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  • Sunday Shortlist, from The Week
    A 'pathologically silly' show, and a book that 'gets into your blood'

     
    BOOK OF THE WEEK

    Murderland 

    by Caroline Fraser 

    In the 1970s and 1980s, America's Pacific Northwest was home to a remarkable number of serial killers, said Dorian Lynskey in The Guardian. The "charming, extremely intelligent" Ted Bundy grew up in the port city of Tacoma, Washington. Gary Ridgway (aka the Green River Killer) lived there too, and Charles Manson spent five years in jail in the city before "starting his Family" in California. Meanwhile, Randall Woodfield, the I-5 Killer, lived not far away in Oregon.

    In her "hauntingly compulsive" book, journalist Caroline Fraser (herself a native of Tacoma) argues that this cluster was more than pure accident. Just outside Tacoma was the notorious Asarco smelting facility, which for decades pumped out lead and other chemicals, contaminating air and water. (It was responsible for the infamous "Aroma of Tacoma".) Exposure to these toxins, Fraser suggests, increased the population's propensity for violence. Washington's murder rate in the mid-1970s was "almost six times the national average"; Tacoma's was higher still. Mixing memoir, biography and history, "Murderland" is a book that "gets into your blood".

    The "lead-crime hypothesis" isn't new, said Francesca Angelini in The Sunday Times. "Epidemiologists have found an almost perfect correlation between the rise and fall of lead in the environment and the rise and fall in crime." Where Fraser breaks new ground is in applying this theory to some of America's most notorious serial killers. Her book, while reading like "a true crime thriller", doubles as a polemic about the rapacious greed of heavy industry: for decades, despite mounting evidence to the contrary, leaded-gasoline lobbyists insisted it "presented no problems". Other things can help explain the murder spike of the 1970s – including the popularity of hitchhiking – but Fraser "does build a compelling theory" about pollution.

    "Murderland" is in some ways a "maddening" book, said Timothy Egan in The New York Times. "Fraser jumps around in time and topic", alighting one moment on "Rommel's desert campaign in WWII", at another on the "bubble-gum pop songs she grew up with". And despite the plethora of data, her thesis leaves many unanswered questions. "What about the many thousands of people who also lived under Asarco's toxic plume and went on to have normal lives?" Fraser mostly gets away with it "because she's such a gifted writer". "Murderland" works best as a "literary" narrative – a story about "crimes of industry choking the life out of the natural world, spawning crimes of the heart".

     
     
    FILM REVIEW

    Apocalypse in the Tropics 

    Petra Costa's 'troubling' portrait of modern Brazil

    This chilling documentary from filmmaker Petra Costa "tells a grim story about modern Brazil", said Peter Bradshaw in The Guardian. It explains how right-wing evangelical Christianity has seduced many of the country's political leaders and millions of its people: in the past 30 years, Costa tells us, the evangelical share of the population has risen from 5% to 30%.

    And through its substantial voting bloc in the national congress, the religious Right has effectively created "a minority-rule theocracy". American televangelists such as Billy Graham made inroads into the majority Catholic nation after the Second World War; and how today, figures such as Pastor Silas Malafaia, a celebrity evangelist who became a major influence on the former president, Jair Bolsonaro, are wildly popular.

    Costa has somehow managed to get fantastic access to her subjects, said Ellen E. Jones in The Observer. Even Bolsonaro features, presented as a "dead-eyed marionette" to Malafaia's charismatic puppet master. The film is a lament for secularism, said Bilge Ebiri in New York Magazine. Even in the dark days of Brazil's military dictatorship, Costa says, religion and government remained separate. But today, politicians of Left and Right are careful to court the evangelical vote. 

    Archive footage of Brasília, showing how the newly built capital's architecture manifested the separation of Church and state, is contrasted with the horrifying Maga-inspired mob assault on the city in 2023. Costa ends on a relatively hopeful note, but cautions that even with Bolsonaro gone, "religious fanaticism" remains as influential as ever. It all points to a "troubling and uncertain future".

     
     
    ALBUM review

    Wet Leg: Moisturizer

    On "U and Me at Home", the closing track on Wet Leg's cracking second album, there's a line reflecting on their unexpected success, said Victoria Segal in Mojo. "Maybe we could start a band as some kinda joke," sings Rhian Teasdale. "Well, that didn't quite go to plan… now we've been stretched across the world." When their Grammy-winning debut song "Chaise Longue" – "less pop song, more invasive indie species" – went viral in 2022, some might have doubted there would be a first Wet Leg album, let alone a second. But "Moisturizer" is the full-throated sound of a grown-up group that's here to stay: an "emotionally flexible record, one that pinballs between rage and romance, lust and raw vulnerability".

    The Isle of Wight duo are now officially a five-piece, with new members on guitar/synths, drums and bass, said Alexis Petridis in The Guardian. They have a more confident sound, but the same winning blend of synth-y 1980s pop rock, early 1990s US alt-rock and Kate Bush-influenced balladry. "The songs are supremely punchy, the tunes contagious: 'Moisturizer' is a blast."

     
     
    THEATRE REVIEW

    The Merry Wives of Windsor 

    Beloved character from Henry IV plays gets his own comedic adventure at London's Globe Theatre

    "Even the most hardcore Bardolator" would concede that "The Merry Wives of Windsor" is not one of Shakespeare's better works, said Andrzej Lukowski in Time Out. It's a daft, flawed, and "canonically illogical" spin-off from the Henry IV plays that gives the beloved character of Sir John Falstaff a brand-new comic adventure – wooing the wealthy wives of Windsor in the hope of making some money.

    The play lacks the "pathos and grit of his original appearances", and sidesteps the fact that Falstaff died 200 years before the manifestly "present-day" action. Rather than try and "fix" any of this, Sean Holmes' entertaining new staging leans strongly into the daftness, with a "relentless barrage of absurdist line deliveries and outlandish character interpretations". It's "pathologically silly", but so long as you're not expecting too much, "you'll have fun".

    You certainly will, said Nick Curtis in London's The Standard. A crack cast of comic actors makes this production a "treat". Falstaff is played by George Fouracres, a Black Country comedian-turned-actor who has "brought revelatory zest to several Shakespearean clowns at the Globe in recent years". 

    He's terrific, working the audience with wit and charm. Katherine Pearce's saucy Mistress Ford and Emma Pallant's beady Mistress Page have the "fine timing and physical ease of a practised double-act as they dupe and then punish Falstaff for his impudence". Sophie Russell as pragmatic fixer Mistress Quickly and Samuel Creasey as the effete Welsh priest, Hugh Evans, also win big laughs.

    It makes for a "jolly" evening, said Clive Davis in The Times. I found myself wishing I was in the pit with the "groundlings", to soak up the atmosphere.
    It's all "entertainingly" done, said Dominic Cavendish in The Daily Telegraph. But overall, this theatrical cake fails to rise. Fouracres is a far younger and more sprightly Falstaff than the "plus-sized buffoon" that the plot and jokes require. And he "doesn't fully dominate proceedings as you'd hope; the supporting cast often garner the belly-laughs". This is an enjoyable show that's "suitable for tourists", but it "falls short of being a summer sensation for all".

    Globe Theatre, London SE1. Until 20 September 

     
     
    OBITUARY

    Norman Tebbit 

    Fearsome politician who served as Thatcher's enforcer

    One of the defining politicians of his age, Norman Tebbit, who has died aged 94, was among Margaret Thatcher's most steadfast supporters. A self-made man who had grown up in a working-class suburb of north London, he helped draw millions of former Labour voters to the Thatcherite cause by championing the virtues of hard work, self-reliance and enterprise, while railing against everything from European federalism and unionism to the permissive society, said The Times.

    Courageous and quick-witted, Tebbit was almost as combative with the Tory "wets" as he was with the Left – and he could be fearsome with both. In the Commons, he once shouted "You'll have another heart attack!" to a Labour MP with heart disease, said The Guardian. His "Spitting Image" puppet depicted him as a bovver boy in a leather jacket. The Labour leader Michael Foot referred to him as a "semi-housetrained polecat"; and he was nicknamed the "Chingford Skinhead". Yet when they met him, said The Daily Telegraph, people were often surprised to find him amiable, softly spoken and compassionate. 

    Even Tebbit's opponents conceded that he was a "minister of substance", and he seemed destined for high office – until 1984, when he was almost killed in the IRA's bombing of the Grand Hotel in Brighton, during the Tory conference. He and his wife Margaret were asleep in bed at the time. As the building caved in, they fell four storeys and were buried under rubble: seriously injured, they lay there, holding hands, for four hours. Tebbit spent three months in hospital and was left in daily pain. Margaret was in hospital for nearly two years. Paralysed from the chest down, she never walked again. Tebbit returned to work, but after the 1987 election he left government so that he could devote more time to "my Margaret". 

    Norman Tebbit was born in Ponders End, Enfield, in 1931. His father ran a pawnbroker's shop – until he lost his job. He found work as a painter, but money was tight and they moved into cramped rented rooms. Norman won a place at Edmonton County Grammar and, soon after, he joined the local Young Conservatives – becoming one of its few working-class members. At 16, he left school to become a copy boy at the Financial Times. There, he was made to join the print union, which fuelled his opposition to closed shops. He did his national service in the RAF. He learnt to fly, and in 1953 he became a pilot with BOAC (and an official in the pilots' union). Around the same time, he met Margaret, a nurse. They married in 1956 and went on to have three children. 

    Living in Hemel Hempstead, he joined the local Conservative Association, and in 1970, he was elected as MP for Epping (a constituency that was later abolished and redrawn as Chingford). As a backbencher, he opposed the admission of 30,000 Asians who had been expelled from Uganda, and railed against militant unionism. His loathing of the unions intensified when Margaret, who suffered from severe depression, was unable to get treatment on the NHS owing to strikes. He was, he recalled, determined to break their power – and in 1981, when he became secretary of state for employment, he made that his mission. He regarded the 1982 Employment Act – which greatly restricted the formation of closed shops – as among his greatest achievements. Then in 1983, when Cecil Parkinson, his friend and cabinet rival, was forced to resign, Tebbit took over at the department of trade and industry. In that role, he pushed through many of the privatisations of the Thatcher era. 

    As party chairman from 1985, he threw himself into Thatcher's 1987 election campaign. But her popularity was by then waning, and he and Michael Heseltine were being mentioned as possible successors. He insisted that his loyalty was total, and she won the election; but relations were strained. Retiring to the backbenches enabled him to take several directorships to fund his wife's care. In 1992, he was elevated to the House of Lords (he included a polecat in his coat of arms). He wrote his memoirs, as well as a cookbook, while continuing to make waves with his comments on issues including Europe, gay marriage and immigration. Margaret died in 2020, having suffered from dementia. Tebbit made his final appearance at Westminster in 2022, aged 90.

     

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