Word: limps
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...this melodramatic point, the film achieves its peak. Sailor's face empurples, his lips work and bubble, his body goes limp. "Walk, you son of a bitch, walk!" screams Gloria, carrying a corpse on her back, defying Rocky, circumstances, the Depression-and finally life itself in a racking finish that leaves the spectator as weary, and in a sense, as degraded as the participants. But it is precisely because of Gloria's inexhaustible drive that the film buckles. The dancers stay up for more than a thousand hours. The hall becomes a human zoo where legs, spines...
...consumer watchdogs, however, are effective. The limp performance results partly from austerity budgets and from the reluctance of many juries to convict businessmen under criminal codes. The appointees to consumer-affairs jobs frequently have little experience in government. California's Kay Valory, consumer counsel to Governor Ronald Reagan, has not testified in three years before any committee considering consumer legislation. She recently made the extraordinary recommendation that buyers shun the "very narrow" testing reports of Consumers Union in favor of the handbook of the National Association of Manufacturers...
...getta no, no, no, no," that faded into "You can't always get what you want" back to "we're gonna get ourselves, some satisfaction," the audience lost on the Stones/Satisfaction myth. "Honky Tonk Women," dedicated to "the loose women in the audience," and closing the set, a limp "Street-Fighting Man." Bam. They split with their hulking guards, leaving the audience too hopped on its own totemic rituals, its own cruelties, to ever come down...
...sadistic and rebellious reveries; in return, we pay him lots of money and promise not to remember what he does. As long as he gives us a few concrete gestures, the rest doesn't matter; we'll extrapolate from there. His sulking, his mincing, the fluttering eves, the limp wrist are but touch-stones to the structure of our own imaginations. I don't know what happened in New York or the Boston Garden anymore and no one else does either. Perhaps this not knowing is the residue of all great theatre experiences, those that, like Mick Jagger, "invite...
Consider Barnett Frummer. He is a radical for love's sake who finds himself stuck to the hot asphalt pavement after going limp while protesting housing discrimination. He is the hapless yearner for un-chic Rosalie Mondle, who might one day paint "Get Out of Vietnam" across his chest. He is the groping incipient gourmet (trying to out-cook his friends) who dreams that he is accused of eating Fritos. He is the poor chap who cannot get invited to those with-it parties Rosalie attends, "where whites gathered to be castigated by some prominent Negro." Says Barnett...