The New Yorker


This week’s Goings On About Town opens with a remarkable picture by the Indian photographer Raghubir Singh—a quartet of women caught in a monsoon in Monghyr, Bihar, in 1967, their drenched bodies assuming near-sculptural mass as they huddle together in garments whose dark greens and rich browns mirror the landscape around them. Singh was born into Rajput aristocracy, in 1942, in Jaipur, but the partition of India and Pakistan, in 1947, reversed the family’s fortunes. He taught himself how to use a camera, moving restlessly between Hong Kong, Paris, London, and New York, always returning to his lodestar, India, whose urban streets and rural vistas he captured with a decisive eye for color and complexity—Cartier-Bresson and Eggleston rolled into one. His work has been too little seen since his unexpected death, in 1999, at the age of fifty-six. This week, the Met Breuer corrects that, with the show “Raghubir Singh: Modernism on the Ganges.”—Andrea K. Scott

Night Life

Death Grips is a growing noise-rap outfit from Sacramento whose career trajectory is as staticky as its sound. Fans of Trent Reznor and Chuck D should enjoy every minute of a deep dive into Death Grips’ five albums, the best of which, last year’s “Bottomless Pit,” snarls somewhere between shout-rap and snow-fisted hardcore guitar rock. On Monday at Brooklyn Steel, the group splits headlining duties with Ministry, the industrial metal icons dug up from nineteen-eighties Chicago; you never know when you’ll get the chance to catch either enigmatic act next.—Matthew Trammell

Want a drink before the show?

At Llama Inn, much attention is paid to the cocktails. The El Chapo doesn’t feel particularly louche, except that it’s basically a goblet of tequila, with a hint of pisco and citrus (“Very spirit forward,” the server offered optimistically); the Flying Purple Pisco, with purple-potato purée and frothed egg whites, is like a tiny lavender-hued soufflé.—Shauna Lyon

Tables for Two

Sen Sakana, a cavernous new restaurant in midtown, which opened in July, is one of the first, and best, examples of Nikkei food in New York. Aji amarillo, the tangy Peruvian pepper with subtle flavor-packed heat, brightens many small, typically Japanese dishes, such as the yogurty, house-crafted tofu, the “addictive” cucumber salad, and the unforgettable black-feather chicken wings.—Carolyn Kormann

The Theatre

The writer and performer Edgar Oliver is so brave that it cracks your self-protective reserve—and makes you ashamed, too, for all the conventional behavior and thought you hold on to, just because you think it will shield you, mostly from your own fears about your own difference. Through November 18th, the Axis Theatre is presenting his “New York Trilogy,” which includes three pieces by Oliver, all directed by Randy Sharp and starring Oliver himself.—Hilton Als


The release of “The Florida Project” has thrust a fine new batch of child actors, all under ten, into the spotlight. By happy coincidence, John Cassavetes’s 1980 film, “Gloria”—which features one of the greatest movie performances by a child—is playing Friday at MOMA. (It’s also available to stream online.) The drama is centered on a former Mob moll (played with a fine ferocity by Gena Rowlands), who sees hit men come for her neighbors and takes their young son on the lam. The boy is played by John Adames, for whom Cassavetes wrote tough-toned, assertive dialogue that would play just as well in the mouth—and the mind—of an adult. Adames, who delivers his lines with an apt pugnacity and performs the role over all with extraordinarily brash and forthright energy, has never acted in another film.—Richard Brody

Classical Music

A brilliantly quirky mix of concerts distinguishes the weekend. Tonight at National Sawdust, the brash young classical-folk group Founders offers a collectively composed song cycle on poems of Edgar Allan Poe, before playing Messiaen’s transcendent “Quartet for the End of Time.” Carnegie’s Zankel Hall hosts the commanding composer-conductor-pianist Thomas Adès on Sunday afternoon, accompanying a quartet of topnotch singers in songs by Britten, Schubert, Purcell, and himself. Carnegie’s Stern Auditorium will be the venue for the actor Bill Murray, the cellist Jan Vogler, and assorted friends to engage in a one-of-a-kind collaborative program on Monday evening, which includes music by Gershwin, Bernstein, and Van Morrison, as well as readings from texts by Whitman and Twain.—Russell Platt


James Thierrée is a physical-theatre artist and an acrobat both by blood—he is the grandson of Charlie Chaplin, and grew up in a circus—and by temperament; he moves with a silken, silvery ease, defying the laws of gravity. His “La Grenouille Avait Raison (The Toad Knew)” plays at BAM this weekend.—Marina Harss

Bar Tab

The mead served at the thoughtful Bushwick cocktail bar Honey’s is dry and floral, more like natural wine than the cloyingly sweet stuff one imagines swilling in a land of dungeons and dragons. This is not to say that you’ll want for magic.—Wei Tchou