Word: beusman
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...Wild horses couldn't drag me back into stocks. Rather than gamble in this market, I might as well go to Las Vegas." So says Curtis Beusman, owner of a sports-medicine clinic in Mount Kisco, N.Y., and he is not talking theory. During the past several years, Beusman has dumped $300,000 worth of stock, more than 80% of his holdings. He is far from alone. Eleven months after last year's crash, most individual investors are avoiding stocks as if they were poison. Some Wall Street executives fear that many of these investors may be leaving the market...
...glaring example is the casting of Robert Beusman in the title role. Miss Lonelyhearts is not supposed to be a particularly likable character. In the novel, he is unpleasant because of his extreme morbidity; in this production, because of his insipidity. He must emerge, however, as something more than self-parody. Unless he embraces his Christian mission with evident conviction, the painful irony of his demise is undercut, and the play belongs totally to the ever-cynical Shrike...
...BEUSMAN, UNFORTUNATELY, plays Miss Lonelyhearts as a goofy adolescent type who broadcasts his weirdness by making grotesque faces. Unable to convey the fervor of Miss Lonelyhearts' hysterical religiosity, he supplements his limited emotional range with a series of stock expressions and mannerisms--employing a conscious hesitation in his voice, staring stupidly into space, shrugging his shoulders, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Sporting a perennial grimace, Beusman is far better at looking disgusted--as in his first run-in with the man-starved Mrs. Doyle--than at appearing lovable or humane; as a result, his scenes...
Miss Lonelyhearts. A partially successful production of an adaptation of Nathaniel West's novella about a sort of grotesque Dear Abby. The play itself is a watered down, '50s version of the original, but Stephen Kolzak's direction is tight and his cast--with the unfortunate exception of Robert Beusman as Miss Lonelyhearts--does an able job of conveying the negativity of West's vision. See the review on page 2 of today's Crimson. In the Quincy House Dining Room, December 4-7 and 11-13, at 8:15 p.m. Tickets...
Quite a few photographs span the walls, while one set, by Bob Beusman, zig-zags across a table; Beusman calls it "Thirty-three Kodak Cuties Say Buy Me!", but there are only twenty-four. Bob Ely's pictures, in tempered grays, are slices from a Midwestern wasteland. He has fixed an eerie view of a technological desert: an empty drive-in-movie parking lot with a massive, mottled white screen leaning over it sprouts speakers on poles at gawky angles in the dust, and a jet plane hovers, hawk-like, in one corner...