Word: knife
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...another-"those Panhandle towns where the main street goes on and on and on, and there's nothing much behind it, like a movie set." Hailey acknowledges that the play "was anchored in my childhood, but it was too grim. I always saw it sad. Always turning that knife. Nobody wants to go to a theater to cry about my family. I had to get far enough away from it to see it as funny before I could write...
...fusilade at Good. But more important than Duehay's statement was James Fitzgerald's decision to vote against Good. "I have the deciding vote here," Fitzgerald, a crusty veteran of 20 years in School Committee politics, said with obvious relish at the October 17 meeting. Then he twisted the knife by referring to "a confidence and trust in that person that may have been misplaced...
Eventually, Hepburn realizes that she has allowed herself to become a helpless victim of The Mob-trapped in her apartment, the phone line cut, the neighbors gone, friendless, sightless and alone. Whereupon the most malevolent criminal advances on her, knife in hand. She throws some of her husband's hypo in his face, temporarily blinding him. Then, to provide the great equalizer, she extinguishes every light in the house. Hunter and prey slowly circle each other, waiting in the dark. Suddenly he remembers the one overlooked illumination and opens the refrigerator door...
...some sculptors with slates as clean as any in the U.S. The Port, an internally lit blue and transparent plastic piece by Katsuhiro Yamaguchi, and the giant slab of plastic Swiss cheese called Blue Dots by Noriyasu Fukushima have the same cleanness as Robert Morris' silvery series of knife-edged I-beams and Donald Judd's turquoise modular grids. All four works convey a feeling of openness and expansion, a common dedication to a spatial rhythm that can, in theory at least, be repeated to infinity...
...opening curtain finds Scuba Duba's hero holding a huge scythe in the middle of a Riviera chateau draw ing room. Harold Wonder (Jerry Orbach) has an albatross complex and a symbolic knife at his throat. While his two children lie asleep upstairs, his wife is out cuckolding him with a Negro skin-diver, or so he thinks. Harold, in a skull-popping panic, half-dials phones, swigs champagne from a bottle, runs to the door with his scythe and roars out bloody maledictions on "the Goddamn spade frogman." In a performance marvelously sustained at the pitch of brilliance...