Word: aquarius
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Mailer is the last and no doubt the most intelligent participant in the complicated travesty of Gilmore's death. The writer has mobilized a shrewdness to match Gilmore's own punkish daring and jailhouse self-abnegation. Old Aquarius has silenced his bustling, manic, intrusive voice. His prose in this thousand-page trek is a Conestoga of American plain style: it is banal, idiomatic and somehow grainy, like the scenes in 1950s pornographic films in which the characters meet and part like neighborhood dogs, the men never taking their socks...
When Hair the play opened in Los Angeles about 11 years ago, the Aquarius theatre's exterior wall faced the parking lot muraled in a spiralling Beardsley-style medley of psychedelic colors and stereotyped figures on their way to Woodstock. That was when we were in the midst of Vietnam, Chicago 7, Timothy Leary and Hare Krishna. The play poked fun at everyone, including its own heroes to some degree, but some earnest zeal and anger permeated, betraying a sympathy with the movement. Fortunately, the movie is handled with humor and a light easygoing attitude which circumvents the cringing prospect...
...return, they let him know where they're at through the first dance sequence, Aquarius. The number, like all the rest, is infectuously buoyant. The camera unerringly swoons and follows the gliding choreography by Twyla Tharp: the film's greatest asset. Avoiding cute, stagey, Broadway production-type dance, Twyla Tharp has given new hope to musical choreography. The movements flow naturally; instead of watching a static dance number, we are taken by the camera into the movements, intrinsically swaying with them...
Milos Foreman, the Czech director, makes it all very lighthearted and a bit absurd. There is a fantastic equestrian dance sequence in the Aquarius number where two mounted police stallions do a perfectly synchronized two-step...
...looks up and-whoa, driver, this bus is loaded with hippies. Wrong. It's packed with them, strange cats in flowers, feathers, frock coats, velvet vests, beads, bangles, headbands, hair out to here, and everybody passing joints. Far out. This thing is a rolling time capsule, Age of Aquarius stuff, very 1960s. So the lady sits down next to this dude in old Army fatigues, and after a few blocks she says to him. "We don't see many hippies around here any more." And he says to her, I swear, "Lady, at these fares...