Word: dreaming
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...stepped off a wedding cake, with popsicle-orange feathers bobbing on their bewigged heads. And the decor, especially in the second act, atoned for a flock of balletic bumbles. The ingenious use of layered, semi-transparent drop scrims melted the bright grove of the hunting party into a blue dream-world, then into the cobwebby forest of enchanted sleep...
Freelance.* The phrase suggests freedom, adventure and the protagonist of a thousand B movies, Berlin-bound on the night train with a dream and an Olivetti. The dream, however, has turned sour. For most freelancers, magazine writing today has become the slum of journalism-overcrowded, underpaid, littered with rejection slips-and the denizens are growing restless. "It's a synonym for unemployed bum," grumbles John Jerome, who left the editorship of Skiing a decade ago to write for himself and has spent half that time in debt. Warren G. Bovée, acting dean of the Marquette University journalism...
...sometimes feels that he might have aided Freud in exploring further subbasements of the id. However, the effects are too explicit to be truly erotic. In sequences of simulated copulation, such as "The Dream Barre" and a pot-induced orgy called "Joint Endeavor," a playgoer may have the distasteful and disconcerting sensation that he has been cast as a practicing voyeur. This, indeed, is the underlying trouble with much of Dancin'. It is as if a parade of fertility rites were un der way, always titillating on the surface but devoid of any celebration of life. A guarded cynicism...
...fate that has dealt him what he calls "the joker in the bourgeois deck," is always tempered by stoic irony. "Instead of being a driven writer," he notes, "I have become a driving writer." Entry for Sept. 22, 1976, two days after Greenfeld's play I Have a Dream opened to rave reviews on Broadway: "It's a good thing I did not go into New York. This morning Foumi complained of a severe toothache. So after driving Noah to school I had to take her to our dentist in Venice. He referred her to a dental surgeon...
...stunning Catherine Deneuve into the abyss of masochism, highlighted by brilliantly filmed vignettes of surrealism and as bizarre plot twist, bringing Deneuve's wife of a Parisian physician (Jean Sorel) to the doors of a brothel for a job. Only his classic "Los Olivados" approaches the eeriness of the dream sequences in "Bell de Jour," and relative newcomers to Bunuel's work should mark down this Sunday's showing as a must-see. One screening will quickly dispel all doubts about Bunuel's unswaying commitment to art over politics--although we would be forgiven for getting the wrong impression from...