It’s beginning to look a lot like fall, when everyone’s inner Basic Bitch surfaces to pick random vegetables off the ground and sprinkle pumpkin spice on everything. In my case, I manifest it by breaking out one of my favorite articles of clothing, an American Eagle cardigan that I call “the grandpa sweater.” Like that garment, today’s recommendations are equal parts sexy and cozy: timeless narratives that you can always revisit because they don’t rely on twists or gimmicks but on some fundamental truth of the human condition. And, just like my cardigan, they’ll feel brand new after a washer/dryer cycle (maybe this metaphor got away from me?), so there will be no “I already watched/read/heard it” section—the point is to experience these again!
A TV show: Mad Men
The pitch: The TV version of Breakfast at Tiffany’s—come for the impeccably recreated Manhattan of the 1960s, stay for the literary sensibilities and heartbreaking characters.
Me gusta porque: at this point in my life, I have watched Mad Men three or four times through (maybe more, I can’t recall), and each time it has hit me in a different way. But let me start with my objections: it’s overwhelmingly white, can get lost inside its own ass, and it’s often about, well, nothing—bucking the trend of shows like its network sibling Breaking Bad, the concept of a cliffhanger is truly foreign to this series. And yet… I always find myself checking the clock at the end of each episode and wondering if I can squeeze another one in before bed. The world of Mad Men, centering the lives of employees at an advertisement agency from 1960 to 1970, is so richly crafted on every level (sets, costumes, casting, writing) that it can be hard to leave. Focusing on New York when it was the center of the world, the series does a great job of illuminating how these characters don’t particularly feel like its kings and queens. On the contrary, they’re constantly pushing against the boundaries that this “Golden Age” imposes on them (particularly those who are marginalized by it), and wondering why the house in the suburbs or the latest technological innovation or the flowing river of alcohol and tobacco they consume won’t make them happy. After all, isn’t that what they’re selling in their ads?
It sounds like a bummer. And it can be! But it’s also very funny; my sister and I quote it to each other all the time. It even gave birth to the popular “not great, Bob!” meme!
You had me at Christina Hendricks! Absolutely #1 reason to watch the show—forget about Don, Joan is where it’s at. Despite its title, Mad Men’s female characters are usually the most compelling, which makes sense considering how many women the show had in its writers room.
Where? You can watch free (with ads) on IMDbTV or pay for AMC+.
A podcast: Serial
The pitch: The podcast that single-handedly created our modern true-crime culture, and has (thus far) never been matched.
Me gusta porque: I first heard Serial during its original run, when the story of Hae Min Lee’s murder and her ex-boyfriend Adnan Syed’s (possibly wrongful) conviction set the world on fire. That spectacular success gave way to a mostly awful collection of books, TV shows, and other podcasts that tried to copy Serial (and sometimes went really off the rails), ignoring that Serial had been imitating something else: “the same experience you get from a great HBO or Netflix series, where you get caught up with the characters,” as Ira Glass put it. If it sounds insensitive, it’s because it is: my sole complaint against this show is that it entertains us with the painful stories of real people, and while Sarah Koenig does try to be responsible in her reporting, the podcast still had a negative impact on some of its central figures. That being said, what makes it timeless (and the reason I’m currently re-listening for the nth time) is its examination of America’s justice system: it was Serial that first illuminated to me that the prosecution, just like the defense, will ignore findings that contradict their narrative in order win a case (even though they represent Us, The People). Two years ago, the Supreme Court rejected Adnan’s appeal for a new trial, but listening to the podcast makes you wonder whether we could ever conclusively know what happened. After it, concepts of “truth” and “fact” feel unattainable—sometimes, the best you get is a narrative that convinces twelve people.
What do you think happened? As per my complain above, I think it’s irresponsible for me to publicly speculate on the case, but I’m happy to chat one on one!
How about the other seasons? I only listened to half of the second one (which didn’t really grab me) and none of the third. Should I?
Where? Wherever you listen to podcasts (but you can also go straight to the source).
A graphic novel: From Hell
The pitch: A retelling of the Jack the Ripper murders that focuses as much on the crimes as on the society that spawned them.
Me gusta porque: I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m a fan of Alan Moore’s writing, and From Hell might be my favorite book of his. Unlike Watchmen or V for Vendetta, this astounding collaboration between Moore and Eddie Campbell (who handles the beautifully grotesque art) has flown a bit under the radar, but it’s the one I’ve read the most times. Its subject is quite flashy: the title comes from the first words of a letter that’s believed to have been written by the Ripper himself (and sent alongside half a human kidney). But the approach goes against the grain, revealing right away who the murderer is, and focusing instead on why he did it (and why he was allowed to do it), which in no way diminishes the book’s power to hook you in until you’re done. It’s a credit to Moore that he can create such vivid characters with complex psychological backgrounds within the structure of a theory (that the murders were a conspiracy to cover up the birth of an illegitimate royal baby) that has been disproved multiple times. Reading it is taking a journey through Victorian London that reminds you that while the murders remain unsolved, the true culprit was the society that grossly neglected the Whitechapel district and all those who lived in it.
Can I just watch the movie instead? That would be like watching The Prince of Egypt and thinking it’s the same as reading the Book of Exodus. Unlike the book, the movie is structured as a whodunit and therefore spends almost no time with the murderer, which means none of the book’s explorations of his psychology, and the institutions that empower him, get any air time. I do think it’s worth watching after you’ve read the book, though, because it has some charm—particularly in Johnny Depp and Heather Graham’s romance, which is more involving than it has any right to be.
There are so many versions! Which one should I read? Unless you’re super into annotations or or you want to see it in color (the original art is black and white), I’d say it doesn’t really matter? I own the 2016 hardcover because I LOVE the cover art (which you can see above)—it’s is a big book, so it’s ideal in case you wanna be your best Basic Bitch and curl in a chair with a knit blanket and a cup of hot cocoa.
Shameless self-promotion
I wrote an article for Long Wharf Theatre’s upcoming production of Lloyd Suh’s The Chinese Lady.
For Hispanic Heritage Month, I sat down with four Latine play festival producers for a roundtable in American Theatre Magazine.
Next Thursday I’m interviewing wunderkind Eliana Pipes, whose play DREAM HOU$E is getting a rolling premiere from The Alliance, Long Wharf, and Center Stage this winter—RSVP now!