newyorker--2020-02-05--Does the Bloomberg Superfan Exist?

Does the Bloomberg Superfan Exist?

The voting-app debacle in Iowa wasn ’ t bad for everyone .
It was good news for Donald Trump , who immediately started tweeting about the Democrats ’ misfortunes : “ Nothing works , just like they ran the Country.
” And it provided an opening for Mike Bloomberg—the billionaire former New York City mayor , who , having entered the Democratic primary race late , has decided to skip the early contests , and is instead campaigning everywhere else .
On Tuesday , his campaign announced that it would double its TV ad spending .
While the other candidates @ @ @ @ @ @ @ California , on a kind of private-jet whistle-stop tour of the state .
I followed , because I was interested in scoping out the crowd .
The Trump supporter has , by this point , become an American archetype , and we have a mental picture of the Bernie Bro : young , passionate , perhaps bearing scruffy facial hair .
The iconic Elizabeth Warren supporter might be the astute middle-aged Iowa woman who told an MSNBC reporter , on Monday night , “ My next-door neighbor ’ s pretending to be undecided @ @ @ @ @ @ @ That ’ s a quote.
” But who are Bloomberg ’ s superfans ?
There were some clues in Sacramento , on Monday morning , where about a hundred people crammed into a warehouse coffee shop , for a kick-off rally before a day of canvassing .
Many of them looked vaguely like Bloomberg himself : trim , with calm demeanors and salt-and-pepper hair .
They wore performance vests and sensible shoes .
Several wore T-shirts that said , “ I LIKE MIKE , ” in huge letters , although , upon inspection @ @ @ @ @ @ @ T-shirts turned out to be paid campaign workers .
Given the size and scope of the Bloomberg operation—it pays roughly twice the going rate of the other Presidential campaigns , and will soon employ more than two thousand staffers—it can be difficult to distinguish regular Bloomberg supporters from current , former , and hopeful employees .
( Bloomberg has promised his staffers jobs through November , whether or not he ’ s still in the race . )
At around 7:30 A.M. , the candidate took a microphone .
Some politicians don populist @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : jeans , a work shirt .
But Bloomberg was dressed as Bloomberg : he wore a navy blazer with gold buttons , a purple sweater , and a tie .
The impression was not of a politician but of a sensible boss , speaking at a company gathering .
He opened with genial banter about the Super Bowl , commiserating with 49ers fans .
And then he spoke , in a wandering way , about the problems the country faces , including climate change , a lack of affordable housing , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Bloomberg told me that he wants to make people aware of his managerial skills .
“ And maybe they ’ re starting to think that the job ” —the Presidency— “ is being a manager , ” something that Trump is not very good at .
“ Donald Trump ’ s just the wrong guy for the job , ” he said in Sacramento , when he was talking about the country ’ s problems .
“ I can ’ t solve them , but I can pull the teams together that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ brought up the crowd he ’ d attracted on a recent trip to Phoenix and added , wistfully , “ I wish my parents were alive to see this .
.
.
.
Although my mother died at one hundred and two ; she lived long enough to help swear me in my first term as mayor .
I have a picture of she and my father when I became an Eagle Scout .
Anyway , thank you all for coming.
” A man in the crowd , Paul Page , seemed a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ most low-key campaign speech I ’ ve ever heard , ” he said .
“ His finger wasn ’ t in the air .
He wasn ’ t shouting .
I expected to see a politician .
I saw a businessman.
” Page , who is sixty-seven , looks like a more rugged version of Roger Sterling from “ Mad Men.
” He recently retired , after years running his own graphic-design and marketing business .
He ’ s a Republican .
“ I think you ’ d describe me as a Never @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I believe in free markets and capitalism .
I ’ m desperate for someone to vote for.
” His interest in Bloomberg was pragmatic : “ I think a vote for him would be a vote for : stop the madness .
Just have someone competent run the country for four years.
” Cheryl Cerna , who is also retired , from a career doing project management for construction projects , said she liked Bloomberg ’ s professionalism .
“ I ’ ve worked for engineers , architects , department heads .
What @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to hear people trashing experts.
” A few hours later , Bloomberg was a hundred and eighty miles south , delivering a speech in a lush , Spanish-style courtyard at Fresno City College , for an event organized with a group called Ganamos Con Mike .
Coldplay ’ s rendition of U2 ’ s “ Beautiful Day ” played as Bloomberg took the stage .
In the parking lot , a taco truck and a churro truck dispensed free snacks to event-goers and passing students .
Reading from a teleprompter , Bloomberg drew @ @ @ @ @ @ @ He tweets .
I follow facts and respect data and tell the truth.
” And he offered a quick biography , starting with his humble upbringing .
“ At thirty-nine years old , I got laid off .
‘ Laid off ’ is a nice way of saying , I got fired !
But I got back up on the horse and I started a company from scratch.
” A woman named Annika Pitcher said she liked the speech .
“ He built his empire after the age of forty .
As someone @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forty , I ’ m thinking , Maybe I can do that !
” Pitcher , a former sales executive , was wearing leggings , Uggs , and big sunglasses .
She and her husband are “ in a high tax bracket ” and had donated to “ Amy and Pete , ” she said , but she also liked Bloomberg , because he ’ s a capitalist , and she wants the Democratic candidate to reach voters who are turned off by socialism .
“ My husband ’ s family is very @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the military .
My in-laws are pro-Trump.
” Pitcher was accompanied by a gaggle of high-school students , whom she ’ d sprung from classes to see the speech .
They included her daughter , Emma , and Emma ’ s two friends Nick and Kimiya , who are Bernie Sanders fans .
Nick hadn ’ t been swayed by Bloomberg ’ s pitch , and was skeptical of Pitcher ’ s argument about her N.R.A.-loving relatives .
“ Donald Trump appeals to people because they don ’ t like the liberal élite @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said .
“ But Bloomberg ’ s the ultimate New Yorker.
” People in swing states like Michigan and Pennsylvania may not like that .
A few hours later , Bloomberg ’ s campaign bus , the Get It Done Express , was parked outside of a sparkling new community center in Compton , the historically African-American city south of Los Angeles .
Bloomberg was introduced by two young black mayors : Michael Tubbs , the twenty-nine-year-old mayor of Stockton , and Aja Brown , of Compton , who said that she hadn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , but he had won her over by paying a visit to her office .
“ I believe that Mike can get it done , ” she said .
The speech was interrupted by a few protesters , one of whom held up a sign that said , “ Billionaires Should Not Buy Elections.
” Another man heckled from a back row , shouting , “ Stop-and-frisk !
We don ’ t forget !
” When Bloomberg said , “ You and I will reclaim and rebuild the promise of this country , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ancestors to come here , ” the heckler , who was black , called out , “ Not mine !
” He said his name was Gregory , and that he was a retired bus driver .
( He ’ d been filming the speech , and his commentary , in order to put it on Facebook . )

The voting-app debacle in Iowa wasn’t bad for everyone. It was good news for Donald Trump, who immediately started tweeting about the Democrats’ misfortunes: “Nothing works, just like they ran the Country.” And it provided an opening for Michael Bloomberg—the billionaire former New York City mayor, who, having entered the Democratic primary race late, has decided to skip the early contests, and is instead campaigning everywhere else. On Tuesday, his campaign announced that it would double its TV ad spending. While the other candidates were in Iowa, Bloomberg was in California, on a kind of private-jet whistle-stop tour of the state. I followed, because I was interested in scoping out the crowd. The Trump supporter has, by this point, become an American archetype, and we have a mental picture of the Bernie Bro: young, passionate, perhaps bearing scruffy facial hair. The iconic Elizabeth Warren supporter might be the astute middle-aged Iowa woman who told an MSNBC reporter, on Monday night, “My next-door neighbor’s pretending to be undecided so that people will woo him. That’s a quote.” But who are Bloomberg’s superfans?
There were some clues in Sacramento, on Monday morning, where about a hundred people crammed into a warehouse coffee shop, for a kick-off rally before a day of canvassing. Many of them looked vaguely like Bloomberg himself: trim, with calm demeanors and salt-and-pepper hair. They wore performance vests and sensible shoes. Several wore T-shirts that said, “I LIKE MIKE,” in huge letters, although, upon inspection, most of the people wearing the T-shirts turned out to be paid campaign workers. Given the size and scope of the Bloomberg operation—it pays roughly twice the going rate of the other Presidential campaigns, and will soon employ more than two thousand staffers—it can be difficult to distinguish regular Bloomberg supporters from current, former, and hopeful employees. (Bloomberg has promised his staffers jobs through November, whether or not he’s still in the race.)
At around 7:30 A.M., the candidate took a microphone. Some politicians don populist garb for a day in the field: jeans, a work shirt. But Bloomberg was dressed as Bloomberg: he wore a navy blazer with gold buttons, a purple sweater, and a tie. The impression was not of a politician but of a sensible boss, speaking at a company gathering. He opened with genial banter about the Super Bowl, commiserating with 49ers fans. And then he spoke, in a wandering way, about the problems the country faces, including climate change, a lack of affordable housing, and student debt. In a one-on-one interview, Bloomberg told me that he wants to make people aware of his managerial skills. “And maybe they’re starting to think that the job”—the Presidency— “is being a manager,” something that Trump is not very good at.
“Donald Trump’s just the wrong guy for the job,” he said in Sacramento, when he was talking about the country’s problems. “I can’t solve them, but I can pull the teams together that know how to solve them.” He brought up the crowd he’d attracted on a recent trip to Phoenix and added, wistfully, “I wish my parents were alive to see this. . . . Although my mother died at one hundred and two; she lived long enough to help swear me in my first term as mayor. I have a picture of she and my father when I became an Eagle Scout. Anyway, thank you all for coming.”
A man in the crowd, Paul Page, seemed a little stunned. “That was the most low-key campaign speech I’ve ever heard,” he said. “His finger wasn’t in the air. He wasn’t shouting. I expected to see a politician. I saw a businessman.” Page, who is sixty-seven, looks like a more rugged version of Roger Sterling from “Mad Men.” He recently retired, after years running his own graphic-design and marketing business. He’s a Republican. “I think you’d describe me as a Never Trumper,” he said. “I believe in free markets and capitalism. I’m desperate for someone to vote for.” His interest in Bloomberg was pragmatic: “I think a vote for him would be a vote for: stop the madness. Just have someone competent run the country for four years.” Cheryl Cerna, who is also retired, from a career doing project management for construction projects, said she liked Bloomberg’s professionalism. “I’ve worked for engineers, architects, department heads. What upset me about the impeachment hearings was to hear people trashing experts.”
A few hours later, Bloomberg was a hundred and eighty miles south, delivering a speech in a lush, Spanish-style courtyard at Fresno City College, for an event organized with a group called Ganamos Con Mike. Coldplay’s rendition of U2’s “Beautiful Day” played as Bloomberg took the stage. In the parking lot, a taco truck and a churro truck dispensed free snacks to event-goers and passing students. Reading from a teleprompter, Bloomberg drew contrasts between himself and Trump. “He tweets. I follow facts and respect data and tell the truth.” And he offered a quick biography, starting with his humble upbringing. “At thirty-nine years old, I got laid off. ‘Laid off’ is a nice way of saying, I got fired! But I got back up on the horse and I started a company from scratch.”
A woman named Annika Pitcher said she liked the speech. “He built his empire after the age of forty. As someone who’s over the age of forty, I’m thinking, Maybe I can do that!” Pitcher, a former sales executive, was wearing leggings, Uggs, and big sunglasses. She and her husband are “in a high tax bracket” and had donated to “Amy and Pete,” she said, but she also liked Bloomberg, because he’s a capitalist, and she wants the Democratic candidate to reach voters who are turned off by socialism. “My husband’s family is very pro-N.R.A. We have family serving in the military. My in-laws are pro-Trump.”
Pitcher was accompanied by a gaggle of high-school students, whom she’d sprung from classes to see the speech. They included her daughter, Emma, and Emma’s two friends Nick and Kimiya, who are Bernie Sanders fans. Nick hadn’t been swayed by Bloomberg’s pitch, and was skeptical of Pitcher’s argument about her N.R.A.-loving relatives. “Donald Trump appeals to people because they don’t like the liberal élite making fun of hillbillies,” he said. “But Bloomberg’s the ultimate New Yorker.” People in swing states like Michigan and Pennsylvania may not like that.
“That’s a good point,” Pitcher said.
Kimiya raised a fist and shouted, “Bernie 2020!”
A few hours later, Bloomberg’s campaign bus, the Get It Done Express, was parked outside of a sparkling new community center in Compton, the historically African-American city south of Los Angeles. Bloomberg was introduced by two young black mayors: Michael Tubbs, the twenty-nine-year-old mayor of Stockton, and Aja Brown, of Compton, who said that she hadn’t initially been interested in Bloomberg, but he had won her over by paying a visit to her office. “I believe that Mike can get it done,” she said. The speech was interrupted by a few protesters, one of whom held up a sign that said, “Billionaires Should Not Buy Elections.” Another man heckled from a back row, shouting, “Stop-and-frisk! We don’t forget!” When Bloomberg said, “You and I will reclaim and rebuild the promise of this country, the promise of America that got our ancestors to come here,” the heckler, who was black, called out, “Not mine!” He said his name was Gregory, and that he was a retired bus driver. (He’d been filming the speech, and his commentary, in order to put it on Facebook.)
Still, most people in the crowd seemed receptive. Lena Coledennis, who used to work in a domestic-violence shelter, said, “I was heading towards Biden lately, but Bloomberg—right now, today, I’m for him.” She’d been concerned about stop-and-frisk, but, she said, “He apologized. I believed his apology. I liked his apology. And I felt like he’s a man whose mind can be changed.” She wasn’t impressed with how Joe Biden handled mistakes in the past; he has been criticized, for example, for sponsoring the 1994 crime bill. “He didn’t know how to apologize,” she said. “You cannot go through this life without apologizing. Something is always going to happen differently than what you expected. Why don’t you just say ‘I grew, I’m not that old person anymore, I’m a new man’?”
Carolyn Hines, who teaches business and workforce development at Los Angeles Community College, said, of Bloomberg, “I think he could be good for the country, because he has his own money and he can’t be bought.” Hines, who was decked out in Kobe Bryant gear, with rhinestone earrings, acknowledged a potential downside to Bloomberg’s wealth. “We heard some buzz that he was going around trying to flip black mayors to support him,” she said. “Hopefully, he didn’t come in and buy Mayor Brown.” But when it came to her vote, she said she would be practical. “We just need something that can turn Donald Trump out! Whatever that looks like.” She went on, “I don’t know if it’s going to be Bloomberg. But if it is, I’m with him. Anybody but Trump. Donald Duck, Daffy Duck, Mickey Mouse—I don’t really care, as long as we can get Cheeto out.”


newyorker--2020-02-05--The Perverse Presidential Façade of Donald Trump at the State of the Union

To all those who hoped , against reason , in the fall and winter of 2016-2017 , that Donald Trump would become Presidential : be careful what you wish for .
After three years in office , Trump has become just that—Presidential , but in the only way that Trump could .
He has triumphed over those who called his legitimacy into question : over James Comey and Robert Mueller , over the anonymous whistle-blower and the witnesses in the House impeachment hearings , over the Democrats who voted for the articles of impeachment , and over the small and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Party .
And , on Tuesday night , during his State of the Union address , Trump wielded the gestures of the Presidency with a newfound confidence .
Trump ’ s previous States of the Union had an air of desperation , though of the sort that surely appealed to many of his supporters .
Last year , his invited guests were a parade of heroes and personified fears : a girl with cancer , the father of a dead marine , an ICE agent , a policeman who had been shot at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ year before that , Trump seemed focussed on eliciting applause , even applauding himself to give his audience its cue .
This year , similar fears were on display and the obsession with applause was still evident , but the role he played at the podium was markedly different : here was the President as benefactor , Trump the All-Powerful and Trump the Magnanimous .
Trump gave a fourth grader from Philadelphia , Janiyah Davis , a scholarship to attend a private school .
Trump avenged the death of Gage Hake ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Army Staff Sergeant Christopher Hake , by ordering the killing of Qassem Suleimani .
Trump also avenged the death of Carl and Marsha Mueller ’ s daughter , Kayla , a humanitarian aid worker , by ordering the killing of Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi .
Trump gave the conservative radio host Rush Limbaugh—who has been diagnosed with advanced lung cancer , and whose record as a racist is as long as Trump ’ s own—a Presidential Medal of Freedom .
Trump recognized Juan Guaidó , the self-declared leader of Venezuela , thereby practically @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Finally , Trump brought back from the front lines Sergeant First Class Townsend Williams , reuniting him with his wife and two small children in front of the live studio audience , which happened to include most of the country ’ s senators and representatives , in addition to millions of television viewers .
Trump has become Presidential in his own , reality-TV way .
He took credit for things that are hardly his Administration ’ s doing , such as the decline in drug-overdose deaths .
Though he prefers to govern @ @ @ @ @ @ @ exhorted Congress to pass legislation that would please conservative Republicans , including a ban on late-term abortions .
He lied about new jobs and health insurance .
But , over all , he might have lied less in the hour of his speech than he often does in a day ’ s worth of tweets .
It seems that the more threatened Trump feels , the more he lies .
But , on Tuesday night , on the eve of the Senate vote on his impeachment , he appeared to feel safe and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ All the institutions that have opposed him or could have opposed him have been beaten into submission .
The last hurdle is the November election , and the Democrats had just fumbled the Iowa caucuses .
Now that their confrontation with Trump was effectively over , congressional Democrats were in a bind .
Taking their seats in the hall—even if they refused to applaud throughout the speech—would seem to amplify Trump ’ s triumph .
At least two members of Congress , Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Maxine Waters , tweeted that they would not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my presence at a state ceremony to normalize Trump ’ s lawless conduct & subversion of the Constitution , ” Ocasio-Cortez tweeted .
“ None of this is normal , and I will not legitimize it.
” “ To think that I would attend the # SOTU to hear the message of an IMPEACHED president , ” Waters tweeted .
House Speaker Nancy Pelosi stayed stone-faced behind Trump and next to Vice-President Mike Pence for the duration of the address , and , in the end , demonstratively ripped up sheets containing the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had been handed at the beginning .
The White House immediately tweeted that she “ ripped up : One of our last surviving Tuskegee Airmen .
The survival of a child born at 21 weeks .
The mourning families of Rocky Jones and Kayla Mueller .
A service member ’ s reunion with his family.
” Pelosi ’ s flourish opened her up to this kind of attack .
She will surely now be dragged through the coals by Fox News and others , as will Ocasio-Cortez , Waters , Representative Rashida Tlaib @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the Union , and others who can be accused of failing to show respect to this President .
And yet it was better than the alternative , which was complicity in the Presidentialization of Donald Trump .

To all those who hoped, against reason, in the fall and winter of 2016-2017, that Donald Trump would become Presidential: be careful what you wish for. After three years in office, Trump has become just that—Presidential, but in the only way that Trump could. He has triumphed over those who called his legitimacy into question: over James Comey and Robert Mueller, over the anonymous whistle-blower and the witnesses in the House impeachment hearings, over the Democrats who voted for the articles of impeachment, and over the small and diminishing opposition he had within the Republican Party. And, on Tuesday night, during his State of the Union address, Trump wielded the gestures of the Presidency with a newfound confidence.
Trump’s previous States of the Union had an air of desperation, though of the sort that surely appealed to many of his supporters. Last year, his invited guests were a parade of heroes and personified fears: a girl with cancer, the father of a dead marine, an ICE agent, a policeman who had been shot at the Tree of Life synagogue. The year before that, Trump seemed focussed on eliciting applause, even applauding himself to give his audience its cue. This year, similar fears were on display and the obsession with applause was still evident, but the role he played at the podium was markedly different: here was the President as benefactor, Trump the All-Powerful and Trump the Magnanimous.
Trump gave a fourth grader from Philadelphia, Janiyah Davis, a scholarship to attend a private school. Trump avenged the death of Gage Hake’s father and Kelli Hake’s husband, Army Staff Sergeant Christopher Hake, by ordering the killing of Qassem Suleimani. Trump also avenged the death of Carl and Marsha Mueller’s daughter, Kayla, a humanitarian aid worker, by ordering the killing of Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. Trump gave the conservative radio host Rush Limbaugh—who has been diagnosed with advanced lung cancer, and whose record as a racist is as long as Trump’s own—a Presidential Medal of Freedom. Trump recognized Juan Guaidó, the self-declared leader of Venezuela, thereby practically granting him that country’s Presidency. Finally, Trump brought back from the front lines Sergeant First Class Townsend Williams, reuniting him with his wife and two small children in front of the live studio audience, which happened to include most of the country’s senators and representatives, in addition to millions of television viewers.
Highlights from President Trump’s State of the Union address.
Trump has become Presidential in his own, reality-TV way. He took credit for things that are hardly his Administration’s doing, such as the decline in drug-overdose deaths. Though he prefers to govern by executive order and tweet, he exhorted Congress to pass legislation that would please conservative Republicans, including a ban on late-term abortions. He lied about new jobs and health insurance. But, over all, he might have lied less in the hour of his speech than he often does in a day’s worth of tweets. It seems that the more threatened Trump feels, the more he lies. But, on Tuesday night, on the eve of the Senate vote on his impeachment, he appeared to feel safe and secure in his Presidency—because he is. All the institutions that have opposed him or could have opposed him have been beaten into submission. The last hurdle is the November election, and the Democrats had just fumbled the Iowa caucuses.
Now that their confrontation with Trump was effectively over, congressional Democrats were in a bind. Taking their seats in the hall—even if they refused to applaud throughout the speech—would seem to amplify Trump’s triumph. At least two members of Congress, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Maxine Waters, tweeted that they would not attend. “I will not use my presence at a state ceremony to normalize Trump’s lawless conduct & subversion of the Constitution,” Ocasio-Cortez tweeted. “None of this is normal, and I will not legitimize it.”
“To think that I would attend the #SOTU to hear the message of an IMPEACHED president,” Waters tweeted.
House Speaker Nancy Pelosi stayed stone-faced behind Trump and next to Vice-President Mike Pence for the duration of the address, and, in the end, demonstratively ripped up sheets containing the text of the speech, which she had been handed at the beginning. The White House immediately tweeted that she “ripped up: One of our last surviving Tuskegee Airmen. The survival of a child born at 21 weeks. The mourning families of Rocky Jones and Kayla Mueller. A service member’s reunion with his family.”
Pelosi’s flourish opened her up to this kind of attack. She will surely now be dragged through the coals by Fox News and others, as will Ocasio-Cortez, Waters, Representative Rashida Tlaib, who walked out of the State of the Union, and others who can be accused of failing to show respect to this President. And yet it was better than the alternative, which was complicity in the Presidentialization of Donald Trump.


newyorker--2020-02-05--How Doug Jones Reached His Decision on the Impeachment Vote

Griffin Sikes , a seventy-year-old civil litigator in Montgomery , identifies as a “ liberal Democrat ” —liberal for a white man in Alabama , at least— “ part of the rare , endangered species of Democratus Alabamia , ” as he put it to me .
“ I don ’ t have much but contempt for Donald Trump , ” Sikes said on Monday , describing the President as “ an absolute thug or a psychopath.
” He has a lot of sympathy , on the other hand , for Doug Jones , Alabama ’ s Democratic senator , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ trying to make the best of what is an absolutely awful situation for him.
” Sikes was referring to Trump ’ s impeachment trial , and the need for Jones to cast a vote to acquit or convict President Trump , who won Alabama by nearly twenty-eight points in 2016 .
Sikes believed that Jones would be “ principled ” in his judgment , and that he would act with “ a sense of history , ” just as he had in his work as a civil-rights attorney , “ in a way @ @ @ @ @ @ @ him.
” ( Twenty years ago , Jones successfully prosecuted two members of the Ku Klux Klan for their roles in the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church , in Birmingham , which killed four black girls . )
In other words , Sikes believed that Jones would vote to convict and remove the President .
“ The horns of what he ’ s on is he can vote for impeachment knowing that it will largely be political suicide for him , ” Sikes continued .
“ But I think he ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had a very low or minimal chance of being reëlected anyhow in a Republican state , even if he tried to sit on the fence with this.
” Sikes put Jones ’ s odds of reëlection in November , against an as yet undetermined Republican , at “ maybe ten per cent.
” Those chances would dwindle “ to about one per cent ” if Jones votes to remove the President , Sikes figured .
Ever since Jones won a special election , in 2017 , by narrowly beating the scandal-plagued Republican Roy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a former Auburn football coach , Trump ’ s first Attorney General , a member of the U.S. Congress , and Moore himself—have lined up to take back the seat .
Since last September , when seven previously fence-sitting freshman House Democrats wrote an op-ed in support of impeachment , Jones has been “ building a file , ” he told me , the day before the trial began , “ because , sooner or later , that investigation is coming.
” When we spoke , Jones had just attended a “ unity @ @ @ @ @ @ @ legacy of Martin Luther King , Jr .
It was the best he was likely to feel for a while .
He wished that he were going hunting instead of heading back to Washington , he said .
I visited Alabama in October , shortly after the impeachment inquiry had begun , and I watched Democrats in the state press Jones to take a stronger stance in favor of impeaching and ultimately removing the President .
Republicans in the state also wanted him to “ clarify his position.
” “ We are all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ chair of Alabama ’ s Republican Party , said , “ and we are going to hold him accountable if he joins his party trying to upend our Constitution and our President.
” Jones insisted that he would be impartial .
He has used the hashtag # ImpartialJustice when tweeting about the trial , and , in short videos that he has posted online , he has offered thoughts like , “ I caution everyone that we ’ re still in the early stages .
The President ’ s team has not made @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the trial , a dark-money group launched an ad campaign targeting Jones , and blasted him for his supposed association with “ the radical left.
” The ad ’ s evidence for this claim rested in large part on the fact that Jones had said that Trump ’ s impeachment “ is not a witch hunt ; it ’ s not a hoax.
” In late January , Jones offered slightly more pointed language as he critiqued the trial rules laid out by Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell , comparing McConnell to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” That ’ s about as far as he ’ s gone in terms of attacking the other side .
During our conversation just before the trial , Jones acknowledged the partisan backdrop .
“ There are some that want me to support the President full bore , without regard to the facts , ” he said .
“ And there ’ s some , I think—even in Alabama—that want me to vote to remove him from office without regard to that , because of just the political nature of it.
” But @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Stop making me try to answer questions like that , ” he said , when I asked him about the challenge of being a Democratic senator from Alabama who ’ s up for reëlection months after the impeachment trial of a Republican President .
“ I don ’ t consider myself to be in that position now , because if I consider myself in that position it may sway me one way or the other.
” Besides , he conceded , “ I ’ m going to get hit either way .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ right if I vote a certain way ; I ’ ll get hit from the left if I vote a certain way .
Unfortunately , in today ’ s world , people just don ’ t believe you could set politics aside.
” Republicans had criticized Jones for mentioning impeachment in a fund-raising message , which Jones defended .
“ I haven ’ t said , ‘ A vote for me is a vote against the President.
’ Every Republican running against me is raising money off impeachment , ” he noted , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ too concerned about the critics.
” If it ’ s not his vote in the impeachment trial , I wondered what Jones considered his biggest challenge to reëlection .
“ To let folks know that , despite what they hear , I do not have a socialist agenda , ” he said .
“ I don ’ t have a leftist agenda .
I don ’ t have an anti-Christian agenda.
” He happily described areas of common ground with Republicans and Trump , such as “ modernizing the military ” and reauthorizing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
He added , referring to Trump , “ I ’ ve supported between sixty-five and seventy per cent of his judges and nominees.
” Jones has voted with the state ’ s Republican senator , Richard Shelby , sixty-nine per cent of the time .
( Shelby was first elected to the Senate as a Democrat ; he switched parties in 1994 , the day after Republicans won both houses of Congress . )

Griffin Sikes, a seventy-year-old civil litigator in Montgomery, identifies as a “liberal Democrat”—liberal for a white man in Alabama, at least— “part of the rare, endangered species of Democratus Alabamia,” as he put it to me. “I don’t have much but contempt for Donald Trump,” Sikes said on Monday, describing the President as “an absolute thug or a psychopath.” He has a lot of sympathy, on the other hand, for Doug Jones, Alabama’s Democratic senator, who, Sikes said, “is trying to make the best of what is an absolutely awful situation for him.” Sikes was referring to Trump’s impeachment trial, and the need for Jones to cast a vote to acquit or convict President Trump, who won Alabama by nearly twenty-eight points in 2016. Sikes believed that Jones would be “principled” in his judgment, and that he would act with “a sense of history,” just as he had in his work as a civil-rights attorney, “in a way that was not very politically expedient for him.” (Twenty years ago, Jones successfully prosecuted two members of the Ku Klux Klan for their roles in the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, in Birmingham, which killed four black girls.) In other words, Sikes believed that Jones would vote to convict and remove the President.
“The horns of what he’s on is he can vote for impeachment knowing that it will largely be political suicide for him,” Sikes continued. “But I think he’s realistic enough to know that he had a very low or minimal chance of being reëlected anyhow in a Republican state, even if he tried to sit on the fence with this.” Sikes put Jones’s odds of reëlection in November, against an as yet undetermined Republican, at “maybe ten per cent.” Those chances would dwindle “to about one per cent” if Jones votes to remove the President, Sikes figured.
Ever since Jones won a special election, in 2017, by narrowly beating the scandal-plagued Republican Roy Moore, Alabama Republicans of various stripes—including a former Auburn football coach, Trump’s first Attorney General, a member of the U.S. Congress, and Moore himself—have lined up to take back the seat. Since last September, when seven previously fence-sitting freshman House Democrats wrote an op-ed in support of impeachment, Jones has been “building a file,” he told me, the day before the trial began, “because, sooner or later, that investigation is coming.” When we spoke, Jones had just attended a “unity breakfast” in Huntsville, celebrating the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. It was the best he was likely to feel for a while. He wished that he were going hunting instead of heading back to Washington, he said.
I visited Alabama in October, shortly after the impeachment inquiry had begun, and I watched Democrats in the state press Jones to take a stronger stance in favor of impeaching and ultimately removing the President. Republicans in the state also wanted him to “clarify his position.” “We are all watching,” Terry Lathan, the chair of Alabama’s Republican Party, said, “and we are going to hold him accountable if he joins his party trying to upend our Constitution and our President.”
Highlights from President Trump’s State of the Union address.
Jones insisted that he would be impartial. He has used the hashtag #ImpartialJustice when tweeting about the trial, and, in short videos that he has posted online, he has offered thoughts like, “I caution everyone that we’re still in the early stages. The President’s team has not made their case yet.” Nonetheless, during the trial, a dark-money group launched an ad campaign targeting Jones, and blasted him for his supposed association with “the radical left.” The ad’s evidence for this claim rested in large part on the fact that Jones had said that Trump’s impeachment “is not a witch hunt; it’s not a hoax.” In late January, Jones offered slightly more pointed language as he critiqued the trial rules laid out by Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, comparing McConnell to the prison warden in “The Shawshank Redemption.” That’s about as far as he’s gone in terms of attacking the other side.
During our conversation just before the trial, Jones acknowledged the partisan backdrop. “There are some that want me to support the President full bore, without regard to the facts,” he said. “And there’s some, I think—even in Alabama—that want me to vote to remove him from office without regard to that, because of just the political nature of it.” But he resisted discussing any political calculus. “Stop making me try to answer questions like that,” he said, when I asked him about the challenge of being a Democratic senator from Alabama who’s up for reëlection months after the impeachment trial of a Republican President. “I don’t consider myself to be in that position now, because if I consider myself in that position it may sway me one way or the other.” Besides, he conceded, “I’m going to get hit either way. I’ll get hit from the right if I vote a certain way; I’ll get hit from the left if I vote a certain way. Unfortunately, in today’s world, people just don’t believe you could set politics aside.” Republicans had criticized Jones for mentioning impeachment in a fund-raising message, which Jones defended. “I haven’t said, ‘A vote for me is a vote against the President.’ Every Republican running against me is raising money off impeachment,” he noted, adding, “I’m not too concerned about the critics.”
If it’s not his vote in the impeachment trial, I wondered what Jones considered his biggest challenge to reëlection. “To let folks know that, despite what they hear, I do not have a socialist agenda,” he said. “I don’t have a leftist agenda. I don’t have an anti-Christian agenda.” He happily described areas of common ground with Republicans and Trump, such as “modernizing the military” and reauthorizing the Perkins Career and Technical Education Act. He added, referring to Trump, “I’ve supported between sixty-five and seventy per cent of his judges and nominees.” Jones has voted with the state’s Republican senator, Richard Shelby, sixty-nine per cent of the time. (Shelby was first elected to the Senate as a Democrat; he switched parties in 1994, the day after Republicans won both houses of Congress.)
A week after we spoke, and a few days into arguments from Trump’s defense, Jones, like most Democrats, called for John Bolton to testify. He also described some of the defense’s arguments as “persuasive.” Referring to Alan Dershowitz, the former Harvard professor and the Trump team’s constitutional attorney, Jones told USA Today, “He did make some good points on a couple of things on factual issues that I’ve got concerns about with, especially with regard to Article II,” the obstruction-of-Congress charge. Jones wanted to see how the House managers responded. He also told the paper that he’d taken two hundred and forty pages of notes, starring key arguments, during the first week of the trial. (Other senators had been seen sketching the Capitol, reading books, and playing with fidget spinners.) He sounded open to the possibility of acquitting on at least the obstruction charge.
The next day, in a video uploaded to Twitter, Jones decried the hypocritical rhetoric of the President’s counsel, Ken Starr, best known for his role in the investigation that led to Bill Clinton’s impeachment. He was skeptical of the defense’s prolonged discussion of Hunter Biden’s activities in Ukraine, which had ignored the conspicuous timing of Trump’s sudden interest in them. But he also reiterated his commitment to #ImpartialJustice. “I think the point is well made that everybody on both sides of the aisle needs to look at this as if the shoe was on the other foot,” he said.
David Hoffman, a retired teacher in St. Louis, volunteered to help elect Jones in 2017. During the impeachment proceedings, he noted, on Twitter, that he was watching Jones carefully. “If he votes to acquit Trump, I will put all my efforts into making sure he is not reelected,” Hoffman wrote. “Might as well have a Republican.”
When we spoke before the trial, I asked Jones about the large percentage of donations that he has received from people outside of Alabama. In the last three quarters of 2019, Jones received more than seventy-seven per cent of his donations from out of state. “They’re all American citizens, O.K.?” he responded. “So I’m not asking for foreign interference in my election.” I asked why he thought he was attracting the interest and support of voters who live elsewhere. “People are concerned about the direction of the country, and they like a voice from the South like mine,” he said. “A voice that tries to reach all people. That’s not a voice of division, like the way all of the folks on the other side of the aisle in Alabama . . . trying to be a lapdog for the President.”
Late on Wednesday morning, Jones released a statement announcing that he would vote to convict Trump on both charges. “I took an oath to protect and defend the Constitution,” the statement begins. “At the beginning of the impeachment trial, I took a second oath to do ‘impartial justice’ according to the same Constitution I swore to protect.” Jones emphasizes the “thousands of pages of transcripts” that he read in coming to his decision; he also notes that he is “deeply troubled by the partisan nature of these proceedings from start to finish.” But, in the end, he explains, “the evidence clearly proves the President used the weight of his office and that of the United States government to seek to coerce a foreign government to interfere in our election for his personal political benefit,” and, though Jones “struggled to understand the House’s strategy in their pursuit of documents and witnesses and wished they had done more,” he believes that “the President deliberately and unconstitutionally obstructed Congress by refusing to cooperate with the investigation in any way.” Shortly after issuing the statement, Jones, on the Senate floor, said that his decision was not a matter of courage but “a matter of right and wrong,” adding, “Doing right is not a courageous act. It is simply following your oath.” On Twitter, Terry Lathan, the Alabama G.O.P. chair, responded with a pair of GIFs, one in which a young Susan Nelson, as Cindy Brady, shakes her head, and another in which a piece of bread rubs butter on itself above the words “I’m toasted.”


newyorker--2020-02-05--Trump Accuses Buttigieg of Suspicious Travel to Afghanistan

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —In the aftermath of Pete Buttigieg ’ s strong showing in the Iowa caucuses , Donald J. Trump accused the former South Bend , Indiana , mayor of engaging in “ suspicious travel ” to Afghanistan .
“ People are saying that he went to Afghanistan for seven months in 2014 , ” Trump told the hosts of “ Fox & Friends ” in a phone call .
“ Seven months is a long time to be running around in a Muslim country full of terrorists , don ’ t you think ?
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gun with him while he was in Afghanistan , a fact that Trump said “ sounds fishy to me.
” “ Let ’ s see , you fly all the way to a Muslim country full of all of these terrorists who need guns , and you ’ re bringing a gun into a country like that ?
” Trump said .
“ Who was he planning to give that gun to ?
” “ I don ’ t know if he was part of some caliphate or just helping them out , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” he said .
“ I have a call in to the President of Afghanistan.
” Trump said that his suspicions about Buttigieg ’ s “ totally unexplained travel to Afghanistan ” spiked when he saw a photo of the former mayor “ dressed up in some kind of weird camouflage suit.
” “ You have to see this picture—he ’ s all dressed up in camo or whatever , like he ’ s ready for some kind of battle , ” Trump said .
“ You ’ ll never find a picture @ @ @ @ @ @ @

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In the aftermath of Pete Buttigieg’s strong showing in the Iowa caucuses, Donald J. Trump accused the former South Bend, Indiana, mayor of engaging in “suspicious travel” to Afghanistan.
“People are saying that he went to Afghanistan for seven months in 2014,” Trump told the hosts of “Fox & Friends” in a phone call. “Seven months is a long time to be running around in a Muslim country full of terrorists, don’t you think?”
He added that Buttigieg reportedly had a gun with him while he was in Afghanistan, a fact that Trump said “sounds fishy to me.”
“Let’s see, you fly all the way to a Muslim country full of all of these terrorists who need guns, and you’re bringing a gun into a country like that?” Trump said. “Who was he planning to give that gun to?”
“I don’t know if he was part of some caliphate or just helping them out, but we ought to find out,” he said. “I have a call in to the President of Afghanistan.”
Trump said that his suspicions about Buttigieg’s “totally unexplained travel to Afghanistan” spiked when he saw a photo of the former mayor “dressed up in some kind of weird camouflage suit.”
“You have to see this picture—he’s all dressed up in camo or whatever, like he’s ready for some kind of battle,” Trump said. “You’ll never find a picture of me dressed like that.”


newyorker--2020-02-05--Trump’s State of the Union Carnival Meets Pelosi’s Speech-Ripping

When Nancy Pelosi , the Speaker of the House , tore a copy of Donald Trump ’ s State of the Union address in half , it was hardly a furtive move .
Pelosi was standing behind Trump , who had just finished speaking and was angling for an exit ; she looked straight ahead and raised her arms high enough to make sure that everybody could see what she was doing .
She ripped one stack of paper , and then , since there were still sheets left , she tore another stack , then another , before neatly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ About an hour and twenty minutes had passed since Trump had ascended the dais and passed her the speech .
Usually , at that point , there would have been a handshake , but Trump ignored Pelosi ’ s hand when she extended it .
The expression on her face made it clear that she noticed , and that she wanted everybody else to notice , too .
She sent similar messages later in the speech ; her raised eyebrows and grimaces mark the spots where fact checkers have work to do .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ that he was the protector of health-care coverage for people with preëxisting conditions—he is not—Pelosi shook her head .
There is little doubt that the impeachment is why Trump wouldn ’ t shake Pelosi ’ s hand—it ’ s the hand that had signed the articles of impeachment , after all .
( She ’ d used multiple pens ; during the trial , the President ’ s lawyers played a video of Pelosi presenting the pens to her colleagues , claiming that the gesture was proof of bad will rather than , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The Senate Minority Leader , Chuck Schumer , had pushed to make sure that the vote on whether to convict the President wouldn ’ t be held until Wednesday , and , presumably , part of the reason was to make sure that Trump couldn ’ t turn the State of the Union into an acquittal party .
Trump didn ’ t mention impeachment , apart from some oblique references , including in the evening ’ s theme , “ the great American comeback.
” ( He didn ’ t talk about Ukraine @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the impeachment story , which has its own struggles . )
When Trump praised the Senate Majority Leader , Mitch McConnell— “ Thank you , Mitch !
” —it was for getting Justices Brett Kavanaugh and Neil Gorsuch confirmed , along with other federal judges .
McConnell acknowledged him with a small , tight smile and a wave .
When Trump added , after naming the Justices , “ And we have many in the pipeline , ” the Republicans cheered .
At another point , there were chants of “ Four more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ celebrate the end of his impeachment , he could celebrate himself .
The Democrats , meanwhile , applauded only rarely ; their reserve was made more striking by the decision of the House women to wear white .
( Pelosi did , too . )
When Senator Kyrsten Sinema , of Arizona , rose to applaud Trump ’ s praise of the work that Senator Tim Scott , Republican of South Carolina , had done on opportunity zones—an area in which she had worked with him—Senator Kirsten Gillibrand , of New York , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ seemed to shrink away .
Pelosi herself clapped a few times , though she tried to make it clear that she was not applauding Trump himself ; when he mentioned union support for the new U.S.-Mexico-Canada trade deal he ’ d signed last week , she turned to the side and clapped , as though the entire labor movement were somewhere in the gallery , nowhere near Trump .
Notably , Trump did not thank the Democrats for getting the U.S.M.C.A .
through Congress , or for the changes they had insisted on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ if imperfect ) deal .
At the best of times , Trump is not the type to share credit .
Several of the many falsehoods and distortions that FactCheck.org catalogued in the address had to do with his attempts to erase President Obama ’ s legacy , whether by misrepresenting wage statistics or the cost of health-care premiums .
Trump also bragged about hurting vulnerable people when he said that “ seven million ” had stopped receiving food stamps , something that has resulted , in part , from tighter restrictions on who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ And , as the Washington Post noted , the actual number is slightly more than four million . )
Yet he also presented himself as a job-creating champion of African-Americans , women , and the disabled—echoing a campaign ad broadcast during the Super Bowl .
The point , as it often is when he makes such appeals , is likely less to get votes from minority communities than to make the case to his supporters that he , and by extension they , are not racist , or misogynist , or cruel .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ a hero out to lower prescription-drug prices , some Democrats started chanting “ H.R .
3 , ” with three fingers raised , to remind him that , if he really meant what he said , there is a bill that will do just that .
It has passed the House but is stuck in the Senate .
As for extending health coverage to those who do not have it , Trump said , “ To those watching at home tonight , I want you to know : we will never let socialism @ @ @ @ @ @ @ didn ’ t even pretend to have much sympathy for migrants .
He railed about how providing coverage for undocumented people would “ bankrupt our nation , ” and about “ criminal illegal immigrants ” and a “ gruesome spree of deadly violence.
” He said that a “ powerful wall ” is being built .
For the past few decades , every President has invited guests whose life stories can serve as parables , and many of them are heroes .
For Trump , though , the main point of inviting such @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had endured but what he could give them as a reward .
There was the presentation of a Medal of Freedom ( for Rush Limbaugh , who was sitting next to Melania Trump ; she draped the medal around his neck on the spot ) , a surprise scholarship ( for a young girl from Philadelphia ) , and a surprise family reunion ( for a long-deployed soldier , his wife , and their children , prompting chants of “ U.S.A. !
U.S.A. !
” ) —all on the President ’ s orders @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ( Juan Guaidó , of Venezuela ) a message to carry back to his people : “ All Americans are united with the Venezuelan people in their righteous struggle for freedom.
” ( Jonathan Blitzer has written about the Trump Administration ’ s policy in Venezuela and its connection to efforts to win Florida in November . )
There was Charles McGee , a hundred-year-old Tuskegee airman and a veteran of three wars , whose great-grandson Iain , who was seated beside him , wants to carry on his legacy by going into @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to , by way of Trump ’ s new Space Force .
And another surprise : just hours before the speech , Trump had promoted McGee to brigadier general .
Presidents can do that .
He could scarcely speak of anything without putting it in the form of a story of his prize , his benevolence .
These guests ’ achievements , and their struggles , are , as they always are , quite real .
Carl and Marsha Mueller had a daughter , Kayla , who was an aid worker in Syria @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Bakr al-Baghdadi , the ISIS leader , who raped her and kept her prisoner before she was killed .
( The exact circumstances of her death remain unclear . )
American troops killed Baghdadi last October .
When Trump said , “ The brave men of the élite Special Forces team that so perfectly carried out the operation had given their mission a name : Task Force 8-14 .
It was a reference to a special day , August 14th—Kayla ’ s birthday , ” the moment was powerful precisely because , for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ someone else .
Ellie Schneider , a two-year-old , who was in the House Gallery in the arms of her mother , Robin , had been born prematurely , at twenty-one weeks , but , as Trump put it , “ Little Ellie kept on winning the battle of life.
” When he then said , “ I ’ m asking Congress to provide an extra fifty million dollars to fund neonatal research , ” Robin Schneider seemed almost overcome by gratitude and joy .
Who wouldn ’ t be , and who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
A minute later , Schneider pumped her fist when Trump called for a ban on late-term abortions—a far less universal sentiment .
The State of the Union was , if nothing else , a timely reminder for Democrats , as they head into the campaign , that as a showman Trump is not incompetent .
But then neither is Nancy Pelosi .

When Nancy Pelosi, the Speaker of the House, tore a copy of Donald Trump’s State of the Union address in half, it was hardly a furtive move. Pelosi was standing behind Trump, who had just finished speaking and was angling for an exit; she looked straight ahead and raised her arms high enough to make sure that everybody could see what she was doing. She ripped one stack of paper, and then, since there were still sheets left, she tore another stack, then another, before neatly putting the remains in a folder. About an hour and twenty minutes had passed since Trump had ascended the dais and passed her the speech. Usually, at that point, there would have been a handshake, but Trump ignored Pelosi’s hand when she extended it. The expression on her face made it clear that she noticed, and that she wanted everybody else to notice, too. She sent similar messages later in the speech; her raised eyebrows and grimaces mark the spots where fact checkers have work to do. When Trump claimed, for example, that he was the protector of health-care coverage for people with preëxisting conditions—he is not—Pelosi shook her head.
There is little doubt that the impeachment is why Trump wouldn’t shake Pelosi’s hand—it’s the hand that had signed the articles of impeachment, after all. (She’d used multiple pens; during the trial, the President’s lawyers played a video of Pelosi presenting the pens to her colleagues, claiming that the gesture was proof of bad will rather than, say, a historic moment.) The Senate Minority Leader, Chuck Schumer, had pushed to make sure that the vote on whether to convict the President wouldn’t be held until Wednesday, and, presumably, part of the reason was to make sure that Trump couldn’t turn the State of the Union into an acquittal party. Trump didn’t mention impeachment, apart from some oblique references, including in the evening’s theme, “the great American comeback.” (He didn’t talk about Ukraine, the country at the center of the impeachment story, which has its own struggles.) When Trump praised the Senate Majority Leader, Mitch McConnell—“Thank you, Mitch!”—it was for getting Justices Brett Kavanaugh and Neil Gorsuch confirmed, along with other federal judges. McConnell acknowledged him with a small, tight smile and a wave. When Trump added, after naming the Justices, “And we have many in the pipeline,” the Republicans cheered. At another point, there were chants of “Four more years.” If Trump couldn’t celebrate the end of his impeachment, he could celebrate himself.
The Democrats, meanwhile, applauded only rarely; their reserve was made more striking by the decision of the House women to wear white. (Pelosi did, too.) When Senator Kyrsten Sinema, of Arizona, rose to applaud Trump’s praise of the work that Senator Tim Scott, Republican of South Carolina, had done on opportunity zones—an area in which she had worked with him—Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, of New York, who was seated next to her, seemed to shrink away. Pelosi herself clapped a few times, though she tried to make it clear that she was not applauding Trump himself; when he mentioned union support for the new U.S.-Mexico-Canada trade deal he’d signed last week, she turned to the side and clapped, as though the entire labor movement were somewhere in the gallery, nowhere near Trump. Notably, Trump did not thank the Democrats for getting the U.S.M.C.A. through Congress, or for the changes they had insisted on that made it a more progressive (if imperfect) deal.
At the best of times, Trump is not the type to share credit. Several of the many falsehoods and distortions that FactCheck.org catalogued in the address had to do with his attempts to erase President Obama’s legacy, whether by misrepresenting wage statistics or the cost of health-care premiums. Trump also bragged about hurting vulnerable people when he said that “seven million” had stopped receiving food stamps, something that has resulted, in part, from tighter restrictions on who is eligible to receive them. (And, as the Washington Post noted, the actual number is slightly more than four million.) Yet he also presented himself as a job-creating champion of African-Americans, women, and the disabled—echoing a campaign ad broadcast during the Super Bowl. The point, as it often is when he makes such appeals, is likely less to get votes from minority communities than to make the case to his supporters that he, and by extension they, are not racist, or misogynist, or cruel. When he tried to present himself as a hero out to lower prescription-drug prices, some Democrats started chanting “H.R. 3,” with three fingers raised, to remind him that, if he really meant what he said, there is a bill that will do just that. It has passed the House but is stuck in the Senate.
As for extending health coverage to those who do not have it, Trump said, “To those watching at home tonight, I want you to know: we will never let socialism destroy American health care.” And he didn’t even pretend to have much sympathy for migrants. He railed about how providing coverage for undocumented people would “bankrupt our nation,” and about “criminal illegal immigrants” and a “gruesome spree of deadly violence.” He said that a “powerful wall” is being built.
For the past few decades, every President has invited guests whose life stories can serve as parables, and many of them are heroes. For Trump, though, the main point of inviting such people seemed to be not what they had endured but what he could give them as a reward. There was the presentation of a Medal of Freedom (for Rush Limbaugh, who was sitting next to Melania Trump; she draped the medal around his neck on the spot), a surprise scholarship (for a young girl from Philadelphia), and a surprise family reunion (for a long-deployed soldier, his wife, and their children, prompting chants of “U.S.A.! U.S.A.!”)—all on the President’s orders. Trump gave an embattled foreign politician (Juan Guaidó, of Venezuela) a message to carry back to his people: “All Americans are united with the Venezuelan people in their righteous struggle for freedom.” (Jonathan Blitzer has written about the Trump Administration’s policy in Venezuela and its connection to efforts to win Florida in November.) There was Charles McGee, a hundred-year-old Tuskegee airman and a veteran of three wars, whose great-grandson Iain, who was seated beside him, wants to carry on his legacy by going into outer space—and now hopes to be able to, by way of Trump’s new Space Force. And another surprise: just hours before the speech, Trump had promoted McGee to brigadier general. Presidents can do that. He could scarcely speak of anything without putting it in the form of a story of his prize, his benevolence.
These guests’ achievements, and their struggles, are, as they always are, quite real. Carl and Marsha Mueller had a daughter, Kayla, who was an aid worker in Syria before she became a prisoner of Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the ISIS leader, who raped her and kept her prisoner before she was killed. (The exact circumstances of her death remain unclear.) American troops killed Baghdadi last October. When Trump said, “The brave men of the élite Special Forces team that so perfectly carried out the operation had given their mission a name: Task Force 8-14. It was a reference to a special day, August 14th—Kayla’s birthday,” the moment was powerful precisely because, for once, he gave the credit to someone else. Ellie Schneider, a two-year-old, who was in the House Gallery in the arms of her mother, Robin, had been born prematurely, at twenty-one weeks, but, as Trump put it, “Little Ellie kept on winning the battle of life.” When he then said, “I’m asking Congress to provide an extra fifty million dollars to fund neonatal research,” Robin Schneider seemed almost overcome by gratitude and joy. Who wouldn’t be, and who wouldn’t want Ellie to win? A minute later, Schneider pumped her fist when Trump called for a ban on late-term abortions—a far less universal sentiment. The State of the Union was, if nothing else, a timely reminder for Democrats, as they head into the campaign, that as a showman Trump is not incompetent. But then neither is Nancy Pelosi.
One can understand why Pelosi would tear up the speech. She told reporters she did so because it was “the courteous thing to do, considering the alternative.” (She didn’t say what that alternative was.) It was, no doubt, emotionally satisfying for many who watched the speech, and it may be the only part of the speech that many others will ever see. Some may come to know it only from social-media memes and gifs, unsure of what the original event even was. (“Here’s me with my report card.”) Is that the goal, though? A gesture like Pelosi’s is most powerful when it either serves as a rupture, shaking an audience awake, or reframes what has come before—her theatrically askew slow-applause “clapback” at last year’s speech had that effect, without crossing into pettiness. But Trump’s speech was already too gaudy for the speech-tearing to have quite that effect. A State of the Union, at its best, is a stately festival of democracy. This one was a carnival, down to the moment when, as Trump exited the House, he autographed a Republican’s tie. It was almost remarkable that there wasn’t a surprise marriage proposal somewhere on the House floor, with Trump offering a hotel suite for the honeymoon. Maybe that’s coming at the Republican National Convention, this summer. And, soon after that, Democrats will be able to do something more effective than tear up speeches: they can vote.


newyorker--2020-02-05--A New Update of “High Fidelity” Feels Stuck in Its Original Century

In 1995 , Nick Hornby ’ s first novel , “ High Fidelity , ” about the love life and emotional limitations of a London record-shop owner , became a cultural touchstone on the subject of cultural touchstones .
The unlucky-in-love protagonist , Rob Fleming , runs Championship Vinyl , where he and his disciples play an endless parlor game of list-making , imposing order on the fine chaos of rock and pop traditions .
The film version , from 2000 , directed by Stephen Frears , moved the shop to Chicago , bestowed Rob the surname of Gordon , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fan whose fanaticism is related to his failure to mature .
In the lead role , John Cusack employed a luxuriously defeated slouch that remains cinema history ’ s low bar for bad posture .
The latest iteration of “ High Fidelity ” is a Hulu series starring Zoë Kravitz as Robin ( Rob ) Brooks .
True to Gordon ’ s zest for reference , the show is dense with allusions to the movie .
Kravitz reprises Cusack ’ s straight-to-the-camera monologues and even some of his T-shirts .
To keep pace @ @ @ @ @ @ @ film—and to try to the sell the idea of Zoë Kravitz as an anti-glamorous schlub—the costume department puts her in strange green sweaters , shades evocative of lichen and tired avocado and Kurt Cobain ’ s cardigan on “ MTV Unplugged.
” The very appearance of Kravitz constitutes a kind of stunt casting , of course—her mother , Lisa Bonet , played opposite Cusack as a sultry singer making Frampton come alive .
The casting is cute , and cuteness is a major mode of this production .
Its brightness and breadth are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hip “ Cathy.
” A year after a breakup , Rob is still in a funk— “ going through one of those ‘ What does it all mean ?
’ things , ” as a friend says .
She does an inventory of her romantic disappointments , flashes back to past joys and lasting shames , sulks elaborately , and delivers speeches filled with Carrie Bradshavian inquiry .
At Championship Vinyl , now located in Crown Heights , Brooklyn , a cozy situation comedy is in unironic progress .
Rob ’ s employees @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an ex-boyfriend who discovered himself to be gay , and Cherise ( Da ’ Vine Joy Randolph ) , an insecure loudmouth .
As ever , the team ’ s depth of discographical knowledge is directly proportionate to the hostility of their customer service .
Clyde and Cherise help Rob to get a serialized rom-com going on , and the series toggles between Rob ’ s unsteady reckoning with her personal history and her determinedly zany attempts at dating .
One prospect is a young singer-songwriter , and their relationship—the tensions about him @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the recording-studio flirtations , the way the neck of the guy ’ s T-shirt frames a tattoo and a necklace—made me feel as though I was watching “ The Hills.
” On the other hand , a reality soap would be unlikely to include , as “ High Fidelity ” does , ” a scene of Jack Antonoff playing himself as the singer ’ s producer .
The show loves a cameo , a fond nod , a gratuitous reference , an underlined citation .
Rob is appealing as the spirit of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in music is asserted by a soundtrack that ranges from deep cuts to big hits and that perhaps leans too hard on the viewer ’ s ingrained response to classics for its own evocations of feeling .
Nothing can stop Rob ’ s lonely tears from falling .
“ High Fidelity ” flirts with taking her problems seriously ; there ’ s a glaze of dark mood to it in the twitchier moments of Kravitz ’ s performance .
The show casts a woozy eye on her regimen of self-medication , and it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and LPs-in-milk-crates fortifications—as a kind of cell .
But it flinches from emotional difficulty .
Nor does this iteration of a tale about curated identity do much with the material inherent in remaking the original Rob , an avid celebrant of White Guy cultural practices , across lines of race and gender .
I also found myself waiting a long time for the show to address contemporary dating life , or to say something about personal taste in the age of the algorithm—but then , when it did , I found myself wishing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a dinner party serves as a setup for an easy jest at the vapidity of Instagram influencers .
The show is most intriguing for feeling a bit out of time .
The novel is an outstanding Gen X artifact , like the “ Singles ” soundtrack in prose form ; Rob , with his heroic sneering , was a man of his era .
The show is meant to be set right now , but some of its atmospheric details are very last century , and its affection for indie darlings of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , delightfully , to the casting of Parker Posey as a batty art star who hopes to sell her philandering husband ’ s record collection to Rob . )
Surely , Rob ’ s school of cultural snobbery , with its dogma and subcultural purism and concern for authenticity , doesn ’ t exist as it once did .
“ High Fidelity ” has always concerned itself with nostalgia for youthful heartbreak , but , this time around , the mists of memory haze obscure the hero .
The show unfolds in some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a middle-aged person ’ s idealized view of a heartbroken young person .
The song remains the same , but the playback device is somehow obsolete .

In 1995, Nick Hornby’s first novel, “High Fidelity,” about the love life and emotional limitations of a London record-shop owner, became a cultural touchstone on the subject of cultural touchstones. The unlucky-in-love protagonist, Rob Fleming, runs Championship Vinyl, where he and his disciples play an endless parlor game of list-making, imposing order on the fine chaos of rock and pop traditions. The film version, from 2000, directed by Stephen Frears, moved the shop to Chicago, bestowed on Rob the surname of Gordon, and deepened his situation as a musical fan whose fanaticism is related to his failure to mature. In the lead role, John Cusack employed a luxuriously defeated slouch that remains cinema history’s low bar for bad posture.
The latest iteration of “High Fidelity” is a Hulu series starring Zoë Kravitz as Robin (Rob) Brooks. True to Gordon’s zest for reference, the show is dense with allusions to the movie. Kravitz reprises Cusack’s straight-to-the-camera monologues and even some of his T-shirts. To keep pace with the ugly clothes of the Frears film—and to try to the sell the idea of Zoë Kravitz as an anti-glamorous schlub—the costume department puts her in strange green sweaters, shades evocative of lichen and tired avocado and Kurt Cobain’s cardigan on “MTV Unplugged.” The very appearance of Kravitz constitutes a kind of stunt casting, of course—her mother, Lisa Bonet, played opposite Cusack as a sultry singer making Frampton come alive.
The casting is cute, and cuteness is a major mode of this production. Its brightness and breadth are qualities of its comic-strip style—a kind of hip “Cathy.” A year after a breakup, Rob is still in a funk—“going through one of those ‘What does it all mean?’ things,” as a friend says. She does an inventory of her romantic disappointments, flashes back to past joys and lasting shames, sulks elaborately, and delivers speeches filled with Carrie Bradshavian inquiry. At Championship Vinyl, now located in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, a cozy situation comedy is in unironic progress. Rob’s employees are Clyde (Jake Lacy), an ex-boyfriend who discovered himself to be gay, and Cherise (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), an insecure loudmouth. As ever, the team’s depth of discographical knowledge is directly proportionate to the hostility of their customer service.
Clyde and Cherise help Rob to get a serialized rom-com going on, and the series toggles between Rob’s unsteady reckoning with her personal history and her determinedly zany attempts at dating. One prospect is a young singer-songwriter, and their relationship—the tensions about him going on tour, the green-room jealousies, the recording-studio flirtations, the way the neck of the guy’s T-shirt frames a tattoo and a necklace—made me feel as though I was watching “The Hills.” On the other hand, a reality soap would be unlikely to include, as “High Fidelity” does,” a scene of Jack Antonoff playing himself as the singer’s producer.
The show loves a cameo, a fond nod, a gratuitous reference, an underlined citation. Rob is appealing as the spirit of rock and roll. Her excellent taste in music is asserted by a soundtrack that ranges from deep cuts to big hits and that perhaps leans too hard on the viewer’s ingrained response to classics for its own evocations of feeling. Nothing can stop Rob’s lonely tears from falling.
“High Fidelity” flirts with taking her problems seriously; there’s a glaze of dark mood to it in the twitchier moments of Kravitz’s performance. The show casts a woozy eye on her regimen of self-medication, and it sizes up her apartment—with its dusty-pink walls and LPs-in-milk-crates fortifications—as a kind of cell. But it flinches from emotional difficulty. Nor does this iteration of a tale about curated identity do much with the material inherent in remaking the original Rob, an avid celebrant of White Guy cultural practices, across lines of race and gender. I also found myself waiting a long time for the show to address contemporary dating life, or to say something about personal taste in the age of the algorithm—but then, when it did, I found myself wishing it hadn’t, as when a dinner party serves as a setup for an easy jest at the vapidity of Instagram influencers.
The show is most intriguing for feeling a bit out of time. The novel is an outstanding Gen X artifact, like the “Singles” soundtrack in prose form; Rob, with his heroic sneering, was a man of his era. The show is meant to be set right now, but some of its atmospheric details are very last century, and its affection for indie darlings of the nineties is palpable. (This extends, delightfully, to the casting of Parker Posey as a batty art star who hopes to sell her philandering husband’s record collection to Rob.) Surely, Rob’s school of cultural snobbery, with its dogma and subcultural purism and concern for authenticity, doesn’t exist as it once did. “High Fidelity” has always concerned itself with nostalgia for youthful heartbreak, but, this time around, the mists of memory haze obscure the hero. The show unfolds in some atemporal nostalgia zone; Rob seems like a middle-aged person’s idealized view of a heartbroken young person. The song remains the same, but the playback device is somehow obsolete.


newyorker--2020-02-05--Daily Cartoon: Wednesday, February 5th

Daily Cartoon: Wednesday, February 5th

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newyorker--2020-02-05--Putting Elena Ferrante on the Stage

Putting Elena Ferrante on the Stage

One day , a few years ago , the British playwright April De Angelis was wandering a bookstore near Goodge Street , in Central London , looking for a work on Artemisia Gentileschi , the seventeenth-century Italian painter and follower of Caravaggio .
In 1611 , Gentileschi was raped by an associate of her father ’ s , Agostino Tassi .
At a prolonged rape trial , she was tortured with thumbscrews to determine if she was lying , but Tassi was ultimately convicted .
Years later , Gentileschi became known for renderings of violent biblical scenes featuring strong heroines—beheadings @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as Catherine of Alexandria , the female martyr who escaped death by spiked wheel .
Researching a play about an aging female artist , De Angelis was drawn to the story .
“ It ’ s about revenge , and putting your pain into art , ” she said .
On the way out of the bookstore , she spotted a table of books with pastel illustrations on their covers .
“ Not a bright and brassy kind of thing , ” she recalled .
“ I just thought , What are they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ books known as the Neapolitan novels , by the contemporary Italian writer Elena Ferrante , about whom little is known .
( “ Elena Ferrante ” is a pseudonym ; her identity is a carefully guarded secret . )
Like Gentileschi , Ferrante often deals in female rage : the series , beginning with “ My Brilliant Friend ” and ending with “ The Story of the Lost Child , ” tells the story of the friendship between two young girls , Lenu and Lila , growing up in the slums of postwar @ @ @ @ @ @ @ outside the neighborhood , their anger—at the injustice of their circumstances , at their husbands , often at each other—burns brightly .
“ It ’ s women ’ s anger made real , ” De Angelis told me recently .
“ It ’ s so fantastic.
” The books , translated into English by Ann Goldstein , are international best-sellers with an acclaimed HBO adaptation that is full of gritty realism and cinematic Italian landscapes .
Now De Angelis has written a version for the stage at the National Theatre , directed by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ books together , in two parts that , together , span nearly five hours .
“ It ’ s a monumental task , ” Robert O ’ Dowd , the chief executive of the Rose Theatre , in Kingston-Upon-Thames , told me .
The play was commissioned for the Rose in 2016 , and it débuted there the following year with a cast of twelve .
At the National , that number has increased to twenty-four actors , which , combined with the production ’ s rotating sets , brings the combustible energy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Cusack and a brilliant Catherine McCormack play Lenu and Lila through the turbulent decades , from childhood to old age .
The actors speak in their own accents , drawn from all over the U.K. and Ireland , which I at first found unsettling , though it did have the effect of broadening the story .
“ The decision was ‘ Let ’ s not try to imitate—let ’ s let everyone speak in their own voices and give the audience credit they can make the imaginative leap , ’ ” De Angelis @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Lila often imagine dark fates for their enemies : twisting limbs , piercing skin .
( The neighborhood is rife with violence . )
But these scenes take place in the minds of the protagonists and represent a challenge for any adaptor of Ferrante : How to bring a rich interior life into the physical space of a play ?
“ Oh , my god , that ’ s the hardest bit , ” De Angelis said .
She was seated in the café of the Hayward Gallery , an angled , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Bank , not far from the National Theatre .
De Angelis , who is fifty-nine and part Sicilian , has frizzy auburn hair and was wearing a thrifted blazer .
“ Plays have a different kind of rhythm , ” she said .
De Angelis was at the Hayward to see the recent retrospective of the British abstract painter Bridget Riley .
She wandered through the gallery staring at the enormous , vertigo-inducing works .
De Angelis likes to think about artistic notions in comparison : “ I can ’ t understand anything @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be in relation to something else , ” she said .
She stopped before a black-and-white polka-dotted one , which seemed to turn in on itself , like an optical illusion on the back of an old cereal box .
“ Oh , I love it , ” she said .
“ It ’ s sort of reinterpreting a contract , because you ’ re supposed to look at art , but this is hard to look at.
” It reminded her of Ferrante ’ s work .
“ It ’ s hard @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
As fiction ?
Who wrote it ?
It ’ s , like , you can ’ t sink into the subject position , ” she said .
She frowned at the painting .
“ It would be so bad if you were drunk.
” De Angelis ’ s adaptation is shot through with surrealist breaks from reality , in which Lenu and Lila ’ s fears and imaginings take over the stage .
In the first scene of the play , Lila throws Lenu ’ s doll into a dark cellar owned @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rules over the neighborhood , and then Lenu throws Lila ’ s doll there , too , in retaliation .
They can ’ t find the dolls , and , as they approach his door to ask for them , he emerges like a monster , huge and shadowy , before returning to his normal form .
When Lila is betrayed at her wedding reception , her violent fantasy—in which she tears her victim ’ s eyes from his face—is enacted onstage .
( The wedding guests go on unperturbed , save for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it felt destabilizing , as if , having only read of Lila ’ s anger , I could now feel it as well .
For De Angelis , the biggest challenge was the scope of the books .
“ I mean , the sheer scale of it , ” she said , her eyes growing wide .
“ What ’ s the path you ’ re going to go through ?
” Ferrante ’ s story spans some sixteen hundred pages and several decades of Italian history .
There are enough characters that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the programs .
Having won the commission , De Angelis had four months to turn around a draft script .
She compressed each book into one half of a play , cutting several side characters—Gino , the pharmacist ’ s son ; Ada , Antonio ’ s sister—not directly related to the complicated dynamics of Lenu and Lila ’ s friendship .
“ That ’ s the real dramatic thing , ” she said .
“ When in the whole of literature do you get two women protagonists like that ?
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ long day , I sensed some of my fellow theatregoers fading as we rounded part two , and occasionally I wished there weren ’ t quite so many decades to move through .
Mostly , though , I felt giddy and snug , caught up in the drama of the neighborhood .
In the gallery , De Angelis moved to a new set of paintings .
“ All the characters , it ’ s almost impossible , certainly in one reading , to make sense of all the relationships .
It ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she said .
“ With Lila , she ’ s never quite stable .
She ’ s always a chameleon , always changing identities , and then she disappears into something abstract in the end.
” Both characters , like the series itself , are resistant to easy categorization .
“ I think that ’ s part of what it ’ s supposed to do : it doesn ’ t want you to settle in too easily , or to be too comfortable.
” She paused before another work .
“ Like this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ process this , ” she said .
“ You ’ ve got to stay with it longer because of the unresolved nature of it , because of the questions .
”

One day, a few years ago, the British playwright April De Angelis was wandering a bookstore near Goodge Street, in Central London, looking for a work on Artemisia Gentileschi, the seventeenth-century Italian painter and follower of Caravaggio. In 1611, Gentileschi was raped by an associate of her father’s, Agostino Tassi. At a prolonged rape trial, she was tortured with thumbscrews to determine if she was lying, but Tassi was ultimately convicted. Years later, Gentileschi became known for renderings of violent biblical scenes featuring strong heroines—beheadings, more beheadings—and a portrait of herself as Catherine of Alexandria, the female martyr who escaped death by spiked wheel. Researching a play about an aging female artist, De Angelis was drawn to the story. “It’s about revenge, and putting your pain into art,” she said.
On the way out of the bookstore, she spotted a table of books with pastel illustrations on their covers. “Not a bright and brassy kind of thing,” she recalled. “I just thought, What are they?” They were the quartet of books known as the Neapolitan novels, by the contemporary Italian writer Elena Ferrante, about whom little is known. (“Elena Ferrante” is a pseudonym; her identity is a carefully guarded secret.) Like Gentileschi, Ferrante often deals in female rage: the series, beginning with “My Brilliant Friend” and ending with “The Story of the Lost Child,” tells the story of the friendship between two young girls, Lenu and Lila, growing up in the slums of postwar Naples, Italy. As they venture outside the neighborhood, their anger—at the injustice of their circumstances, at their husbands, often at each other—burns brightly. “It’s women’s anger made real,” De Angelis told me recently. “It’s so fantastic.”
The books, translated into English by Ann Goldstein, are international best-sellers with an acclaimed HBO adaptation that is full of gritty realism and cinematic Italian landscapes. Now De Angelis has written a version for the stage at the National Theatre, directed by Melly Still, which brings all four books together, in two parts that, together, span nearly five hours. “It’s a monumental task,” Robert O’Dowd, the chief executive of the Rose Theatre, in Kingston-Upon-Thames, told me. The play was commissioned for the Rose in 2016, and it débuted there the following year with a cast of twelve. At the National, that number has increased to twenty-four actors, which, combined with the production’s rotating sets, brings the combustible energy of the neighborhood to life. Niamh Cusack and a brilliant Catherine McCormack play Lenu and Lila through the turbulent decades, from childhood to old age. The actors speak in their own accents, drawn from all over the U.K. and Ireland, which I at first found unsettling, though it did have the effect of broadening the story. “The decision was ‘Let’s not try to imitate—let’s let everyone speak in their own voices and give the audience credit they can make the imaginative leap,’ ” De Angelis said.
In the books, Lenu and Lila often imagine dark fates for their enemies: twisting limbs, piercing skin. (The neighborhood is rife with violence.) But these scenes take place in the minds of the protagonists and represent a challenge for any adaptor of Ferrante: How to bring a rich interior life into the physical space of a play? “Oh, my god, that’s the hardest bit,” De Angelis said. She was seated in the café of the Hayward Gallery, an angled, brutalist building on London’s South Bank, not far from the National Theatre. De Angelis, who is fifty-nine and part Sicilian, has frizzy auburn hair and was wearing a thrifted blazer. “Plays have a different kind of rhythm,” she said.
De Angelis was at the Hayward to see the recent retrospective of the British abstract painter Bridget Riley. She wandered through the gallery staring at the enormous, vertigo-inducing works. De Angelis likes to think about artistic notions in comparison: “I can’t understand anything on its own; it has to be in relation to something else,” she said. She stopped before a black-and-white polka-dotted one, which seemed to turn in on itself, like an optical illusion on the back of an old cereal box. “Oh, I love it,” she said. “It’s sort of reinterpreting a contract, because you’re supposed to look at art, but this is hard to look at.” It reminded her of Ferrante’s work. “It’s hard to read—do you read it as biography? As fiction? Who wrote it? It’s, like, you can’t sink into the subject position,” she said. She frowned at the painting. “It would be so bad if you were drunk.”
De Angelis’s adaptation is shot through with surrealist breaks from reality, in which Lenu and Lila’s fears and imaginings take over the stage. In the first scene of the play, Lila throws Lenu’s doll into a dark cellar owned by Don Achille, a thug who rules over the neighborhood, and then Lenu throws Lila’s doll there, too, in retaliation. They can’t find the dolls, and, as they approach his door to ask for them, he emerges like a monster, huge and shadowy, before returning to his normal form. When Lila is betrayed at her wedding reception, her violent fantasy—in which she tears her victim’s eyes from his face—is enacted onstage. (The wedding guests go on unperturbed, save for Lenu, who helps.) Watching it felt destabilizing, as if, having only read of Lila’s anger, I could now feel it as well.
For De Angelis, the biggest challenge was the scope of the books. “I mean, the sheer scale of it,” she said, her eyes growing wide. “What’s the path you’re going to go through?” Ferrante’s story spans some sixteen hundred pages and several decades of Italian history. There are enough characters that the Rose Theatre included a family tree in the programs. Having won the commission, De Angelis had four months to turn around a draft script. She compressed each book into one half of a play, cutting several side characters—Gino, the pharmacist’s son; Ada, Antonio’s sister—not directly related to the complicated dynamics of Lenu and Lila’s friendship. “That’s the real dramatic thing,” she said. “When in the whole of literature do you get two women protagonists like that?” Watching it in the course of one long day, I sensed some of my fellow theatregoers fading as we rounded part two, and occasionally I wished there weren’t quite so many decades to move through. Mostly, though, I felt giddy and snug, caught up in the drama of the neighborhood.
In the gallery, De Angelis moved to a new set of paintings. “All the characters, it’s almost impossible, certainly in one reading, to make sense of all the relationships. It’s so excessive in a way,” she said. “With Lila, she’s never quite stable. She’s always a chameleon, always changing identities, and then she disappears into something abstract in the end.” Both characters, like the series itself, are resistant to easy categorization. “I think that’s part of what it’s supposed to do: it doesn’t want you to settle in too easily, or to be too comfortable.” She paused before another work. “Like this lovely painting. You can’t process this,” she said. “You’ve got to stay with it longer because of the unresolved nature of it, because of the questions.”