Word: actor
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Central Park. Today, relocated in New York and remarried-to Actor Jason Robards Jr.-Bacall prefers to look forward. But, says a friend, "the past has a way of hounding Betty. She tries to look out the windshield, but there are always things there in the rearview mirror." Among the things are TV's endless Bogie-Bacall festivals. "Those movies," she says ruefully, "always come back to haunt me on that damn box." And there are the Bogie biographies, five released within the last year. "The paperback ones are written by hungry guys trying...
Federal Communications Commissioner Robert E. Lee, 53, was sending out some signals complaining that the badinage on late-night television is "getting pretty close to indecency." On Johnny Carson's Tonight Show, for instance, where Actor Ray Milland recently told that ever-so-funny story about having to go to the bathroom in a swimming pool while filming a scene. "I don't want the industry to degenerate," said Lee. He just wants the broadcasters to censor themselves a little for the public. In private, grinned the commissioner, "I'm one of the greatest off-color storytellers...
...Tonya's father, with Siobhan McKenna as Tonya's mother. To add further strength to the cast, Lean tapped Rita Tushingham (The Girl with Green Eyes), Tom Courtenay (King Rat), and, for the role of Lara's calculating seducer Komarovsky, the film's only American actor, Rod Steiger...
...seaworthy French playmate (Claudine Auger) for an amorous exploit down among the corals. "I hope we didn't frighten the fish," he quips afterward, wading ashore. Alas, even subaqueous sex cannot keep the formula entirely fresh. Yet, if Thunderball's gimmickry seems to overreach at times, Actor Connery gains assurance from film to film, by now delivers all his soppiest Jimcracks martini-dry. He is hilariously astringent when he drops a limp dancing partner at a nightclubber's ringside table, saying: "D'you mind if my friend sits this one out? She's just dead...
With its woefully unseasoned actors, its melting-pot English, and its lack of anything resembling ensemble playing, the Lincoln Center Repertory Company is pitiably overmatched by the play. However, no American company would be likely to carry it off successfully. The heart of this comedy is heartlessness, and its surface is its substance. It demands dry, stylized cynicism. By temperament and training, this is alien to the American actor, who almost invariably tries to humanize his role and to bridle the most outrageous farce with the halter of naturalistic plausibility. And Wycherley's characters cannot be played as people...