Arts & Culture

IT’S BEEN ALMOST a hundred years since God created The Three Stooges, who taught us the first rule of humor: If you can’t make people laugh with a joke, then hit each other over the head with a mallet. According to their cinematic archive, no job was too challenging to fail at spectacularly, including plumber, painter, carpenter, chef, and even surgeon. They could not succeed in these endeavors because they were utterly unqualified, a can’t-do attitude that fits right in with today’s Trump administration. But the good news is, any moment now we should start laughing.

In fact, had Moe, Curly, and Larry lived into their second century, they might have been chosen as members of Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s new Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, ACIP for short. Since so many of RFK Jr.’s new hires have been sorely mistaken as respected experts in the field of immunology, why not The Three Stooges, whose disqualifying ineptitude could stand shoulder to shoulder with their own.

The original members of ACIP were summarily dismissed for — as far as we can tell — a strong commitment to scientific inquiry and making fact-based decisions. Also, their surprising aversion to prescribing Vitamin A as a wonder cure. (RFK Jr. is a huge vitamin A fan. He can’t get enough of it. Nor, apparently, can he get enough time in tanning beds despite the proven risk of melanoma. To his credit, RFK Jr. will put up looking tanned and fit against a cancer risk any day.)

Once, a woman told me the closest thing she had to a religion was speculative fiction. Just as spiritual practices do for many believers, reading Ursula Le Guin and Octavia Butler helped her face the haunting edge of humanity’s knowledge, those parts of being alive that refuse explanation.

It’s this confrontation with mystery that Megan Giddings places at the center of her captivating novel Meet Me at the Crossroads. Seven doors appear around the world, each opening to a beautifully warped alternative dimension. Those who walk through these doors see meadows peppered with gold stones and orange deserts under purple skies — but they don’t always come back. Once people realize that the doors are “uncontrollable, unkillable and unknowable,” most ignore them or call them a hoax, aside from a few fringe religious groups. Woven with plenty of heart, this story is not so much about the nature of the unknown as the complicated ways people cope with it.

In Michigan, twins Ayanna and Olivia grow up near one of the doors, developing contrasting ideas of its meaning. Ayanna lives with their father, who raises her in a marginalized faith community that reveres the door as a divine invitation to embrace mystery. Olivia lives with their mother, a Catholic who rejects her ex-husband’s religion as heretical. Amid the tense family dynamics, the sisters remain close until, upon entering the door as teenagers, Olivia disappears.

Combatants for Peace

The film There is Another Way profiles former Israeli and Palestinian combatants working toward collective liberation, showing the courage required to break cycles of hatred. “We are strong. We are fierce. But we will not meet them with their violence,” says one activist. Reconsider

The Grit of Incarnation

You Can Trust a God with Scars: Faith (and Doubt) for the Searching Soul presents a Christianity that embraces doubt and a God who understands suffering intimately. Jared Ayers uses art, scripture, music, and literature to explore “the dazzling mystery ... that the Maker stooped to become what had been made.” NavPress

Justice Can Prevail

Geared toward readers ages 8-12, A Sea of Lemon Trees: The Corrido of Roberto Alvarez, by María Dolores Águila, is a lyrical telling of the first successful school desegregation case, Alvarez v. Lemon Grove, two decades before Brown v. Board of Education. Roaring Brook Press

COLOR HAS LONG fascinated me. I spend days or weeks debating color choices for knitting and art projects. As a kid, I loved mail-order catalogues for their distinctively named palettes. My shelves teemed with books containing facts about color — names for various shades, how ancient pigments were made (crushed insects, plant extracts, and sea snail secretions), and the meanings of colors in different cultures. Highly conscious of racial differences, I found this last topic compelling. I would match my favorite color that week (it changed constantly) to the meanings provided and see where my tastes aligned.

While I recall few details — such as white is a color for mourning in Japan — what I remember, unfailingly, is absence. Each time I enacted this color-play-as-identification, I imagined my way into a past, land, and set of values other than my own. Because, as with most Western maps of world cultures then and now, the cultural diversity of Africa and Afro-diasporic peoples was not represented.

Imani Perry’s latest book shows this absence to be a speaking one.

The Fantastic Four: First Steps starts out with a trade proposal of the highest stakes. Galactus, the world-eating villain of Marvel’s latest reboot, will spare the Earth from his insatiable hunger in exchange for one child. 

The child on the cosmic bargaining table is Franklin, son of Reed Richards, aka “Mister Fantastic” (a subdued Pedro Pascal) and Sue Storm, aka “The Invisible Woman” (Vanessa Kirby, who really gets to shine as the Fantastic Four’s leader).

You can add Nathan Evans Fox to the list of artists who are in the country music scene without entirely being of it. Or maybe it’s better to say Fox is operating in a purer, livelier stratosphere of country music that neither needs nor wants the approval of the Nashville ruling class. So far, he’s doing just fine. His “Hillbilly Hymn (Okra and Cigarettes)” made a viral splash; a rich tune in the tradition of old Appalachian spirituals that envisions a cop-free Heaven where “the rich get scared” and “the guns are all for shootin’ clays.”

If asked to pick one Lady Gaga song to encapsulate who she is and what she stands for, you’d be hard pressed to come up with a better choice than “Born This Way.” Released in 2011, the song is a vibrant, full-body dance anthem that calls on listeners to celebrate who they are. “God makes no mistakes,” she sings in the refrain. “I’m on the right track, baby / I was born this way.” The song was immediately embraced upon release, particularly by the LGBTQ+ community. 

As it turns out, this wasn’t the first time a song by that name made that kind of impact. In 1977, Motown Records released the disco anthem “I Was Born This Way,” an upbeat tune featuring a largely unknown Black gospel singer who responds to critics with a refrain that was a head-turner for its time: “I’m happy. I’m carefree. And I’m gay. I was born this way.”

Released five years ago, Kristin Kobes Du Mez’s Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation is no orindary history book. Since it published, the treatise on militant Christian masculinity has shaped conversations about Trumpism in both Christian and secular spaces. A surprise New York Times bestseller, the book resonated with many readers who found that it clarified their own experiences of growing up in the American evangelical subculture — and it drew criticism from others who found it to be an unfair takedown of conservative Christianity.

Now, it has a theme song.

I’VE SPENT MOST of my life explaining to people why movies and TV shows are more than just a way to pass time. My favorite screen stories — serial or cinematic — help me connect with their creators or the depicted characters. Narratives help us make sense of our experiences and recognize ways we can help others consider their own. Jesus knew this when he told parables, using stories to communicate some of his most important teachings on how we should live generously and faithfully.

A sci-fi series about a robot who struggles to relate to human beings may seem an unlikely example of how good storytelling helps us walk through the world. But that’s what the Apple TV+ show Murderbot offers.