Word: bosh
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Lorenzo, a four-performance fatality, marked the uptown debut of Off-Broadway's highly promising Jack (The Prodigal) Richardson, but his play glutted the Broadway commodity exchange with pretentious bosh delivered in bloated rhetoric. A Renaissance acting troupe caught in the crossfire of a small war in north Italy provided the forum for a general, kinesthetically acted by Fritz Weaver, and an actor, lushly hammed by Alfred Drake, to debate the play's theme, which was either the futility of war and the durability of art or the futility of art and the durability of war, playgoer...
...brilliant young investigator, Dr. Francis Peyton Rous (rhymes with mouse), the discovery proved an embarrassment. Some colleagues smiled tolerantly, but many cancer researchers, even within his own institute, denounced the work as preposterous. "A filterable virus?" Bosh! This would be an infectious agent, and thus cancer, they argued, would be an infectious disease. Rous's experiments, they said, must have been defective. Some critics were not even shaken when Rous went on to find the viruses that caused other types of cancers in fowls and small mammals...
This current pop hit perfectly describes the view of man held by a new school of novelistless writers. From Cervantes to Hemingway, storytellers have assumed that man has hopes and aspirations, and that they could be expressed meaningfully. Bosh, says the new school. Man is a blob, creeping and leaping about a world he cannot control, his words meaningless or hypocritical or both. The best thing a novelist can do, the argument runs, is to ditch the novel as it is now known and write a new kind that shows man as the pitiable blob he is. Two new books...
...that thing in your May 5 Art section Adele Astaire in 1926? Bosh! Oskar Kokoschka must have seen his sitter through his own tortured "inner life...
Journalist Nathan's most effective weapon was not a butcher's knife but a stylist's stiletto. With malice toward some, he dubbed Noel Coward's Design for Living "a pansy paraphrase of Candida"; dismissed T. S. Eliot's The Cocktail Party as "bosh, sprinkled with mystic cologne." Maxwell Anderson, jeered Nathan, "enjoys all the attributes of a profound thinker save profundity." Nor did Nathan spare his fellow critics: Said he: "Impersonal criticism is like an impersonal fist fight or an impersonal marriage, and as successful. Show me a critic without prejudices...