Word: edwardians
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...costumes, by Bill Winborn, who is a Crimson arts editor, also deserve recognition. Jimmy describes Alison's father Colonel Redfern as "one of those sturdy old plants left over from the Edwardian wilderness that can't understand why the sun isn't shining anymore." When Slaughter strides on stage in Redfern's proper Burberry-ish getup, we see that Jimmy could't be more accurate. And Redfern's grab, impeccable down to the polished black shoes, makes Alison, Jimmy, and Cliff's miserable fallen hems and moth-holes all the more noticeable...
...hard to retell this story without commonplaces about the sporting British and their plucky amateurism. In her new novel The Birthday Boys (Carroll & Graf; 189 pages; $18.95), Beryl Bainbridge imagines the icebound band as the last gentlemen of the Edwardian Age. After them the deluge: two world wars, a lost generation and a crumbling empire...
Some actors have depth but not breadth. You won't see Robert De Niro or Gerard Depardieu (two actors Day-Lewis greatly admires) play Edwardian dandies. But you will see Daniel Day-Lewis play English goons, Irish louts and American woodsmen. In 1986, in the early bloom of his career, his first two major English movies opened back to back in the U.S. He was a purring snob in A Room with a View, an ex-fascist gay punk in My Beautiful Laundrette. Just like that, a chameleonic star was born...
...might say that patheticism stands to notions of high culture (an ever imperiled growth in the United States) rather as the antics of Ren, Stimpy, Beavis, Butt-head and their pals do to those Edwardian gents in four-button ecru linen jackets who are seen contemplating San Miniato in Merchant-Ivory movies. To be a patheticist is to have more or less given up. It is to have made the discovery, always startling to the young, that parents lie, that politicians cheat, that moral authorities are hypocritical, that human society is one big sucking morass of dreck, and that...
...place seems amiable enough -- cozily Edwardian, beckoning, a lullaby for the senses. Period photos of adventurers, early editions of Jules Verne and Dorian Gray, a mahogany bar where a fellow serves "smart drinks," heavy on the ginkgo. This is the Explorer's Lounge, the front room of a Virtual World shop in the San Francisco suburb of Walnut Creek. But behind the paneled walls, some pioneering menace is afoot. Five kill-crazy nerdlingers will soon engage in mortal combat, 21st century style, against a tenderfoot with a cunning computer handle: Cyber Rick...