Word: marvelling
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...with horns on the brain, Brian Bedford is a comic marvel. His face is an ever-changing panorama of unholy glee, bottomless despair, and a sour-pickle sneer. With an unbroken, intuitive authority, he leads the way to the vital intersection of Molière's genius, the place where la vie tragique meets la vie triviale. The ultimate humanity of Molière is that he can make an audience laugh at a man's folly, then make the audience feel how that foolish man suffers, and finally make us all realize just who that suffering fool...
...Eilat, which before Israel renamed it in 1949 was an Arab police post known, deliciously, as Umm Rashrash. Eilat is already a thriving resort. New motels line its shore and hippies occupy its beaches. But Eilat is strategically important too. The glass-bottom boats that take tourists out to marvel at the Gulf of Aqaba's coral formations rock in the swells of supertankers bringing Persian Gulf oil into Eilat to be. pipelined to the Mediterranean...
...Fontanne, the Barenboim and Du Pré team proves that the sight and sound of two brilliant artists conquering continents hand in hand has a magical allure all its own. But there is far more to these players than such allure. Today Jacqueline's cello playing is a marvel of tonal beauty and instinctive emotion, backed by a prodigious technical grasp. As aurorally mellow as the late Emanuel Feuermann, as powerful of phrase as one of her former mentors Pablo Casals, Jacqueline is one of the most eloquent and soulful cellists alive...
...that we read about in the newspapers every morning and debated in our American problems seminar. Three dollars and eighty-two cents bought me a train ticket to the show. In the courtroom of the conspiracy trial that day I felt again like the country boy who could only marvel at all of this Americana (be it good or evil) and feel very lonely in my inability to absorb all that was happening...
...month will do nothing to erase the suspicions. HEE HEE Bogeyman, and Honky Tonk, all published by Company and Sons, an underground company, are directed at the young freak audience that finds Robert Crumb's Head Comix and Felix the Cat less than fascinating, and the traditional Dell and Marvel labels absolutely boring. All three assume an acquaintance with hard drugs and are only formally connected with their heroic predecessors. More than surrealistic, gross visual explicitness washes each frame with a desperate finality. Where the cover of Felix the Cat shows Felix and his girlfriend cuddling, Honky Tonk depicts...