Word: gales
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Detroit's wheels see the past as prologue. "We went through this period where you couldn't tell products apart," says Tom Gale, DaimlerChrysler's design chief, whose latest offering is the snazzy Chrysler PT Cruiser, a cross between a minivan and a 1930s roadster. "Now we're finally starting to see a little more identity." Isn't it nice...
Opera ultimately belongs to the singers, however, and La Traviata was no exception. All the performers, leads and chorus alike, showed remarkable vocal prowess and passion, and among the minor characters mezzo-soprano Gale Fuller's charming and coquettish Flora Bervoix (a courtesan whose wardrobe is far more scandalous than that of Violetta) was especially memorable and a well-needed break from the heavy tragedy of the rest of the opera...
...door, the characters he encounters are not archetypal Angelenos, but a stereotypically elderly market. A little closer to the mark and this movie would have many movie-industry types squirming in their seats, but The Alarmist is estranged from the hip alarm-buying populous of aging baby boomers. Gale and her son are a closer approximation; the aesthetic is vaguely right, as is the "advanced" sexual attitude, but they're too down-home to be authentic. As a cultural satire, The Alarmist's humor seems more directed at an outdated Midwest than an urban...
Economic meltdown in Asia, collapsing hedge funds in Connecticut, mass layoffs at the brokerage houses, a falling market for expensive cigars and Ferraris--yet there goes the Bellagio, sailing into the teeth of the gathering global gale, with 3,000 of the highest-priced rooms in Vegas and something like $300 million worth of works of art nailed to its mast. All bought, over a little more than two years, by Stephen A. Wynn, 56, who had never collected anything except casino real estate and golf courses before--and who is, moreover, gradually losing his sight to retinitis pigmentosa...
...illustrator in this century made a larger splash than Newell Convers Wyeth. His charged, brilliantly lit images for Treasure Island, Kidnapped and many others still ring with celebration of childhood's fantasies. In this meticulous, satisfying biography, Michaelis captures Wyeth and his times vividly: the artist's gale-force energy and the immense gravity of the family circle from which he and his children (among them America's patron saint of Yankee nostalgia, Andrew) never pulled free. Though a few notes of adulation are too sonorous, they bespeak the kind of bigheartedness that N.C. would have admired. Bully...