Liars and Saints

  Lena Dunham reminds me of Amy Winehouse. You listen to a tape of the pre-adolescent Winehouse, and the voice is already there--the talent is undeniable. And Dunham's major movie--"Tiny Furniture," essentially the work of an undergraduate--is a masterful comedy. It's the kind of thing that earns you random emails from Nora Ephron. (Ephron lobbied for Lena Dunham's company.) Amy Winehouse didn't want fame; she wanted to be a jazz singer in tiny nightclubs. Lena Dunahm didn't want fame; she wanted to express herself. The early years of "Girls" are a horror story. Dunham teams up with a "friend," a substantially older woman, Jenni Konner. Instead of mentoring Dunham, Konner views her child-colleague as a kind of meal ticket. In the first season, Dunham begins to show signs of disordered eating. Konner does not offer help. She approaches Dunham and says, "The producers are worried that your weight seems too normal. The show doesn'...

  Marc and I really liked "Catherine Called Birdy," which feels a bit like "Girls" for the Middle Ages. Young Catherine must marry to save her family's fortune. Around her, disastrous pairings are occurring. Her close friend has been promised to a nine-year-old boy, who has a little doll. ("The head is a turnip.") Catherine's dreamy uncle must commit himself to a much older spouse; the uncle has an actual love of his own, but financial needs create a demand for compromise. Catherine herself might end up with a man who likes oinking, as if he were a pig; he also seems not to mind rubbing poop on his arms. (He reminds me of Adam Driver, in "Girls"; Catherine seems like she is Hannah Horvath during the big "poop" scene.) Catherine is restless and acting up, so her brother, a monk, asks that she begin to keep a diary. It's this little assignment that begins to wake her up; she takes notice of the people around her, the aspects o...

I secretly dislike this story. Here's the gist. Ferdinand the Bull is not like other bulls. He does not butt and tussle and play. He sits quietly among the flowers, and that's all. One day, a bee stings him. This happens just as some local matadors are doing their search for the friskiest bull. Agitated by the bee-sting, Ferdinand behaves uncharacteristically. He is all "amped up." And so the matadors believe that they just have to have him. They stick him in "the ring." Of course, by the time he is in the ring, his sting has died down, and he is calm again. And the matadors get angry and irritated. And that's all. That's the entirety of the story. People love this tale--and Lena Dunham, for example, has Ferdinand tattooed on her back. But I find Ferdinand supremely boring. I want him to *do* something. It doesn't have to be something I like; certainly, Jane Austen's Lady Susan isn't admirable, but, in her craftiness,...

You can't peer into an artist's mind. It's not ever possible to make, with certainty, statements about intention. That said, you can notice certain parallels. Let's look at Lena Dunham's famous script, "American B*tch." It's about a charismatic predator. He has enjoyed great success in the world of the arts. He has an African-American ex-wife. He has a depressed and artistically-inclined daughter whom he really, clearly loves. His name is Chuck Palmer. Let's look at Louis CK. He has enjoyed great success in the world of the arts. On his show, he has an African-American ex-wife. On his show, he has a depressed and artistically-inclined daughter whom he really, clearly loves. On his show, and in actual life, he is a famous masturbator. One who "palms" his "chuck." "Chuck" is a synonym for "meat," and "meat" is a euphemism for the male genitalia. "Chuck Palmer." One who palms "meat....

(5) Why is the Mahjongg scene so effective in "Crazy Rich Asians"? Because the idea for the scene was planted very early in your evening--at the very start of the movie. When we first see the protagonist, she is teaching economics through a staged strategy game. She schools her opponent, then discusses the difference between "playing to not lose" and "playing to win." That moment sits like a time bomb in your head, so that, when the protagonist meets her nemesis for a final showdown at the Mahjongg table, you have a curious feeling of satisfaction. You may not even make a conscious link between the opening and the climax. But your subconscious is doing work, even as you eat your popcorn. That's good writing. It's the kind of thing that distinguishes a mere machine (a competent, lifeless script) from an animal (something that "lives and breathes," like "Bridesmaids" or "Beauty and the Beast.") (4) Adam Goldman. I real...

I'm watching two HBO shows right now--"Insecure" and "Sharp Objects"--and I can't help but notice how much more brilliant and vital "Insecure" is. Not that there is a competition. And of course "Sharp Objects" gives us the great gift that is Amy Adams. But still. Some thoughts. - Language. Is there a writer on TV who loves words as much as Issa Rae loves words? It doesn't matter what the plot is; you just become giddy because of the use of English. "I see you," "I've been saving, I've been saving, I've been saving," "It was a nebulous fuck," "Party Lyft," "We Got Y'All," "I didn't do *shit* to your vase," "ho-tation," "Are you thirsty? For a drink?" -- This is the work of a poet. Issa Rae makes me think of Alison Bechdel. When Bechdel was getting started on "Dykes to Watch Out For," she said her aim was to introduce the worl...