Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story The Boston Globe’s investigative Spotlight team has been reporting on wrongdoing for decades—before and after its stunning exposure, in 2003, of the vast Catholic Church child-sexual-abuse crisis, dramatized in Tom McCarthy’s…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story The photo op is an emblem of a discarded time. Taken in 1991, during the second annual Great American Workout, a fitness event hosted on the South Lawn of the White…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story This magazine’s ongoing centenary celebration has included a cinematic component: a series at Film Forum, “Tales from The New Yorker,” which featured movies connected to The New Yorker’s history, whether because…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story I have been in New York for twenty-two years and still get the weird feeling that I am living in a dream. Not living a dream—the city can be yucky and…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story In 2002, the thirty-five-year-old, Luxembourg-born painter Michel Majerus was on a short flight from Berlin, where he lived, to his native country, when the plane crashed, killing him and nineteen other…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story In my spare time, I’m an obsessed photographer, and through the years I’ve used dozens of cameras. A while ago, a horrible misfortune befell the one that I treasure most. Arriving…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this storyYou’re reading the Goings On newsletter, a guide to what we’re watching, listening to, and doing this week. Sign up to receive it in your inbox. “Only in New York” may be…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story When David Mamet was planning to bring his 1983 play “Glengarry Glen Ross” to Broadway for a fourth time, he asked Nathan Lane to star in it. Lane agreed, but he…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story Sometimes there’s light at the end of the rabbit hole. When Josef von Sternberg’s film “The Devil Is a Woman,” from 1935, was recently screened, I was curious about how it…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story I feel a troubling kind of opacity in my brain lately—as if reality were becoming illegible, as if language were a vessel with holes in the bottom and meaning was leaking…