Word: onto
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Evgraf, Pasha, Komarovsky (the old lecher), and Tonia (Zhivago's first wife) rush onto the stage, whisper or shout their say, commit their little deeds and consider their situations, and the clamber back into the wings. Some, like Zhivago, are tangled in the threads of introspection; others don't appear to think at all. Does Komarsky help Lara out of a sense of guilt for having violated her, out of a real love, or what: What sort of person is Tonia? Why did Pasha really leave home? Unfortunately, we can't tune in tomorrow...
...hundred and forty-one scenes in the printed text, some lasting only a moment. Thomas sent his hypothetical cameraman up and down the streets of a whole city; Joseph Everingham, the adapter, Stephen Aaron, the director, and Webster Lithgow, the designer, have had to cram all this onto the double stage at Kresge. They have wisely stuck close to Thomas' original, and, having attempted the impossible, brought it off better than might have been expected...
...love. Love is an instant of beauty with a sleek young man. Yes, love is worth it, I'll sell my body for the one possible beautiful instant. I can't help having begun wrong and now having to sell it, I was a poor girl, unskilled, thrown out onto the world...
...representative sequence is Cabiria in the vaudeville house. In the middle of a realistic film, this peculiar fantasy scene stands out memorably. She is inveigled onto the stage by a top-hatted hypnotist who is the devil; she is put in a trance. With a wreath of paper flowers in her hair she is made to dream that she is about to enter into chaste matrimony with a handsome prince. Her face is transformed from a bedraggled chippie's to an incarnation of Hawthorne's Hilda. Then the devil snaps his fingers, house lights come up, and she awakens...
...queued up last week along Manhattan's West 52nd Street in front of the ANTA Theater, which houses neither a fluffy comedy nor a roaring musical, but a somber, free-verse reworking of the Book of Job. Poet Archibald MacLeish's J.B. (TIME, Dec. 22) was booked onto Broadway with scant attention from theater-party givers and a skimpy advance sale of $46,000. On top of that it ran into the truly Jobian trial of New York's newspaper strike, which muffled the critics' unanimous raves. Yet when news about J.B. did spread...