Word: drunks
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Nearly overcome by the combined talents of Messrs, Lewis and Bizet, the production staggered punch-drunk through Oliver Smith's scenery, obviously stolen from the backgrounds of one or two Walter Lantz cartoons, and Peter Hunt's lighting, so determinedly atmospheric that is declined to illuminate such non-visual set components as actors. Bruce Yarnell, of Annie Get Your Gun fame, sang Escamillo with an ample baritone, but sounded ready to launch into "The Girl That I Marry" at the smallest provocation. Carole Bogard's Micaela had lots of potential but her lively soprano couldn't compensate for the inherent...
...post-canvassing meeting and parties have the air of a large European youth hostel. The canvassers exchange stories of their day's experiences in much the same way that kids travelling in Europe trade hitch hiking stories. There's always a man who was drunk when the canvasser called, or a quiet, elderly women who looked like she was straight out of "Arsenic and Old lace...
Only twice does this contrast come through--a scene in a local tavern where everyone gets good-and-old-fashioned drunk, and then Faustus tries to show off his black arts. Suddenly the division is there--everyone watches Faustus uneasily. He is a stanger; he is not one of them; he is damned...
...directorial debut, Finney, who also plays the title role, has taken on a stupefyingly familiar theme: the writer who has sold out to Mammon. Wretched in his wealth, Charlie stumbles through life drunk, debauched and dull, until he decides to go home again to revisit his ex-wife and child in the North Country, where he was born. With him is a migratory bird (Liza Minnelli) who has journeyed from America to be his secretary. Their trip rapidly becomes a descent into the hell of present-day materialistic England. Superhighways stretch on into meaningless dark. High-rise buildings hover like...
...standing by the whipping shrouds and snapping lines in the Atlantic Ocean in the night off New Jersey, we're sailing south to Norfolk to load on for Italy, everything is washed away by the clean sea . . . The stars are big, they rock side by side like Galileo drunk and Kepler stoned and Copernicus thinking, like Vasco da Gama in his bunk in thought, the wind, the cleanness, the dark, the quiet blue light in the bridge where hand holds wheel and course is set. The sleeping seamen below...