and his two sentences changed the course of Attenberg's career. But success wasn't simple. Attenberg describes a particular reading; at t...

 What do gay men give each other, after seven years of marriage? Tickets: Bernadette Peters, in concert. Stephen Sondheim identified BP's "Sunday in the Park" performance as one of the three or four great achievements he himself had witnessed, in musical theater history. Other actors speak of Bernadette as a teacher. Andrew Rannells has described a wish to see BP in "Follies," alone, just on a quiet afternoon, when "BP might break my heart." Victoria Clark has written about studying BP--collecting insights--in the same way the novelist Jami Attenberg has borrowed extensively from "Olive Kitteridge," by Elizabeth Strout. No one is better at seeming wounded. BP has such extraordinary access to personal pain, you feel you're overhearing a private confession. I have loved her work from my high-school years onward. My spouse allowed me to screen a clip from "A Little Night Music"; he watched from start to finish, without fidgeting or...

  Mikey Madison, like Emma Stone, struggled with shyness and anxiety. She tried acting as a way to confront her fears. Like Emma Stone, Madison will soon have a Best Actress trophy, an Oscar. Madison plays Anora, Ani, a stripper who wants a different life. She lives somewhere near Brighton Beach; her roommate pesters her, in a subtle way, about buying milk. (Ani is never at a loss for a reply. "Do you see any milk? Then I guess I didn't buy the fucking milk.")  When an "escape hatch" seems to present itself, Ani just says yes. She doesn't think about what she is doing. Almost immediately, she is in over her head--brutally mistreated by a powerful man, assaulted, threatened, verbally abused. Ani pushes back; her acts of defiance are glorious to behold. But she is tilting at windmills. She has been crushed--long before she realizes she has been crushed. I didn't expect that this movie would be so honest, and I also didn't anticipate the sneaky, breatht...

 Over the weekend, Shaina Taub named Lynn Ahrens as "our greatest living Broadway lyricist." This is wrong. Here are better choices: Lisa Kron, Lin-Manuel Miranda, David Lindsay-Abaire, Tony Kushner, Steven Sater. Lynn Ahrens is clearly competent, but great lyrics should be surprising, grounded in character, poetic (without turning purple), and showing evidence of a sense of humor. Ahrens's characters tend to sound as if they were declaiming from a series of Hallmark cards, and this is not a compliment. By contrast, I think one of the smartest Broadway songs in recent history is "My Junk," by Steven Sater. Here, several teens sing about masturbating. You'll have to excuse me-- I know it's so off... I love when you do stuff That's rude and so wrong... I go up to my room, turn the stereo on... Shoot up some you--and the you is some song. Sater brings people to life in very few syllables. A teen tries to address her crush, and she seems to be speaking f...

  My former teacher, Amy Bloom, described her particular childhood; she disliked "feminine" clothing, and she often chose to stay home, reading memoirs by prostitutes. (Her favorite was "A House Is Not a Home," by Polly Adler.) She also read abridged versions of Shakespeare stories, and she would wander around, refashioning herself as Henry V. ("I curse thee, knave!") Imagine my sense of thrill when my daughter announced that she wanted to be a tropical bird for Halloween. At last, a break from the tyranny of the princess narrative. Susie found an outfit that she liked--and I liked it, too. With its odd, semi-abstract headpiece, it made me think of something a flapper would wear, in the Roaring Twenties. Susie's costume kicked ass. Fast forward to 3pm. At the end of the day, Susie was no longer a bird, but a princess. She had persuaded her teacher to trash the bird costume and dig out a pink gown. Attached to this utterly unremarkable gown were two sma...

  The highlight of "Ragtime" is a tiny moment in the song "Gliding." In this song, a man wants his little daughter to close her eyes and daydream. He orders her literally four times to close her eyes. Four times! I always assumed this was lazy writing, but Brandon Uranowitz (at long last) makes the line work. The fourth time Uranowitz (a gay man) says the line, he puts a startling kind of sassy topspin on the command: "Girl?  Close your friggin' eyes ."  Uranowitz is Tateh, an overwhelmed dad. Life hands him many shitty days. The gospel of musical theater writing says that your protagonist should have earth-shaking ambitions, and certainly, Tateh has these ambitions. He is penniless, mourning the loss of his wife, fighting off Lower East Side strangers who want to purchase his little girl for sex. Tateh wants to attain "a normal life," but also he wants to make use of his artistic talent (between the various street brawls that arise, the alte...

  I have an idea that gay men write extraordinary villains; maybe it's about sympathy for the outsider. The obvious example is Howard Ashman. Ashman's villains have so much charisma, they threaten to take over the stories they appear in. In "Little Shop of Horrors," the evil dentist, Orin Scrivello, literally stops the show. If you're choosing any role in "Little Mermaid," you of course choose to play Ursula. And Gaston, with his scheming and his lengthy (lengthy!) solo number, is quite a bit more compelling than Terrence Mann's Prince-Turned-Beast. James Marshall wrote many immortal picture books, but there was only one time in his career (only one!) when he earned a Caldecott citation. This was also the only time he put an antihero front and center; I'm referring to his brilliant retelling of "Goldilocks." In Marshall's account, Goldilocks is obnoxious, self-centered, rapacious. A villager remarks that G looks like a "nice li...

 "Conclave" follows the template of a murder mystery; crimes occurred in the past, and it's one man's job to uncover the crimes. As he does his investigative work, new threats arise, in the present, and we may sometimes wonder if our detective might soon lose his own head. Like "Murder on the Orient Express," "Conclave" gives several hammy actors an opportunity to chew scenery. This is delightful. We may not "believe" everything we see on screen, but if Reverend Mother Isabella Rossellini gets a chance to "sass" Ralph Fiennes, who will object? If the script asks John Lithgow to have a high-stakes, public tantrum, are we going to worry about the details? No. We are going to enjoy the tantrum. The other obvious treat here is the "Vatican imagery." I don't think this film deserves the Oscars it seems to be courting, but I had a good time.