Gaffigan, Jim

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    A Cowed Establishment Toasts Trump at a Manhattan Charity Dinner

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    There were grudge matches and sycophancy in equal measure at the Alfred E. Smith Memorial Foundation Dinner. “Isn’t it just exciting, what’s going on,” Donald Trump said.Donald J. Trump and the assorted fat cats to whom he was speaking seemed to be processing many complicated emotions all at once.“You think this is easy?” the former and perhaps future president asked. “Standing up here in front of half a room that hates my guts, and the other half loves me?”There he stood, the godhead of a populist revenge movement, tucked into his satiny cummerbund, a black bow tie around his neck. It was the Alfred E. Smith Memorial Foundation Dinner in Midtown Manhattan.This charity event, held Thursday evening in the ballroom of the Hilton Hotel, has been a stop for presidential candidates ever since 1960. That’s when John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon showed up, at the dawn of the television age, to make self-deprecating jokes while courting the Roman Catholic vote. In 1970s New York, the era in which Mr. Trump came up, the dinner was one of the glitziest events on the social calendar, attended by governors and mayors and media machers and real estate titans.In 2016, he came as a presidential candidate himself. But when Mr. Trump’s remarks about his then-opponent, Hillary Clinton, veered into nasty territory, he was booed. He and his wife, Melania Trump, slunk out of the room the second it was over.Eight years later, the dinner he returned to was not the same. Like so much else in the Trump era, the Catholic charity event had become savage, warped by blunt force politics. There were all sorts of open wounds and grudges on display among the tuxedoed and the begowned. There were sycophants and there were outcasts. You could see the ones who had submitted to Mr. Trump, sitting beside members of a gorgonized establishment still unsure how to treat him, much less stop him.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘Unfrosted: The Pop-Tarts Story’ Review: A Sweet Jerry Seinfeld Comedy

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      Starring Jerry Seinfeld in his feature directing debut, “Unfrosted: The Pop-Tarts Story” is the only corporate saga whose main ingredient is high-fructose sarcasm.Pop-Tarts were invented over four hectic months in 1964. Jerry Seinfeld has been developing jokes about them for over 10 years, first in his stand-up act, and now as a full-fledged, fully ridiculous feature comedy targeted to the audience’s sweet-and-salty dopamine receptors. “Unfrosted,” directed by Seinfeld with a script by him and longtime collaborators Spike Feresten, Andy Robin and Barry Marder, gives the comic his first-ever live action leading film role as Bob Cabana, a fictional cereal flack who revolutionizes the breakfast industry. (William Post, the real-life person who helped create Pop-Tarts, died in February at the age of 96.) Cinema has endured branded biopics on everything from Air Jordans to the BlackBerry to Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. This is the only corporate saga whose main ingredient is high-fructose sarcasm.Should we care about the history of the Pop-Tart? Seinfeld postures that the Kellogg’s launch of a mylar-wrapped, shelf-stable, heatable pastry is a technological innovation on the scale of the space race and the Manhattan Project. One pivotal move comes when Cabana hires Donna Stankowski (Melissa McCarthy) away from NASA’s beakers of Tang. As the launch date nears, the cinematographer William Pope shoots close-ups of scorching toaster springs with the drama of a roiling booster rocket.The film is as estranged from the facts as Pop-Tarts are from genuine fruit. Still, it’s true that Battle Creek, Mich. — “cereal’s Silicon Valley,” Seinfeld once cracked — was ground zero of a Cold War rivalry between Kellogg’s and General Foods to sell a breakfast that broke free from the need for a bowl and spoon. Here, the General Foods’ owner Marjorie Post (Amy Schumer), once the richest woman in America, swans about in jewel-toned turbans and jets off to Moscow to enlist Nikita Khrushchev (Dean Norris) in her cause. At the same time, the dimwitted head of Kellogg’s (Jim Gaffigan) allows his company to align with President John F. Kennedy (Bill Burr), Chef Boy Ardee (Bobby Moynihan), the celebrity fitness guru Jack LaLanne (James Marsden), and the early computer Univac who acts up in ways that recall Bing’s sexually charged A.I. chatbot. Things take an even darker turn with the entrance of a vengeful milkman (Christian Slater) and a threatening figure named El Sucre (Felix Solis) who’s aware that millions of dollars hinge on access to his addictive white powder.As junk food goes, “Unfrosted” is delightful with a sprinkle of morbidity. Building on last December’s publicity stunt where an anthropomorphic Pop-Tart cooked and served itself to the Kansas State Wildcats, we’re here treated to a funeral where the deceased is given Full Cereal Honors. I will spoil nothing except to say Snap, Crackle and Pop have a ceremonial duty.The jokes spill forth so fast that there’s no time for the shtick to get soggy. Yet, the film also crams its running time with goofy detours, like a subplot where the voice of Tony the Tiger (Hugh Grant, once again seizing any opportunity to wear a fatuous cravat) leads his fellow mascots in a rebellion. Despite all these famous faces splashing into the frame, the scene stealer is the child actor Eleanor Sweeney making her debut as an opinionated taste tester. She’s g-r-r-reat.UnfrostedRated PG-13 for some suggestive references and language. Running time: 1 hour 33 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More