Word: jabberwockian
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Lacking a firm center in Frodo's story, the film plays itself out as a bewildering parade of elves, dwarves, ores, trolls and talking trees. Exposition flies by in jabberwockian confusion. Even the most dedicated students of Tolkien may not recall instantly what Edoras and Isengard are, and nonreaders are likely to lose their way early in the journey. At the end, Frodo has still not reached the fire mountain in Mordor where his destiny lies, and the prospect of a sequel echoes during the closing credits. That might not be a bad idea. But if Frodo picks...
...such transparent delicacy that it sometimes seemed like chamber music. Frequently the chorus was used unaccompanied as a tautly dramatic background to the soloists' soaring vocal lines, and in some sequences Blomdahl abandoned the orchestra altogether in favor of taped electronic effects. One scene unfolds against a Jabberwockian mixture that includes the speaking voices of Eisenhower. Khrushchev, Hitler, Mussolini and the defendants at the Nürnberg trials...
...This jabberwockian fantasy is not the handiwork of a beat generation poet, but the nightly stock in trade of the nation's slickest new vocal group-the Lambert, Hendricks and Ross trio. In Los Angeles' Crescendo Club last week, the three performers triple-tongued their way through these lines (to Everyday) and half a dozen other numbers. What they were up to was a startling vocal and verbal imitation of instrumental jazz, particularly the big-band style of the 1930s. The whisky drinkers, like the trio's record fans, dug the act with the fervor...
...very funny as a pansy fashion photographer who in true Cecil Beatonish style photographs a suit of armor with a blue chiffon scarf wrapped around its metal neck and stuffed doves perched on its shoulders. In the circus dream he scores the comic hit of the show with a jabberwockian song consisting entirely of the names of Russian composers...
...England states, and to New Englanders it still is, but Manhattanites tend to think of it as a rustic week-end resort. To Iowa-born Phil Stong, writing of the sophisticated eccentricities of a Manhattanite smart set, Connecticut is a natural setting for their Jabberwockian gimblings. Author Stong's brilliant exaggeration has made even his native Iowa a melodramatic backdrop; with the iridescent decadence of a Westerner's East in which to dip his brush, he has outdone himself. His Week-End is a melodrama of gamily high life, told with unaffectedly high spirits...