Liars and Saints

  "Bart vs. Thanksgiving" is a perfect "Thanksgiving special." Semi-strangers come to town. It's Marge's mother and sisters. These guests would be a source of stress even for the coolest cucumber on Earth. Mrs. Bouvier observes, "I'm dying, and it hurts when I talk, so I'll say just one thing, Marge. You never do anything right." And Selma and Patty are terrible. Marge has asked that the sisters not bring any food--but they disobey the order, because, they say, "We don't like what you cook." Children will listen. Bart acts out. He shoves aside Lisa's elaborate centerpiece to make room for the turkey; the centerpiece goes up in flames. Rather than empathize, Bart claims to be incapable of understanding Lisa's pain. He runs away. It's only through slow, painful, draining, mental work that he can take various important steps: "Lisa worked hard on the project. I treated it like trash. So I treated *Lisa* like tras...

  Tomie dePaola was repeatedly drawn to outcasts--Oliver Button, Old Befana, the boy with the Indian Paintbrush. Add to this list the little oddball in "The Art Lesson," the younger brother in "Nana Upstairs," lonely Patrick in Ireland. "The Clown of God" concerns a juggler, Giovanni, whose talent sends him on an odyssey. Because he can perform, he can feed himself. Eventually, losing strength, he drops a ball; the villagers, enraged, throw rocks at him. He concludes that he is past his "sell by" date. Having taken shelter in a monastery, Giovanni studies a sculpture of a morose Jesus. Giovanni is moved to juggle one last time--and, in response, the sculpture smiles. The End. Like "Old Befana," this story is slightly mysterious. It's a weird choice for a picture book. I especially like the detail of the villagers' cruelty--many writers would choose to *omit* this from a kid-friendly tale. Additionally, Giovanni dies immediately ...

  "The Queen of Dirt Island" is about raising a child, so it's a novel that immediately has an "in" with me. Eileen marries in a way that displeases her family; she sets off on her own. Right after she has her first child, her spouse is involved in a fatal car accident. As a single mom, Eileen doesn't always think clearly. For example, there is a moment when the daughter (Saorsie) is revealed to be pregnant. Saorsie's frenemy wrongly concludes that the baby is a product of unsisterly "boyfriend-stealing." When the frenemy screams allegations--on the sidewalk--Eileen has the option of drawing the curtains. But instead she (lightly) physically assaults the frenemy.  Eileen also second guesses her own choice of baby-name--"Saorsie," or Freedom--because the priest thinks a more traditional "Mary" would be better. And Eileen's sororal/fraternal messiness spills into Saorsie's life. One day, Saorsie finds her uncle close t...

  At long last, my daughter has learned to use the potty. The "therapeutic input" was sometimes questionable. For example, the therapist suggested that my daughter would have just one or two accidents in her undies--and the drama and embarrassment would be enough to teach her, once and for all, that she needs to speak up if she feels a certain "itch." But the therapist doesn't actually know my daughter. Like her mommy, Susie really enjoys finding one spot and staying there. I myself will record my banking transactions with a broken crayon if it means I don't have to stand up and search for a different writing implement. Undie "accidents" really have not troubled my child. Also, there is a power trip involved with the potty. To refuse to use the throne is to exercise a thrilling kind of control. Kids have so little autonomy, the rare sense of potty-related self-rule can be addictive. My daughter is especially excited to see my frustration in respons...

  "Mamma Mia!" is so deeply strange. It is not a romantic comedy in the Nora Ephron sense. To meet Ephron's criteria, a pair of sparring lovers would need to separate, then reteam, then separate, then reteam. The End. "Mamma Mia!" is more like a domestic drama, like something by Eugene O'Neill. A young woman--Sophie--wants to discover who her father is. Being unwise and still sort of a teenager, she decides that the best route forward is to get married (though she does not want to get married). The wedding will allow her to invite a few "suspects" (possible fathers)--so that she can do some "sleuth" work and expand her circle of loved ones. Her fiance--bizarrely named "Sky"--is understandably upset when he uncovers this plot. But he still commits to getting married--for reasons unclear. The script seems to indicate that he is drawn to his girlfriend's "golden hair." Sophie is so confused and troubled, but her story...

  There is something slightly tone-deaf in this script. The heroine--who is generally portrayed as intelligent and sensible--sits with her devout Jewish mother-in-law and says this: "I'm enjoying getting to know the Old Testament. It's like I knew the main story--the Gospels--and now I'm reading the prequel." This sort of astoundingly foolish remark is met with a stinging reply: "Take your online conversion classes or don't. I feel like I've had a beautiful ceramic flower pot--it was given by one ancestor to another, to another, to my grandmother, to my mother, to me. And now I'm tossing it to a stranger--who has taken half of one on-line intro course with regard to gardening." I'm not quick to dismiss misanthropic writing. I do not demand that central characters in any work should seem "relatable." But I do require consistency. The brittleness of the characters in "Bad Shabbos" comes and goes. Sometimes, it seems we...

 It's a little tiresome, the reverence that the Frick inspires, so I've designed a new ad campaign: "Miss this collection? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FRICKIN' MIND?" For me, the standouts are the Vermeer paintings. This is not an unusual choice. What I like is how particularly unlovely these people are. They look like folks I'd see at the grocery store. I also admire all the drama and mystery: Someone has sent a letter, and its contents are disturbing, and our heroine must digest the information, but she must also wear a "semi-public" face for her maid (her intermediary), who is standing nearby, having thoughts of her own. I think there is a lesson for writers in a Vermeer painting: You don't have to explain everything. Probably, the work is more powerful when you *don't* explain everything. I'm additionally moved by two depictions of St. Francis--one famous, one not. Francis walks outside, in the wind, among the bunnies, birds, and cattle, and ...

  Brad Goodman is an extraordinary creation, a masterwork from the greatest "Simpsons" writer, George Meyer. Goodman, a self-help guru who makes me think of Mel Robbins ("Let Them"), decides that the world needs to purchase a book of his thoughts--entitled "Adjusting Your Self-O-Stat." To the extent that the book has a thesis, it's this: "You can avoid conflict by paraphrasing your partner's comments--rather than immediately reacting." (Not bad advice--but it's unclear that anyone ought to spend *cash* on this advice.) Goodman's ambitions grow, and he soon claims to be capable of curing *all* psychological ailments. The key to life is to listen to your inner child. If you deny that child's voice, then you waste your time scurrying around, trying to please others. You become a human DOING, rather than a human BEING--and how dreary is that? Brad's last great act is to "diagnose" Marge. She is a narcissist with a ...

  "Bridesmaid, Revisited" is an unusual story about friendship. In high school, Marilee shares lunch with a new girl, Rhonda. Marilee soon realizes that this was a miscalculation; Rhonda doesn't have a sense of humor, and she is clingy. She is the first to "like" each and every one of Marilee's social media comments, including comments that Marilee has typed in response to *other* comments. Later, having moved to New York, Marilee believes that she has "shed" Rhonda. But this is wrong. Rhonda gets engaged to a dentist--"dentists are wonderful people"--and demands that Marilee return to the midwest to assume a role in the bridal party. Rhonda approaches planning tasks with a certain grimness; she is demanding and clueless. She asks each of the bridesmaids to vote for "solid color" or "print"--then blithely overrides the vote without acknowledging what she is doing. She also requires that each bridesmaid participate in a...

  I saw two movies recently. I really hated " The Fantastic Four ." Specifically, I hated it because Pedro Pascal is gay--and he has made a narcissistic decision to remain lightly closeted in the interests of his bank account. He thinks that being closeted will allow him more latitude as a heterosexual romantic lead. Never mind that it might help gay kids to know that one's sexual orientation is never something that one needs to conceal. Pedro Pascal really irritates me. I think gay actors can play straight protagonists; Jonathan Bailey was just fine in " Wicked ." But--through his secrecy--Pascal has become a distraction. The anti-chemistry between Pascal and Vanessa Kirby is almost painful to witness. It seems the director wanted to disguise reality by having Kirby call Pascal "Babe" every three to five seconds. This tacky, patronizing, lazy film deserves to die a quiet death; no one needs to see any portion, even just Act One, on any screen, at a...

 "You're worried there are too many cooks in your kitchen?" "Well, yes." "In this case, there can never be too many cooks. Hire all the cooks. Then delegate, delegate, delegate. This is your work. You need to learn to give orders." Certainly, if there is someone in this conversation who needs to learn to give orders, it's *not* the family counselor. She knows how to give orders. "I'm sorry, your concern is that you'll bond with the at-home therapist--and then he'll leave? So what? Who gives a fuck? Let there be a revolving door. If you have a reasonably well-trained human--with a pulse--who is providing respite care, then you should count your lucky stars." This is sensible. So often I'm on the other end of the equation; I'm the one steering the ship, and I'm telling a student to do SAT practice for homework. As a tutor, I get addled when a student doesn't listen. But--as a "student"--I see that liste...

  Two-time Pulitzer winner Wesley Morris just released a podcast hour in defense of "And Just Like That." I think Morris wilfully overlooks some of the show's problems, but I admire his bravery. One interesting move in the AJLT playbook was to keep Samantha alive. When an actor becomes "difficult," the character can die or even (in the case of "Fresh Prince") resurface in the shape of a *new* actor. Sara Jessica Parker and Kim Cattrall had a fight; the fight seemed to be about money and ego. In a smart twist, Michael Patrick King wrote the fight into the show. We learn that Samantha and Carrie are having a fight--a fight about ego and money--and, although things "mellow," the fight never seems to end. There is a sense of irresolution. This is just like life--and it's something that seems not to find its way into many TV scripts. OK, there are more things that I like. In the final episode, Charlotte tries to pair Carrie with legendary gay ...

  It's no wonder that Sondheim was drawn to "Sunset Boulevard." The story of a queen without a crown is also the story of "Gypsy." But "Gypsy" doesn't end with a blood bath -- and Sondheim accepted Billy Wilder's argument that "Sunset" is really an operatic tragedy, not fit for a Broadway stage. (Unless "Sunset" is a comedy? One critic observes that a comedy ends with the protagonists getting what they want. Norma wants a closeup--and Joe wants a swimming pool. Both dreams are fulfilled.) The biggest treat in David Lubin's new book is its discussion of Billy Wilder. As a child in Vienna, Wilder learned that his father had a secret family; this was never "brought to the light." Wilder had a talent for storytelling but not for the English language--so he began listening obsessively to radio dramas. He wanted to train himself. Then, the dazzling highs: "Ninotchka," "Double Indemnity," "The...

  I can tell how my husband's work is going. If the day has been fruitful, he returns home crowing about artificial intelligence. "You wouldn't believe it! What this tech can do...I'm starting to understand why all the new AI factories require so much energy....and produce so much pollution!" If the work is not going well, then my daughter sometimes finds herself in the crosshairs. "You're squirming too much," says my spouse to his child. I know something is off when Marc--eminently sensible--suggests to a Pre-K student that she is "squirming too much." The other night, like Marge Simpson, I made some tough choices. My daughter had devoured a bag of spicy Doritos right before bed--so, at 2am, she spat up a stream of gooey orange liquid. I ministered to her needs without my glasses, and I briefly told myself that she had coughed up blood. I was suddenly in a garret, tending to Mimi in "La Boheme." This frightened me; by instinct, I...

  Daniel Pinkwater is a gifted writer whose picture-book output includes a series on polar bears. Larry, a kind polar bear, forms a friendship with a human family. On one level, all is well; Larry's friends own a hotel, and the swimming pool has been repurposed as an icy "polar bear zone." When human patrons ask if it's safe to share the pool with Larry, the proprietress shrugs and says, "Probably." (Almost no one finds this reassuring.) On another level, Larry wants more. He wants to explore the world. His human buddy takes him out to a diner; she cloaks him with a pair of sunglasses and a trench coat, and she claims that he is "an uncle from Minneapolis." Larry enjoys himself, then discovers the zoo, where his brother is trapped within an enclosure. Problem solved: The enclosure is, in fact, ineffective. Polar bears remain in their pits only because they *choose* to do so--as a service to humans. Re-teamed with his brother, Larry finds that he ha...

 The movie "Weapons" is tonally different from "Sorry, Baby," but both movies ask what happens *after* a traumatic event. "Weapons" seems to be an interpretation of the school shooting in Uvalde; at the start of "Weapons," seventeen children from one classroom simply disappear. (I thought of Uvalde, but I also thought of Tom Perrotta's novel "The Leftovers." Additionally, I thought of Asha Degree, a little girl who left her home in North Carolina, in the middle of the night, in 2000. She left despite the wind and rain. No one has seen Asha Degree in 25 years.) The opening chapter of "Weapons" is the strongest, in part because it features the brilliant actor Julia Garner. Garner's character--Justine--was once a classroom teacher for the "allegory-of-Uvalde" children. Her many neighbors feel she must know secrets about the disappearance. Garner's character is memorable because she is a protagonist who behav...

  My favorite Broadway diva is, of course, Victoria Clark, who will be returning to a NY stage this year. One of Clark's finest moments is in "How to Succeed in Business," when she easily upstages both Matthew Broderick and Sara Jessica Parker. "How to Succeed" is a work of genius by Frank Loesser, the man who once rhymed "it's true" with "so....nu?" Loesser also wrote "Baby, It's Cold Outside" for his spouse--and people who later decided that the song was sinister are among the people I like least in this world. See how much fun Loesser has when he writes: Hey, there's a yummy Friday special at Stouffer's. It's a dollar-ninety vegetable plate. And at the bottom of the ad--huh--not bad... "Service for two: three-fifty-eight. To make a bargain, make a date...." I love that you save approximately twenty cents by bringing your date. Loesser's use of "huh" and "oh" in this song is al...

 As a man in my forties, I perhaps should not spend time listening to Taylor Swift on Travis Kelce's podcast. But what can I say. It's irritating to me that Travis dwells on Taylor's physical performance--which is surely the least interesting thing about Taylor's career. This person does actually have a gift, a literary gift, and it seems like Travis is not the person to perform the task of investigative journalism. (But no one else can do the work, because Taylor Swift doesn't give interviews.)  My husband is more excited about Travis and Taylor. He imagines lyrics for the new album... You're my sexy tight, tight end. With you my time I'd like to spend..... The enthusiasm must be infectious, because I find myself texting my niece. "12-12-12-12-12-12!!!" My spouse adds this: "Orange is her new era, because orange represents where she is at, in terms of her energy...." I'm ready for October.

  Homer and Marge have "twin" episodes, both written by John Swartzwelder. Homer gets "The Cartridge Family," in which a soccer riot causes Homer to purchase a gun. Intoxicated with his power, Homer begins shooting everything. When he needs to open a beer, he shoots the top of a can. When he needs to turn the TV off, he shoots it.  There seems to be a "message," which is that guns are purely bad. But in the final scene, Marge--who has spent the full storyline decrying tools of violence--spots herself in a mirror just as she is about to toss a gun in the trash. She likes her gun-wielding silhouette. She secretly decides she will keep the firearm. In another episode, from Season Two, it's *Marge* who is drunk with power. In "Itchy and Scratchy and Marge," Mrs. Simpson decides that TV animation is too violent. She is thrilled to learn that she can use her own voice--she can change the world! But her editorial suggestions for "Itchy and Scra...

  It's hard to overstate the brilliance of "The Hunger Games." Start with the title--which is sinister and sadistic and able to do its job with just three words. Then the concept. We send children to war. We also entertain ourselves by watching "reality TV." Is it really difficult to imagine that the two perversions might blend together at some point in the near future? Collins's protagonist, Katniss, has a raw deal even before "the Games." She has lost her father, and in response, her mother has become a non-functioning alcoholic. To feed the family, Katniss must hunt for wild animals. (I find myself thinking of Matt Saracen in "Friday NIght Lights," though I think Matt came *before* Katniss.) Although Katniss tends to act in a heroic way, the smart choices don't always come quickly to her. We see her struggle to "behave in a political way"--we hear her thoughts, and we understand that she often has to repress the urge to w...

  The neighbor who swims with pigs? He has a new story. "I stopped by a Caribbean snack shack and ingested a parasite. So, last weekend, I'm back home, and I'm just puking my brains out. I'm arranging a trip to urgent care--and my husband gets out of the shower. He's white as a sheet. He has pain in his upper arm. "Flash forward. I'm at urgent care; my husband calls. He says,  I just coded. I'm going in for surgery . Yes, coded. His heart stopped. And he's on the phone with me! Well--you can imagine--when the nurses put me in a 'private room,' I lost my shit. They never use the private room when they want to share *good* news. "Forty-eight hours later, my husband is sort of rehabilitated. The doctors release him. My birthday weekend is next weekend. I'm thinking about Atlantic City...." It's possible that I've never--in my life--given a speech that is half as long as my neighbor's casual commentary by our shared fe...

 Liam Neeson seems to carry his resume in his eyes. Great performances in major movies: "The Mission," "Husbands and Wives," "Kinsey," "Widows," "Schindler's List," "Silence," "The Ballad of Buster Scruggs." I'm always happy to see Liam Neeson on a screen. Additionally, I agree with critic Brian Tallerico that Neeson now has one of the best roles--if not the best role--in his career. Neeson is outstanding in "The Naked Gun." I'm not completely sure what this movie is about, because I watched it while sleepy; also, at times it seems as if the writers themselves have lost track of the plot. But I was dazzled by Neeson's Frank Drebin, who struggles with ghosts. Frank was breast-fed until he was thirteen, and he can't get aroused unless he detects an odor of stale milk in the room. (I believe I heard this right.) To drown his own feelings of self-loathing, Frank must eat seven chili dogs per...

 "Jesus Christ Superstar" is essentially the same story as "Evita." We have the charismatic antagonist who steals the show. We have the drippy third wheel who gets one memorable solo ("I Don't Know How to Love Him," "Another Suitcase"). We have musings on celebrity and power--we have questions about where money should flow. Consider this: Woman, your fine ointment--brand new and expensive-- Could have been saved for the poor! Why has it been wasted? We could have saved maybe... Ten thousand silver pieces or more... Also this: The money kept rolling in from every side... Eva's pretty hands reached out, and they reached wide... Now you might hear a little of the cash has gone astray... But that's not the point, my friends. When the money keeps rolling out, you don't ask how. Both shows also feature a direct address to God. ("Oh, what I'd give for that hundred years...My Creator...") "Superstar" gives Jesus hi...

 One thing I really loathe is "special outfit" day. This seems like the laziest possible option for educators. It's heavily abused at my son's school. Almost every other day is "wear green to show your spirit!" day. I assume other parents just ignore this bizarre request, but because I have an anxiety disorder, I try to hit every mark. A part of my brain believes that the sky will fall if my kid fails to wear green when green is mandated. Other days are "pajama days," which my son understandably rejects. His policy is this: "Why the fuck should I wear pajamas on the bus?" Then I find myself texting the teacher, in shame, to explain that PJs will not be materializing. I went to graduate school for this? My daughter's camp counselor had initially planned to make this current week "science week," but I suspect she is fighting seasonal allergies, because she just made a last-minute change. Instead of conducting experiments, the ...

 One thing Fred Ebb does really well is to add dimensions to a character; even as he is pushing the plot forward, he is also thinking about how a specific person would speak, choose evasions, rely on hyperbole. In "Chicago," Velma's solo "needs" to be just a sales pitch; we need to see her courting Roxie Hart. But Ebb's tiny details show us Velma's pride and desperation; we see a person at war with herself; we see doubt between the lines. My sister and I had an act that couldn't flop. My sister and I were headed straight for the top. My sister and I earned a THOU' a week--at least--OH SURE... But my sister is now--unfortunately--deceased. The "at least" is just too much. We immediately imagine that Velma and her sister were having trouble booking gigs. She'd say, what's your sister like? I'd say, MEN. (Yuk! Yuk! Yuk!) She'd say, you're the cat's meow... Then we'd wow the crowd AGAIN.... This is pretty bad--an...

  Alice McDermott says that an opening paragraph has to suggest something extraordinary; if there isn't a sense of magic within those first three or four sentences, the book is never going to take off. (Or, at least, takeoff is unlikely.) As an example, McDermott cites Virginia Woolf. Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. For Lucy had her work cut out for her. The doors would be taken off their hinges; Rumpelmayer's men were coming. And then, thought Clarissa Dalloway, what a morning--fresh as if issued to children on a beach. What a lark! What a plunge! For so it had always seemed to her...when she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the opening air... Through small, thoughtful choices, Woolf turns a British morning into an adventure. "Lark," "plunge," "burst." The day is like ice cream on the boardwalk--"fresh as if issued to children on a beach." Something similar happens in Lorrie Moore's ...

 Amy Bloom writes about the sea of bad therapists. The worst we ever had sat in a pale green room with us. He watched, in alarm, as my sister began crooning and slowly massaging her own breasts. My mother and I started to laugh. This was Rose's standard opening salvo.  Mr. Walker said, "I wonder why it is that everyone is so entertained by Rose behaving inappropriately." Rose burped and then we all laughed. Mr. Walker, unfortunately, was determined to do right by us. "What do you think of Rose's behavior, Violet?" They did this sometimes. In their manual, it must say, "If the parents are too weird, try talking to the sister." "I don't know. Maybe she's trying to get you to stop talking about her in the third person.... " Then Bloom writes about the one *good* therapist. Dr. Thorne moved mountains. Rose set up shop in a halfway house, whose director kept Rose even when Rose went through a period of having sex with everyone who pass...

 One of many themes in Eva Victor's sensational debut, "Sorry, Baby," is family. Found family. Victor plays Agnes, who is unsure about her gender. During jury selection, she is asked to specify "male" or "female." She bubbles in "female," but then she adds a third circle, somewhere in the middle of the white space. She bubbles in that additional circle, then she draws a puzzling arrow from one circle to another. It's a work of art. Agnes feels a platonic love for her friend Lydie; the two sometimes share a bed. But Lydie, who is actually gay, stumbles into a marriage and gets pregnant. The news is complicated for Agnes, who finds herself whispering to the fetus. "I am your *real* mommy." Agnes also worries that the inevitable baby will devour all of Lydie's time. We have to wonder what kind of aunt Agnes will be--and it turns out that she is the best kind of aunt. Agnes has lived through a shocking episode of trauma--and, fo...

  Richard Linklater invents brilliant characters; specifically, he invents them for Ethan Hawke. The Linklater/Hawke collaboration led to the unforgettable film "Boyhood," in which Hawke struggles to be a dad. He is--at first--young, stupid, and negligent. After a passage of years, he is "born again," and he attempts to repair what he can. My favorite scene in this movie shows Hawke asking his kids about their day. This question is irritating, and the kids throw it back at Hawke: "Why don't *you* narrate *your* day--if you're so eager for chit chat?" In the "Before" trilogy, Hawke is still Hawke. He is still flawed, searching, conflicted. He leaves his wife and family on a whim; he wants to revisit an old flame. The consequences of this choice haunt him for ten years (likely more). Hawke seems to have "aged out" of his Linklater phase, but it's a nice surprise to see that Glen Powell can do the work. In "Hitman," P...