Elisabeth Moss: "Mad Men"

As Matt Zoller Seitz observes, "Mad Men" is a prestige series *without* a grand narrative plan; it's *not* about the formation of a cartel or the war between NY and NJ crime families.

In that sense, "Mad Men" resembles "The Good Wife"; both shows just follow life as life unfolds. "The Good Wife" has a procedural backbone--almost every hour I recall is a spotlight on a particular legal case. Although more loosely, "Mad Men" also makes use of a procedural format. There is generally an effort to seduce a client, whether the client is a cigarette maker, or a male deodorant brand, or an airline.

The procedural element is delightful to me. Think about the deodorant. Don enlists his young workers for help. But they dwell on the scientific properties of aerosol; they don't know what they're doing. They work up images of aerosol cans in a spaceship--it's unclear if they have identified an audience or if anyone will make a powerful emotional connection between spaceships and deodorant. Don sees the problem immediately. "You're trying to tap into a boyish love of space exploration? But men don't buy their own deodorant. They send their wives."

We then watch Don solve the mystery in real time. Deodorant is about smell, which is about sex. The chemical particles mix with a man's musk, and the musk penetrates any nearby woman; the molecules thrust their little electrons into the woman's waiting nose. "What do women want?" Don asks flirtatiously. (He is thinking aloud.) "What do women want? YOU know better than to ASK." He mumbles for a moment. "What do women want? A chance to get closer to HIM."

When I watch "Sunday in the Park With George," I'm especially interested in the actual painting scenes; I find these more captivating than the romantic drama. (Surely, this is not what James Lapine intended.) In the same way, I like Don the artist more than Don the cad/orphan/negligent father. I gotta be me.

Matt Zoller Seitz writes very well about "Mad Men." For example, he notes something crucial about "The Suitcase," the high point of the series and a watershed moment in TV history. One climax of "The Suitcase" shows Don kneeling down to kiss Peggy's hand. This is powerful--but it *gains* additional, subtextual power through its link to Episode 1.1. In that very first episode, Peggy awkwardly tried to offer sex to Don by slipping a hand onto his. It's all about the hands. Also, Seitz has wonderful insights about Betty. I hadn't realized that the "Fat Betty" subplot grew out of a response to January Jones's real-world pregnancy. (Jones shed her weight so quickly, the subplot proved to be unnecessary. But Weiner kept it.) Betty's difficult father evokes thoughts of Carmela Soprano's parents. (Struggling with dementia, Mr. Hofstadt tries to grope his child. I'm reminded of a moment when Carmela indirectly asks her own father for assurance that she is more than "Tony Soprano's trophy." Pointedly, and without words, Mr. De Angelis declines to help.) Seitz connects Betty's fury with Don's professional triumph. Perhaps Don "rallies" so memorably, at the end of Season Three, because he needs to do something with all of his pre-divorce agitation. If he cannot be a potent spouse and father, he can at least be a savior (or momentary savior) in the workplace.

Hats off to Seitz for "Mad Man Carousel." This is a substantial achievement.

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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