Liars and Saints

  One part of the true-crime world focuses on the incompetence of investigators; the gold standard, for this kind of reporting, is "In the Dark." The new podcast "Dead End," about terrible errors in the attempted "solving" of the NJ murder of John Sheridan, is a similar work. (Though it's quite clear that Sheridan was murdered, his file still says "CAUSE OF DEATH - UNCERTAIN," and this is just the start of the problem.) The book of the summer is (I think) "Trailed," about a new kind of sloppiness, the sloppiness of national-park authorities. Every year, the majority of murder victims in the world are men -- but if you focus on national parks, then the majority are women. Women are targeted, trailed, assaulted, and murdered in U.S. parks, and then people fail to notice the stories. (Kathryn Miles, a journalist, wonders, "If you learned that three women per year were murdered at Disney World, would you reconsider your trip to Dis...

  No one asked for this, but I compiled my "ABCs of Broadway"; below are shows I'd like my children to know, and know well, before they reach adulthood.  (Generally, the musicals aren't perfect, but they all show evidence of life; these musicals, unlike many others, were products of writers who had working brains and beating hearts.) As I drafted this list, I loved considering the career of Stephen Sondheim, who is in a class of his own (according to the world, and to Paul Simon, who wrote about Sondheim in the Times a few years ago). One of many things I admire about Sondheim is that he reinvented himself after his mid-life crisis, and his Sec ond Act included "Sunday in the Park with George" and "Into the Woods." Sondheim worried that people past their fifties did not generally write great musicals. I think "Assassins" and "Passion" are not first-rate Sondheim, but, still, they're notable! (Think of "The Gun Song,...

 My frenemy upstaged me. His child had a birthday bouncy castle and a crafting station. Each guest received an animal mask, matching figurine, and small plastic ring with rhinestones. Speakers were concealed in the bushes, and old Fergie hits filled the air. Also, you could enter the house; you didn't have to remain on the lawn. And the house was orderly; it was not, for example, a big dump site, cluttered with infant toothpaste, candles, wet swim trunks, "Pat the Bunny," packs of XYZal, Tums, chapsticks, baby lotion, poop bags, empty seltzer cans, Tide pens, dented unused greeting cards, broken remote controls, sunscreen, plastic dolphin toys, and dirty tennis balls. And that's fine. It was all great. I'm doing fine. We're reading Chris van Dusen. As a storyteller, he is uninspired...but he gets excited about alliteration and internal rhyme, and he considers the peeling paint on individual houses, as he draws. So he is at least slightly re-readable. We're...

  The great thing about Stephen King is his interest in families--and the same applies to his son, Joe Hill. Hill's story (now a movie), "The Black Phone," concerns two children and their problematic dad. Mom has offed herself; Dad drinks all the time, and he has a short temper. In one especially brilliant moment, the little girl tells her brother, "It's Friday. I'm going to a sleepover." And the little boy shrugs and says, "Right. I'll take care of Dad." Small details stick in your memory. The boy tips the father's beer bottle so it's right-side-up; this seems to be automatic, as in: the gesture is now just wired into the boy's muscles. A little girl endures a beating when she knows she is right; she tolerates the pain and says "the correct thing," and everyone is mortified to sit through the father's display of weakness for several minutes. Finally, one sibling urges another to go up and talk to an appealing girl...

  In 2019, Alexander Payne's "Election" turned twenty years old, and it seemed to become a new movie. For a long while, Tracy Flick had appeared villainous. This reading of the movie centers on Tracy's destruction of opponents' posters. She interferes with others' property, then lies; she allows an innocent person to take the hit. Also, she is a Republican. Finally, and obnoxiously, she thinks she is better than the students around her. The new reading of Tracy Flick sort of ignores these events. It focuses on the fact that Tracy is groomed and violated by a middle-aged teacher. Next, the teacher's friend throws an election to ruin Tracy's dream. In one of many brilliant depictions of petty meaniness, Payne has the teacher avoiding Tracy's raised hand, just because he doesn't want to hear her voice in civics class. I think neither reading is entirely satisfying. Tracy isn't a villain--but this doesn't mean she lacks villainous qualities...

  When you ask me which child is biologically "mine...."  This is not a question that I love to field. I don't love it because I think it has a subtle implication, i.e., the child without the genetic link is somehow less "mine." (I'm being too sensitive? You're right. I'm sure you're right.) If you ask me the question at a party, then you quickly drift away, I feel a bit like a circus show. I feel I've swallowed my sword, and you've extracted your moment of entertainment, and you're ready to move on. To the old woman who honked her horn at my children and me as we crossed in a marked pedestrian crosswalk : I really hope you arrived at your destination on time. Please continue to alarm small children with your car horn, especially if it means you will then be able to catch all the previews at the Montclair matinee screening of "Jurassic World." To my child's amateur nutritionist:  I know you think that vegan mushroom-base...

 I just rewatched "The Night House," which has an excellent Rebecca Hall front and center. (When people talk about Hall, they use the epithet "always outstanding," and here is a case where I'm part of the hive mind.) In this movie, Hall's husband has just murdered himself. Hall is full of rage, but she insists on going back to the high school where she teaches. A mother comes in to complain about her child's grade. "Who's your kid?" says Hall. "Hunter Y? Hunter Y. It's just that I have so many Hunters...." The mother is taken aback. "How many Hunters?" And Hall--clearly lying--says: "Three." The mother makes her case, and Rebecca Hall grows bored. "I see," she says. "All this happened on the last day of school. I was out because my husband had shot himself. In the brain. With a gun. I didn't even know we owned the gun!" The mother grows uncomfortable. "Anyway," says Hall. ...