Word: angers
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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MOST U.S. citizens regard Canada with an inattentive but warmly sentimental friendship ("They're just like us!") which Canadians find exasperating. Last month Canadian irritation was sharpened by a U.S. Senate report questioning the loyalty of Canadian Diplomat Herbert Norman, Ambassador to Egypt. It turned to nationwide anger when Norman threw himself to death from a Cairo rooftop. Then Canada's own government confirmed part of the subcommittee's assertions. Anger died away, and questions crowded in. Was Norman really a Communist Party member during his student days? Was the Canadian government aware of the extent...
Last week's interim raise of 5% for G.P.s and dentists was designed to stave off mounting anger among doctors, but it settled nothing. The chairman of a doctors' negotiating committee who favored accepting the government's plan was forced by angry colleagues to resign. Britain's doctors carried on-overworked as usual-hopelessly divided among themselves as to the best tactics to pursue, but unanimous in feeling underpaid...
...very good play, but it was so noisy, so bouncy, and its wheels spun so fast that most onlookers caught the illusion of movement. Soon after Anger opened last May in London's equivalent of an off-Broadway theater, Playwright Osborne was hailed not only as Britain's angriest young man, but as the theater's rediscoverer of Britain's neglected lower-middle-class snob. Anger's hero, afflicted by a miserable childhood and his flops as a vacuum-cleaner salesman and a bandleader, speaks his outraged pieces on such hallowed British institutions...
Steam & Sentiment. What Anger lacked in plot, sense and good taste it made up for in steam and sentiment. If Playwright Osborne succeeded in being only half-acid, his admirers did not seem to mind. One evening last autumn Sir Laurence Olivier went backstage after a performance, politely wondered aloud if Osborne might have a part for him in any new play. Very much in character, Osborne superciliously replied: "I don't know-possibly." Then he began remixing a batch of anger in process called The Entertainer so that its lead-a sodden, cynical, third-rate music-hall trouper...
Excesses of spleen and puerility are seldom a playwright's assets. John Osborne, who can rant as forcefully as he rambles pointlessly, would doubtless be a bore as a mellow young man. But if he risks less anger some day, he can probably say more...