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The New Yorker

Critics at Large is a weekly culture podcast from The New Yorker. Every Thursday, the staff writers Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss current obsessions, classic texts they’re revisiting with fresh eyes, and trends that are emerging across books, television, film, and more. The show runs the gamut of the arts and pop culture, with lively, surprising conversations about everything from Salman Rushdie to “The Real Housewives.” Through rigorous analysis and behind-the-scenes insights into The New Yorker’s reporting, the magazine’s critics help listeners make sense of our moment—and how we got here.

Critics at Large | The New Yorker

The American musical is in a state of flux. Today’s Broadway offerings are mostly jukebox musicals and blatant I.P. grabs; original ideas are few and far between. Meanwhile, one of the biggest films of the season is Jon M. Chu’s earnest (and lengthy) adaptation of “Wicked,” the origin story of the Wicked Witch of the West that first premièred on the Great White Way nearly twenty years ago—and has been a smash hit ever since. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss why “Wicked” is resonating with audiences in 2024. They consider it alongside other recent movie musicals, such as “Emilia Pérez,” which centers on the transgender leader of a Mexican cartel, and Todd Phillips’s follow-up to “Joker,” the confounding “Joker: Folie à Deux.” Then they step back to trace the evolution of the musical, from the first shows to marry song and story in the nineteen-twenties to the seventies-era innovations of figures like Stephen Sondheim. Amid the massive commercial, technological, and aesthetic shifts of the last century, how has the form changed, and why has it endured? “People who don’t like musicals will often criticize their artificiality,” Schwartz says. “Some things in life are so heightened . . . yet they’re part of the real. Why not put them to music and have singing be part of it?”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Wicked” (2024)
“The Animals That Made It All Worth It,” by Naomi Fry (The New Yorker)
“Ben Shapiro Reviews ‘Wicked’ ”
“Frozen” (2013)
“Emilia Pérez” (2024)
“Joker: Folie à Deux” (2024)
“ ‘Joker: Folie à Deux’ Review: Make ’Em Laugh (and Yawn),” by Manohla Dargis (the New York Times)
“Hair” (1979)
“The Sound of Music” (1965)
“Anything Goes” (1934)
“Show Boat” (1927)
“Oklahoma” (1943)
“Mean Girls” (2017)
“Hamilton” (2015)
“Wicked” (2003)
“A Strange Loop” (2019)
“Teeth” (2024)
“Kimberly Akimbo” (2021)

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

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After “Wicked,” What Do We Want from the Musical?

This year, high-profile failures abounded. Take, for example, Francis Ford Coppola’s passion project “Megalopolis,” which cost a hundred and forty million dollars to make—and brought in less than ten per cent of that at the box office. And what was Kamala Harris’s loss to Donald Trump but a fiasco of the highest order? On this episode of Critics at Large, recorded live at Condé Nast’s offices at One World Trade Center, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz pronounce 2024 “the year of the flop,” and draw on a range of recent examples—from the Yankees’ disappointing performance at the World Series to Katy Perry’s near-universally mocked music video for “Woman’s World”—to anatomize the phenomenon. What are the constituent parts of a flop, and what might these missteps reveal about the relationship between audiences and public figures today? The hosts also consider the surprising upsides to such categorical failures. “In some ways, always succeeding for an artist is a problem . . . because I think you retain fear,” Schwartz says. “If you can get through it, there really can be something on the other side.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

HBO’s “Industry” (2020–) 
The 2024 World Series
The 2024 Election
“Megalopolis” (2024)
“Woman’s World,” by Katy Perry
“ ‘Woman’s World’ Track Review,” by Shaad D’Souza (Pitchfork)
“Charli XCX, Chappell Roan, and the Unstable Hierarchy of Pop” (The New Yorker)
“Tarot, Tech, and Our Age of Magical Thinking” (The New Yorker)
“Kendrick Lamar, Drake, and the Benefits of Beef” (The New Yorker)
“Am I Racist?” (2024)
“Horizon: An American Saga—Chapter 1” (2024)
“Apocalypse Now” (1979)
“Madame Web” (2024)
“The Great Gatsby,” by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Fugees
“Moby-Dick,” by Herman Melville
“NYC Prep” (2009)
“Princesses: Long Island” (2013)

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

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Critics at Large Live: The Year of the Flop

Margaret Talbot, writing in The New Yorker in 2005, recounted that when animators at Pixar got stuck on a project they’d file into a screening room to watch a film by Hayao Miyazaki. Best known for works like “My Neighbor Totoro,” “Princess Mononoke,” and “Spirited Away,” which received the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature, in 2002, he is considered by some to be the first true auteur of children’s entertainment. On this episode of Critics at Large, the staff writers Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss the themes that have emerged across Miyazaki’s œuvre, from bittersweet depictions of late childhood to meditations on the attractions and dangers of technology. Miyazaki’s latest, “The Boy and the Heron,” is a semi-autobiographical story in which a young boy grieving his mother embarks on a quest through a magical realm as the Second World War rages in reality. The Japanese title, “How Do You Live?,” reveals the philosophical underpinnings of what may well be the filmmaker’s final work. “Wherever you are—whether it seems to be peaceful, whether things are scary—there’s something happening somewhere,” Cunningham says. “And you have to learn this as a child. There’s pain somewhere. And you have to learn how to live your life along multiple tracks.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Kiki’s Delivery Service” (1989)
“My Neighbor Totoro” (1988)
“Old Enough!” (1991-present)
“Princess Mononoke” (1997)
“Spirited Away” (2001)
“The Boy and the Heron” (2023)
“The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” by C. S. Lewis (1950)
“The Moomins series” by Tove Jansson (1945-70)
“The Wind Rises” (2013)

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

This episode originally aired on December 7, 2023.

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Hayao Miyazaki’s Magical Realms

The first person is a narrative style as old as storytelling itself—one that, at its best, allows us to experience the world through another person’s eyes. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz trace how the technique has been used across mediums throughout history. They discuss the ways in which fiction writers have played with the unstable triangulation between author, reader, and narrator, as in Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita” and Bret Easton Ellis’s “American Psycho,” a book that adopts the perspective of a serial killer, and whose publication provoked public outcry. RaMell Ross’s “Nickel Boys”—an adaptation of Colson Whitehead’s 2019 novel—is a bold new attempt to deploy the first person onscreen. The film points to a larger question about the bounds of narrative, and of selfhood: Can we ever truly occupy someone else’s point of view? “The answer, in large part, is no,” Cunningham says. “But that impossibility is, for me, the actual promise: not the promise of a final mind meld but a confrontation, a negotiation with the fact that our perspectives really are our own.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Nickel Boys” (2024)
“The Nickel Boys,” by Colson Whitehead
“Lolita,” by Vladimir Nabokov
“Meet the Director Who Reinvented the Act of Seeing,” by Salamishah Tillet (The New York Times)
“Great Books Don’t Make Great Films, but ‘Nickel Boys’ Is a Glorious Exception,” by Richard Brody (The New Yorker)
“Lady in the Lake” (1947)
“Dark Passage” (1947)
“Enter the Void” (2010)
“The Blair Witch Project” (1999)
Doom (1993)
“The Berlin Stories,” by Christopher Isherwood
“American Psycho,” by Bret Easton Ellis
“The Adventures of Augie March,” by Saul Bellow
“Why Did I Stop Loving My Cat When I Had a Baby?” by Anonymous (The Cut)
“Harmony and Dissonance: Orphism in Paris, 1910-1930” at the Guggenheim Museum

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

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The Elusive Promise of the First Person

Westward expansion has been mythologized onscreen for more than a century—and its depiction has always been entwined with the politics and anxieties of the era. In the 1939 film “Stagecoach,” John Wayne crystallized our image of the archetypal cowboy; decades later, he played another memorable frontiersman in “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,” which questions how society is constructed. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz trace the genre from these cinematic classics to its recent resurgence, marked by big-budget entries including “American Primeval,” which depicts nineteenth-century territorial conflicts in brutal, unsparing detail, and by the wild popularity of Taylor Sheridan’s “neo-Westerns,” which bring the time-honored form to the modern day. Sheridan’s series, namely “Yellowstone” and “Landman,” often center on a world-weary patriarch tasked with protecting land and property from outside forces waiting to seize it. Sometimes described as “red-state shows,” these works are deliberately slippery about their politics—but they pull in millions of viewers from across the ideological spectrum. What accounts for this success? “Whether or not we want to be living in a Western,” Schwartz says, “we very much still are.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Yellowstone” (2018–24)
“Landman” (2024—)
“Horizon: An American Epic” (2024)
“American Primeval” (2025—)
“Stagecoach” (1939)
“Dances with Wolves” (1990)
“Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman” (1993–98)
Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Little House on the Prairie” series
“The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” (1962)
“Shōgun” (2024)
“The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” (1948)
“Oppenheimer” (2023)

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

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The New Western Gold Rush

In 1954, a young David Attenborough made his début as the star of a new nature show called “Zoo Quest.” The docuseries, which ran for nearly a decade on the BBC, was a sensation that set Attenborough down the path of his life’s work: exposing viewers to our planet’s most miraculous creatures and landscapes from the comfort of their living rooms. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz trace Attenborough’s filmography from “Zoo Quest” to his program, “Mammals,” a six-part series on BBC America narrated by the now- ninety-eight-year-old presenter. In the seventy years since “Zoo Quest” first aired, the genre it helped create has had to reckon with the effects of the climate crisis—and to figure out how to address such hot-button issues onscreen. By highlighting conservation efforts that have been successful, the best of these programs affirm our continued agency in the planet’s future. “One thing I got from ‘Mammals’ was not pure doom,” Schwartz says. “There are some options here. We have choices to make.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Mammals” (2024)
“Zoo Quest” (1954-63)
“Are We Changing Planet Earth?” (2006)
“The Snow Leopard,” by Peter Matthiessen
“My Octopus Teacher” (2020)
“Life on Our Planet” (2023)
“I Like to Get High at Night and Think About Whales,” by Samantha Irby

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

This episode originally aired on July 11, 2024. 

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The Splendor of Nature, Now Streaming

David Lynch, who died last month at seventy-eight, was a director of images—one whose distinctive sensibility and instinct for combining the grotesque and the mundane have influenced a generation of artists in his wake. Lynch conjured surreal, sometimes hellish dreamscapes populated by strange figures and supernatural forces lurking beneath wholesome American idylls. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz revisit Lynch’s landmark works and reflect on their resonance today. They discuss his 1986 film, “Blue Velvet”; the television series “Twin Peaks,” whose story and setting Lynch returned to throughout his career; and “Mulholland Drive,” his so-called “poisonous valentine to Hollywood.” Lynch’s stories often resist interpretation, and the director himself refused to ascribe any one meaning to his work. In a way, this openness to multiple readings is at the heart of his appeal. “Reality, too, offers many unsolvable puzzles,” Cunningham says. “The artist who says, ‘I trust that if I offer you this, you will come out with something—even if it’s not something that I programmed in advance’—that always gives me hope.” 

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Eraserhead” (1977)
“Blue Velvet” (1986)
“Twin Peaks” (1990-91)
“Mulholland Drive” (2001)
“Dune” (1984)
“Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me” (1992)
“Twin Peaks: The Return” (2017)
“David Lynch Keeps His Head,” by David Foster Wallace (Premiere)
David Lynch’s P.S.A. for the New York Department of Sanitation
“Severance” (2022—)
“David Lynch’s Outsized Influence on Photography,” in Aperture
Comme des Garçons SS16
Prada AW13
David Lynch’s Weather Reports

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

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David Lynch’s Unsolvable Puzzles

A few years back, novels classed as “romantasy”—a portmanteau of “romance” and “fantasy”—might have seemed destined to attract only niche appeal. But since the pandemic, the genre has proved nothing short of a phenomenon. Sarah J. Maas’s “A Court of Thorns and Roses” series regularly tops best-seller lists, and last month, Rebecca Yarros’s “Onyx Storm” became the fastest-selling adult novel in decades. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz are joined by their fellow New Yorker staff writer Katy Waldman as they delve into the realm of romantasy themselves. Together, they consider some of the most popular entries in the genre, and discuss how monitoring readers’ reactions on BookTok, a literary corner of TikTok, allows writers to tailor their work to fans’ hyperspecific preferences. Often, these books are conceived and marketed with particular tropes in mind—but the key ingredient in nearly all of them is a sense of wish fulfillment. “The reason that I think they’re so powerful and they provide such solace to us is because they tell us, ‘You’re perfect. You’re always right. You have the hottest mate. You have the sickest powers,’ ” Waldman says. “I totally get it. I fall into those reveries, too. I think we all do.”

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Did a Best-Selling Romantasy Novelist Steal Another Writer’s Story?,” by Katy Waldman (The New Yorker)
“The Song of the Lioness,” by Tamora Pierce
“A Court of Thorns and Roses,” by Sarah J. Maas
“Ella Enchanted,” by Gail Carson Levine
“Fourth Wing,” by Rebecca Yarros
“Onyx Storm,” by Rebecca Yarros
“Crave,” by Tracy Wolff
“Working Girl” (1988)
“Game of Thrones” (2011-19)
“The Vampyre,” by John Polidori
“Dracula,” by Bram Stoker
“Outlander” (2014–)

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

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How Romantasy Seduces Its Readers

The first episode of “Saturday Night Live,” which aired in October of 1975, was a loose, scrappy affair. The sketches were experimental, almost absurdist, and the program was peppered with standup from the host, George Carlin, who freely addressed the hot-button issues of the day. “S.N.L.” turns fifty this year, and its anniversary has been marked by a slew of festivities, culminating in a three-hour special that aired this past weekend. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz discuss the show’s origins, the recurring bits and cast members who’ve defined it over time, and whether, half a century on, it’s still essential viewing. The anniversary special, which featured a star-studded guest list, celebrated an institution that, despite its countercultural roots, has become a finely tuned, star-making machine that plays to all fifty states. “This is what the show is about: getting famous people or soon-to-be famous people to play together in this sandbox,” Cunningham says. “The self-congratulation didn't play to me as a betrayal of the thing. No, this is a distillation of the thing.” 

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Saturday Night Live” (1975–)
Sabrina Carpenter and Paul Simon’s cover of “Homeward Bound”
“SNL50: Beyond Saturday Night” (2025)
“Fifty Weird Years of ‘Saturday Night Live,’ ” by Vinson Cunningham (The New Yorker)
“Lorne: The Man Who Invented Saturday Night Live,” by Susan Morrison
“How ‘Saturday Night Live’ Breaks the Mold,” by Michael J. Arlen (The New Yorker)

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

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The Staying Power of the “S.N.L.” Machine

“Severance” is an office drama with a twist: the central characters have undergone a procedure to separate their work selves (“innies,” in the parlance of the show) from their home selves (“outies”). The Apple TV+ series is just the latest cultural offering to explore how the modern world asks us to compartmentalize our lives in increasingly drastic ways. On this episode of Critics at Large, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz trace the trope of the “double” over time, from its nineteenth-century origins in such works as “Jane Eyre” and “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” to the “passing” novels of the nineteen-twenties and thirties. Today’s Oscar front-runners are rife with doubles, too, including those seen in the Demi Moore-led body-horror film “The Substance” and “The Apprentice,” in which a young Donald Trump fashions himself in the image of his mentor, Roy Cohn. At a time when technological advances and social platforms allow us to present—or to engineer—an optimized version of our lives, it’s no wonder our second selves are haunting us anew. “I think the double will always exist because of the hope for wholeness,” Cunningham says. “It's such a strong desire that the shadow of that whole self—the doppelgänger—will always be lurking at the edges of our imagination.” 

Read, watch, and listen with the critics:

“Severance” (2022—)
“The Substance” (2024)
“A Different Man” (2024)
“Frankenstein,” by Mary Shelley
“The Apprentice” (2024)
“Passing,” by Nella Larsen
Key and Peele’s sketch “Phone Call”
“Jane Eyre,” by Charlotte Brontë
“Lisa and Lottie,” by Erich Kästner
William Shakespeare’s “As You Like It”
“The Uncanny,” by Sigmund Freud
Edmond Rostand’s “Cyrano de Bergerac”

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

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In “Severance,” the Gothic Double Lives On

In the inaugural episode of The New Yorker’s new culture podcast, the staff writers Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz make sense of an emerging trend in the world of television: a new genre of cringe comedy that collapses the gap between reality and artifice in ways that make the viewer deeply uncomfortable. “As a shorthand, I’ve just simply started calling it ‘cringecore,’ ” Schwartz says, referring to shows such as Nathan Fielder’s “Nathan for You” and “The Rehearsal,” and the docuseries “How To with John Wilson.” What defines these projects, and what draws viewers to them? One theory: at a time when so many of our preferences, relationships, and experiences are mediated by algorithm, these shows reflect a deep skepticism of reality itself. “I feel that reality in our culture is like the last undiscovered tribe of the Amazon,” Schwartz says. “We’ll never make contact with it again.”

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

 

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What Is Cringecore, and Why Is It Everywhere?

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