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...Director-choreographer Susan Stroman, meanwhile, seems to have used up most of her best ideas in The Producers. There's nothing in Young Frankenstein that comes close to, say, the chorus of old ladies doing time steps with their walkers, not to mention the "Springtime for Hitler" extravaganza. The big "Puttin' on the Ritz" number, with the monster (Shuler Hensley) stepping out in top hat and wails, comes the closest. But give Irving Berlin a lot of the credit - with a small nod to Astaire's "Bojangles in Harlem" number from Swingtime...
...takes a job as a repo man. When we’re introduced to him, Fred is taking great pleasure in expropriating family televisions during the holiday season. He’s also decided to become an entrepreneur of sorts. There’s mention of a half-baked plan to start a franchise of Off-Track Betting, but somewhere along the way, Vaughn runs into trouble with the law and has to call Santa to loan him bail money. So yes, the idea of “Fred Claus” is different. But it?...
...relevance or future value of a Visual and Environmental Studies (VES) education. A Crimson editorial, written two years ago by Andrew L. Kreicher ’06, denounced VES as “a concentration so unnecessary, ridiculous, and over-dramatized that it’s hard to mention it anymore without a snicker on your face...VES should be an area of elective classes or a citation program, but not a concentration awarding the same diplomas as other majors.” But despite such contemptuous attitudes towards the department, the content of VES courses and the skills that...
...first half: Forgot to mention: An early basket by Stanford big man Taj Finger elicited cries of "You got Fingered!" from the student section...
Since winter can be long and dreary, when days are short and the sunlight thin, we rely on the revelry of carnival and Mardi Gras to carry us over until spring and rebirth. Then come the patriotic plumes, of Memorial Day and Flag Day and July 4 (not to mention Cinco de Mayo, Bastille Day and Samoan Independence Day) before a long spell when the holidays themselves go on holiday. August is the rare month with no shared celebration in it, when we gasp along for weeks on end without collective permission to overspend, overeat and overindulge...