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Hanna, isn't Arlo Weiner pretty much to L.A. fashion as Jonathan Krohn is to D.C. politics, that is, a kid who's obviously trying hard to pick up the manners of a certain society? I find both these kids' fluid ease in navigating the language and habits of the adult circles that fascinate them a little unsettling -- it's supposed to be hard to grow into the world.
In case you missed the Jonathan Krohn Boy Pundit phenom, here's a little backstory:
Sitting in the back seat of his mother’s van as she drives through Atlanta suburbs, Jonathan Krohn is about to sign off with a conservative radio talk show host in Florida. In the 40 minutes he’s been on the air, with the help of his mother’s
cellphone, this hyper-articulate Georgia eighth grader has attacked the
stimulus bill, identified leaders he thinks will salvage the Republican Party’s image, and assessed the legitimacy of Barack Obama’s birth certificate.
YouTube Krohn's speech to this year's Conservative Political Action Conference. It's worth it.
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Hot damn, Emily, that ABC News segment you linked is worse than you described! The creepiest part of the piece is the way in which the patriarch's 17 "wives" are given voice: They're interviewed as an afterthought, at the end of the segment, and then only sitting squeezed between men (are they really going to speak freely?), whereas the men are interviewed individually. (One of Daad's sons enthused that the presence of 17 wives meant there was "no need for a maid in the house!") Gross. And, as you pointed out, Cuomo doesn't give a single nod toward any of the wider questions his story raises.
I blame Jeanne Moos, creator of the "Moost Unusual" news-of-the-weird segments on CNN. I know this could be controversial, but Moos is among my nominations for Worst Woman in the Media. But her little segments are funny, you say! Well, maybe I'm just crabby—and hey, I've written light stories in my life—but I think the high profile of Moos's wide-ranging and meaningless segments makes it respectable for other networks to turn every beat (and not just crime) into a news-of-the-weird beat, in which stories are hyped for their wackiness and not for their implications.
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The title of this slide show is "Meet Arlo Weiner, America's most stylish eight-year-old." Arlo is the son of the creator of Mad Men and a first-class dandy. He uses the word "ascot" with confidence and says things like "I tied it like that because I'd seen it done that way in old English movies." I'd like to praise him for his style and swagger, as many an admirer has today. But something is stopping me. For one thing, it's that feeling I'm getting again that his parents had something to do with this. They did after all name him "Arlo," and he isn't getting those English movies through his own Netflix account. (Something like the child foodies we wrote about last week.) There is the funky, eccentric way kids dress for other kids, and the funky way they dress because it brings heaps of approval from adults. The former is cute; the latter is suspect. For another, there is the gender disparity. Eight-year-old girls dressing like grown women is a fraught affair: They grow up too fast; they are too sexy; they are inappropriate; they are victims of a man's gaze. Betty Friedan, for example, complained about a 1960 child's dress ad that read "She-Too Can Join the Man-Trap Set."
Very Mad Men, no?
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Bonnie, I can both understand why the Vatican might have left off the pill and see how it would actually be the most liberating invention for women. But let's give the washing machine some credit (and the dishwasher and the microwave while we're at it). If it weren't for those heavenly modern appliances, we wouldn't need the pill. We'd be so tired that we'd all be abstinent.
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Meghan, I'm fascinated by the "cultural metabolism" (as you so aptly put it) of these parental age stories, as well, but I suspect that men will never feel the same sort of pressure no matter how many of these studies are pumped out. Even with the rise of a few emo daddy bloggers, there is still not the same sort of imperative. Women are told, implictly and explicitly, that their lives are incomplete unless they become mothers. All you have to do is look at the celebrity fetishization of motherhood to see how this plays out. After Brad and Angelina started having kids, Jennifer Aniston was cast as pathetic because she was childless, and countless tabloid stories were churned out speculating about Jen's potential baby bump or lack thereof. On the other hand, Angelina was heralded as the second coming of Mother Teresa. Do we ever read stories about how George Clooney cries into his Cheerios because he's never been blessed with a bundle of joy? Of course not. Obviously the celebrity media isn't a complete reflection of pedestrian life, but I think in this case its telling.
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Like E.J., I am interested in this news about older men. We're used to hearing about the downsides of being an older mom: It's harder to conceive; there's more risk to you and the fetus, etc. And as a woman in her early 30s, I can tell you that all the women I know have internalized the "you-better-have-babies-before-your-fertility-drops-at-35-notion." It's as if it's tattooed to our inner eyelid. But now we're finally beginning to hear more about what I've always intuitively believed must be true: It's not so great to be an older dad, either. This piece in the Independent has details about a comprehensive study of children of older dads, and the news isn't so hot. They are "more likely" to do "less well" on intelligence tests than the children of younger men. The children of older mothers, by contrast, are not. Meanwhile, as anyone who keeps an eye out for these studies knows, this study is hardly the first to suggest that being an older dad isn't so great. As the article puts it:
However, recent studies have linked paternal age with congenital problems such as neural tube defects and a range of medical disorders of later life, such as schizophrenia, dyslexia, bipolar disorder and autism.
Who knows how many of these studies are credible. But I'm interested in the cultural metabolism of them. In the late '90s, the culture got all frothed up about sending the message to "career women" that they couldn't have it all—they'd lost their chance to have babies by putting it off too long. I remember feeling there was a kind of meanness in the coverage, a "so there" quality. Who's betting the same thing will happen to men? Not me, I have to say. Or if it does, it'll be milder.
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While we are wringing our hands at Julia Roberts being portrayed as old at 41 (a mere babe!), let me take a schadenfreude moment to note a recent study's suggestion that men should be paying more attention to their biological clocks.
Remember Tony Randall, who made his first baby at age 77? Or Michael Douglas, Rupert Murdoch, Mick Jagger—all still churning out offspring in their elder years? Or Mr. Rahman, whose reproduction line Emily Y. noted below, still turning them out at 63? They might be a bit ... irresponsible. Older men's swimmers might still be strong enough to hit an egg, but the chromosomes they're carrying might be a bit weak. According to the U.K. Independent's Steve Connor, reporting on an Australian scientist's retrospective study of more than 33,000 children born in the United States between 1959 and 1965, older men's offspring are more likely to show "neural tube defects and a range of medical disorders of later life, such as schizophrenia, dyslexia, bipolar disorder and autism." These older fathers' children did less well on intelligence tests ... unlike the older mothers' children, who did better than those of younger moms.
It's kinda nice to know that women shouldn't be alone in worrying about our aging oeufs—that men should worry about their innermost parts, too. And perhaps it's useful to know that women should feel free to make babies while older—but should rely on a younger man's, um, input.
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Jessica, I agree with you about Layng Martine's over-sharing; his unconditional love certainly doesn't give him the right to reveal way TMI about his wife's diminished physical capacity and her inability to control her bodily functions. I must admit those details made me recoil as well. I would never, ever want my husband to share this sort of detail with millions of NY Times readers. I assumed he must have done so with his wife's blessings, and I hope he at least had enough respect for her privacy to ask for permission to write it. That said, I think the details added a layer of intellectual honesty to the piece and illustrated that even though the challenges in the marriage posed by his wife's disability were very real, and sometimes very unpleasant, they still managed over the years to retain a strong love and partnership. Yes, they were able to go on long dreamy drives and spend hours at the beach, but in between their daily life was, well, no day at the beach. To me this was the crux of the piece: They've managed to stay together and, at least from his perspective, to stay in love. He does sound as if he might be over-romanticizing their situation a bit, but I tried not to judge him because, after all, he is talking about a unique circumstance that he lives every day, and he does seem to be speaking sincerely from his heart. Still, I would have loved to hear her side of the story to see if it meshes neatly with his.
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Really, Abby? The clothes washer? Hmmmpf. I can understand why the Vatican might eliminate my nominee from the running for, er, political reasons, but, as lovely as it was to toss the washboard in exchange for an automatic top-loading agitator, it's pretty obvious oral contraception did far, far, more for women's liberation than the washing machine. Birth control pills revolutionized women's sex lives. In a contest for "what contributed most to the emancipation of Western women," laundry doesn't even come close.
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Apparently I need to be more thankful when I haul my laundry downstairs to the basement of my apartment and spend outrageous amounts of quarters in exchange for clean clothes. Just in time for International Women's Day, the Vatican informs us of the answer to the following question: “In the 20th century, what contributed most to the emancipation of Western women?”
That's right ladies, the washing machine. There have already been some dissenters with this answer from on high, proposing instead the freezer, automatic cars, wet wipes, Chardonnay, disposable diapers, and the dimmer switch. Any nominations from you all?
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Susannah. The headline here is actually kind of worse than “Julia Roberts is OLD.” The headline—or subhed—is the coy suggestion that “Julia Roberts is a superstar, but her box-office reign might be over.” Then the piece is packed with arguments (as Dana points out, without any actual evidence) about how Roberts is old. I suppose you could read this piece as a comment on the punishing standards of beauty and youth in Hollywood. If, say, you skipped every other sentence. But I read it as a faux-defense, not unlike Maureen Dowd’s efforts to both celebrate and send up Michelle Obama this past weekend. Maybe this is some new form of double-lutz ironic journalism, in which we pretend to bemoan some appalling societal trend (strong arms, shallow Hollywood ageism ... ) while still wallowing in its every last cliché.
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More for Susannah on Julia Roberts: I don't think either Dahlia or I were motivated to tear into that Newsweek piece on her by our undying love for America's sweetheart. Rather, we were struck by the article's disingenuousness, what I called its "eyelash-batting" quality. I get that by using the phrase "Hollywood ancient," the author is distancing himself from the assertion that the 41-year-old Roberts is hopelessly superannuated. But by never refuting, or indeed questioning, that assertion, he winds up simply reinforcing it, while also getting to wipe away a tear for JR's poor lost career.
Your comparison of Roberts' "comeback" with Mickey Rourke's is telling, in terms of what it reveals about our (unconscious?) presumptions about women, children, and work. On the one hand, there's Rourke, who made horribly self-destructive choices, alienated every director he worked with, then spent 10 to 15 years spiraling into addiction and despair before resurrecting his career with The Wrestler. Then there's Roberts, who took a planned five-year break at the height of her career to raise a pair of twins and a younger son. Mind you, this is no attack on Rourke, whom I love as both an actor and a public personality—I was delighted to welcome him back from obscurity, I wish he'd won the Oscar, and I'd far rather hang out with him than with Julia Roberts. But to compare his decade of darkness with Roberts' extended maternity leave—hey, they both stopped working, then started again!—is to reinforce the belief (held at a semiconscious level by many working mothers, including, at times, me) that opting out of the work force for a time is somehow a source of shame.
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Count me out on crying "sexism!" when it comes to Newsweek's characterization of Julia Roberts as "Hollywood ancient." And that's exactly what the author said—Hollywood ancient—and you know what? He's absolutely right. By the response here, you'd think he'd written a headline that read:"Julia Roberts is OLD!!!" But that's not what he wrote. He stated the truth when he proclaimed that at 41, Roberts is old for a leading lady—by Hollywood standards. I guess you can call it sexist, but in Hollywood, it's a reality. And I'd beg to differ with those who see a poke at her taking years off to raise her kids is sexist, too. We heard more about Mickey Rourke's so-called comeback than his acting chops after he got nominated for an Academy Award. Living in Hollywood, you kind of come to understand the movie industry has its own version of dog years, and you learn that men and women have it equally rough when it comes to getting ahead in the business. It's not like guys get a free pass. Me? I've never liked Roberts. I've always found her gummy grin more fake than endearing, and the tales I've heard from those reporters who've interviewed her suggest she's more viper in the grass than girl next door. Here's to her comeback flop.
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On Good Morning America the other day, reporter Chris Cuomo, who's covering the "biggest things" in Dubai, did a story on a man who has 86 kids ranging in age from 23 years to 3 months. Daad Abdul Rahamn, 63, has a production line of 17 wives—and he'd like a few more—who are 50 to 20 years old. The most stunning thing about the report is not that there is a man with this kind of harem (Osama Bin Laden is one of 53 siblings), it is the gleeful double-entendre-laden cheeriness with which Cuomo reports this repulsive story. Cuomo takes the stance that Rahamn is quite the stud (Cuomo chuckles when Rahamn reveals he has to pay his kids to leave the room so he has enough privacy to impregnate the wives) and promises to come back when Rahamn (who Cuomo keeps referring to as "Daad" ha-ha-ha) reaches his goal of 100 kids. Apparently there is no one at ABC News who thought that perhaps a voice from a Muslim women's group that is fighting the abuse of polygamy might usefully temper Cuomo's celebration.
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Yuck. Like Dahlia, I hate the way this Newsweek article on Julia Roberts perpetuates sexist assumptions—41-year-old women are "ancient"! Time off to raise children = career suicide!—while batting its eyelashes innocently. The author is effectively saying, gee, what a shame that people might think Roberts was a washed-up old hag ... just because I'm publishing a Newsweek article to that effect! Dahlia points to a few actors exactly Roberts' age, all of whose careers are currently at their white-hot peak: Jamie Foxx, Benicio del Toro, Philip Seymour Hoffman. And what about Clive "Methuselah" Owen, who's cast opposite Roberts in next week's Duplicity? He's 47, poor thing, just like our enfeebled, half-senile new president.
There are other, non-gender-related things that bug me about this article—for example, calling Roberts' massive, toothy grin a "Mona Lisa smile" seems simply off. Isn't the whole point of a Mona Lisa smile that it's the subtlest of expressions, almost not a smile at all? Then there's the fact that the author resignedly eulogizes Roberts' career without having yet seen her new movie. Duplicity, a corporate-spy thriller that's the second film from exciting new director Tony Gilroy (Michael Clayton) stands an excellent chance of being both a critical and box-office success, and even if it's not, both Roberts and Owen have survived other flops. Before we declare Julia Roberts' "comeback" a failure, can we let her actually come back?
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Jamie Foxx. Paul Giamatti. Benicio Del Toro. Liev Schreiber. Guy Pearce. Philip Seymour Hoffman. Pretty safe bet that if any one of these 41-year-old actors had been the subject of this Newsweek piece they wouldn’t have been run through the gender double-standard meat grinder—the one that permits Julia Roberts to be declared “Hollywood ancient” at the advanced age of 41. Oh, and those five years she took off to raise her kids? An unfortunate “dry spell.”
I’m thinking it’s a pretty safe bet that if it was Philip Seymour Hoffman who had taken five years off in his mid-30s—even if it was to work on his rare African beetle collection—he’d be acclaimed upon his return as fresher, younger, and crackling with new energy.
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While many, like Marjorie, found this weekend's "Modern Love" touching, I found it to be deeply uncomfortable at best, and vaguely offensive at worst. Yes, it did make me wonder if I could handle it if my beloved became an invalid, but it also made me recoil: Did Layng Martine really have to tell readers about his wife's incontinence in such detail? I don't doubt the author's love for his wife, but his description of her difficulties cast him as a perfect prince charming and her as a Hallmark heroine. What they overcame seemed merely physical, never of the complicated emotional variety. Martine alludes to problems, but somehow I don't believe that they triumphed over bed-wetting, loss of sex, and an entire life overhaul solely through the power of love. Perhaps I'm too much of a hater, but were I to become a paraplegic, I'd want my boyfriend to stick by me, and maybe even to write about it; I wouldn't want him to write a two-dimensional chronicle of my bed-soiling in the New York Times.