Word: lyricizing
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...First one distills the lyric rhapsodists, who in this issue number two: Chester Bowles and Senator Alexander Wiley. Bowles' contribution is by far the more interesting, for his faith in the U.N. rests on something at least vaguely tangible, its unexpected "capacity for executive action" and its value as an international forum of ideas. Wiley's hope lies merely in discussing things, "a meeting of world minds," and he evidently does not care who does the discussing. Bowles, in short, says nothing substantial; Wiley says nothing at all; but it is true nonetheless that the rhapsodists...
Christopher Mahon is played by Tom Griffin. It is a difficult role, for Christy's character does not so much develop as burst from revelation to revelation. Ingenuous cowardice erupts into lyric bragging, which suddenly becomes an adolescent protestation of love. Christy's final and most important change from bondage to freedom, from boyhood to manhood, is as unexpected as the rest. Griffin plays the part with extraordinary exuberance and intelligence; he achieves the clarity necessary if the play is to make sense. Occasionally, as in the love scene and in the final scene of the play, his exuberance becomes...
...Most of the new British poets seem more mental than emotional, more likely to lapse into prose than to burst into song. But Ireland's Thomas Kinsella, a 33-year-old clerk in the Civil Service, who scribbles verses in his spare time, is an exciting exception: a lyric poet in a didactic age. His words are modern but his music is as old as Celtic eloquence. When the demon is on him, Kinsella sings with a wild Irish sweetness, as when he writes of love...
...Fonteyn danced radiantly, even if her hand positions seemed awkward at times. It was in the second act that Nureev-Fonteyn captured their audience. Nureev put on a breath-catching display of classic male dancing, lifted Fonteyn effortlessly aloft, spurred her on to a performance full of fluency and lyric ardor. At the ballet's climax, when Fonteyn cradled Nureev's head in her arms as he lay on the point of death, there was a quick intake of breath audible through the entire house...
...stands silhouetted against a Gothic-American bay window in the empty parlor of an abandoned house. It would have been merely stagy were it not for its brooding strength; and for all their beauty. Chumley's houses and barns would be flat were it not for his lyric brush and the moods it evokes. A painting of three children's swings, hanging empty from a leafless tree, is filled with yesterday's laughter...