Old Scratch

While he and old Scratch become cozy, those of us not taking the long dirt nap will have to figure out what went wrong and try to fix it.

Tail wagging furiously, Bailey posed for selfies, sniffed around camera tripods, and let attendees, young and old, scratch his head.

You may think Trump hung the moon or you may think Trump is Old Scratch himself.

He’s playing the literal devil—in this instance, Old Scratch is taking the form of the head of a white-shoe criminal defense firm in Manhattan named “John Milton”—like I said, Michelin stars!—and pitches Keanu Reeves, his son—like I said, three Michelin stars!—on his plan to defeat God by employing lawyers to pile up injustice on top of injustice until the world is ruined.

But it is the unlikely, enduringly cherubic body of the man who found cinematic immortality as Ferris Bueller that Old Scratch has hijacked to spread tidings of great misery in this solid revival, which opened on Wednesday night under the direction of Ciaran O’Reilly.