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“If you aren’t reading the Wag, you’ll never get anywhere when it comes to quantum electrodynamics.” —Richard Feynman
Peaky Blinders, Murder in Maine, Shady Porn Kingpins, and more ....
Dear Wags,
Recent events have us thinking (again) about what we say and don’t say. We are social animals, and since we’ve largely checked out of real engagement with our species mates, stabs at connection are increasingly virtual. Every day in every way, we are urged to participate in a false social economy, as if relentless self-exposure online is nothing to fret about. The queasiness sensible types feel before posting anything betrays the truth. Journalists are uniquely vulnerable in this regard, because they have been abetted in building personal “brands” on social platforms, but pay a high price for saying the wrong thing. Ingeniously, this builds incentives to both fly off half-cocked and to self-censor when it comes to hard topics. That’s a lot of energy not being channeled into thoughtful inquiry. Try not to laugh, but once upon a time, we were told these innovations would be healthy for public discourse.
There are no obvious solutions to the civilizational pickle we are in, but we are cheered by the growing number of bravehearts willing to speak up about it. If we really want an open society, we are required to gently speak inconvenient truths, and tolerate others when they do the same. An ancient maxim from organizational psychology — seek to understand so that you may be understood—is in need of dusting off. Why not give it a test run? You may learn all sorts of things, and find yourself in better temper. And now, some treats for the week.
Yours Ever,
All American Girl: Iman Vellani as Ms. Marvel (Marvel Studios).
With Pippa and Huck
Ms. Marvel (Disney+). If Wag Emeritus John Hughes were to write a Marvel superhero show, it might be about an awkward oddball, trying to figure out high school, who has the wrong clothes but the right powers. Wait, all the best comic book stories go like this! Charming Iman Vellani is a Pakistani American girl in Jersey City, leaping tall buildings with a winning smile.
Series
Peaky Blinders (Netflix). It’s Peaky’s last season, and Birmingham crime lord Tommy Shelby (Cillian Murphy) is juggling running the underworld with serving as a member of parliament. Meanwhile, slimy, not made up, Sir Oswald Mosley (Sam Claflin) causes headaches as the darling of British fascism. Raise a glass to Hell Raiser Helen McCrory, a delight in this series and in life. We miss her profoundly.
For All Mankind (AppleTV+). Wags Ronald D. Moore, Matt Wolpert, and Ben Nedivi have built a dazzling alternative universe, in which Russia won the moon race, Nasa recruited a class of female astronauts in response, and Gary Hart became president. This starship — starring Joel Kinnaman, Krys Marshall, and Sonya Walger, among other worthies, runs on optimism about the future. Remember that?
Doc
The Janes (HBO Max). Here’s a plot for a dystopian novel: Imagine an America where conspiracy to commit abortion is a felony, and an underground network called the Janes helps women terminate unwanted pregnancies. Tia Lessin and Emma Pildes are chronicling the real story of Chicago’s Jane Collective, which did that work at great risk, pre-Roe v. Wade. Insert line about past being prologue here. —Penny Johnson
Thriller
Ayuh, Maine is more than outlets and black flies. Ed and Steph Thatch are living well in the coastal town of Damariscotta, delighted to have a daughter playing lacrosse at Amherst. Then an old school chum stumbles on photos of a burned corpse at their place. Turns out the Thatches traded the penury of lobstering for running a drug ring. The Midcoast, by Adam White, is a mystery as bracing as an Atlantic plunge.
Hollywood
The 1960s came to Los Angeles in a technicolor flash. That production was brought to you by Wag Suprema Brooke Hayward, heiress, actress, and great writer, and her husband Dennis Hopper, varsity wild man. They lived in the Hollywood Hills, had the world over, and it was a trip. Everybody Thought We Were Crazy by Mark Rozzo is a book to be read in an Eames chair, wearing a Nehru jacket or Pucci caftan, with the Doors cranked up on the hi-fi.
Literary Lioness
Barbara Mary Crampton Pym wrote sharply observed social comedies, about English people like her, who don’t make a fuss. This led to her being dismissed as fusty. Luckily, Paula Byrne has produced The Adventures of Miss Barbara Pym. Not all tea and crumpets, Pym fell for the wrong men (one was in the SS, oops!), ran with bright young things, and weathered disappointment with pluck. In her determination to live for art that was too easily ignored, she was terribly brave.
Appreciation
Fifty years ago, Wag Suprema Judith Viorst, journalist and mother of three in Northwest D.C., wrote a little book about a tyke coping with lima beans, bullying elder siblings, and gum in his hair. That unlucky hero was based on her youngest, Alexander, and Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day became an eternal bestseller, a musical, a movie, and a meme. Happy endings are fine, but Viorst let kids know it’s OK to be miserable. Grown-up Alex, who finances affordable housing in his hometown, is doing just fine. — Shirley Blake
For an industry defined by overexposure, porn is pretty mysterious. It’s responsible for nearly 8 percent of all internet traffic, but those who reap billions from it keep to the shadows. Financial Times reporter Patricia Nilsson and her editor, Alex Barker, discovered nobody knew who controlled the world’s biggest porn conglomerate, so they found the kingpin. Hot Money: Who Rules Pornunpacks how a murky enterprise works, following the money to the heart of Wall Street. — Eddie Adams
Wag George Ezra is one of Britain’s most acclaimed singer songwriters, but he owns that luck had something to do with it. I’m the gold rush kid, robbing the bank/Making a run for it and learning to dance, he sings in Gold Rush Kid; you can almost feel him pinching himself. It’s a boppy ditty about faking it until you make it. I see you watching me now, I’m dancing, crows our George. You will be, too.
Goodbye to the old country. Seems like you hardly knew me/Seems good a time as any, to believe in the land of plenty. California, by Bonny Light Horseman (folkies Anaïs Mitchell, Eric D. Johnson, and Josh Kaufman) is a lovely anthem for voyagers about to pack up the truck and head into the unknown. — Charlie Babbitt
Judy Garland is so linked with Hollywood tragedy, there’s hardly room left to praise her talent. June 10th would be the star’s 100th birthday, and another kind of rehab is in order. Start by listening to writer Susie Boyt discussing Garland’s life with Matthew Parris on the BBC’s Great Lives podcast, an introduction to the actress as a non-camp figure. Whatever happened offstage, Garland is one of the few performers from Hollywood’s Golden Age who still captures public imagination, because her singing cuts through dated material to reach for universal truths. The Wizard of Oz is responsible for her immortality, but George Cukor’sA Star is Born (1954) cemented her image as a product and victim of the studio system. Wag Richard Brody believes the forgotten drama The Clock, (1945), directed by her future husband Vincente Minnelli, to be her finest work. (Stream it on the Criterion Channel). — Betsy Booth
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“I tried being reasonable. I didn’t like it. Now I read the Wag.”―Clint Eastwood
