Liars and Saints

 Scientists write about "deep holes" in your personal timeline--moments when you seem to age by ten million years. You were thirty yesterday; today, you are one hundred years old. In my youth, I would have skimmed over this--but, now, I see the brutal reality. In various photos, I have a full head of hair--then, suddenly, I do not. "A receding hairline can be charming," says my shrink, because, yes, I talk about this in therapy. (Joyce Carol Oates recently complained about inane navel-gazing in fiction. "I'm reading Percival Everett on the history of lynching--then I have to read some white man's thoughts on his latest divorce?" ....I empathize, but maybe not every rough patch in a life has to be tantamount to a history of lynching.) There is no universe in which I will feel charmed by my own receding hairline--so I just change the subject. My spouse and I go to see the movie "Tuner," which features a young man named Leo Woodall. And Wood...

  "Tuner" is an old-fashioned thriller with ideas. Niki tunes pianos to pay his rent--but, in his past life, he was a gifted pianist. A case of hyperacusis means that he can no longer tolerate most noises. In my childhood, I studied the clarinet with a formerly professional musician. He himself had apprenticed with Luke Cage; when his body stopped working, he had to become a teacher. I could feel the weight of his sadness when I was with him. In "Tuner," Niki's depression is a ticking time bomb. He wants to live his life, but he also carries so much rage because he has been given a raw deal. His mentor encourages him to go out on dates--is this smart? If he can't take care of himself, should he really aim for an ambitious social life? Hyperacusis has an odd surprise for Niki. Because of his sensitivity, he can break the codes for access to various safes. Through a plausible coincidence, Niki falls in with a gang of thieves. He becomes indispensable to these ...