Word: kit
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Some directors struggle continuously to open up a play in film terms: Lester blows the whole show into eye-catching fragments, now freezing the action in frame, now running a scene backward or flashing titles across the screen to identify such commonplace objects as A Saw, A Tool Kit, Girls. The tricks are diverting at first, but finally smack of gimmickry. In the midst of so much frenzy, nothing can really happen, and the dialogue is whipped off at a tommy-gun clip in accents that challenge comprehension anywhere west of Land's End. Only Actress Tushingham and Michael...
...horse-drawn ambulance bore the immobile form of the famed Western scout Kit Carson, by then elevated to the rank of brigadier general. Beshoar examined him, noted his difficulty in speaking and moving his right arm or leg, and readily found the reason: a large, soft swelling on the left side of his neck. Beshoar knew it was a massive aneurysm of the carotid artery, and that he could do nothing about it. He did all he could to make the patient more comfortable, then referred him to the nearest Army hospital at Fort Lyon 90 miles away. There...
...physical checkup, thieves broke into his parked Lincoln Continental and found the secret button inside the glove compartment that unlocked the trunk. Though they left several suitcases of clothes, they heisted the car's spare tire, a $170 portable radio, a $10 box of candy, and the oxygen kit Ike uses when he gets short of breath...
This piece of juvenilia was directed by Michael Cacoyannis, who has done better (in The Trojan Women, Zorba the Greek) and knows better. The play's plot and characters are assembled from the Kopit-Albee playmaking kit. Bump's grandfather is the peppery and frustrated duplicate of the grandmother in Edward Albee's The Sandbox. The silent father is a variation on Albee's laconic, spiritless father in The American Dream. Mother is the voracious woman of Arthur Kopit's Oh Dad, Poor Dad, in fright wigs a la Tiny Alice. Lakme wears the little...
...water. As my feet touched the water, I dumped one side of the parachute. My head barely went under the water. Surfacing, I found my dinghy only three strokes away. Ten seconds after touching down I was in the dinghy. Fifty seconds later I had ripped open my survival kit, set the squawk-radio beam going, activated my 11-h.p. radio and called Thunderbird Two. The first thing I asked him was whether he had sunk that gunboat. He said he had cut it in two with his 20-mm. cannon. Then I asked if Old Dumbo [a rescue seaplane...