Word: bittersweetly
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Once upon a time, a writer who was not really a writer but a moonlighting professor of classics at Yale produced a phenomenal bestseller called Love Story. The book had the texture of moist Kleenex, but it was bittersweet and it brought the professor wealth and fame, which he professed to dislike. He gave an endless series of farewell interviews and accepted one absolutely final nonscholarly job after another, from doing TV sports commentary to acting in movies. Yet did all this help him to achieve his ambition of winning the annual 26-mile Boston Marathon? No. He once finished...
...wildest parties ever seen in Saigon's back rooms. U.S. Special Forces troops used to lavish $1,000 apiece on parties that lasted a whole weekend. Now fat and aging (she is 32), Momma is left with $30,000 in lOUs from G.I.s and a flood of bittersweet memories. "I love Special Forces men. They are all crazy and never care about tomorrow. They go into field and maybe die. I stay here and get drunk and maybe...
Over this almost wistful tale of bittersweet love is superimposed the geometric grid lines of New York, the monolithic city, the steel-and-glass giant. Film projections flash on high-rise panel backdrops and form skyscraper spectaculars. At their shadowy base laps the treacherous asphalt tide of the urban jungle. This translates into dance numbers with the slashing tempi of switchblades, though none are shown or used. Hookers, casual muggings and cops as cynical as the wink of an eye breeze across the stage, less in menace than in roguish mockery. Never mind if any of this is strictly true...
...presence, as well as a voice, that marks him for the top of the U.S. musical stage. Ardent admirers of Prince's Company and Follies may be startled and a trifle dismayed that he has devoted his formidable skill and inventive energy to what is basically a bittersweet operetta. But then, the only predictable thing about Hal Prince is that whatever he does is the best of its kind. T.E. Kalem
...acts at the Loeb Ex this weekend, Not Enough Rope and Home Free, are weak plays of a wheezing genre. For her play, Elaine May borrowed the phrase "enough rope" from the title of a book of verse by Dorothy Parker. May sampled little of Parker's bittersweet wit, however, in constructing this glimpse of a bored, nervous girl who mimes her Judy Garland records to entertain herself. Only the precise direction by Lindsay Davis and the believable hysteria of Fran Davis, as the girl, Edith, save the play from coming off as a losing entry in a high school...