Season 2 of “Sugar” (Apple TV) is a vast improvement over Season 1 because now we understand the fundamentals of the show right from the get-go: Private investigator John Sugar (Colin Farrell) is a humanoid alien visiting from a universe far, far away. According to the rules of that universe, no aliens should resort to violence, eat meat, or engage in sex while on Planet Earth.

Take heart: the season is interesting anyway.

This season, our dashing private eye is hired by a Korean boxer on the rise named Danny Moon (Jin Han from “Pachinko”). Danny’s trying to find his missing wayward brother, Ji-Seok (Raymond Lee) who may be trafficking drugs. This leads Sugar on a chase through the underworld of Los Angeles, and a head-on with the biggest bunch of crooked cops since “Serpico”—led by Lieutenant Ray Vega (Tony Dalton who played Lalo Salamanca in “Better Call Saul.”)

In Season 1 Sugar could rely on fellow aliens on earth to help him sort things out but as they’ve fled the planet, he now works with an ad hoc team composed of Tom Fltbjerg (Shea Whigham), a friendly federal agent, and Val (Sasha Calle) a punk-rock-ish con woman whom Sugar recruits as his assistant and protégé.

As an extraterrestrial whose society eschews violence and sex, John Sugar sure seems to be bending the rules on earth. He is still pretty quick with his fists; there are some truly bloody altercations in S2. As for the sex part, Sugar tries to resist but find himself falling hard for Charlotte (Laura Donnelly from “The Ferryman” on Broadway). A fellow resident of his long-stay hotel, Charlotte tells him she’s involved in humanitarian work but her main objective seems to be getting some “sugar” (ahem) from Sugar.

As for the PI himself, invariably attired in a dark suit and white shirt, he is a man (or should i say alien) transformed this season. Sugar’s voice is softer, his shoulders are looser, and he looks truly sorry he has to rough people up now and then. Maybe it’s part of being a lonely alien on a cruel planet he has grown to love more than he should.

Will Sugar finally meet up with his lost sister Djen whom he’s been trying to find for years? Sorry no spoilers here but there’s enough intrigue in the hopper for a season 3. Hopefully, new showrunner Sam Carlin (from “Breaking Bad”) isn’t yet ready to say farewell, my lovely.

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“Necessary Errors,” Caleb Crain’s bittersweet coming-of-age novel captures this “Wild Wild East” period to a T.

Jacob Putnam, the book’s twenty-something protagonist, is one of these pioneers. He’s a Harvard grad who became sick to death of his boring corporate job in Chicago and has come to Prague determined to be a writer. Problem is he doesn’t seem to know what kind of writer, or why he wants to be one. Instead, he just thinks a lot about writing when he’s not teaching English.

Eventually, Jacob develops a small circle of witty friends—mostly locals and fellow expats—who are as uncertain about what they want to do in life as he is. Until they figure it out, these ad-hoc “family members” have romances (often with each other), work administrative jobs and earn just enough pocket money for a couple of rounds at the pub each night. “It was their being together that was exceptional, rather than anything any of them did or might do,” Crain writes.

“Jacob wanted to believe that he was staying (in Prague) for some purpose other than mere postponement – for some reason other than a reluctance to face up to what his native country would allow him to be,” the author adds. “He accepted that he was losing time. He might never catch up, but maybe the delay itself was somehow a part of who he was going to be”.

The book reminds us what social life was like in the pre-Internet age—especially the difficulty of making friends without the conveniences of landlines, cellphones or social media. Particularly in a country already years behind the times due to its Iron Country isolation.

Not an unimportant part of the story is the fact Jacob is gay. In this regard, attitudes are somewhat regressive as he cannot be even be out to certain members of his circle. Additionally, sexual assignations with Czech men are mostly quick, dirty and ultimately unsatisfying.

“Necessary’s” characters may be a metaphor for a young post-socialist nation like Czechoslovakia—they, like the country itself, are still finding their way in the early 1990s. Will Jason and his friends ultimately move on as Prague has? Hard to tell: the ending to this otherwise fine book is ambiguous. I’d love to see a reunion of the group 30 years later. Maybe on the Charles Bridge?

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We meet the protagonist Nikolai Ivanov (Sam Underwood), once a prosperous wheat farmer, in a funk. His wit and optimism have perished along with his crop, and his friends are alarmed. What’s the problem here, Nicki? Among other things, money: he doesn’t have any but every one of his hangers-on thinks he does and wants to borrow from him.

Of course Ivanov’s moodiness may partially be due to his guilt over his flailing marriage to the dying Anna (Ivory Aquino). She converted from Judaism to marry him but her family money has been declared off limits to her husband.

Meanwhile Ivanov’s fortune-seeking drunk uncle, Count Shabyelski (Jordan Lage) casually proposes marriage to Martha, a wealthy young widow (Kimberly Walker). She’s a screamer—and a schemer—who’s enchanted at the prospect of becoming “royalty.”

Waiting in the wings to become the next Madame Ivanov is young Sasha (Amelia Mason), the daughter of the bumbling Ledvedev (Spencer Aste) and his cheapskate wife Zinaida (Sarah Long) to whom he also owes a considerable sum, coming due soon. But Nikolai believes his gloom will be Sasha’s doom and pushes back.

Almost everyone here seems to be owing money to someone else. Fortunately, what seems like a totally unmanageable situation is resolved to perfection by director-adapter Laura Strausfeld, a Chekhov scholar. And like all Russian plays there’s a gun. “One mustn’t place a loaded rifle on the stage if it isn’t going to go off,” Chekhov once wrote. You won’t be disappointed. Now through September 25th at CSC. Dosvedanya.

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The play opens in 2006 as a handful of young American Jews have reunited in a suburban DC living room after a 10-day Birthright trip to Israel. Back home for only 3 weeks, they are in a state of euphoria; one of them, Alona (Molly Ranson) is so enchanted, she wants to make aliyah (ie, emigrate to Israel permanently).

Whaaat? Her Birthright chums are solidly against it; in fact, one of them, Emerson (Nate Mann), a rock-and-roll stoner type, suggests she only wants to return because of her hookup with a handsome IDF soldier. “He actually had three other girls besides you,” he tells the shocked Alona. “Yeah, she’s, like, fully drunk the Kool-Aid,” observes Noah (Eli Gelb), just starting a media career on a new channel called YouTube.

Suddenly Lev (Hale Appleman), a sixth Birthright friend, unexpectedly shows up and it is clear that he is on a different wavelength than the others. Seems he ditched the official Birthright itinerary midway through to explore the “real” Middle East. This experience has convinced Lev he wants to be a rabbi, which coming from what we’ve seen or heard of his character seems entirely out of character.

The freewheeling and hilarious Act 1 is followed by the more sober Act 2 which takes place 10 years later in 2016 on the eve of Alona’s wedding to an Israeli. While she is attending to her guests, the other five “BirthLefters” as they now call themselves, gather around the jacuzzi, wonder whether Trump could win the presidency, and struggle to write a group toast for the bride. Then Izzy (Molly Bernard) mentions that the groom’s uncle is, “like, Netanyahu’s right-hand man.” This sets off an argument between Izzy, a lawyer and a staunch supporter of the left-of-center J-Street lobbying group, and her former BFF Chaya (Zoe Winters) who worked in the Obama White House.

Act 3 is set in late 2024 at a funeral service for one of the six; it’s a sad occasion all around. In the intervening 10 years, friendships have fractured, political identities have shifted, and seismic global events have occurred, including COVID and the Hamas attack on October 7th. Once again, a fierce argument breaks out between Izzy, who deplores Israel’s actions in Gaza, and Chaya, whose organization was pilloried on social media as “genocidal” and who subsequently lost her job there. Alona is there as well and both their arguments pale in comparison to her on-the-ground stories of living in Israel during those bleak times.

The ending is a total shocker. It’s so good not even a hint of a spoiler will be dropped. Sorry/not sorry.

Could “Birthright” be considered a Jewish version of “Friends?” Ridiculous; while this play is often LOL funny like the TV show, it’s far more cerebral and pointed. Every issue on the mind of Jewish Americans (and Jewish-adjacent ones like me) is discussed with amazing ferocity and velocity. Yet despite these differences, the “Birthright Mish-Fucking-Shpucka” continue their efforts at intimacy and remembrance with one another, even as the worsening world seems to tear them apart.

The standouts in this high-powered cast includes Appleman, Winters, and Eli Gelb who was nominated for a Tony for his nerdy performance in “Stereophonic” a few years back.

I have many good things to say about “Birthright” and only one not-so-good thing to announce: the play, written by the brilliant Spector (“Eureka Day”) closed today, Sunday, August 23rd. Hopefully, it’ll be back. Of course it will; it’s beshert.

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The interactions of these six characters, who were friends and roommates at the University of Pennsylvania are, for better or worse, the subject of “So Old So Young,” Grant Ginder’s meh summer read.

The narrative unfolds over a period of 20 years at a series of parties: a crowded 2007 NYE party in a crummy Lower East Side apartment; a 2014 “hacienda” wedding in Cancun where Richie gets rip-roaring drunk and to which Marco brings his new GF; a 2018 Hamptons weekend reunion to which Mia brings her age-inappropriate boyfriend; and a 2024 Halloween party in suburban Montclair, NJ where the attendees wear semi-ironic costumes, the talk is of babies, and ugly, should-never-be-revealed secrets are revealed.

As one reviewer put it, “This is the story of privileged people behaving badly. We watch them party, get drunk, do drugs, fight, make up and cheat on each other. They wonder why they aren’t happy.” Indeed, the six friends want desperately to be grownups but they’re still playing Mean Girls (and Boys).

Ginder has an eye for the music and other cultural references these millennials drops. But unfortunately the two-dimensional characters themselves are just plain unpleasant: the kind you’d probably cross the street to avoid meeting.

Perhaps “SOSY” may be too millennial for an OK Boomer like me. I do think the novel should have been called “Six Characters in Search of an Idea.” Or Bad “Big Chill.” Truth in advertising.

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Would “Claire’s Knee”, Eric Rohmer’s 1970 film which NYT film critic Vincent Canby called perfect, be greenlit for production today? I wonder.

The plot: Shortly before his wedding, French career diplomat Jérôme (Jean-Claude Brialy) travels to Lake Annecy to sell his family vacation home. He is surprised to run into Aurora (Aurora Cornu), a novelist friend he has not seen in years. She is staying with a female friend and her teenage daughter Laura (Beatrice Romand) across the lake.

Aurora notices that young Laura is attracted to Jérôme (he’s in his 40s) and encourages him to spend time with the girl so she can observe what happens and get ideas for her novel. Claiming he is faithful to his fiancée, but that he wants to help his friend, Jérôme agrees.

On a hike some time later, Jerome and Laura talk intimately and he leans over to kiss her, but she pulls away. At the same time she admits she is attracted to older men as surrogates for her deceased father.

Meanwhile, Claire (Laurence de Monahan), Laura’s teenage step-sister, arrives for a visit, and also catches Jérôme’s eye. When he sees her on a ladder picking cherries with her boyfriend Gilles (Gerard Falconetti), he finds himself longing to touch her knee but doesn’t. Later, he tells Aurora that his flirting with Claire instead of Laura might get her even more interesting material.

Should this “Lolita-ish” situation give you Jeffrey Epstein-ish willies, you wouldn’t be alone. At first you’re tempted to overlook this intergenerational flirtation because candidly you find yourself equally undone by watching these nubile teenage bodies—both male and female—frolicking in and along Lake Annecy. But calmez-vous! Nothing explicit happens although Jerome and Aurore talk à la francais about how conflicted he is about holding back.

Brialy, one of the most prolific actors in the French “nouvelle vague” (New Wave) and so handsome that Jean-Luc Godard called him the French Cary Grant, is very swoonworthy. He plays Jerome as a man confident of his ability to attract women, although in a memoir late in life (he died in 2007) he admitted to being gay.

In short, “Knee” is a lovely film reflecting pre-Epstein innocence and the oh-la-la cosmopolitanism we associated with the French. Best to appreciate it as a 1970 time capsule rather than look at it with 2026 eyes as I believe today’s Hollywood producers wouldn’t touch it with a 10-foot baguette.

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In one of these homes, we find young Billy Fisher (Tom Courtenay), slowly waking up after being harangued by his parents (Wilfred Pickles and Mona Washbourne) to get to work. He’s got a job at the local funeral home from which he’s been stealing cash as well as inexplicably the home’s promotional calendars.

When Billy isn’t working or stealing he’s knocking about with his mates and telling lies about everything. He frequently fantasizes he’s the president of a fictional country called Ambrosia where he leads its armed forces. In real life, he’s sweet-talking the local ladies—proposing marriage to both Barbara (Helen Fraser) and Rita (Gwendolyn Watts) at the same time.

The movie is fairly humdrum until a 22-year-old starlet named Julie Christie appears. The camera catches her strolling through downtown Bradford, smiling from ear to ear—and from then on, the picture is hers.

Christie plays Liz, a former girlfriend of Billy’s who went off to London and has returned for a brief visit. She decides to get reacquainted with Billy and encourages him to follow her back to London. Will he?

“Billy Liar” is an example of “kitchen sink” cinema, a genre which emerged in Britain during the late 1950s and 1960s. The films focused on ordinary working-class life, gritty industrial towns, and domestic struggles. “Kitchen sink” was later replaced by “Swinging London” in the mid 1960s which Christie epitomized in her award-winning film “Darling,” also directed by Schlesinger.

“Billy Liar” was not a box-office success but it did represent a career maker for two of the actors as well as the director. This was Courtenay’s first film after winning a BAFTA Best Actor for “The Loneliness of The Long-Distance Runner” and it cemented his status as a first-tier actor. A few years later, he and Christie would team up again in “Doctor Zhivago,” which became one of the highest-grossing films of all time. Schlesinger went on to direct such award-winning films as “Midnight Cowboy” and “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” In the 1970 Birthday Honors, he was appointed Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE) for services to film.

Both Christie and Courtenay are in their 80s, alive and kicking. Meanwhile the legend of John Schlesinger who died in 2003 will live on forever, in films like “Billy Liar.” Film Forum, August 14th.

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Dave Eggars’ latest novel “Contrapposto” looks at the art world from all points of view. Starting with the book’s artsy title, which is taken from the off-center stance exemplified by Michelangelo’s “David.”

As the story begins, our young protagonist, Robert Dibb aka “Cricket” is living in small-town Indiana, being raised by June, a single mother. Fearing the wrath of her abusive boyfriend, he escapes to his room with a sketch pad and begins doodling. Looking over his shoulder and realizing her son’s got talent, June signs him up for private art lessons with an elderly Romanian neighbor. She teaches Cricket the fundamentals of figure drawing.

A few years later he takes the lessons he’s learned—and the money he’s saved working in a sandwich shop—and commutes to Chicago for live art and figure drawing classes where the subjects are nude.

At the same time, a young girl, Olympia, has moved onto his radar. Turns out she is a worldly Holly Golightly type, slinging aphorisms about art that fly over Cricket’s head and dropping more bold-faced names than you’d find in a Sotheby sale catalogue. Praising his drawings, Olympia pushes him to display his art publicly (the local library won’t allow this sadly.) But he isn’t sure he wants to go the artist route anyway. What he is certain about is that he is gaga over Olympia.

Cricket finally saves up enough money to attend the state university where he finds majoring in art a waste of time. He’d rather spend his afternoons with Marcus Carpenter, a former art teacher who has been sacked by the school for not adhering to the official “vision.” As Carpenter tells Cricket, “the talented have talent. The untalented have theories.” Fortunately he sees Cricket has the goods and he too encourages them.

Cricket’s quest to find his way in life takes him first to an internship in an art gallery in Chicago (which he deems too sterile) then to Turkey where he works on gutting abandoned cruise ships. He soon moves back to Philadelphia after Olivia has summoned him to assist Kyle, a former classmate. He’s a party-loving Damien Hurst type who’s amassed a fortune by relying on studio assistants to fabricate multiples of his work.

The beauty of this story is that Cricket, unlike Kyle or Olivia, is the real deal, slowly but surely being recognized and rewarded for his creativity not just on canvas but in anything requiring an imagination—from building frames for artwork to tiling floors. Olympia’s talent as an art dealer on the other hand is making money from others’ gifts.

“This is how artists have power,” she says, defending what she does. “We sell work. You’re implying there’s nobility in powerlessness. That’s been an idiotic trope for too long — that participating in the business side of it taints you. Do you know how dumb that is?” Meanwhile she’s adding insult to injury by continuing to reject Cricket’s romantic overtures.

When it comes to art, Eggers knows what he’s talking about. He studied the subject in his younger years and remains fairly cynical about modern art in general and the Hirst-Warhol school art in particular which tends to stress media buzz over substance.

And as you might expect from this enormously talented writer, Eggers is an old-fashioned romantic. Because paralleling the art narrative is the will-they-or-won’t-they-fall-in-love story that makes the 60-year friendship between Cricket and Olivia such an undeniable pleasure to follow.

In a world where AI creates more and more art and writes more and more books, what a pleasure to once again read Dave Eggers. He’s someone who has never forgotten that writing remains an art you need to create not from a machine or an app but all by yourself.

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First of all, the show comes complete with all the right elements: a sun-drenched Los Angeles setting. Oodles of spacious estates with long driveways. And most of all a charismatic lead, John Sugar, played by Colin Farrell who’s never looked more dashing.

Wearing a crisp fedora, old-fashioned suspenders and tooling around town in a vintage Corvette, Sugar, like Jack Nicholson’s Jake Giddes, is a private investigator whose specialty is discreetly helping rich families locate their loved ones.

But unlike Giddes, Sugar is a bit of a lost soul himself. In social situations he is able to drink multiple cocktails and remain sober as a judge. He often stabs himself in the neck with a syringe. And he seems to belong to a mysterious society where he’s managed by a nose-ringed woman named Ruby (Kirby Howell-Baptiste).

In season 1, Jonathan Siegel (James Cromwell), a well-regarded Hollywood film producer, has hired Sugar to find his missing granddaughter Olivia (Sydney Chandler). When shown her photograph, Sugar feels especially moved as she reminds him of a sister who’s been “taken away” from him.

The search for the young woman takes him to all corners of Los Angeles where he meets members of Olivia’s strange extended family. This includes her nasty father Bernie (Dennis Boutsakis); his blonde wife Margit (Anna Gunn from “Breaking Bad”); and his blonde ex-wife, a singer named Melanie (Amy Ryan). Then there’s Jonathan’s errant grandson David (Nate Cordray), Olivia’s half-brother, a nepo baby who thinks he can act.

In some of these episodes Sugar is forced into near-death situations with thugs who seem to know of Olivia’s whereabouts. He often winds up punching their lights out. This is out of character as Sugar claims he hates violence, which is evidenced by his kindness to a homeless guy like Carl (Jon Beavers) and his dog, Wiley whom he adopts when Carl OD’s.

To drive home the point that we have entered the world of LA-noir, writer-creator-director Mark Protosevich inserts snippets from classic Hollywood films that echo Sugar’s feelings about events as they are happening in the story: a clip of Rita Hayworth from “Gilda” shows up, for instance, when he encounters a new femme fatale.

As S1 progresses and the trail to Olivia heats up, the confusion about who’s who and what’s what begins to dissipate. But then there’s a controversial plot twist (sssshhhh!) which attempts to explain what you’ve been watching but which may only confuse you all over again. At which point you may dismiss the show as nonsensical.

Not me. Having polished off season 1, I am ready for season 2 but with serious reservations. “Sugar” is harmless fun but sorry Jake it’s just not Chinatown.

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Hence, John Donnelly’s “The Pass,” a 2014 West End play about sports homophobia is packing them in at La Mama in the East Village. No surprise there.

We open on a hotel room in Bulgaria, where we are introduced to Jason (Matisse Ratron-Neal) and Ade (Terry Neal), two 17-year-old British football stars, the night before their first international game. Bursting with nervous energy, they talk trash, make dirty jokes about “birds” (i.e., girls), and engage in minor roughhousing. Suddenly, these trying-too-hard-to-be-bro’s unexpectedly cross the line from innocent messing around to something more. (I say, bro-ski, what did we just do here?)

Cut to Spain several years later where Jason has invited Lindsey (Ino Badanjak), an extremely attractive, overly chatty table dancer he’s just met back to his hotel room. They flirt, parry and thrust verbally but Jason suddenly confronts the woman suspecting something shady is afoot.

In yet another hotel room years later, Jason (now a rock-star pro soccer player) has invited his old teammate Ade (now a plumber) to his room to quell what he suspects is some uneasiness about what happened 12 years earlier. High on drink and pills, the lads decide to wreck the hotel room for old times’ sake, trying at one point to hurl a large-screen television out the window. When Harry (Oliver Rowland-Jones) the hotel bellboy knocks on the door after a noise complaint, he assesses the situation and instead of reprimanding them, he joins in on the fun.

Both Badanjik and Rowland-Jones add comic relief to the already sexually charged situations. But Ratron-Neal as Jason is the character who’s worth a closer look here. Clearly a con artist underneath his macho bravado, he weaves skillfully between adorable and despicable. Neither Ade nor Lyndsey can resist his charm but underneath the swagger we sense his inability to accept himself as gay.

The playwright knows his way around a pitch and it shows, for unlike the highly erotic “Heated Rivalry” streaming series which had a lot of sex and not so much hockey, this show flips the script and works just as well. Perhaps even better.

“The Pass” shows that even in 2026, a professional athlete confessing to being any less than 1,000 percent straight has its perils. No more big money endorsements, no adulation from fans young and old, and no more wife you can cheat on while on the road. Sad but true. This serious but never less than entertaining dramedy directed by Max Hunter closes September 4th. Get your kit on.

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So I’ve finally found a novel that captures my love/hate of the Golden State: “The Simp” by Roshan Sethi, a first-time novelist who is also—wait for it—a practicing oncologist.

The story begins when Raj, a desperate out-of-work actor working in a frozen yogurt store answers a help-wanted ad. It reads “the successful applicant will be responsible for arranging meetings and travel, handling child care and dog systems, cleaning, repairs and gardening. Your prime directive is to make life easier for the couple in every way possible.” Salary is $45,000.

Wait, forty-five grand? Most people I know wouldn’t deign to touch this with a California roll. But as it beats doing scene work in acting class, Raj doctors his resume, makes up a story about an impoverished childhood in his native India, and worms his way past Ellen the iron-willed assistant. He finally meets Jim and Anna H., the high-powered (and white) Hollywood entertainment couple, and is hired.

Jim, a macho but insecure writer-director of action films, tells Raj he needs complete quiet in their super-deluxe mansion to complete his next blockbuster. Anna, his wife (and a ditzy former flight attendant) is trying to write a script of her own. Their young son Peter takes a shine to Raj, although the evil Ellen, a Mrs. Danvers type right out of “Rebecca,” tries to do Raj in at every turn.

When not going to Erewhon to buy lamb and kale for Anna’s pit bull, Raj must bow and scrape before Jim, who obnoxiously calls his assistant a “simp” (aka wussy). In spite of the abuse, Raj does such a great job that the couple starts inviting him to exclusive cocktail parties at the San Vicente Bungalows (where he says hello to Timothee Chamomet!) and finally to the Oscars.

But hark, what dark clouds appear on yonder SoCal horizon? Suddenly the media gets wind of the famous “help wanted” ad and the Internet flays the entertainment couple alive. Reporters suddenly want to talk to Raj. And the narrative changes dramatically.

“The Simp” may remind some theatergoers of a comedy from a couple years back called “Buyer and Cellar” where the Michael Urie character takes a job overseeing Barbra Streisand’s famous “Underground Mall” in her Malibu compound. Like “B and C”, Rethi nails the egocentricity of the Hollywood elite. But it also shows that both parties—Raj and the entertainment couple—are playing each other and are equally adept at lying. As Anthony, Raj’s elderly acting coach tells him, “You are a truthful actor. You lie truthfully.”

After nearly 72 years, I remain a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker. I say you’d be crazy to live anywhere else. Especially Los Angeles which is too crazy for even me.

But I did go mad for the book. You will too.

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Presented by La Femme Theatre, this so-so production, set in Georgetown DC, pays homage to the late 90s right from the get go: pleated pants for men, Hillary-style hair bands for women, and piles of newspapers on the coffee table.

The plot: Dr. Lyssa Dent Hughes (Jean Lichy), the Tony Fauci of her day, has been nominated to serve as Surgeon General. A poster child for moderation, respected by Dems and Repubs alike, she is a shoo-in for confirmation—that is, until in an interview with TV journalist Timber Ticker (Chris Ghaffari), Lyssa flippantly reveals she once ignored a summons for jury duty and suffered no consequences.

Oh the Humanity! Eager to boost the sagging ratings of his TV show, Tucker exposes this misdeed, and a media feeding frenzy develops, with reporters and photographers parking themselves outside Lyssa’s Georgetown home.

Meanwhile her friends and supporters park themselves inside, mostly for brunch. They include Morrow McCarthy (Ryan Spahn), a right-wing gay Republican; Quincy Quince (Carmen Zilles), a media-savvy author of “The Prisoner of Gender” who flirts shamelessly with Lyssa’s husband (Robert Sean Leonard); and Doctor Judith B. Kauffman (Montego Glover), Lyssa’s troubled but funny Black-Jewish oncologist BFF.

Will Lyssa have the courage to walk into the line of fire and explain herself? And if she does, will the housewives of Indiana excuse her disparaging remarks about “icebox cake moms?”

For what it’s worth, I remain in awe of Wasserstein (I was lucky enough to meet her once) but wonder why La Femme Theatre Production, “dedicated to the exploration and celebration of the universal female experience,” decided that this was a play they should present. Was it to prove that smart, ambitious women get raked over the coals more often than men? That issue never gets old but everything else about the play has, right down to the phone conversations on landline.

Certain cast members do stand out, particularly Spahn in his meatiest role yet; Dakin Matthews as Lyssa’s father (an Indiana Senator); his fourth wife “Chubby” (Mary Beth Piel) who’s never been fat; and Glover, who pours her heart and soul out as the woman who seems to have it all —except love and a family of her own.

“Daughter” is regarded as the most political of Wasserstein’s plays, inspired by Clinton nominees Zoe Baird, Kimba Wood, Lani Guinier—as well as Hillary Clinton herself.

On a positive note, the plays shows that in 2026, where most politicians show they have no principles, there was a time when some died on a hill for theirs. That in today’s political circus, is about stylish as women’s hair bands. Opening Tuesday August 11th at Signature.

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If he weren’t so funny you’d think he was a grouchy grandpa. Please. He’s a young 69. But he’s lost none of his sass from earlier days.

“As a Fort Dix volunteer, I was regularly threatened by patients. I was cornered and shouted at, accused of everything you could imagine. It was excellent training for my later life in New York City,” he opined .

As we Sedaris-ites know well, he loves little about the natural world (either above sea level or below it.) Of snorkeling he writes, “If I ever want to see fish like that again, I’ll just stare into some dentist’s aquarium.” And safaris—fuhgeddaboutit.

Practical jokes? Not for David Sedaris. “A fellow passenger on my flight from Raleigh kindly removed the sign on my back that read, ‘Ask me about being gay.’ It had been put there by my brother when he’d hugged me goodbye in front of the terminal.”

In the dog days of August, a few belly laughs may be in order. “The Land and Its People.” Available at your local library or independent bookstore.

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With eight different pieces presented, there were ample opportunities to pick your favorite. So I did: “Percussion IV” choreographed by Bob Fosse. Hubbard Street Dance Chicago’s Shota Miyoshi captured Fosse’s signature moves from head to toe, right down to his jazz hands.

But the program really soared after the intermission (as did the dancers, culled from the best-of-the-best dance companies.) April Watson pas-de-deux’ed with Joe Gonzalez in Complexions’ sexy interpretation of “Ave Maria.” This was followed by Kyle Abraham’s “Show Pony,” featuring a wicked cool solo by Taylor Stanley (New York City Ballet).

The program, curated by former principal dancer Misty Copeland, ended with two classics, one current and one in the making: Nureyev’s “Romeo and Juliet,” starring Paris Opera Ballet étoiles Guillaume Diop and Sae Eun Park. And finally, “Rising” by Aleisha Walker who performed her own piece, together with four other women from American Ballet Theatre and Dance Theatre of Harlem. One giant leap for womankind, IMHO. Kudos, Ms. Misty. Bravo, Ballet Festival ‘26 at the Joyce. Through August 16th.

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Two superb performers anchor the production. Lily Rabe (the daughter of Jill Clayburgh and David Rabe, FYI for those who never knew) never fails to raise the level of the show whenever she steps on stage. As Queen Hermione, her emotions run the gamut from joy to grief to sorrow to anger then back to joy again.

Her acting equal is Raul Esparza who plays the bat-shit crazy King Leontes of Sicily. At first I was afraid his campiness would mar the entire show but as his conspiracy theories amounted to naught, he showed that he can be as gentle as a pussycat. Talented, this one.

“Winter’s Tale,” one of Shakespeare’s last plays, is a tragedy in Act One, a comedy in Act Two. The stronger of the two acts happens to be the first. I was a bit underwhelmed by the so-called comedy after the break. The ending, however, was magical—literally. As the indomitable lady-in-waiting Paulina (Marsha Stephanie Blake) says, “It is required that you do awake your faith.” Keep the handkerchief handy.

Besides the actors named above, I liked Gilbert Owuor (from “The Brothers Size” at The Shed) as Polixenes the Bohemian King, and handsome Daniel Kyri who plays his lovesick son. Kudos as well to Teagle F. Bougere as the ever-loyal Camillo.

“The Winter’s Tale.” Only in the midst of summer. Only in New York, kids. Directed by Dan Sullivan. Get your free tickets! Closes August 23rd.

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The theme of this 2015 book is secrecy —the need to expose secrets when they may harm the public, and the need to keep them from those we cherish.

Pip Tyler, a snarky 23-year-old employee of a clean-energy company in Oakland, California, seems primed for a life of spying. Struggling to pay off her $130,000 college debt, Pip is suddenly recruited to join the Sunlight Project, “dedicated to shedding light on the dark worlds of corporate malfeasance and governmental hypocrisy.” It’s run by Anders Wolf, an East German refugee with a reputation that rivals Julian Assange’s. As part of the job, Pip moves to Paraguay where Wolf is hiding out from the authorities and where she may somehow dig up the identity of the father her mother refuses to name.

The book is organized by geography, and in the next section we travel back to East Berlin, circa 1990. The Cold War is over, and young Andreas, a once-privileged scion of a Stasi official, decides to milk his connections and expose the excesses of the former police state. In the process he falls hard for Annagret, an attractive youth counselor; and later meets Tom Aberant, an American, who runs an online investigative journalist.

There are secrets everywhere, it seems. Next we’re off to Texas where muckraking journalist Leila Halou is reporting on a man who’s stolen a missile and gets his kicks from seeing his GF mount it cowboy-style. Who breaks the story? None other than Pip, who now works for Leila after she returns from Paraguay. Leila happens to be married to Tom from Berlin.

This ability to tie loose ends together is what makes “Purity” such a page turner. His enthusiastic breathless style captures everything and everyone from East Germany Communists, to Texan shit kickers, to the lovely young Andreas Wolf groupies in South America.

“Purity” is by far the wittiest, smartest—and most complex— book I’ve read this year. I was originally dismayed by the 500-plus page length but glad I persisted. All hail the once and future genius Jonathan Franzen.

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Hundreds of suspected actors and screenwriters were called to testify on Capitol Hill. If they declared themselves true-blue Americans, admitted they were duped, and offered names of “fellow travelers”, they were free to move on with their lives. Others like refusenik screenwriter Dalton Trumbo were blacklisted for years.

“Are You Now or Were You Ever a Member of the Communist Party,” Eric Bentley’s stirring 1972 docudrama of those dark days, was recently revived at City Center (It closed August 2nd.) What made Anna S. Shapiro’s staging fresh after 54 years is that the Old-Guard Hollywood and Broadway stars being portrayed here are played by an equally impressive list of New-Guard Hollywood and Broadway stars. They look truly honored if not somewhat tickled to be playing their Hollywood forebears.

Bob Odenkirk (star of “Better Call Saul”) portrays Lionel Sander, a screenwriter and minor character actor who brushed up against dedicated party members in the 1940s. His animated protests to the HUAC provide comic relief to what could’ve been as dull as a C-Span proceeding.

Norbert Leo Butz delivers a funny, slippery performance as playwright-director Abe Burrows (“Guys and Dolls”), cleverly evading the Committee’s questions. At the other end of the spectrum is Larry Parks (T. R. Knight), an actor who was on his way to leading man status (“The Al Jolson Story”) before the HUAC sullied his name with purported Communist ties. Author Ring Lardner, Jr. (Stephen Boyer), when asked to name names said, “if I did, I would hate myself in the morning.”

Paul Robeson (Harry Lennox) turns the tables on the Committee, using his time on the witness stand to make political statements about the status of Black Americans. “I am here because I am opposing the neo-fascist cause,” he tells the committee.

The above-mentioned celebrities are only a few of the names dropped in “Are You Now”. Others portrayed in the show included Jerome Robbins, Lillian Hellman, and Jose Ferrer. Many of them made it through the grist mill but some did so with blood on their hands. I’m not naming names.

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Andrew Stein’s “Disruption” (Pershing Square Theatre) focuses on artificial intelligence—but taken to an extreme.

The opening scene: a private event at impossibly expensive restaurant in TriBeCa to which tech gazillionaire Nick (John David Washington) has summoned his closest college friends and their wives. He is eager to discuss an idea he and his hot, MIT-educated business partner Raven (Emma Kikue) are developing (in which Sergey Brin has purportedly invested $50 million.) It’s an algorithm that can guide human beings towards the “best choices” for their futures.

Nick claims he wants to give his friends first dibs on this “opportunity of a lifetime.” All they have to invest is $500,000 each. (Author’s note: If this doesn’t sound like every email you’ve gotten in the last week, you need to get out more.)

As you might expect, all these fairly accomplished Gen Xers are reluctant. But as we soon discover, all seem to have financial or personal woes that would indeed be solved by a know-all predictive model.

Jill (Elizabeth Stanley), a hyper-neurotic Harvard lawyer, desperately wants her child to be admitted to Fieldston, a prestigious and competitive private school. But she and her magazine-editor husband Paul (Joe Tippett) would have difficulty scraping enough money for tuition. Mia (Irene Sofia Lucio), eager to bid on and renovate a Brooklyn brownstone, which would set her and her surgeon husband Barry (Jason Ralph) back plenty. Ben (Conrad Ricamora), a college professor, would like to have a child with his strong-willed psychiatrist wife Suzie (Shaunette Renee Eileen) but she vehemently vetoes the idea.

Nevertheless, Nick persists, and over the next few weeks in private conversations with each of them seems to know their Achilles Heel and how the algo might exploit it. But how does he know this? Does this new product have the ability to get into their psyches and invade their most innermost thoughts? Or is Nick simply following the algorithm’s guidance to direct them towards the “correct” choices in life?

The cast is young and super attractive. Washington is already a big star in Hollywood (“Black KkKlansman”) as is Ricamora (“Oh Mary!”) on Broadway. There’s not a weak link in the bunch

Before you’re frightened out of your wits about AI invading your personal life, think about how it’s disrupted the workplace in only a few years. Directed by Hersh Elllis, the play premiers Sunday August 2nd and runs through September 15th. Provocative, fascinating and just real enough to be scary.

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The setting is a very authentic-looking interior of a suburban Catholic church. Two 14-year-old altar boys, Michael (Ivan Howe) and Paul (Julius Rinzel) are preparing for the next day’s mass. Like all teenagers, they horse around, engage in trash talk, and discuss like good Catholic boys which saint’s name they want to take for their Confirmation. (To clarify, Confirmation is like a Bar Mitzvah for my tribe.)

As they are about to close for the night, Julian (Stanley Simons), a homeless man stumbles in, asking if he can pray. The very uptight Michael tries to shoo him away saying the doors are about to shut. “I thought churches never close,” Julian protests. Paul contradicts Michael, telling Julian he can stay.

In the next scene, Judy (Crystal Finn), the female deacon, is about to conduct a youth group meeting, but because of an approaching blizzard, only Michael has shown up. He takes the opportunity to ask her to be his Confirmation sponsor. Additionally he wants to offer $734 he’s inherited toward a GoFund Me she’s started for an orphanage in Africa where her son volunteers. Startled by his generosity, she flat-out refuses at first but reluctantly gives in and takes the loot.

We sense all four of these characters—the altar boys, Judy and the homeless guy— have secrets they’d prefer not to share. Paul confides to Michael he doesn’t want to serve at mass anymore and is wavering in his faith in God. Later when Judy happens to run into Julian inside the church, another drama plays out.

The play has drawn favorable comparisons to moral dramas like “Doubt,” touching on such subjects as Catholic guilt, crisis of faith, and the true meaning of being a Christian. Does being a good person mean improvising instead of following a playbook? Sounds like a somber affair, but in the hands of the talented cast and director Jack Serio, it’s actually quite the opposite.

The standout in the cast is young Howe as the complicated Michael. He has the comic timing of Matthew Broderick and acting skills that are far and above the typical GenZ er. What will he be like when he’s 20. God only knows

“The Saviors” has been extended to August 15th. Thoughts and prayers it goes to Broadway.

(Note: despite what you may be thinking, no priests or altar boys were compromised in the making of this production.)

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One thing that was crystal clear was that LV was a skillful chronicler of unrequited love. To watch Thomas Mann’s Gustav Aschenbach pine after young Tadzio in “Death in Venice” (Visconti’s 1970 masterpiece) is to see heartbreak writ large.

The same yearning for love exists in “White Nights”, Visconti’s 1957 black-and-white drama based on a 1848 Dostoyevsky novella. The movie is currently being shown in a 4K restoration at NYC’s Film Forum, and is pretty swell.

The plot: Mario, a lonely clerk (a young Marcello Mastroianni) espies young Natalia (Maria Schell, Maximilian’s older sister), weeping on a bridge in Livorno, Italy. He stops to comfort her but she spurns his attention. Nevertheless he persists, and they agree to chat later that week.

As the relationship warms, Natalia explains that she is already “pledged” to a mysterious stranger (Jean Marais) who had come into her life a year earlier. Natalia fell hard for him, but the man suddenly ended the romance, saying he had to disappear for a year but not explaining why. Mario is skeptical. Nevertheless, he spots an opportunity for a romance of his own, and over the next four nights, he and Natalia become closer.

In a fabulous scene during their courtship which totally shakes up the film’s heretofore somber mood, Natalia and Mario visit a nightclub where they twist the night away to a song by Bill Haley and the Comets. “Now I know what it’s like to dance,” she shouts over the music. Mario replies, “Now I know what it’s like to be happy.” Later that night during a snow storm the two have a snowball fight. Pure joy. What could go wrong?

This triangle between Mario, Natalia and the missing paramour is filmed as sort of a noir-ish Italian opera. The entire movie was shot not on location, but on a soundstage at the Cinecittà Studios in Rome. Some 120 artisans reportedly spent two months building a set that recreated the streets, stores, waterways, and monuments of Livorno.

Despite a pan from NYT critic Bosley Crowther, the film went on to win the Silver Lion at the 18th Venice International Festival. And Mastroianni became one of Italy’s most iconic male performers.

“White Nights” is running at Film Forum through August 6th. So beat the summer heat and Dai, Dai! (Go already.) Visconti would probably love you for it. But like I said, he’s impossible to figure out.

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