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John P. Ziaukas '82, vice president of the Lampoon, said yesterday the Lampoon would keep most of the profits for the corporation's day-to-day operations. The Lampoon's treasurer, Harold W. Otto '83, said yesterday the profits would be "enough to pay our bills and print out local issue for a long time" in a separate interview yesterday...
...Harold Abrahams (Ben Cross) exhibits an equally fierce and unusual motivation for running: He is a Jew, and wants to counter anti-Semitism with an Olympic victory. While Liddell races for love, Abrahams races for hate; Liddell's gift is natural, an inspiration, but Abrahams must work hard to win. In a facile attempt to provide concrete visual proof of Abrahams' Judaism, director Hugh Hudson cast Cross, whose dark complexion and hooked nose reflect the stereotypical conception of a Jew. The problems don't end there; Cross badly overacts. It is the desire to show' em all that lends fire...
Chief of Police Harold Breier, 70, who holds a life appointment, called the jury's report "a terrible miscarriage of justice" and warned that it would damage morale on the force. The autocratic Breier, likened by his detractors to J. Edgar Hoover was bold enough to wade into an angry downtown demonstration last August by citizens protesting Lacy's death. Spotting the chief, the crowd chanted: "Fire Breier He's a liar...
Compared with Rabbit, Run (1960) and Rabbit Redux (1971), this third novel about the life and times of Harold C. ("Rabbit") Angstrom seems, at first, uneventful. No infants drown in bathtubs, no houses burn down, leaving innocent dead behind. The year is 1979. Skylab is falling, gas prices are rising, and Rabbit, 46, sells Toyotas for Springer Motors, the firm founded by his late father-in-law. His on-and-off marriage to Janice is on again, glumly and apparently for good. They live with her mother and sock away money. Rabbit thinks less and less about his days...
TIME MARCHES ON--and, in Harold Pinter's world, sometimes retreats. Pinter, after the fashion of most absurdist playwrights, delights in distorting and playing with time. And John Fowles's The French Lieutenant's Woman is a novel of time--a modern narrator looking through a modern window at a Victorian story...