Word: mosses
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Just after Christmas we went on a picnic. It was raining and grey and a perfect day for Volkswagens. I drove through Tomoka Park, down narrow roads with Spanish moss above, hiding the sky. We stopped and watched a silent group of pure white egrets perch high in some palm trees on an island in the marsh. Then we rode down a twisting, red clay road to the Bulow Sugar Mill Plantation ruins. Once there, we got out, and I jumped around for a while. Gayle followed, but she was always conscious of the fact that she was getting...
Nolan's cover is an overture for the book. Its color is old-moss green, the green of stale water. The page is divided by an unbroken sea-horizon. Running the edge of the even ocean is the boat of the poems -- "our soul...a three master seeking port." An old-fashioned wire grave fence spans the dark sky. Behind the fence hover five "characters" -- anonymous creatures. They are placed like a line-up of black sheep to carry us into the dream-vision of the book. We see them again and again -- hermetic figures, alone, hungry, against the austere...
Schnorr was the victor in the 118-pound class, while Moss and Bill Wasserstrom captured seconds in the 126-pound and the 134-pound classes respectively...
Director Leland Moss must have been hard put to find ways of keeping the machinations rolling. The prologue, written by Goldsmith as a parody of once popular, tear-drenched death scenes, is played with lilting stylization. Alas, it's the only sustained bit of mannered playing. Too much of what follows is done with a calculated ribaldry derivative of Richardson's Tom Jones. Mr. Hardcastle (Ed Etsten), the lord of the manor, must be given the dubious honor of a lifetime membership in Santa's Village. He tries so hard to be elfishly cop any winning that I'm sure...
...Moss's minor characters--servants, barmaids, and roustabouts all--burst onto the stage intermittently with the same kind of gratuitous cavorting. A chorus number in a pub scene must be granted a certain amount of theatrical realism. The revelers sing so drunkenly that at least about half of the scene is completely unintelligible. The real problem, though, isn't that similar bits aren't funny (though they often aren't), but that they don't contribute to the more intricate and restrained development of the main action...