Word: parthenon
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...dressed in the majesty of centuries," wrote Plutarch, having gazed on the Acropolis above Athens. "It contains a living and incorruptible breath, a spirit impervious to age." Ever since the superb temple of the Parthenon was built atop the Acropolis in the 5th century B.C., it has survived the mutations of history. Conquering Romans turned the Parthenon into a brothel; Christians made it an Orthodox church; the Turks converted it to a mosque, and then used it as a powder magazine-which exploded when hit by Venetian artillery in 1687. But nothing in the Parthenon's history has equaled...
Athens' tumultuous auto traffic, combined with the factories that have sprung up since the end of World War II, has pumped so much sulfur dioxide into the air that it is literally melting the Parthenon's marble. In the past ten years, according to Greece's Minister of Culture, Constantine Trypanis, the carved details on the five caryatids of the Erechtheum have seriously degenerated, while the face of the horseman on the Parthenon's west side is all but obliterated. In addition to the pollution damage, frosts and water seepage have cracked some of the stones...
...Henry Gibson's Haven Hamilton could be vain, phony and tyrannical, a civic leader and country star apparently treating like children the audience that fed his ego. Until he stands on the stage of the Parthenon oblivious to his wounded arm, thinking of the audience before himself. "This isn't Dallas, this is Nashville. Let's show 'em what we're made of!" If one's inclined to make value judgements about specific moments here, the gesture is either redeeming or it is not. But Altman and Gibson developed the character in a less good guy/bad...
...Timmy, when we get to Nashville we've got to see the Parthenon...
...voice over the loud speaker at Paul's Mall resonates clearly. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Taj Mahal." Mr. Taj Mahal? The name sounds pretentious enough. I can't help but wonder how many people in the world have been similarly introduced as Mr. Westminister Abbey. Ms. Parthenon, Dr. Eiffel Tower or Mrs. Coliseum. But as soon as the lights come on and the man struts on stage, all preconceived doubts about Mr. Taj Mahal are quickly erased. His presence is charged with a playfulness that know of no pretentions and his music oozes with the mmmmmmmmmmm...