Word: non-stop
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...Overall though, Women Beware Women is an accomplishment for all involved. While the non-stop melodrama and treachery seem a bit over the top at times, it is tastefully done. The cast does an excellent job in giving life to the complex language of the work, while the orchestration of the final scene cleverly draws attention to a number of events that seem to be unfolding onstage simultaneously...
...camerawork. However strongly I may protest that I'm not a science fiction junkie, the real crux of why I'm so enamoured with the show has to do with its content. The paranormal, the paranoia, the occasional fairytale--these are light-years away from the kind of hectic, non-stop existence that often seems like one big energy suck. Call it a substitute for all those dreams and nightmares that I'm just not having because I simply don't get to sleep, if you will...
...most innocent activities will attest to it just the same. For example, backpackers will be familiar with the intensely enjoyable experience of speed-reading through a non-stop, ever-changing flow of strangers. We band to navigate the foreign landscapes, bond to negotiate the lonely timespans, and then each one gets on the train to shuttle off towards more people to whom to say goodbye. It doesn't stretch the imagination any to view this period as a microsection of real life. Hey, you want to do the Great Wall with me today? Hey, you want to marry...
...isolated Lang at center stage. Thanks to Andy Warhol, artsy for artsy's sake is now status quo. On top of that, the non-stop songs pummeled my body with their monotonous cacophony for so long that I was like a disintegrating slug that slipped on a pile of salt. My mind was screaming stop the madness, but those cries were drowned out by Lang's rawhide-cured vocals and even more subsumed by the combination of non-stop drums, three guitars and two keyboards. In a word, it was loud...
...toplight isolated Lang at centerstage. Thanks to Andy Warhol, artsy for artsy's sake is now status quo. On top of that, the non-stop songs pummeled my body with their monotonous cacophony for so long that I was like a disintegrating slug that slipped on a pile of salt. My mind was screaming stop the madness, but those cries were drowned out by Lang's rawhide-cured vocals and even more subsumed by the combination of non-stop drums, three guitars and two keyboards. In a word, it was loud...