Word: charmings
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Humorous explosives are prepared with care, but as a rule they fizzle instead of firing. Howard Dietz's book is rather flat, both in incident and dialogue, but in ample compensation it does serve as a vehicle for some very pleasant songs, an actor and two actresses of considerable charm, handsome sets, and some amusing byplay...
...role of the doubly devoted husband. He sings his songs without raising his voice; he scarcely gets up to do his dances. His insouciance and absent-mindedness seem very real, and make of him a most likeable comic hero. Evelyn Laye, his English wife, retains her dignity and quiet charm even through the clowning required of her, and does some expert singing to boot. Adele Dixon, conspicious for the daring of her gowns, manages to capture a respectable French accent, French raciness, and French contempt for British beefsteak...
Richard Whittemore does a good job as Tommy Harrow, the lean, nonchalant hero. Miriam Clark, borrowed from the Erskine School, puts considerable charm into the role of the candid huntress. L. John Profit, whom the club calls its veteran, does an excellent portrayal of the traditional canny Scott. Peggy Eastall is more than satisfactory as the efficient manager of the concern: the one who comes closest to getting the bills paid. The acting is simplified, since the characters are really types. Even so, William Judd and Harry Buckman are a little stiff in their roles of brokers; and Robert Markewich...
When King Cymbeline's long-lost sons are discovered, the elder,* Cadwal, is hailed as heir to England's throne. Says he: No, no! This kingly business has no charm for me. . . . Compelled to worship priest-invented gods, Not free to wed the woman of my choice, Being stopped at every turn by some old fool Crying: "You must not," or still worse: "You must...
...with whom I have been quarreling every day for the last six years"). And there he plunged into the quasi-Bohemian, quasi-revolutionary circles with which Paris was awhirl in the days of the Commune. Heine made German enemies by his polemical bitterness, French friends by his personal charm, contributed briefly to a radical weekly edited by Karl Marx. In Paris, at 58, he died-crying "Paper! Pencil!" The wonder was that he had lived so long. A syphilitic infection, contracted in his university days and never diagnosed, had progressively lamed his left leg, crippled his left...