Liars and Saints

 Yesterday, Adam Feldman wrote on Facebook that "there is an alternate, better timeline in which Heather Headley is the dominant Broadway musical star of the twenty-first century." No one could argue with this. After Headley's barnstorming performance in "Aida," Headley sort of disappeared. Her few appearances--in "Dreamgirls," "The Color Purple," "Into the Woods"--have become the stuff of legend. Headley has warned against the siren song of adulation. "If, when you're off the stage, you don't know who you are....you're in trouble." Headley spends most of her time in suburban Illinois. Anyone who saw Headley as Sondheim's Witch can imagine how fiercely the director must have fought *against* the Patina Miller scenario. I'm sure Miller was fine. Heather Headley was earth-shaking. The Witch is Sondheim's opportunity to revisit Madame Rose. Like Rose, the Witch is a weak leader. She is politically flaw...

  The local pool is staffed by half-sleeping teenagers, and my daughter uses this to her advantage. She approaches the snack bar and demands both a Krispie marshmallow square and a ring pop. A well-adjusted adult might question this. But the teenager just hands the items to Susie before my husband can intervene. Susie has passed  the point of no return. Teenagers aside, this pool has quite a bit going for it. There are bright patches of mysterious tropical flowers. A far corner involves a perilously high "high dive"; for my daughter, that corner is a source of awe and terror. My son is so excited to splash in the kiddie pool, he actually begins to bounce on the toes of his feet. For him, clearly, there isn't a moment of worry about being observed or judged. Given that I'm a tutor, I have made some academic observations, and I have grave concerns about our local curriculum. It's not a shock to me that the pool's social media efforts are sketchy; if the social m...

  So many people endure bad breakups--but they cannot get outside of their own perspective. They see two roles--victim and evildoer. There is no subtlety. This isn't a fun story to watch or to read. What moves me about Hayley Kiyoko is that she can fully envision multiple sides of one story. In a clearly autobiographical tale ("Girls Like Girls"), young Hayley falls in love. She discloses details about her past. Somehow, the details become "public"--Hayley immediately concludes that her crush, Maya da Costa, has spilled the beans. This isn't fair to Maya da Costa. (And the allegation is false.) At the same time, Maya da Costa is a mess--struggling with the idea of coming out of the closet, reversing herself without attempting an explanation. It's fun to see these two circling each other. I am not sure anyone in an audience would fail to "relate." Happy to have spent time with this film.

  Jane Kenyon did extraordinary work with syntax; she did extraordinary work on the topic of antidepressant medications. With the wonder and bitterness of someone pardoned for a crime she did not commit I come back to marriage and friends, to pink fringed hollyhocks; come back to my desk, books, and chairs. Another gift Kenyon had was to build an unusual list: "friends, hollyhocks, desk, books, chairs." ("Happiness comes to the boulder in perpetual shade, to rain falling on the open sea, to the wineglass, weary of holding wine....") Having been returned to life by a monoamine oxidase inhibitor, Kenyon feels skeptical: Unholy ghost,  you are certain to come again. Coarse, mean, you'll put your feet  on the coffee table, lean back, and turn me into someone who can't  take the trouble to speak; someone who can't sleep, or who does nothing but sleep; can't read, or call for an appointment for help. There is nothing I can do  against your coming. When I a...

  Joe Bird has a gay crush--but he observes his gay crush fooling around with the minister's son. To retaliate, he goes to the minister and reveals "the awful truth." He then watches in silence as the minister's son endures forced "conversion therapy." This is already a terrific setup, but then things get *really* weird. The conversion therapy involves a faith healer. The faith healer pretends to "cure" you--but in fact unearths a demon whose plan is to destroy you. The demon takes the form of the young man you desire--as sweet-nothings are exchanged, the demon prepares to rip out your intestines. Given that this is a horror film, we do see several acts of intestinal ripping. And this isn't the *only* problem on Joe Bird's plate. His mother--Mia Wasikowska--becomes convinced that it's unsafe to be gay in Australia. So she arranges for Joe himself to go through the faith healer experience. Joe doesn't fight back--or his fight isn...

  In one of my favorite stories, by Amy Bloom, a little girl struggles with trauma. The source of the trauma is her parents' separation. The little girl has no sense of perspective--given that she is a child--so she expresses her sadness by staging events from a genocide. She uses her dolls. My daughter's favorite game is Holocaust. She's been playing it for two years, since fourth grade, and she is unbelievably inventive. She found her old American Girl doll, Samantha from Park Avenue, cut her hair off with kid scissors for that ragged, doomed look, took the poor doll out of her plaid dress, wrapped her bottom in a dirty dish towel, and laid her in a pile of leaves. She crumpled soil into a cup and brewed it with boiling water. She came into the house... "It must have been like this--for THEM," Abby said. "Where'd they get the hot water?" I said. That's what I had been reduced to.... My son is not dealing with trauma, but he is dealing with sens...

 Sondheim and Arthur Laurents were often at odds; Laurents was, by most accounts, one of the most hateful human beings in the history of American theater. Sondheim eventually wrote to Laurents, "You have just enough talent to realize how mediocre you are." It's hard to imagine one person saying that to another person. There are moments of mediocrity in "West Side Story"--I'm recalling the adult characters--but Laurents also wrote "Gypsy." Can we think of "Gypsy"'s writer as mediocre? I admire the pendulum swings of "West Side Story," mainly in the Second Act. We start with Maria in ignorance; as far as she knows, no killings have occurred. We then get the brutal truth. We then retreat to a dream world, in which everyone has a restart, a blank slate. Think again: Anita shakes Maria out of her stupor. Think again: Maria melts Anita's heart. But the Jets then assault Anita, causing her to tell a vicious lie. But Tony is giv...

  Like JFK, like LBJ, Gary Hart had multiple affairs. The one that really plagued him was with a bookish actor/writer named Donna Rice. Hart and Rice spent some time on a boat--the "Monkey Business"--and Rice was photographed on top of Hart's groin. Hart then said he hadn't had any kind of dalliance with Rice; the two were just talking about possible job opportunities. During damage control, Rice asked Hart's people not to leak her name. She also disclosed an embarrassing moment from her past--a semi-nude photo--imagining that this was just a topic for her brief phone call. Hart's people immediately threw Rice under the bus, volunteering her name and the details about her past, hoping that this would put out the fire. For years thereafter, Hart made no effort to contact Rice. (He did eventually call her to apologize.) Given Rice's formidable brain power, a second act was inevitable. Rice became an important crusader against child pornography. Hart had a ro...

  Flag Day has come and gone. In Maplewood, it passed without comment. When I was growing up, there was an annual moment of silence around the school flag; there were also daily recitations of the Pledge of Allegiance. I'm not a great fan of patriotism; I do plan to watch "Reservation Dogs" this summer. It's striking to me that one of the final episodes of "Hacks" involves a high-visibility "land acknowledgment"; this practice has actually just *disappeared* from my local theater, the Paper Mill Playhouse. (My husband half-jokingly suggests that the removal of the land acknowledgment surely has something to do with a threat from Trump.) New York City seems ambivalent toward the anniversary of the American Revolution. At the Met, there is one small room with a tiny exhibit called "Revolution!" (The room generally seems to be empty.) The Frick has resurrected one of the Gilbert Stuart images of George Washington--but, with Goya and Rembrand...

 I like stories about transgression, because a transgression almost always involves a coverup. Once you break a rule, you generally have to lie about *not* having broken the rule. And things begin to spiral. In "Carolina Caroline," the title character discovers that she can rob people of twenty and fifty dollar bills. She just confuses them with excessive language. She has a person give her several dollars. Then, she will say, "Actually, I need a fifty dollar bill. Tell you what. I'll give you one dollar--and you give me a fifty--and we're even." The brain thinks this is a fair exchange. But the brain forgets that the ones in Caroline's hand are *store* bills. The clerk gives a fifty to Caroline--ON TOP of the ones that the clerk has handed over. Of course this leads to bank robbing. Caroline's lover, Oliver, sits outside with a police scanner--and honks the horn as soon as Caroline needs to come out. One moment of carelessness means that a cop makes...

 I'm approaching the end of "Hacks." One thing I really value is a well-considered title. "Hacks" stands out as a punchy, memorable label. (I can't read the non-fiction book "Checkmate," by Ben Mezrich, because the title seems so lazy. It seems to have originated in the "brain" of an AI machine.) Any writer will tell you that the work does not get easier. A blank page is always a source of terror. It doesn't matter how much experience you have. So--in the last stages of her life--Deborah is still a hack. This is both dispiriting *and* inspiring. (Also, it's plausible that Deborah, in her victimhood, would crazily imagine that the right path forward is a long set about Joan of Arc. This makes me think of Billy Eichner, foolishly believing that people will buy tickets because of a comedy's "important" and "historic" premise.) In another corner of the world, Ava is considering a reboot of "Who's Makin...

  Sondheim respected Meredith Willson, particularly his work on "Rock Island," the opening from "The Music Man." (Famously, "The Music Man" won the Tony over "West Side Story." And "The Music Man" was the correct choice.) Sondheim did fight with Willson in the pages of the Herald Tribune. Willson had complained about "declining taste" and dirty words on Broadway. Sondheim said (accurately), "People are staying home not because of dirty words. People are staying home because  The Unsinkable Molly Brown  is boring." (Score one for Sondheim.) My favorite scene from "The Music Man" is "Piano Lesson." Marian is arguing with her mother; both women are wrong. Marian is complaining that the women of River City do not read Balzac; her complaint is insufferable. Mrs. Paroo suggests that Marian is powerless *because* she has not found a husband; Mrs. Paroo is tiresome and small-minded. This argument occurs w...

 We have a particularly strong teachers' union, so there are four consecutive half-days this week. A half-day counts as a full day for workers--according to a published rule book--so there is no rule violation with the parade of useless faux-instructional mini-days. Recently, a beleaguered parent asked me, "Why? Why is it like this?" And I had to bite my tongue. There is an answer: it's the teachers' union. But the parent was not looking for an answer. Her question was more like an existential statement, a lament. On these days, I take my kids to the zoo. The announcement is annoying to my son, who launches a protest: "No! I don't want that! I will poop in myself!" (The choice of preposition is intriguing to me.) I'm pleased to realize that--if there's one place on Earth you might want to shit your pants--it's just fine to have an accident at the zoo. People will simply imagine that they are smelling a penguin. The temperature is high, an...

  David Sedaris is not my number-one writer, but I respect his work. I also feel like I'm meeting myself on the page: -Sedaris and I are both obsessed with the mid-century American novelist Richard Yates. -Sedaris thinks that today's children are crippled by parental narcissism and hand-wringing. ("Today, a child 'graduates' fifteen times before twelfth grade....") Just this weekend, I was complaining to my spouse about my child's absurd pre-K "graduation"; my spouse did not empathize. -When Bergoglio summoned several comics to the Vatican, Sedaris tried to imagine the reason for the invitation. His thoughts traveled the particular route that I'm sure my own thoughts would take. ("Could you lay off the jokes about pedophilia? Please. Pretty please. Remember a simpler time, when all the jokes were just about horny nuns....?" Sedaris also includes a memorable joke. A cop approaches a group of Jesuits and says, "Can you help me ou...

  "Secrets and Lies" is really about a sibling relationship. It's a relationship that will be instantly recognizable to most of the Western world: Two kids grow up in a chaotic home, and they look out for each other. The older child eventually collapses--runs with the wrong crowd--and has a few complicated pregnancies. The younger child has an easier time and climbs to a "higher" rung on the socioeconomic ladder. The class difference is a source of resentment within the family. Whenever the two adult siblings meet, there is a deep well of unarticulated gratitude and pain. Maurice--the "lucky" sibling--marries Monica, and Monica seems snooty. Cynthia--the "unlucky" sibling--can't tolerate Monica. A main issue is that Monica once insisted that Maurice receive his portion of "the inheritance." Maurice didn't need the money; Cynthia did. This small envelope of cash has essentially ruined three lives. (Additionally, Cynthia canno...

 I can't help but notice situational irony; Whitney Houston's is not a life that shouts, "Gay pride!" This is someone who buried evidence of her own lesbian relationship--severed contact with her girlfriend--then died alone in misery. So I'm surprised, at the North Jersey Pride Festival, to hear someone attempting these lines: Somebody WHO! Somebody WHO!  Somebody who LOVES me... yeah! One sad heckler stands on a curb and speaks about God and Satan. "You think you can do anything you choose....But remember you will die....And you will be judged...." My daughter looks at me in distress. "I don't want to die," she says. Fortunately, a weary dad wanders past at this moment; he raises a fist to the heavens and shouts, "SATAN! SATAN!" I immediately join him. "Yay, Satan!" By this point, my daughter has (inexplicably) removed one of her sandals. She has also dropped her "merch"--a small Lego action figure designed to...

  The two bad bears of the title have a friend--Larry--who explains the etiquette of "a visit." He says, "I have brought you a baked treat. We will eat it together and chat about our lives. Then I will go home." Later--amazed at the world's possibilities--the bad bears realize that they themselves can *make* a visit. So they find the home of a group of strangers, the Beachball family. They do not have a gift, so they rip a fruit tree out of the garden and hand it to Mrs. Beachball. They demand a sugary fish treat--and Mr. Beachball produces a donut. On the donut, he has sprinkled the remnants from a tin of sardines. The little Beachball girl calls the cops--and this interlude ends. Oblivious, the bad bears congratulate themselves on a fun evening. "It is nice to have a visit--and it is nice to *make* a visit." Fade to black. I think this is like a modern-day version of a James Marshall story. The focus is on subtext. The little Beachball girl can't...

  Ann Patchett is well-read, and occasionally, in her new novel, she seems to be borrowing from Dickens. These moments are the highpoints of the novel. They involve Abigail, an aging mom, and her current husband, Ekker. Dickens understood that there is a place for amusing but "flat" characters. Static characters who catch your attention. Gargoyles. In Patchett's current work, Ekker is a failed writer of "positivity manuals." ("Bounce on your feet as you brush your teeth! Feel the blood start to flow through your body!") ....After the eighties positivity craze faded, Ekker began to flounder. Now, he is drowning in bitterness, determined to mount a comeback. He cannot hear anyone around him. His sole conversational subject is the series of steps needed for a publishing rebirth. His stepdaughter is a teacher--couldn't she include the positivity manuals on her syllabus? Abigail is similarly captivating. She insists on being included in a particular eve...

  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...