Word: bananas
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...whom he had defected, came on a bright Sunday afternoon in full view of 400 Negroes in the Audubon Ballroom, a seedy two-story building on Manhattan's upper Broadway. Characteristically, he had kept his followers waiting for nearly an hour while he lingered over tea and a banana split at a nearby Harlem restaurant...
Walk Out in Anger. Their novels reflect an outlook and a mood that today pervade many other areas besides fiction. Dr. Strangelove, treating the hydrogen bomb as a colossal banana peel on which the world slips to annihilation, is a black-humor movie, even though it becomes so incredible that it kills its own joke. Satirical cabaret groups, such as Chicago's Second City or Britain's The Establishment, have offered some of the liveliest black humor, though they can hardly meet Drama Critic Kenneth Tynan's criterion that such satire is successful only if at least...
...Banana Peel has a plot as tricky as its title. Named after a race horse, this free French comedy of crime and blandishment gives the beast a mere nod during the opening credits, then plunges into an orgy of intrigues on a pretty fast track. Viewers may occasionally wish they had a pony to keep abreast of what is happening. But they will never lose interest, thanks to two shrewd performers, Jean-Paul Belmondo and Jeanne Moreau, under direction from Marcel Ophuls...
...Though Banana Peel looks slipshod at times, it is mostly a bravura display of brightly stylish footwork. Befuddled, blackjacked, or held head down in a pool, Belmondo spins athletically through a series of double and triple crosses, showing more bounce per trounce than any leading man of his class. On the final bounce, it is inevitably Moreau who catches him. The minx with a perpetual moue, she sings, dances, suddenly flashes her searchlight smile over an unpromising patch of script-and the lost art of ultrasophisticated comedy springs to life on the instant. She seems more assured than ever...
Drums for Tables. John Mills plans to base himself permanently in Manhattan, leaving his even bigger son Robert, 6 ft. 8 in., to run the London end of things. His changes in El Morocco will not disturb old Moroccans' sense of security-the white rubber palms with plastic banana leaves still loom against the royal blue star-strewn sky, the zebra-striped banquettes still make the locale of every photographed celebrity instantly recognizable...