Liars and Saints

 Everyone knows that "Non-Stop" from "Hamilton" is a tribute to "One Day More" from "Les Miserables." But I want to argue that "Les Miserables"--a show I generally dislike--handles its "curtain number" more gracefully than "Hamilton." Because it's a work of fiction, "Les Miserables" can make a certain audacious promise. "You think Act One was crazy? You haven't seen crazy yet." And the promise is fulfilled.  Javert, the hero's antagonist, makes clear that there will be many violent deaths. "We'll be ready for these school boys. They will wet themselves with blood!" (Javert isn't wrong. But--in a bit of dramatic irony--it's true that Javert will *also* wet himself with blood. We can imagine that he might bash his head on a river rock when he jumps into the Seine.) A second war is implied. This is the war between Cosette and Eponine. It's a war between a head vo...

 My husband enjoys all kinds of civic events -- meetings of the town representatives, art festivals, parades, protests, outdoor music performances. I'm allergic to all of this; I tend to think of the elderly man in the St. Aubyn novels, the one who paints all of his windows black and locks himself in his closet. Dewy-eyed, awed before Norman Rockwell's "Freedom of Speech," my husband explains the source of inspiration. "Rockwell attended a town meeting --  and watched someone suggesting an unpopular opinion.  And no one agreed with this speaker. But everyone listened respectfully!" I nod and nod again. "That's nice, dear." I tend to sign on to the civic outings (because a part of my soul secretly enjoys them). But one that really tested me was called "Dogs in the Pool!" As you can imagine, my town opened its public swimming pool; all dogs were invited to swim. A more accurate title might have been "PAYING Dogs in the Pool!" ...

  "Unforgotten" is a British series about outrage, about the silos we live in now that it's 2025. In the present day, a white woman in a university position teaches a course about race. A particularly obnoxious (white) student asks for extracurricular reading. The teacher suggests a memoir by a Black scholar; the memoir has a provocative title that makes use of the "n" word. The student then cries foul; she believes she has suffered from a microaggression. Elsewhere, a former nun has a kind of "Kellyanne Conway" role on Fox TV. She shouts about immigration and transgender people. But--secretly--she believes that anyone should have the right to choose an abortion. And she is shtupping her priest. Meanwhile, the central character, an investigator, wonders about his own knee-jerk reactions. He has entered a relationship with someone who makes a reference to a cloudy personal history. The cloudiness is impacting the present; the new girlfriend becomes evas...

 There is so much that I dislike about Louise Penny's work. First, I think the novels are too long. I think a thriller should be around 200 pages; I'm thinking of the kind of book that Ruth Rendell wrote in her prime. Additionally, the amount of "telling" exasperates me. We are repeatedly told that Armand has a great love for Reine-Marie--but it seems to me that Penny can't make the effort to imagine what this great love actually looks like. Contrast this couple with Guido Brunetti and his wife Paola. We see Guido and Paola frequently disagreeing--with sharp, memorable dialogue. There is no question that Guido and Paola love each other, and that Paola is a three-dimensional character. Finally, the repetitive use of fairytale "clues" is irksome. I know that Penny isn't trying to be anywhere near the ballpark that could be called Literary Realism. But, in the new book, she has a scientist leave a river rock near a tree so that someone might say, "...

 I feel my old age most deeply when I'm standing in line for tickets to the revival of "Chess." All I want to do is complain about Lea Michele.  The role of Florence once belonged to Judy Kuhn--possibly the greatest singer in Broadway history. Now, in 2025, the best we can do is Lea Michele? A 7:30 pm start time means that I will be out past 11--but what can I do? Maybe I'll be able to sleep in the Uber. In my younger and more impressionable era, I thought "Nobody's Side" was thrilling. Now all I can think about is scansion: Everybody's PLAY-ING the GAME... But nobody's rules ARE the SAME! Who talks that way? Enough already. I make the purchase. Time to think about a tall glass of Ovaltine.

 "One Fish, Two Fish, Blowfish, Blue Fish" is about randomness. You make a plan, then life intervenes. Homer--convinced that he is living out his last day on Earth--gets into an argument with some cops. "I pay your salary," he says impatiently. "I'm not afraid of you. Just write a ticket and move on." The cops respond by throwing Homer in jail. Barney--who lives directly behind the jail--finds fifty dollars "in rusty coins"; this can be bail money. But Homer fails to make good use of his freedom; he finds a cassette tape of Larry King reading from the Bible, then falls asleep during an especially boring passage about genealogy. Oddly, this makes me think of "Bagman" from "Better Call Saul." Like "Blowfish," "Bagman" asks how closely anyone, in any situation, can "stick to a plan." Like "Blowfish," "Bagman" profits from high stakes. Both Saul and Homer also have great loves ...

 There is a compelling movie buried within "Deliver Me From Nowhere"--we see hints whenever Bruce Springsteen's family history becomes central. Artists often do not transplant large sections of "life" from memory to the page. There isn't always a one-to-one correspondence between a real person and a literary character. (Efforts to insist on a one-to-one correspondence can become tiresome.) That said, an event from life can often "color" an artistic choice. When Springsteen writes "Nebraska," he is not writing in the voice of his own abusive father, but he *is* at least thinking about his abusive father: They declared me unfit to live-- Said into the great void my soul'd be hurled. They want to know why I did what I did. Well, sir, I guess there's just a meanness in this world. It's clear that the codependent relationship in "Badlands" (between the Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek characters) evokes Bruce's thoughts ...

 Amazingly, Joanna Gleason is *not* the final case of a performer winning a Best Actor prize for an original Sondheim work. Donna Murphy won for "Passion." "Assassins" did not make it to Broadway until 2004, and Michael Cerveris won the Tony for "originating" the role of John Wilkes Booth. But people tend to think of "Into the Woods" as the last "major" Sondheim work. Both "Passion" and "Assassins" have a "minor" quality. Joanna Gleason's astonishing performance--which helped her to snatch a Tony from the hands of Patti LuPone--is centered on the song "Moments in the Woods." For this song, it's helpful to hear "wood" as "would." Was I wrong? Am I mad? Was that all? Does he miss me? .....Wake up! Stop dreaming! Stop prancing about the woods... It's not beseeming... What is it about the WOULDS? The Baker's Wife is trapped in her own head, second-guessing herself, ...

  Some of Edith Wharton's best work grew out of suffering; as she disentangled herself from her spouse, she wrote "Ethan Frome" and "The Custom of the Country." Divorce was so scandalous, Wharton had to remove herself from the United States. She took off for France, where she spent the last few decades of her life. Wharton was not a saint. The caretakers of her museum make a point of noting her racism and her failure to support the movement for universal suffrage. On the other hand, I think her handling of Teddy Wharton was admirable. She had been married for many years to a man who shared none of her intellectual interests and who gradually lost his mind. (He had inherited a mental illness.) Later, asked about Teddy, Edith expressed gratitude for "the good years." A PR coach could not have handled the question more gracefully. The special thrill of visiting The Mount is thinking, "This is where  The House of Mirth  happened." Wharton wrote i...

  If you have been on the receiving end of abuse (emotional, physical, sexual), then there can be a desire to understand the choices of the predator. Why did this person treat me this way? You might then find yourself torn between compassion and anger. If you feel empathy for your abuser....is this just an example of "bleeding heart" silliness? If you refuse the possibility of empathy, what does this do to your own soul? The new documentary "Predators" has an extraordinary scene toward the end. Chris Hansen, a faux-journalist, has built a career on "gotcha" moments. He arranges sting operations--entraps sexual predators--then films the minute of humiliation for the American public. Hansen claims to feel troubled by men who prey on teenagers, but then he himself becomes a man who preys on teenagers. He ensnares a high-school student who wants to hook up with another high-school student. The "predator" is eighteen--and his transgression means that ...

 Two kids get together -- Jenny and Alfred. Jenny has a green ribbon that she refuses to remove from her neck; when Alfred asks about this, Jenny just says, "Unimportant...." Love blooms. In the marital bed, Alfred again asks about the ribbon.  Jenny gives an inch. She *will* tell her story one day -- but now is not "the right time." Years later, having started to die, Jenny invites Alfred to remove the green ribbon. And her head falls off. The end. My daughter finds this book so frightening, she has asked that I punt it far, far away from the house. At other times, she demands to hear the story again. I think my favorite element in "The Green Ribbon" (Alvin Schwartz) is the pacing -- just when your mind starts to wander, there is another curveball. Confrontation, then love, then old age. I also like the "fairytale" opening, which makes me think of Goldilocks or the Three Little Pigs. I will be doing more research on Alvin Schwartz. https://www.s...

  To protest against Trump's various abuses, my husband used Princess Anna, from "Frozen." "Kings--Out. Princesses--In." This sign was well-received; additionally, I liked a neighbor's observation. "It's Not Illegal Immigration if We're Talking About Stolen Land." I did think the "stolen land" comment was in tension with the afternoon's theme; this was a patriotic event, with allusions to "the land of the free and the home of the brave." But there is always tension in one corner or another. A second neighbor listed Kings she liked or could tolerate: "Burger King. Martin Luther King. Billie Jean King." Then: "No Kings! These are the only exceptions." Yet another sign opted against words; it featured just an image of the Statue of Liberty with her head buried in her hands. Often, my neighbors irritate me--but I liked pretty much everyone on Oct. 18. (Which makes me think of another sign. "It...

 John Swartzwelder entered immortality with "Bart Gets Hit by a Car," an episode from The Golden Age. Having been lightly tapped by Burns's car, Bart meets a stranger. It's Lionel Hutz, a smarmy attorney with an agenda: "Legally, I can't promise you a big settlement, but just so you know, I'm promising you a big settlement." Hutz coaches Bart to claim that his injuries are almost insurmountable. Also, Hutz drags in "Nick Riviera," who is "the closest thing we have to a doctor." And mysterious "facial swelling" is soon detected. Watching this episode, I can't help but think of Taylor Swift's new, childish album. As others have observed, Swift sees her past in a tiresome and hyperbolic way: "I could have drowned in purgatory," "The curse on me was broken by your magic." But shouldn't a writer in her thirties have a sense of perspective, an ability to see herself as (simply) a human being try...

  Ethan Hawke is outstanding as Lorenz Hart; Andrew Scott is his equal as Richard Rodgers. Unfortunately, the movie "Blue Moon" doesn't have a plot. This might not bother you--because you get to spend two hours with Ethan Hawke. It's widely known that the alcoholic, unreliable Lorenz Hart was a better writer than Oscar Hammerstein. But Hammerstein was reasonably mature. So Rodgers dumped Hart for Hammerstein. Then Hart had to put on a brave face. A terrific idea for a movie. (It's just that, as I've mentioned, the movie doesn't have a plot.) My favorite Hart tune is "Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered"--because the speaker is so obviously human. She is in middle age; recently, she started shtupping a younger man. This is delightful to her, though she recognizes that the guy is intellectually deep as a sidewalk puddle. Laughing at herself, the speaker is nevertheless hopeful, moved, a little scared. It's a tour de force. I'm wild again-- ...

 Adam Feldman was correct in his first assessment of "Ragtime," the one he formed when he saw the Audra McDonald version: this is a regrettable, sentimentalized Cliffs Notes retelling of E.L. Doctorow's story. Feldman was right to focus on "Make Them Hear You," which seems to turn Coalhouse into an aspirational figure, when (in fact) Coalhouse is another version of Sweeney Todd. (Feldman says he has revised his opinion of the show; if he is being truthful, then he ought to think more carefully.) When I saw "Ragtime" in Toronto, I had a "young Adam Feldman" reaction. Except that I noticed the hurricane that was Audra McDonald. By this point in her career, Audra had already won two Tony Awards. (She was about to win her third.) She had worked with her hero, Zoe Caldwell, for whom she named her first child. Caldwell had a "no bullshit" style; Audra has confessed that Caldwell would chastise her whenever she was hitting false notes. I t...

  In the TV series "Bates Motel," after Norma Bates discovers that her young son is a bloodthirsty killer, Norma tries to keep him home. "Stay, Norman," she says. "It's so cold and wet outside. We'll have a day indoors. We'll watch movies, we'll bake a cake. It will be fun." I was struck by this scene--because, essentially, Norma copies my "approach." I do not actually think that my daughter will commit murder if she goes outside, but everything else about "the world" is a headache. It's a special hell to sit with Susie in the restroom of a diner; she simply cannot accept that others might want to use the toilet, and her "process" needs to involve twelve different sheets of paper towel, extensive tissue yardage, a lengthy interlude during which she stares at the mirror and sings a song. If she is at the library, she will "choose" a 700-page novel, then drop it in a mail slot--so that professionals...

  I love Donna Leon's recent book "Backstage" -- because it spotlights a writer writing about writing. This is possibly my favorite kind of book. (Leon's earlier essays, "Wandering Through Life," were just autobiographical anecdotes. I'd rather see her talking about narrative.) Leon's brilliance is most obvious when she tackles a nursery rhyme, "Jack and Jill": Leon uses the rhyme to examine the kind of work a reader does as he reads. The reader fills in gaps. Jack fell, not because of drunkenness, but because he is a clumsy kid. Jill's fall is surely linked with genetics. Since Jill is Jack's sister (probably), she is just as uncoordinated as he is. Leon then parodies various schools of literary criticism. A Freudian scholar might focus on the vaginal "hole" -- the well, which will be penetrated by the pail. A Marxist scholar might see an allusion to socioeconomic structures buried in the word "crown." Then Leon...

Details are the key. Details make a script special.  So when we see Broadway phenom Corey Cott walking toward a crime scene, it's important that he is ranting. He is ranting about not wanting to collect semen in a plastic bag. This exchange helps to (a) remind us of exactly what a cop needs to do, (b) establish a "tough love" rapport between Corey Cott and Kevin Kane, and (c) humanize Corey Cott. It's not hard to feel for Cott in this situation. Another "script curveball" I admire. If my daughter wakes up at 5am and begins crying for Daddy, I have to listen for the story underneath the story. If she says she wants a new bed immediately, these are just words. What she is really saying--with her intermittent silences--is that she had an accident, she feels embarrassed, and she can't cope with the embarrassment. A bomb goes off in front of Kevin Kane. This *seems* to be an effort to destroy DNA evidence--to hijack a rape investigation. But Kane has to consi...

 Here's something I liked about Diane Keaton. Her creativity spilled out from the confines of the "actor" mold. She had that odd gift for clothing herself in surprising ways. And she wrote well; "Then Again" is a good book. My spouse wanted to watch "The Godfather" this weekend, but my own thoughts turned to "Manhattan Murder Mystery," my favorite Diane Keaton film. This appeared in the world at a time when I was still young enough to imagine a "blurred" line between fiction and nonfiction--the idea of the murder was "real" to me. As Keaton's character--like Jimmy Stewart's "Rear Window" photographer--gets obsessed, it's impossible not to feel for her. Keaton's desire for answers leads to the most entertaining sequence in the movie, in which her spouse, Woody Allen, tries to rein her in. "I forbid you to go there! I forbid it! ....Is this what you do  when I am forbidding??? " What a car...

  Ann Leary writes very well about her marriage, and her secret involves metaphors. The first is a tennis metaphor. (Ann always loses because her spouse, Denis, manipulates the rules.) When the children came along, we got caught up in the tallying of efforts, the scorekeeping of who was doing more for the marriage and family and who was being self-serving, disapproving. Somewhere along the line we had entered a silent competition.....in which we were opponents.... Then--a surprise, so random that it must come from actual life: One of the movies we saw was "March of the Penguins." This movie moved us to tears because, whatever battles raged between us, we had these two very delicate fledglings that needed to be protected....carried along carefully.....because is anything more fragile than a preteen girl or a growing boy? When there is an (apparently) final rupture, Leary uses "sartorial" language (another surprise): I decided to serve up my final grievances, the thin...

 Last night, I'd hired a babysitter, and I had a few hours to kill.  I tried to use this time in an intelligent way. "Kiss of the Spider Woman" received meh reviews--and I just can't imagine Jennifer Lopez has the skills to carry that movie. Meanwhile, the "worthy" Leo DiCaprio film seemed daunting. Who has three hours of sharp attention to offer on a Friday night? I chose "The Conjuring: Last Rites," because audience scores were pretty high. I thought, however bad this movie might be, it features Vera Farmiga, and it's always a smart idea to watch Vera Farmiga. But the movie turned out to be among the worst of the year. I couldn't stay awake. Vera was amusing, as always, but what a dreadful, lazy, sentimental script. The ticket was just south of twenty dollars--then, of course, there were the fees for the babysitter, the planning work and the negotiation of an extra childcare hour, and the sleepy drive back to the house. So I feel for Bar...

 "Spent" has a plot I haven't encountered before; Stuart and Sparrow live in a kind of mini-commune, and they have silent dreams of forming a "polycule." Their nonbinary child has left for college (Oberlin!)--and they have some time on their hands.... Stuart and Sparrow meet an alluring bisexual planner-of-farmers-markets, Naomi. Soon, the three are trysting. ("I had so, so wanted to give cunninlingus," says Sparrow. "I was so excited, I almost passed out!" ...And Stuart raises an eyebrow.) A vegan purple dildo arrives at the commune; Stuart wants to wear it on top of his actual dick, for reasons that aren't fully explored. The group rejects the term "polycule"--it sounds too much like a growth on one's liver tissue--and Stuart and Sparrow worry about how to break their "life news" to their child. Meanwhile, Alison Bechdel lives down the road on a pygmy goat colony. There is a new baby--"Goaty McGoat"--bu...

 We're all advised--in a fraught situation--to lead with one sentence. "The story I'm telling myself is....." We then list our comical misconceptions--and the other person can chuckle and say, "You have it all wrong! These aren't my intentions--not by a mile!" I have a neighbor with an adolescent son. I've never spoken to this child, but I dislike him, because he and his friends leave their beer cans in my trash bin (which isn't for recycling). Additionally, he has painted his car with the words, "HONK IF YOU LOVE JESUS!" ...And to me these words suggest a fatal lack of imagination--they seem to be the words of an idiot I would run far, far away from, if I were still in high school. Also--recently--the teenager blocked my car. He parked in front of my driveway. It takes a special kind of nastiness to execute this douchebag move. I have no trouble owning the fact that I am becoming a grumpy old man; soon, I will be waving a cane at the w...

 One of the most famous interludes in musical theater history is "the bench scene" from "Carousel." We might think that it ends with the rhyming verses of "If I Loved You," but it actually ends with dialogue. Julie turns to Billy. "You're right about there being no wind. The blossoms are just comin' down by theirselves. Just their time to, I reckon." This is a spine-tingling moment. Wind does not knock down the blossoms. They just know to fall at a certain point. It's fate. That's like the fate of Julie Jordan; she is going to fall in love, whether she "chooses to" or not. It's just her time. In this sweeping tragedy, Julie struggles against her destiny. Struggles and loses. I suspect that Oscar Hammerstein--or the memory of Hammerstein--was a force behind the musical adaptation of "Grey Gardens." This adaptation doesn't need to exist, and it's not great. But it has a moment of greatness in its elev...

  In her thirties, Janet Jackson released "The Velvet Rope," a career-defining album. Jackson had been struggling with depression--so she decided to be blunt. The album is about self-harm and loss--but it's oddly inspiring, because it's an example of someone being brave. The first single, "Got 'Til It's Gone," is centered on a wayward Janet. She has made mistakes; she has driven her love away. He isn't coming back. That's the start and the end of the song. He isn't coming back. Janet is just pleading--ineffectively. If I could turn back the hands of time-- I'd make you fall in love with me again. So would you give me another chance to love you? To love you in the right way? No games? This is followed by an astonishing letter-song, "Together Again," a dance number about AIDS and death. In "Together Again," Janet sings to her dead friend, and she highlights a particular lesson that he once repeated (and repeated) abo...

  I'm blubbering to the family counselor. "I've just heard that the years between 5 and 10 are supposed to be the fun years, and we're NOT THERE...." The counselor laughs at me. "Fun years? Who said that? All three of my children are in the range you are citing. It's not fun. It's a nightmare. They can't self-regulate, they're trying to learn. It's all hell." This makes me laugh. I think the counselor could have used her imagination. When people mention the 5-to-10 chestnut, they are suggesting that these are the years when (a) your child can communicate in an intelligent way and (b) your child is not yet a snotty teenager. But I can still laugh. My greatest resentment right now is that I can't read in the way I want to read. Oh, I can read. But the range is restricted. Novels need to have short chapters, and the "cast" needs to feature a psychopath. Without a psychopath, the stakes are too low. A part of me would like t...

  Writers sometimes get in trouble for mining their own lives--searching for material. I've had this problem. I suspect that Greg Daniels has struggled with this issue, as well--and so we have "Secrets of a Successful Marriage." Having experienced a personal crisis, Homer tries to regain self-confidence by becoming a teacher. He will coach his neighbors on "communication strategies"--because, after all, he has stayed married for several years. Homer finds that he has nothing to say. Except--casually--he admits that Marge dyes her hair. (A wonderful detail.) Having noticed a surge of interest, Homer continues. Marge likes to engage in "elbow-nibbling" during foreplay. Soon enough, Homer is inviting the students to a Simpson family dinner; students can witness juicy conflicts even as they are just starting to take shape. Marge is understandably furious.  I think the resolution of the story is fine, but what really captivates me is Homer's descent int...

 When she teaches a writing class, Alice McDermott often tells a kid, "This is actually not your story. The strange little gremlin who appears on page five for one paragraph? The one who sells dentures? THAT should be the focus of your story." Watching the new Broadway play "Punch," I couldn't help but think of Alice McDermott. The focus of "Punch" is a young man named Jacob--but this is a somewhat cliched choice. Jacob is not actually all that interesting--despite a strong performance by Will Harrison. Jacob makes a dumb choice--by punching a stranger--but this is no dumber than driving aggressively or cheating slightly on your taxes. It's just by accident that the victim lands on a hard wedge of concrete (and later dies). Jacob has been somewhat passive in his life--and the passivity persists. He participates in restorative justice, not because of his own wish, but because the opportunity is "pitched" to him. He begins speaking out abou...

 "In the wind" refers to the disappearance of an important person. In the opening episode of SVU 27, some crucial figures are in the wind: Fin's assailants, and a scared witness on the run from ICE. This elegant script borrows a page from Michael Connelly: if you're a cop, it's a really big deal when you lose your gun. It doesn't look good. Connelly's Bosch recently handled this problem in a typically iconoclastic way. In SVU, Fin lies about his gun mishap "to protect Benson." (Benson looks incompetent if one of her deputies is shown to be incompetent.) Of course the coverup is worse than the misstep. Benson's new boss--theater legend Noma Dumezweni--knows about the problem, and she uses it as leverage. She invites Benson for a chat--and silently waits to see if Benson will volunteer any info about the gun. When Benson remains quiet, Noma says, "I'm so pleased that Fin found his gun." This is code for another message: "You ...

 I was raised to be aggressively nice in person--and then to seek my revenge in prose. Sitting through the pre-K Parent Night was like being asked to ingest a large bucket of nails. It went on and on and on. It didn't start until 7 pm; I was reprimanded for yawning. My daughter's teacher is lovely but slightly insane; she talked nonstop for over sixty minutes. Her topics were non-topics. She took time to explain that, if you don't want a "hug" greeting in the morning, you can request a fist-bump. At one point, she detailed her "art" curriculum. "If the child wants to draw a trapped kitty, I might explain how to create a ladder." Then she turned to the white board and slowly drew parallel lines. She connected the lines with transversal-rungs. One. After the other. After the other. After the other. After the other. As I silently prepared to crucify this teacher, another parent demonstrated a different approach. Her approach was direct confrontati...

  If you're a woman in an abusive relationship, one thing you shouldn't rely on is "the system." We Americans learn this again and again. We learned it with Gaby Petito, a young person who very clearly indicated that she was in distress, and was then ignored (and later murdered). We learned it with Nicole Brown, who went to the police, who said, literally, "O.J. is going to kill me, and he is going to get away with it." (O.J. said to friends of Nicole, "If I catch her with another man, I will kill her.") Police incompetence seems to be memorialized in our language, our English language. "No visible bruises" is a phrase that lets cops off the hook--who decides what is "visible"? It's clearly not the initial caller, the woman in distress. Karen Palmer had a tough situation. Her husband, a professional thief, was verbally abusive. Also, he confided in her; he casually described having once killed a man. The husband--Gil--then p...