Speaking of the New Yorker, here's David Denby on "We Don't Live Here Anymore":

He frames this discordant material with formal elegance and a soothing, even redemptive beauty--the right aesthetic strategy, I think, since other people’s unhappiness, however fascinating, can be merely tawdry when offered without the relief of lyricism.

This continues an important theme from Denby's reviews of "House of Sand and Fog" and "In the Cut": the aesthetics of monotonous misery.