Word: couched
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...rest of the play, we could not suppress the images of Jack Tripper tripping over the back of a couch, Felipe the vegetable slicer shouting Spanish curses and Janet hopping around the apartment in nothing but a longish football jersey. In short, we had mentally replaced Lillian Hellman's drama with Three's Company...
...does George relent? Because he cares abouthis daughter's happiness. The night after one ofhis typical whining sessions (in which hesuggested holding the wedding at The Steak Pit),he sees Annie asleep on the couch where she hadbeen reading a Modern Bride article on "How toGive a Beautiful Wedding on a Budget." Overcomewith emotion, George begins to read aloud: "Bakeyour own wedding cake...Find a good tailor andcopy a designer dress...Have a friend take thepictures." Horrified, he vows that from thatmoment on, he will "go with the flow." No more ofthis insensitive caterwauling about money. Ofcourse, George...
...have arrived, we have nowhere else to go. We may end up "secure and self- absorbed," suffering from "the boredom of peace and prosperity," devoid of the "striving spirit" that gives humanity its sense of direction. Homo politicus is on the brink of becoming "the last man" -- the ultimate couch potato, "less than a full human being, an object of contempt...
...years ago, when Cassandra's drug habit became uncontrollable, Sweeney says the social services informed her it had no home available in which to place her grandchildren. So the next day Sweeney went to collect the boys. Her daughter, high on drugs, slumped on the couch, while men walked in to buy drugs from someone upstairs. Cassandra was using cocaine, PCP and Ritalin. A social-services caseworker told Sweeney she could ; not take her grandchildren, but she did anyway. After she got them home, they all broke into tears...
...Corigliano and Hoffman mock the form with glee. The setting is an outlandish reception at the Turkish embassy, presided over by a 12-ft. foam pasha from whose mail-slot mouth a bass voice emerges. As the sultry singer Samira, mezzo Marilyn Horne reclines lasciviously on a plushy couch and tosses off a florid cavatina and cabaletta to words from an Arabic phrase book ("I am in a valley, and you are in a valley . . ."). It's diverting and spectacular in a rather sweet, good-humored way. And that, despite the dark shadow of the guillotine, is the prevailing mood...