Word: grahamism
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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James Matisoff's conception of Pozzo lies somewhere between the two, and his presence on the stage gives the production more life and smoothness. As his slave Lucky, Terry Graham is at least adequate, but he should learn how to pant more convincingly...
...above begs the question every review must answer: is the play worth seeing? The answer, upon reflection, is yes. With its several flaws, Hartman's Godot stands up well when compared to the excellent all-Negro version. Matisoff may be even better than his opposite number was; only Graham falls far short, which merely proves that there are too few Geoffrey Holders in the theatre. And, after all, everyone should see Waiting for Godot at least once...
Less U, More H. Co-Author Frank's tear-shot camera eye pans in on Sheilah Graham when she was still Lily Sheil, a grimy Cockney moppet of six being carted away to the East London Home for Orphans. The eight orphanage years were Dickensian. Eventually Lily found a job as a skivy (housemaid) but soon chucked it. She had a chance to demonstrate a U-shaped toothbrush ("It fits the inside of your teeth") and her pearly performance caught the eye of U-born Major John Graham Gillam, D.S.O. It was a case of an 18-year...
...Graham was a shade too fatherly, Sheilah implies, to be fully satisfactory as a mate, but he did replace the U-brush with some H's and cured her of saying "Oo-er! Wot an 'at!" After that it was onward and upward-showgirl with C. B. Cochran and Noel Coward, playgirl with palace guardsmen and aristocrats. Trouble was that along with a pseudonym, the ex-Lily had concocted a sort of pseudo-family tree and she never knew when someone was going to cry, "Timber!" In 1933, she decided the U.S. was the best place...
...pencil stumps with which he preferred to write, feverishly covered sheets of yellow paper with what later be came The Last Tycoon. In that unfinished novel, Scott Fitzgerald put his own glowing version of his final romance-a version immensely more moving but also more idealized than Sheilah Graham's crude and curious respects to the author...