Word: anguishingly
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Thus, at the center of the contemporary stage remains the European drama represented by Beckett, lonesco, Genet, Pinter and Osborne. None are alike; yet all raise a hemlock toast to the 20th century. Theirs is a drama of metaphysical anguish, rigorous negation, asocial stance, skin-prickling guilt and anxiety, and abidingly absurd humor. In their plays, the situation of man is horrible and funny at the same time. Ionesco says that man laughs so as not to cry. The problem these playwrights pose is man's oldest and newest-the existence problem...
...travel well. They are best savored in the small lantern-lit taverns tucked away in the cobblestone alleys of old Lisbon. There, in an atmosphere drenched with pathos and the aroma of musky wine and spicy sausages, the black-draped fadistas cry out in voices quavering with anguish. Against a back ground of weeping guitars, they sing of sin and love gone wrong, of wasted lives and impending doom. Fado means destiny, and its baleful laments are more than the fatalistic Portuguese can bear: old men weep and women grow faint, all revelling in the joys of suffering...
Protest Would Do No Good. He cites Pius' attempt to help save the Jews of Rome from deportation by the Germans, takes note of papal statements that indicate Pius' personal anguish over Nazi atrocities. Friedlander also quotes from a long letter that the Pope wrote to Berlin's Bishop Konrad von Preysing in 1943 suggesting that an open protest would do no good, since it would only stir Hitler to worse evils. He includes the argument made by Vatican diplomats that for Pius to attack Hitler during the war would involve German Catholics in a crisis...
...could never find "the thread that ravels finally/into the interior of a truth." Even in himself he could not find himself. Before Sartre and Heidegger, he described the fallacy of memory, the treason of time, the existential anguish of alienation...
...being toward a high point of joy. Then, as the years passed, he began portraying man in his canvases and sculptures as tumbling, unseated and falling, and the horse splayed, with neck stretched and hooves sprawled. "My equestrian figures," says Marini of his later work, "are symbols of the anguish I feel when I survey contemporary events. Man has become destructive, acquiring the atomic bomb, becoming fossilized. It is no longer man who commands, but man who has been commanded and has been ruined. Now it is the machine which commands...