One of the most fundamental features of art is its ability to meet us during times of distress. In the early days of the pandemic, many people turned to comfort reads and beloved films as a form of escapism; more recently, in the wake of the election, shows such as “The Great British Bake Off” have been offered up on group chats as a balm. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz consider the value—and limits—of seeking solace in culture. Comfort art has flourished in recent years, as evidenced by the rise of genres such as“romantasy” and the “cozy thriller.” But where is the line between using art as a salve and tuning out at a moment when politics demands our engagement? “One of the purposes of the comfort we seek is to sustain us,” Schwartz says. “That’s what we all are going to need: sustenance to move forward.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“The Crown” (2016-2023)
“Sesame Street” (1969-)
“The Great British Bake Off” (2010-)
“In Tumultuous Times, Readers Turn to ‘Healing Fiction,’ ” by Alexandra Alter (The New York Times)
Charles Schulz’s “Peanuts” (1950-2000)
“Uncut Gems” (2019)
“Somebody Somewhere” (2022-)
“3 Terrific Specials to Distract You from the News,” by Jason Zinoman (The New York Times)
“Tom Papa: Home Free” (2024)
“America, Don’t Succumb to Escapism,” by Kristen Ghodsee (The New Republic)
“Candide,” by Voltaire
Beth Stern’s Instagram
“Janet Planet” (2023)
Marvin Gaye’s “What's Going On”
Donny Hathaway’s “Extension of a Man”

New episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts.

Since the comedian Julio Torres came to America from El Salvador, more than a decade ago, his fantastical style has made him a singular presence in the entertainment landscape. An early stint writing for “Saturday Night Live” yielded some of the show’s weirdest and most memorable sketches; soon after that, Torres’s work on the HBO series “Los Espookys,” which he co-wrote and starred in, cemented his status as a beloved odd-child of the comedy scene. In his most recent work, he’s applied his dreamy sensibility to very real bureaucratic nightmares. “Problemista,” his first feature film, draws on Torres’s own Kafkaesque experience navigating the U.S. immigration system; in his new HBO show, “Fantasmas,” the protagonist considers whether to acquire a document called a “proof of existence,” without which everyday tasks like renting an apartment are rendered impossible. In a live taping at The New Yorker Festival, the hosts of Critics at Large talk with Torres about his creative influences, and about using abstraction to put our most impenetrable systems into tangible terms. “Life today is so riddled with these man-made labyrinths that are life-or-death … there’s something very lonely about it,” Torres says. “These flourishes are there in service of the humanity.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Problemista” (2023)
“Fantasmas” (2024-)
“Los Espookys” (2019-22)
“I Want to Be a Vase,” by Julio Torres
“My Favorite Shapes” (2019)
“Saturday Night Live” (1975-)
“Julio Torres’s ‘Fantasmas’ Finds Truth in Fantasy,” by Vinson Cunningham (The New Yorker)
“The Hunchback of Notre Dame” (1996)
“Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle” (2003)
“The Substance” (2024)

New episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts.

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The art of advice-giving, championed over the years by such figures as Ann Landers and Cheryl Strayed, has lately undergone a transformation. As traditional columns have continued to proliferate, social-media platforms have created new venues for those seeking—and doling out—counsel, from the users of the popular subreddit “Am I the Asshole” to the countless “experts” who peddle their takes on Instagram and TikTok. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz try their hands at the trade, advising listeners on a variety of cultural conundrums. The hosts trace the form from early examples such as Advice for Living, the short-lived column written by Martin Luther King, Jr., in the late nineteen-fifties, through to the Internet age. The genre has long functioned as a forum for parsing the ethics of the era, and its enduring appeal might be explained by our inherent curiosity about the way others live. “There is a sort of plurality of approaches to life itself, which means that we are all passing into and out of other people’s moral universes,” Cunningham says. “I think it causes more trouble—causes more questions.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“The Witch Elm,” by Tana French

“Crime and Punishment,” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

“Pride and Prejudice,” by Jane Austen

“Intermezzo,” by Sally Rooney

“The Guest,” by Emma Cline

“I’m a Fan,” by Sheena Patel

“My Husband,” by Maud Ventura

“The Anthropologists,” by Ayşegül Savaş

“Small Rain,” by Garth Greenwell

“Brightness Falls,” by Jay McInerney

Richard Linklater’s “Before” trilogy

William Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”

“Ghost World,” by Dan Clowes

The Ethicist (The New York Times)

Dear Sugar (The Rumpus)

“The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” by Robert Louis Stevenson

“Lisa Frankenstein” (2024)

“The Turn of the Screw,” by Henry James

“Carrie,” by Stephen King

“Little Labors,” by Rivka Galchen

“Matrescence,” by Lucy Jones

“The Mother Artist,” by Catherine Ricketts

“Acts of Creation,” by Hettie Judah

r/AmItheAsshole

Advice for Living (Ebony Magazine)

New episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts.

“The Apprentice,” a new film directed by Ali Abbasi, depicts the rise of a young Donald Trump under the wing of the notorious lawyer Roy Cohn. The film is, in many ways, an origin story for a man who has overtaken contemporary politics. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss the movie and other works that explore Trump’s and Cohn’s psychologies, from duelling family memoirs to documentaries. The sheer number of such texts raises the question: Why are we so interested in the backstories of people who have done wrong, and what do we stand to gain (or lose) by humanizing them? “Do we want to see our villains, our absolute villains—people who have caused much harm to the world—as weak little boys who’ve undergone trauma and have had their reasons for becoming the monsters they later turn into?” Fry asks. “Or do we not?”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“The Apprentice” (2024)
“Who Could Ever Love You: A Family Memoir,” by Mary Trump
“All in the Family: The Trumps and How We Got This Way,” by Fred C. Trump III
“Where’s My Roy Cohn?” (2019)
“Roy Cohn and the Making of a Winner-Take-All America,” by Naomi Fry (The New Yorker)
“Angels in America” (2003)
“Joker” (2019)
“Wicked” (2024)
“Ratched” (2020)
“Elephant” (2003)
“Cruella” (2021)
“The Sopranos” (1991-2007)
“Mad Men” (2007-15)
The “Harry Potter” novels, by J. K. Rowling
“Paradise Lost,” by John Milton
“Be Ready When the Luck Happens,” by Ina Garten

New episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts.

In “The Substance,” a darkly satirical horror movie directed by Coralie Fargeat, Demi Moore plays an aging Hollywood actress who strikes a tech-infused Faustian bargain to unleash a younger, “more perfect” version of herself. Gruesome side effects ensue. Fargeat’s film plays on the fact that female aging is often seen as its own brand of horror—and that we’ve devised increasingly extreme methods of combating it. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss “The Substance” and “A Different Man,” another new release that questions our culture’s obsession with perfecting our physical forms. In recent years, the smorgasbord of products and procedures promising to enhance our bodies and preserve our youth has only grown; social media has us looking at ourselves more than ever before. No wonder, then, that horror as a genre has been increasingly preoccupied with our uneasy relationship to our own exteriors. “We are embodied. It is a struggle. It is beautiful. It’s something to wrestle with forever. Just as you think that you’ve caught up to your current embodiment, something changes,” Schwartz says. “And so how do we make our peace with it?”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“A Clockwork Orange” (1971)
“The Substance” (2024)
“A Different Man” (2024)
“Psycho” (1960)
“The Ren & Stimpy Show” (1991-96)
“The Bluest Eye,” by Toni Morrison
“Passing,” by Nella Larsen
“The Power of Positive Thinking,” by Norman Vincent Peale
“Titane” (2021)
“The Age of Instagram Face,” by Jia Tolentino (The New Yorker)

New episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts.

From classic eighties films like “Wall Street” to Bret Easton Ellis’s 1991 novel “American Psycho,” the world of finance has long provided a seductive backdrop for meditations on wealth and power. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss the many portrayals of this élite realm, and how its image has evolved over time. Where earlier texts glorified Wall Street types as roguish heroes, the Great Recession ushered in more critical fare, seeking to explain the inner workings of a system that benefitted the few at the expense of the many. In 2024, as TikTokkers and personal essayists search for “a man in finance,” things seem to be shifting again. HBO’s “Industry,” now in its third season, depicts a cadre of young investment bankers clawing their way to the top of a soulless meritocracy—and may even engender some sympathy for the new finance bro. Why are audiences and creators alike so easily seduced by these stories even after the disillusionment of the Occupy Wall Street era? “We're talking about something—money—that is fun, and that we all on some level do want,” Cunningham says. “It’s always going to make us feel.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Industry” (2020—)

“Wall Street” (1987)

“You don’t have to look for a ‘man in finance.’ He’s everywhere,” by Rachel Tashjian (The Washington Post)

Joel Sternfeld’s “Summer Interns, Wall Street, New York”

“American Psycho” (2000)

“American Psycho,” by Bret Easton Ellis

“Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps” (2010)

“The Big Short” (2015)

“The Wolf of Wall Street” (2013)

“Margin Call” (2011)

“The Case for Marrying an Older Man,” by Grazie Sophia Christie (The Cut)

“My Year of Finance Boys,” by Daniel Lefferts (The Paris Review)

“Ways and Means,” by Daniel Lefferts

“Custom of the Country,” by Edith Wharton

New episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts.

Almost immediately after the publication of Sally Rooney’s “Normal People,” in 2018, Rooney-mania hit a fever pitch. Her work struck a cord among a generation of readers who responded to evocative descriptions of young people’s lives and relationships. Before long, Rooney had—somewhat reluctantly—been dubbed “the first great millennial author.” On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss “Intermezzo,” Rooney’s hotly anticipated fourth novel, which explores the dynamic between two brothers grieving the death of their father. The book is a sadder, more mature read than Rooney’s fans may have come to expect, but it retains her characteristic flair for making consciousness itself into a bingeable experience. “That is the great achievement of the realist novel for me,” Fry says. “The fact that Rooney is making this enjoyable for a new generation—amazing. Maybe it’s a conservative impulse, but there’s something reassuring for me about that.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Conversations with Friends,” by Sally Rooney
“Normal People,” by Sally Rooney
“Beautiful World, Where Are You,” by Sally Rooney
“Intermezzo,” by Sally Rooney
“Those Winter Sundays,” by Robert Hayden
William Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”
“Normal Novels,” by Becca Rothfeld (The Point)
“The Corrections,” by Jonathan Franzen
“My Struggle,” by Karl Ove Knausgaard
The Neapolitan novels, by Elena Ferrante
“Sally Rooney on the Hell of Fame,” by Emma Brockes (The Guardian)
“A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man,” by James Joyce
The Harry Potter novels, by J. K. Rowling
“Why Bother?” by Jonathan Franzen (Harper’s Magazine)
“Middlemarch,” by George Eliot
“Daniel Deronda,” by George Eliot

New episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts.

The writer Carl Sandburg, in his 1926 biography of Abraham Lincoln, made a provocative claim—that the President’s relationship with the Kentucky state representative Joshua Speed held “streaks of lavender.” The insinuation fuelled a debate that has continued ever since: Was Lincoln gay? On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss a new documentary that tries to settle the question. “Lover of Men: The Untold History of Abraham Lincoln” is part of a growing body of work that looks at the past through the lens of identity—a process that can reveal hidden truths or involve a deliberate departure from the facts. The hosts consider other distinctly modern takes on U.S. history, including the farcical Broadway sensation “Oh, Mary!,” which depicts Mary Todd Lincoln as a failed cabaret star and her husband as a neurotic closet case, and Lin-Manuel Miranda’s smash hit “Hamilton,” which reimagines the Founding Fathers as people of color. In the end, the way we locate ourselves in the past is inextricable from the culture wars of today. “It is a political necessity for every generation to be, like, No, this is what the past was like,” Cunningham says. “It points to a struggle that we’re having right now to redefine, What is America?”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:
“Lover of Men: The Untold History of Abraham Lincoln” (2024)
“Abraham Lincoln: The Prairie Years & The War Years,” by Carl Sandburg
Cole Escola’s “Oh, Mary!”
Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “Hamilton”
“The Celluloid Closet” (1995)
“Hidden Figures” (2016)
“I’m Coming Out,” by Diana Ross

New episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts.