To err is human; to forgive, divine," read the lines from Alexander Pope. Stephen Karam's The Humans currently playing at The Roundabout is full of both errant and divine behavior and a lot in between.
The mysterious, mostly disappeared world of LIFE magazine is all still there: Staffers hacking at typewriters, beefing about the managing editor, draining double Scotches and martinis before lunch. At least in my mind it's still there.
If I don't feel guilty about letting them watch TV, I feel guilty about letting the laundry pile up. When I am at home, my mind wanders to my work at my desk, yet when I am at work, I can't wait to get back home.
Ultimately, I think being an adult isn't any one age or any one thing. It doesn't mean that you don't lean on other people when you fall. It just means that you count on yourself first and foremost and don't expect anyone else to clean up your mess for you.
I thought peer pressure was done when I left high school. It's a bit easier not to give in to it now, but it's still there, rearing its ugly head in the form of Mommy Wars and keeping up with the Joneses.
Apparently, I'm still growing. Thankfully, some of the crucial insights of adulthood have stuck. But despite my completely idealistic youthful beliefs that I would one day feel entirely grown up, there are still a few things I'm waiting to either let go of or outgrow.
The law of diminishing returns is a law for a reason. And nowhere are the returns more diminished than Little Fockers, the third film in a series that began in 2000. With this one, they've barely bothered with a plot.