Liars and Saints

*Anthony Hopkins hadn't been nominated since 1997. '97! That's a 22-year gap. But Pacino beats this, with his 27-year gap. *Brad Pitt--subject of a smart new Dargis essay in the "Times"--has had previous nominations for "Moneyball," "Benjamin Button," and "12 Monkeys." (Dargis suggests it may be *harder* to win an Oscar if you're an exceptionally beautiful man. What kind of world is this, if Roberto Benigni and Rami Malek have best-performance Oscars, and Pitt does not?) *Holly Hunter once earned a nomination for the big-screen adaptation of "The Firm." Yes, "The Firm"--! *No night is more important than February 9th......

Did you watch "Succession" this season? Let's talk. *By far my favorite subplot is the Gerri/Roman romance. Great writing should surprise you--and I can't say I would have predicted the strange sadomasochistic thing that these two have going. Is one thirty years older than the other? No matter. (J. Smith-Cameron--wife of Kenneth Longergan--almost didn't get to play Gerri. The role was written for a man. "Succession" is still a show with too few women, but what a great move to turn Gerri into J. Smith-Cameron!) *I often think of "The Godfather," which involved four adult children. "Succession" is a show with four adult children--and, as many have observed, the season two finale involves "a Fredo kiss." The kiss that precedes the betrayal. Judas with Jesus. Kendall does this, then stabs his father in the back. (If we're meant to think of the "The Godfather," then it's fun to compare Shiv to Connie. S...

"Red Riding Hood"--the James Marshall re-telling--sticks to the standard story, but it does add some Marshall tricks: * The punchy wording. Granny isn't "up to snuff." A distraught Riding Hood later says: "Gracious me!" * The bizarre characters. Granny--like George the hippo--has a "reading" obsession. When Granny emerges from the wolf's stomach, her main grievance is that she has lost some reading time. Also, Red's mother lives in a sea of cats, and she can't keep her custard ("healing" custard) in the bowl. * The twist at the end. We might take Marshall at his word: Red Riding Hood never talks to strangers after her encounter with the wolf. But Marshall wants to *show* this--so he gives us a courtly alligator, and Red is making a dismissive gesture, as if to say, "Talk to the hand." (This makes me think of Martha, lurking in the shadows, holding a garden hose, on the very last page of the last hippo sto...

the thing I came for: the wreck and not the story of the wreck the thing itself and not the myth the drowned face always staring toward the sun the evidence of damage worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty the ribs of the disaster curving their assertion among the tentative haunters. Ostensibly Adrienne Rich is talking about exploring a shipwreck, but really she is talking about any courageous act. To look squarely at an uncomfortable truth--to reject a comforting myth that has grown around and on top of the truth. ("The wreck and not the story of the wreck.")  Rich the explorer implicitly identifies with "the drowned face always staring toward the sun"; Rich is a divided self, looking upward while drowning. ("Her wounds came from the same source as her power.")  Something wrecked can also be "assertive"; something threadbare can be "beautiful."  This is part of a poem I love; it makes me slightly more curious and ...

James Marshall's artistry is evident in "Goldilocks," which generated awards buzz. The bare-bones template is this: A little girl winds up in a bear family's house, she has a good time, and finally she meets the bears. But notice the life that Marshall injects into the tale. His Goldilocks is not a stock character. Instead, she's a piece of work, a terror; Marshall, always tuned in to deception and dishonesty, points out that Goldilocks's sweet appearance is misleading. So--for example--Goldilocks nods when her mother gives a warning, then violates that warning within one or two pages. Another writer might just send the bears on an errand, but Marshall has the three eating excessively-hot porridge. The father complains of the heat; the cub, being an immature bear, melodramatically states that he is dying. (Rational Father suggests a bike ride while the porridge is cooling. This is a nice way for Marshall to begin establishing distinctive characters wit...

Like James Marshall, Michael Cunningham is a gay artist. Like Marshall, Cunningham is especially interested in how people talk to each other. Cunningham's most-recent book--"A Wild Swan"--uses fairy tales to examine Cunningham's favorite subject, the complexities of modern marriage, modern dating. (Which other gay artist has a major interest in fairy tales? Stephen Sondheim.) My favorite of Cunningham's re-tellings involves Snow White, and it's a story called "Poisoned": _ You wanted to last night. _And tonight, I don't think I want to. _Why, exactly, is that? _It's weird. Don't you think it's at least a little bit weird? And I'm, well, getting tired of it. _When exactly did you change your mind? _I didn't. Okay, I'm tired of pretending that I'm not tired of doing it. _Is it because of that apple joke, today at the market? Did that bother you? We don't quite know what we're reading,...

The rule of threes says: Use a triplet. A triplet is the quickest way to establish a pattern, and a pattern in a story is immensely satisfying. "What big eyes! What big nose! What big teeth!" Or: the three little pigs. Or: "One chair was too big....one was too small.....one was just right...." James Marshall's use of threes: George tries to spy on diarist Martha in the kitchen. He is caught. George tries to spy on diarist Martha from the trees. He is caught. George attempts a bald request: Please let me snoop? And--once more--he is caught. Martha slams the door in his face. Take out just one of those three "acts," and you lose at least some of the satisfaction.....