The Deuce: It's Hard Out There For...Everyone

David Simon gave us The Wire, arguably the greatest television series of our time. In that show, he spent five series painstakingly exploring different aspects of Baltimore, from the drug trade, to the education system, to the police, to observe how all of these areas intersected and led to crime and disenfranchisement. So it makes sense that The Deuce, his series about the seedy Times Square area in 1970s New York that was overrun by prostitutes and porn purveyors, would be a meticulous look at exploitation, corruption, and good old fashioned capitalism.

There are multiple storylines that converge over the course of the first season's eight episodes. We start with the "traditional" pimps and hookers, watching how experienced prostitutes get through their day-to-day existence as well as seeing how the pimps scout girls fresh off the bus at Port Authority who can be lured into their dark line of business. However, we are also introduced to the somewhat unconventional Candy (played to perfection by Maggie Gyllenhaal), an independent hooker who prefers to watch out for herself and keep all her earnings instead of relying on a pimp to handle her finances. Her storyline proves particularly fascinating over the course of the season as we watch her struggle to figure out how she can transition out of her uncertain lifestyle and find a more stable career in the adult movie industry.

Then there's James Franco, playing a double role as Italian twins Vincent and Frankie Martino. Vincent is the most responsible one, trying to run a bar and move on with his life after being tied to an erratic wife for too long. Once he gets financing from the mob, he is able to own his own establishment and make his business dreams come true, but as he quickly discovers, that patronage comes with a price. In the meantime, his much more corruptible brother has no qualms about engaging in all manner of shady deals and helping the mob advance their ambitious agenda to transform the Deuce. We also have the NYPD patrolmen, Chris and Danny. While not particularly corrupt themselves, they take their orders from headquarters, and as they patrol the streets and deal with differing instructions from week to week, we quickly learn how the NYPD might be in cahoots with the mob, and the people on the street are mere pawns in a vast endgame to transform Times Square from a seedy intersection to a booming adult business.

The Deuce unfolds carefully and intriguingly, bringing in a host of characters from all walks of life and demonstrating how they all have their unique part to play in a clever conspiracy of greed. The fate of multiple people hangs in the balance, and it is only as you hurtle towards the first season's climax that you realize just how much they are puppets and the people at the top hold all the strings. Much of this show is dark and brutal: the women aren't treated well, the men are terrible, and just as often the women are terrible to each other and the men try to help. But if you take a step back, you will end up in awe of society's interconnected grand design. Seemingly unrelated spheres of influence can become enmeshed to have a ripple effect through multiple realms and you marvel at the ingenuity of human beings whilst simultaneously bemoaning the many ways in which they use their power for greed, instead of good.

Lady Bird: What It Feels like for a Girl

Sometimes you don't realize how much you needed a movie until you see it. Lady Bird is that movie. Following a summer filled with loud, action-packed entertainment, Greta Gerwig's directorial debut is a funny, affecting, and incandescent wonder.

A tale about a teenage girl navigating her senior year in high school in 2002, Lady Bird is perhaps the most profound look at female relationships I've seen on screen. The always magnificent Saoirse Ronan plays Christine "Lady Bird" McPherson (Christine is her given name, but Lady Bird is the name she has given herself). Like all teenage girls, she has a contentious relationship with her mother, Marion (played by a startlingly brilliant Laurie Metcalf). At school, Lady Bird's best friend is Julie (Beanie Feldstein, playing the most adorable and warm best friend you could hope for). They both attend a Catholic high school, and one of the side characters, the nun Sister Sarah Joan (Lois Smith) immediately reminded me of the nuns who ran my school when I was a child. It is so easy to mock Catholic high schools and their stereotypes, but instead, Lady Bird strives to portray both the silliness and grace in this environment. Yes, the girls might be secretly snacking on Communion wafers and complaining about skirt checks, but the nuns and priests are also kind teachers, who strive to do right by their students within the confines of a religious education.

It's hard to describe this movie any further because it would just devolve into a listing of all of my favorite scenes (which is pretty much all of them). Over the course of one year, the immature Lady Bird slowly grows up, making many mistakes along the way. There are encounters with boys (Lucas Hodges and Timothee Chalamet, playing two very different characters to represent the typical spectrum of teenage boyhood). Lucas Hodges, in particular, has a scene that is Best Supporting Actor-worthy in itself. There are the challenges with Julie, and the desire to get in with the cool kids that puts a strain on their friendship. And there is that turbulent relationship with her mother, a woman who has such a big heart, but simply does not know how to talk to her daughter without pissing her off. Their relationship will resonate with mothers and daughters everywhere - the moments when your mother just doesn't get it, the moments when you wish you could confide in her but don't, and the moments when you simply crumble and she knows exactly what to do. I will be shocked if Metcalf doesn't nab every nomination (and hopefully award) for Best Supporting Actress this year.

And of course, this brings us to Lady Bird herself, Saoirse Ronan. She is clearly writer-director Greta Gerwig's muse, and her every action and expression is reminiscent of Gerwig herself. Ronan commands the screen, making Lady Bird the most lovable weirdo I've seen in some time, and somehow, even though we led completely different lives, I still found myself relating to every moment in her life. That is a testament to Gerwig's storytelling ability. Even though the world and characters seem so specific to this time and place, the situations are universal, and you will find yourself remembering all the stupid things you did as a teenager (and continue to do now as an adult). If you're a parent, you will wholeheartedly relate. If you're a teacher, you'll understand. If you're a nun, you'll cheer at the portrayal of your fellow Sisters as something other than joyless harridans. And if you're a woman, you will rejoice at this acknowledgement of all the complex emotions and frustrations that make up your life and challenge you on a daily basis.

Greta Gerwig has stated that she wanted Lady Bird to serve as a female counterpoint to all the movies about male adolescence. She has triumphed in her endeavor. This movie is a pitch-perfect depiction of what it's like to be a teenage girl, and I promise you, even if you are reading this in some deeply conservative country or region where you would never get up to half the things that Lady Bird does, you will still understand this girl and what she's going through. I should know - I was a Hindu who went to Catholic school in the Middle East and am now an atheist in New York who still loves visiting churches. Lady Bird made me tear up at multiple moments and say "oh yes, I know what that feels like." It also helps that the use of Dave Matthews Band's "Crash into Me" was so perfect, it nearly destroyed me.

Lady Bird is a movie that sneaks up on you, starting off as a light comedy and gradually unleashing its tentacles into your heart until it has a strong grip and won't let go. I loved it and I have a feeling it will become a classic, the movie that teenage girls and adult women quietly revel in for years to come. 

Thor Ragnarok: Cosmic Comedy

The Thor franchise has always been regarded as a bit of a weak link in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. While Thor is fun as part of the ensemble cast in the Avengers movie, he tends to not dazzle critics in his standalone films (please note, I say critics, I have always been just fine watching Chris Hemsworth swashbuckle around the universe). However, this time around, Marvel handed the reigns for Thor: Ragnarok over to New Zealand director, Taika Waititi (if you haven't seen his remarkable Hunt for the Wilderpeople, you're really missing out). And in his weird and wonderful hands, we've gotten a light and comic masterpiece that is easily the best Marvel movie this year.

The premise is that Asgard (Thor's homeland) is under siege from his elder sister, Hela (Cate Blanchett), whose existence was hitherto a secret. Thor must team up with his brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston), who is not the most trustworthy person -- God of Mischief and all that -- as well as the Hulk (Mark Ruffalo), who has been going through some stuff for the past two years, and a Valkyrie, played by welcome addition to the MCU, Tessa Thompson. From start to finish, this movie is crammed with jokes. It opens with a standoff between Thor and a fire monster that is silly and satisfying, and somehow manages to make every fight seem both urgent and hysterical at the same time.

A lot of this movie was improvised (Waititi's previous directorial efforts include episodes of Flight of the Conchords) and that is evident in every scene where this extraordinary cast is allowed to play off each other and come up with inane quips. The tension between Thor and Loki has never been more amusing, the Hulk has never had more lines that he has in this film, and there are a bunch of oddball characters and delightful cameos to constantly tickle your funny bone (shoutout to Jeff Goldblum, being his Goldblum-iest). And there are a lot of random Kiwi and Aussie actors who pop up, so at times it feels like a Lord of the Rings reunion (the team of Galadriel and Eomer is quite the delight). It's a shame Cate Blanchett was the villain because I could easily watch five more movies starring her, but one can't have everything.

While the cast and storyline have much to recommend them, the most compelling feature of this movie is its artistry. Certain scenes look like a psychedelic Hieronymus Bosch painting (I mean, just look at that poster). It is absolutely gorgeous, whether we're talking about Hela's costumes or the chaotic set design of the alien planet Sakaar where Thor is stranded for most of the movie. For a man whose previous movies cost less than $10 million to make, Waititi really cracked the code on how to spend Thor's $180 million budget. And let's pay homage to that Mark Mothersbaugh soundtrack. It sets the tone for this entire film, a sort of disco, electronica wizardry that is only amplified by the incandescent use of Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" at pivotal moments.

Thor: Ragnarok is what a superhero movie should be. Funny, action-packed (but not overwhelmingly so), visually arresting, and worth every penny to watch in a theater with surround sound. I wasn't bored for a second. So dive right in and start gearing up for the Infinity Wars.

What Happened: Political Postmortem

A year ago (dear God, how has it been a year?), Hillary Clinton lost the election and I was upset. Now she has written a book about it, entitled What Happened. I genuinely thought I was never going to read this book. Why would I re-live the horror of that day and the subsequent months? But I finally bit the bullet and ordered the book. And shockingly, it was not as devastating as expected.

What Happened is a policy book. It is a clear and articulate description of the kind of President Hillary Clinton would have been. This is a woman who loves to solve problems and chapter-by-chapter she dives into the various internal and external challenges her campaign faced and examines where it all went so heartbreakingly wrong. She keeps re-stating how responsible she felt and how ultimately, she was the one to blame as she was the candidate. But then she lays out a brilliant case for how everyone from the FBI, to Russia, and Facebook, screwed her over. It is an incisive and frankly frightening book about how American democracy was compromised during the 2016 Election, and a wonky but honest dissection of the many, many, many ways in which that glass ceiling proved to still be shatter-proof. 

To be perfectly honest, I'm a little surprised by my reaction to this book. I was convinced I would be in floods of tears, but instead I found it to be a fascinating political memoir that was easy to read and provided substantive food for thought. I don't read much non fiction, especially not about politics, but for the first time, I understood why someone might find this subject so fascinating. Rather than get upset about the election itself and the emotions it engendered, readers will probably be most devastated to read about the future we could have had. Clinton was all set to launch a major infrastructure program, create jobs, fight for a public option to get us closer to universal healthcare, protect women's right to choose, introduce campaign reform, and tackle climate change. But her progressive ideals and basic decency were drowned out in a sea of misinformation and biased reporting that insisted her e-mails were a legitimate scandal while Trump's Russia connections were swept under the rug. 

I voted for Clinton because of her policies. But also because of her overarching message of "Love and Kindness." In the book, her desire to help others and fight for those who don't have a voice is a constant theme. Even in the aftermath of the election, she spent so much time comforting the people who campaigned for her and worrying about how women and girls around the country might be feeling instead of just wallowing in self-pity. That quality is what I personally find so admirable about women in general, and Hillary in particular. The importance of empathy, putting yourself in another's shoes, and trying to feel another's pain so you can come up with a solution is evident over and over again in every single one of her policies. She talks about how a line in one of her speeches was taken out of context and made it appear as though she didn't care about coal miners. But she did care, and she went to West Virginia to talk with people who disagreed with her face-to-face and tell them about her economic plans for them. However, she acknowledges that one of her faults might be her desire to go straight to problem-solving instead of just letting people vent. And perhaps that was her biggest mistake. She tried to help America, when all America wanted to do was whine. I wish the people who didn't vote for her would read this book and properly understand what it is that she wanted to do for them. But alas, I doubt they will. 

What Happened is not a sad book. It is a defiant (occasionally sarcastic), intelligent, and hopeful one. The final chapter ends with Hillary's return to Wellesley College to deliver the 2017 Commencement speech, and in those moments, she is hopeful for the future of our country. It isn't blind optimism; she states, "Things are going to be hard for a long time. But we are going to be okay. All of us." That sentiment is why she would have been a great President. That sentiment is why she is a great woman. 

We are going to be okay. Because after all the events of last year, Hillary Clinton is back. She is frustrated and unhappy about how things turned out. But she is not going to back down and she is still going to help America with that big, wonderful brain of hers. As well as her big, wonderful heart.