Me in the Guardian

Just wanted to let you know that I've been published on the Guardian's website. Here is my answer to the question, "Is the Catholic abuse scandal over?" based on the latest John Jay report (which is a long and dry but frequently fascinating read). Seeing my writing translated into British punctuation and spelling is the fulfillment of a dream I didn't even know I had. I believe the proper term for how I'm feeling is "chuffed."

In other what-I've-been-working-on news: I have a review of the new J. Courtney Sullivan novel, Maine, in the just-published June 3 Commonweal. Those of you discerning enough to subscribe can read it here. (Short version: I liked it.)

A quick "High"

This past weekend I saw a new play, Matthew Lombardo's High, which I intended to review for Commonweal. This morning I saw an announcement that the play will close on Sunday. Too bad; I didn't love everything about it, but I did admire its serious, no-irony-quotes approach to and depiction of religion. In gratitude, I was looking forward to writing a review that didn't feel the need to say "Wuh-oh, this is no ordinary nun!!!" The show has shortcomings, but inability to stop snickering at the mere mention of religious sisters thankfully isn't one of them.

Anyway, I turned my thoughts into a blog post at dotCommonweal. Read it here, and have a very happy Holy Week!

[Photo by Joan Marcus]

Some victims are more victim-y than others

I have already admitted my weakness for true-crime television. Not all the time, mind you; just when I'm too tired to use my brain much and too dumb to go to bed instead. That's how I found myself watching 20/20 last night. The show focused on the 2007 murder of Rhoni Reuter, a case that got lots of attention due to the fact that the victim was carrying the child of former Chicago Bears player Shaun Gayle. I say the show focused on Reuter's murder, but really it focused on the fact that Gayle agreed to be interviewed exclusively on ABC.

I know they have to choose a framework for these stories, but it's awfully annoying when the framework they choose is a bad fit for the facts. In this case, the framework was: Poor, grieving, noble Shaun Gayle! His "girlfriend of 18 years" was murdered, along with his baby, and then he had to endure the indignity of being considered the most likely suspect, first by the police and then in the public eye. Now that someone else has been convicted, it's natural enough to structure the story around Gayle's innocence, and that's obviously the reason he wanted to do the show in the first place. But there's a much more interesting story they could have told if only they weren't so committed to flattering Shaun Gayle. (In fact, the writeup on the 20/20 website is more interesting than the program was.) Here's the summary from the press release:

The headlines exploded when it was discovered that the handsome sports legend was the unborn baby's father, and when rumors circulated that he and Rhoni did not have a committed relationship, investigators put Gayle's hero status aside and became very suspicious. Then more confusion: Not only did the famous athlete provide an alibi, but he pointed the finger at someone else -- a Polish model he once dated who, he says, ended up stalking him. For almost two years the case remained a mystery, until police made a startling discovery... There was someone else who had been obsessed with Shaun Gayle -- his real estate agent, Marni Yang. But it's how the police lay a trap for this woman that has everyone surprised, resulting in a secret recording with the killer's own words detailing exactly what happened.

That "Polish model he once dated"? When the interviewer, Juju Chang, inquired, very gently, as to the extent of their relationship, Gayle replied: "We spent some time together." She asked, still gently, for clarification, and he repeated himself. He meant that they'd had sex. And, it turns out, they had sex not many many years earlier (like, before Gayle and Reuter's eighteen-year relationship began), but fairly shortly before Reuter's murder. At least, that's what I read between the lines, because 20/20 didn't ask Gayle to answer the obvious questions like, "Were you cheating on Rhoni? Did you cheat on her a lot during your 18-year relationship?"

Oh, and "his real estate agent" -- the one who actually did commit the murder? He'd "spent time with" her, too.

Catherine, in several convenient locations

If you subscribe to Commonweal -- and for goodness's sake, why wouldn't you? You can get 6 months' worth for just $17! -- you can read my review of Don Brophy's biography Catherine of Siena: A Passionate Life in our latest issue. St. Catherine is one of my very favorite saints and has had my back for some time now, so I was delighted to get this assignment and pleased to be able to recommend the book. It was also nice to have a chance to complain about the prayer card I picked up at her tomb in Rome, which referred to her possessing "the particular privilege of virginity and of patience" but left out some of her more notable, less passive qualities.

I mention at the beginning of the review that Catherine's head is in Siena, along with a thumb, while her body lies in Rome. Turns out my inventory wasn't quite complete, as I noted in a follow-up blog post today at dotCommonweal. (You don't have to subscribe to read that.) Looks like I need to go to Venice!

Credits where credit is due

Whether or not you make it to Kathy Griffin's run on Broadway, I commend to you her Playbill bio, which you can read here (beginning with paragraph 3). Much of it falls under "trying too hard" or "anxious to let you know it's funny" -- compare and contrast with Eddie Izzard's understated joke-bio from Joe Egg -- but there are a few excellent lines. My favorite is this credit: "Neil LaBute's I Hate You But I Won't Say It Till It Can Do the Most Damage (Dead Whore)."

Goodbye, Liz

Not long ago -- perhaps on seeing the tab cover pictured here -- I said to the husband, "I wonder what tabloids like The National Enquirer will do once Elizabeth Taylor actually dies." They've been reporting from her supposed deathbed for so long that I'm pretty sure I first encountered Dame Liz in that context -- standing in line at the supermarket as a kid, noticing that this lady, whoever she was, was "near death" yet again. I guess now we will find out who takes her place. This graphic, by the way, comes from the Enquirer's website, where they are just giddy with the news: "As The ENQUIRER exclusively first reported Taylor's days were numbered when she was first rushed to the hospital six weeks ago." Yes, well, broken clocks.

Farewell, Dame Liz. I hope they're airing Dancing with the Stars wherever you are. (I note with some sadness her final tweet, from February 9: "My interview in Bazaar with Kim Kardashian came out!!!")

But seriously, folks, a tribute is in order. If you had to choose a Liz Taylor movie to watch this week, which would it be?

This is why Mom makes you eat the crust

I was always told eating the crust on my sandwich would make my hair curl, which turned out to be a lie. But apparently the crust has a more vital role: it protects your sandwich from "contamination."

'Jamwich' Crustless Sandwiches Recalled

SCRANTON - Giant grocery stores have removed "Peanut Butter and Strawberry Jamwich" crustless sandwiches, manufactured by Pierre Foods, from the shelves after being warned of possible contamination.

I saw that headline and fully expected the text of the article to read, "Obviously. Because they're disgusting." But the truth is much more sinister. You can return your Jamwiches to the Giant for a free refund. The only problem is you'll have to admit you bought them in the first place.

P.S. Reader challenge: Apparently they also sell these things in vending machines. How hungry would you have to be before you bought and ate one? Leave your nightmare scenarios in the comments!

Departing from the formula

I direct your attention to a fine "critiquing the critics" post over at dotCommonweal -- written by my colleague Paul Moses, who took issue with Ben Brantley's review of That Championship Season. Paul hasn't seen the production under review, and neither have I, but I think he's right to be surprised by Brantley's attack on the play itself. It's out of character for Brantley to strike this edgier-than-thou pose. I expect this sort of "I am not impressed by your award-winning play" sniffing from Isherwood (see here, for example), but Brantley? And reviewing a play with a bunch of movie stars in it? No women, sure, but still. Very odd.

I certainly won't dispute the observation that That Championship Season is marked by "formal old-fashionedness," nor that it "appears to have been assembled according to the rule book of Playwriting 101, 1952 edition." But I would suggest that this is by design. I'll just repeat what I said in my comment over at dotComm:

I often find that Brantley will make what strikes me as a keen observation, and then go on to draw exactly the opposite conclusion from it. This is a perfect example:

Though littered with four-letter words, “Season” has a clean, mechanical structure in which revelations arrive like well-run trains at a station. Theatergoers who felt hip enough to be lambasted for being middle-class sell-outs but not hip enough for the experimental ambiguities of an Albee play could sit back and enjoy American traditionalism being attacked in the traditional style to which they were accustomed.

He goes on to refer to the play’s “perverse comfort factor.” To me, what distinguishes the play is its discomfort factor — the combination of the old-fashioned, disciplined structure with increasingly unsettling revelations about American values, small-town pieties, and human nature. That’s exactly what he puts his finger on in the quote above, except that he gets the analysis backward. It seems to me the play is designed to let you get comfortable and then make you squirm.

Also: I haven’t seen this production, but I know the play well, and in my opinion this review contains unnecessary plot-spoilers. I guess Brantley figured no one who read it would want to see the show, so he might as well go ahead and ruin it?

Seriously: if you plan to see That Championship Season and you never have before, don't read Brantley's review. I hope to see it myself, so I'll stop there. Hey, maybe this will make tickets easier to come by?

(By the way, dotCommonweal is always a good place to look for me when things are quiet here! Check out what I've been posting lately.)

This Disney World attraction is a lot more amusing than I remembered

As we prepare celebrate Presidents Day, I hope you'll take this opportunity to reflect on our nation's long, proud, imaginary alternative history. Yes, there have been dark times. But for every Daniel Flintstone, there's a Liam F. Stitches all Americans can be proud of. (Via Wonkette.)

The "Shepherd Me, O God" investigation continues

In August I blogged about something I thought was strange: the use of Marty Haugen's tune for "Shepherd Me O God," his setting of the 23rd Psalm, as background music on multiple episodes of 48 Hours. No scandal broke as a result of my posting, but I'm following up anyway, because now I have evidence. Tonight I turned on an episode of 48 Hours: Hard Evidence (the repackaged reruns that air on Investigation Discovery) about 20 minutes in. Before long, there it was: "Shepherd Me, O God," playing completely incongruously in the background.

The episode is titled "Deep Secret." You can watch it on the CBS website. But for our purposes, just skip ahead to 41:18, and you'll hear it, played on a piano, verse and refrain. There are some embellishments, but it's unmistakably Haugen. (For comparison's sake: here's "Shepherd Me, O God.") If you watch to the end, you'll see lots of credits for outside footage, but no music credit aside from "Music composed by Richard Fiocca." (He wrote the theme music, according to his website -- which you shouldn't visit, unless you like websites that automatically play music and don't even have a mute button.)

So: what gives?