Liars and Saints

  Substantial portions of my month are spent in email discussions with the SOMA school administration, a coven of incompetent goons. I try to remind myself that these are people unhappy in their jobs, simply trying to put food on the table. Sometimes, this reminder is helpful. I do not have tactical skills, so my standard M.O. is to veer wildly between puzzling silence and overwhelming (and unhelpful) candor. I lack the muscle that would lead me to pause and ask myself, "What is the politically wise move, in this context?" If I'm advised to withhold info--"do not give them power"--the advice comes as a surprise. Over and over again. Some critics think of TV in terms of scenes. A strong literary work is a parade of exceptional scenes--one standout after another. And so it's easy to understand why "Last Exit to Springfield" is considered a prizewinner--not just among "Simpsons" episodes, but also among all episodes of all TV shows in histor...

  As my dog gets older, I notice a difference between my spouse and me. My spouse is ready--even eager--to get sentimental. If you are five months late with a work assignment, you can say, "Sorry, my dog died," and my spouse will accept the excuse without question. Also, Marc likes to talk about Salvy's hips. "You know what they say about an aging lab and his hips." I *do* know what they say--but I don't see the value in worrying. My dog still happily makes it around the block. That's good enough for me. At my dog's petcare retreat, various "death announcements" are on display. Owners write in the voices of their dead dogs. "I was pleased to spend time on Earth with my Maplewood neighbors. I'm Peanut, and I'm signing off!" ....Like me, my own daughter is a bit more steely and clinical. She is speaking--quite often--about her desire for a cat. And I can't help but wonder if she has one eye on the ticking clock.... I mys...

  Years before "KPop Demon Hunters," Domee Shi wrote "Turning Red." It's an animated film about pop music and about shame; I have nothing against "KPop," but "Turning Red" is smarter and funnier. Mei Lee is thirteen, and she lives in Toronto. She is an excellent student and flutist; she really enjoys cleaning and tidying her domestic spaces; she has limitless time for the evening soap opera that her mother particularly likes. Mei observes that there can be a problem with "model child" behavior: "If you're so wrapped up in honoring your parents, you can forget to honor yourself." There is a pause. Then Mei declares, "That is NOT my problem!" (And this moment of self-delusion is a perfect little bow to tie around Act One.) "Turning Red" is so sharp, so rich with lived experience, it's amazing that someone wrote the check that allowed Domee Shi to complete her project. When Mei (by accident) conced...

  It's a cliche about university professors that they tend to show signs of arrested development--they can behave in dramatic, adolescent ways, and that's fun to observe. At Yale, I had a professor whose Chaucer-expert spouse had recently started a high-profile affair with a grad student. So my professor began wearing thigh-high leather boots and speaking publicly about the dalliance she was enjoying with her new house-painter. (She also began teaching a course called "Doomed Love.") One of my other teachers was Amy Bloom, who has just now released an academic satire disguised as a murder mystery. Bloom's protagonist is Dell, a failed scholar. (Dell's work deteriorated after her mother died. "I did all the things you're not supposed to do. I yelled at students. I arrived late. Cried for most of the ninety minutes." Then, she adds proudly, "I did NOT have sex with undergraduates...only because depression made it unappealing and Prozac made it...

 My family has a tradition of watching the Betty Buckley Tonys performance from "Cats." My daughter calls this "the CAT Ballet," and both of us pretend to groom our fur by licking our forearms. "Cats" is so strange, and the backstage stories are the weirdest of all. Judi Dench was going to debut the song "Memory"--how could that be? Some kind of health emergency interfered. On Broadway, Buckley was almost fired. No one behind the ad campaign understood the relevance of the words "Now and Forever." But *someone* knew that these words would sell tickets. Victoria Clark (more or less) started her career with her role as "the opera cat." My favorite line is the following: "Can you--as cats do--begin with a C?" This is followed by a sustained high C. It's a "meta" moment. It's like the famous interlude in "Hamilton," in which King George signals his own madness by *ascending* the scale even as ...

  As the big night approaches, here are a few somewhat neglected Tony performances (plus an explanation of why they are historic): *"Kiss of the Spider-Woman." Chita Rivera was in her sixties, and she had recently survived a traumatic car crash. Of course her dancing was wonderful. But she also *sounded* great. Special extra credit for the particular way she alluded to Molina's "slice of hell." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tf16i0OT5xA *"Everyday Rapture." This show was not supposed to make it to Broadway, but it became something like the little engine that could. So many cabaret acts are forgettable. But Sherie Rene Scott proved to be a true artist, digging into the story of her abortion, her sexual attraction to Mister Rogers, her strange Internet feud with a little gay prepubescent theater critic. Scott had never found material worthy of her intellect--so she eventually wrote the material on her own. A terrific literary work. https://www.youtube.c...

  As school wraps up, I'm thinking of my favorite commencement speech (a speech by Ann Patchett). Patchett recalls being an undergrad at Sarah Lawrence. She is utterly alone. She has traveled from Tennessee. She has no idea how to spend her time--so she decides to bake cookies for her advisor (who seems like a friendly person). This is--subtly--a metaphor for a writer's life. A writer (or any artist) is someone who feels a weird compulsion to make, make, make. Here, the story becomes something like a fable. Patchett assembles the cookies--but the oven doesn't work. Desperate, she wanders across the road, where she spots a fabulous house. And she asks the owner if she can borrow the oven. The owner happens to be the new president of the college, who has a small family. "And--because I spent time playing with the kids--I was invited back to babysit. And eventually (quickly) I helped to create a little tribe." On some level, Patchett had understood that a tribe was w...

  In the conditional love song, two people have to pair off *without* pairing off. We in the audience see their chemistry--even if they themselves do *not* see their chemistry. The two halves of the song can be mildly antagonistic ("People Will Say We're in Love"). Or the duet can be reasonably peaceful--but with a "this-is-just-pretend" theme ("They Say It's Wonderful"). It's worth noting that Oscar Hammerstein wrote a disproportionately large number of conditional love songs. And--though Irving Berlin *apparently* wrote "Annie, Get Your Gun"--there is a persistent rumor that Hammerstein was "Gun"'s ghostwriter. My own favorite conditional love song is "I'll Know," from "Guys and Dolls." Ostensibly, the two leads are arguing. Sarah Brown insists that her lover will be a version of Ned Flanders. Sky suggests that love should be a bit less predictable. Sky quietly mocks Sarah, making reference to a...

 My friend tends to "fight back" -- which is a difference between her and me. I have waded into the toxic seas of Facebook -- and the moment someone crazily yells at me, I just delete the post. My friend (by contrast) will calmly type a reply. Or here's another example. It's the Saga of the Lice Comb. My friend's daughter had lice; the lice case was treated; a month went by. A sitter was hired. The sitter uncovered the still-extant lice comb, then made allegations by text message. My friend wrote, "No one in the house has lice." The sitter said, "Still, I'm uncomfortable. You need to come back from New York right now." Next -- however -- my friend retaliated by withholding payment for the evening. "You were hired to do a job, and (without citing a reasonable excuse) you did not do your job. So I am not paying you." I can't help but recall the time that a bus aide had an iPhone out (inappropriately) at work, and my (special-nee...

  The appearance before the parole board is an old chestnut. Recently, in "Sing Sing," Colman Domingo's protagonist showed character by describing the theater program he had developed behind bars. A white interlocutor then asked, "If you're such a good actor, how do I know you're not *performing* the illusion of penitence--right now?" "The Simpsons" does something different. A concerned board asks Sideshow Bob why he has "Die Bart, Die" tattooed on his chest. Bob explains that this is simply German; it means "The Bart, The." And an astute adjudicator says, "If he is fluent in German, then he CAN'T be evil...." Sideshow Bob is channeling De Niro's character from "Cape Fear" ... but, most notably, he is channeling Wile E. Coyote. He gets bashed by a speed bump; he gets hot coffee dumped on his head. He nearly suffocates in Homer's cigar smoke. Homer might *seem* idiotic, but he doesn't have ...

  It's hard not to see links between pre-Revolutionary Russia and today's United States: empires committing suicide, autocrats swindled by charismatic hucksters. Today's Rasputin might be RFK, Pam Bondi, or JD Vance. Antony Beevor's new book on Rasputin suggests that Tsar Nicholas seemed spectacularly incompetent in part *because* of his religious faith. Thousands of peasants would die in horrific ways, and Nicholas would refuse to alter his party plans. This looked cruel (and of course it *was* cruel). But there was context: Nicholas had a fatalistic outlook. He felt that God was pulling the strings. Rending one's garments wouldn't change God's mind. Rasputin succeeded with Nicholas partly because Nicholas was an idiot, but also because Rasputin had a very deep voice. When the heir to the throne was very ill, Rasputin's low, calming voice helped the heir to regulate his own breathing. And the heir recovered. This turn of events was viewed as miraculous....

 Like her papa, my daughter has a healthy disdain for organized fun. I myself cannot stand being at a concert when a B-list celebrity demands that I "clap along now, y'all!" Why should I do that? I find it oppressive. Susie's school danceathon was (typically) disorganized and puzzling. When I arrived, Dua Lipa was singing about her own private parts: Ooh, my outfit so tight! You can see my heartbeat tonight.  I can take the heat, baby; best believe... That's the moment I shine. Susie and I stood together while a stranger explained that we would be performing the chicken dance, the butterfly, the cha-cha slide, the robot, and the twist. I'm sure if I'd read my emails carefully, I'd understand the reason for all of this. My daughter spotted a moth--and wandered away from the crowd. She spent the hour talking to the moth, which reminded me of my "league baseball" days. (I would pick dandelions in the outfield.) One thing I learned was that the c...