THEME: OFF COURSE (58A: Heading the wrong way ... or, interpreted culinarily, a hint to 15-, 21-, 35 and 47-Across) — familiar phrases or names that sound like a "course" (i.e. food) that has gone "off":
Theme answers:
BAD APPLES (15A: Corrupting sorts, in an orchard metaphor)
SPOILED BRATS (21A: Nightmares for nannies)
ROTTEN TOMATOES (35A: Movie review site with a percentage rating scale)
FUNKY CHICKEN (47A: Novelty dance with comical elbow-flapping)
Word of the Day: MASADA (7D: Ancient fortress overlooking the Dead Sea) —
Masada (Hebrew: מְצָדָהməṣādā, 'fortress'; Arabic: جبل مسعدة, romanized:jabal musayda, lit.'mount museida') is a mountain-top fortress complex in the Judaean Desert, overlooking the western shore of the Dead Sea in southeastern Israel. The fort, built in the first century BC, was constructed atop a natural plateau rising over 400m (1,300ft) above the surrounding terrain, 20km (12mi) east of modern Arad.
The most significant remains at the site date to the reign of Herod the Great, King of Judaea under Roman administration c.37–4 BC, who transformed Masada into a fortified desert refuge early in his rule. He enclosed the summit with a casemate wall and towers, and constructed storerooms, an advanced water system, and bathhouses, along with two elaborate palaces: one on the western side and another built across three terraces on the northern cliff. These palaces remain among the finest examples of Herodian architecture.
Short write-up this morning (probably?) since I gotta be out of the house pretty early today for an appointment in Syracuse (an hour+ away). I need to be done with the write-up ahead of time (i.e. well before 6am) in order to preserve my sacred "Drink coffee and do nothing" time, which will otherwise get impinged upon by the stupid appointment. You understand. I am in the weird position today of finding myself liking this puzzle despite the fact that the theme has a few things about it that are just, well, off. Two big ones, both having to do with consistency. With three of today's theme answers, the "courses" do not fundamentally change meaning if you imagine them as food. Apples, tomatoes, chicken—they all retain their basic meaning if you imagine them as an "off course." Yes, you change the context of the word (esp. for CHICKEN), but you don't fundamentally change the meaning. The FUNKY CHICKEN involves the imitation of a chicken. That's different from chicken that has gone off, but the basic meaning of "chicken" is the same. But BRATS?! To make your food meaning work, you have to change the meaning of that word completely, not to mention the pronunciation. Brats (rhymes with "cats") vs. brats (rhymes with "cots"). That's an existential change, whereas the others are mere contextual shifts. Apples are apples are apples, but SPOILED BRATS are not sausages (although ... I have a modest proposal ... hear me out!).
The second issue with the theme is that BAD APPLES and ROTTEN TOMATOES are already about food that's gone off. That is, the revealer doesn't really change their meaning much at all. Those “courses” come pre-turned. BAD APPLES is a metaphor that comes from ... literallyBAD APPLES. And ROTTEN TOMATOES, same. The revealer doesn't require much (re-)imagination where those answers are concerned. Whereas with SPOILED BRATS and FUNKY CHICKEN, the revealer provides a lot more transformational zing. "Spoiled" and "funky" really change meaning. The shift from spoiled kids or a silly dance to bad food is an abrupt and surprising one, making those answers far more enjoyable and clever than the other themers. And yet even at half power (i.e. with the revealer only really transforming two of the four theme phrases), the theme still made me laugh, still gave me an aha. Turning those kids and that dance into rotten food—that's the kind of bizarre "TA-DA!" I can get behind on a Tuesday.
One more annoying thing about the theme, though. Not about the theme per se, but about the cluing on a couple of the theme answers. Why is the puzzle giving (awkwardly) all this extra information that the solver does not really need? Take the clue on BAD APPLES (15A: Corrupting sorts, in an orchard metaphor). "In an orchard metaphor"? You don't need that phrase at all, and if you're thinking "well, it's Tuesday, we should provide a little more direction," then you could just use "in a metaphor." "In an orchard metaphor" is just ridiculous. It kind of implies that "orchard metaphors" are some kind of category we're all familiar with, that there will be many such metaphors to choose from. "Orchard" is unnecessarily specific and hand-holding, as is "interpreted culinarily" in the revealer clue (58A: Heading the wrong way ... or, interpreted culinarily, a hint to 15-, 21-, 35 and 47-Across). That clue could easily go straight into "or a hint to etc." In fact, it should. Stop treating solvers like idiots. The puzzle remains easy without your falling over yourself pointing the way to the correct answers. Let solvers work it out! Larding in all these "helper" phrases is just insulting, not to mention stylistically inelegant.
[BUSTA!] (31A: Rapper ___ Rhymes)
No real difficulty today. I had SNOUT for SNOOT (39A: Schnozzle) and I didn't know (or forgot) MASADA. That was about it for trouble spots. Oh, no, PAPER CUT, that one definitely got me (8D: Slice of Life or nick of Time?). "Of" is doing some pretty heavy, awkward lifting in that clue. I also got slowed down at the clue on "OK. SO?" because the clue did not make sense, to my ear (45D: "All right. What's the big deal?"). "All right. What's the big deal?" sounds like something you say when you genuinely want to know what the big deal is. Like, someone shouts for you to come see something and they're getting impatient and finally you walk in and are like "All right. What's the big deal?" I.e. show me the big deal. "OK. SO?" implies that you have seen the alleged "big deal" and found it wanting. Somehow the clue doesn't quite get at that. Or, it does, but only if you read the clue with a very specific inflection. I think I just hate "OK, SO?" as an answer. Throw it on the rubbish pile of "OH"- and "UH"- and "UM"- and "OK"-starting phrases.
Bullets:
38D: Hired soldier, in slang (MERC) — from "mercenary," even though I think you pronounce MERC with a hard "C." There's a renowned movie makeup artist from the mid-20th century named PERC Westmore, and every time I see his name in the opening credits (and I see it A Lot—just yesterday, in fact), I think "... Purse? Perk? What are we doing here?"
1D: Campsite crasher in the Rockies (BEAR) — weird to specify "in the Rockies" since presumably BEARs crash campsites all around the world.
24A: "We come in peace" speakers, in a sci-fi trope (ALIENS) — 2x sci-fi answers today, as we get not only space travel (here) but time travel as well (8A: Destination for some sci-fi travelers = PAST)
33D: Lachrymal unit (TEAR) — this is what the ALIENS say when they see you crying. "The human is releasing lachrymal units despite the fact that we come in peace. Abort mission! Abort mission! Oh, General Doxmerc is going to be so mad ..."
That's all for today. See you next time.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
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A long time ago, I was solving this puzzle and got stuck at an unguessable (to me) crossing: N. C. WYETH crossing NATICK at the "N"—I knew WYETH but forgot his initials, and NATICK ... is a suburb of Boston that I had no hope of knowing. It was clued as someplace the Boston Marathon runs through (???). Anyway, NATICK— the more obscure name in that crossing—became shorthand for an unguessable cross, esp. where the cross involves two proper nouns, neither of which is exceedingly well known. NATICK took hold as crossword slang, and the term can now be both noun ("I had a NATICK in the SW corner...") or verb ("I got NATICKED by 50A / 34D!")