Word: pitting
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...EXISTENTIAL SLAPSTICK. This genre seems to mix Mack Sennett and Samuel Beckett. A woman, responding to the call "Where's the Open Pit?", dashes across the lawn with a bottle of Open Pit barbecue sauce and disappears into an open pit. A baker, having carelessly forgotten his Vicks Cough Silencers, tosses pizza dough into the air, coughs and catches it splat in the face. Splat again, as the Pond's girl gets schlopped in the eye with cold cream. And whack! umph! and aaagh! as a mousy little guy, sploshed with Hai Karate after-shave lotion, brutally chops down...
...narrowly escaped injury when he lost two wheels and slammed into the wall on the 41st lap of last week's race. Worried about Al, plagued by a broken transmission that forced him to stay in high gear and therefore cost him seconds accelerating away from each pit stop, Bobby nonetheless drove the race of his life. "I was out there to root hog or die," he said afterward. "I took chances I'd never take ordinarily." When the times were announced, Unser had set a new Indy record by averaging 152.8 m.p.h. His $177,523 winner...
...Frankfurt, and explains that because she found it a gloomy, unfriendly place, she returned to New York without having stepped foot on the Frankfurt stage. The audition now begins. Beverly walks to the front of the stage and sings Sempre Libera from La Traviata. Applause is heard from the pit, and it is obvious that she has finally captivated the City Opera...
...variations on basic Lawrencian themes-the drunken father, the dominance of women, unrelenting intrafamily contests, and the devaluation of intimacy by privation. The plays are pure naturalism: the kitchen sink is never out of sight, and the weary labor of washing off the pit grime when the man comes home occurs in each of them. Yet, unlike the angry Osbornes and Weskers, Lawrence composes his homely details with the power of tragic necessity rather than the passion of protest...
...mind and the subtle relationships of these numb, dumb characters to take form. Seldom in years have London audiences sat so awed and hushed as at the final scene of Mrs. Holroyd, in which the coal-blackened body of a miner (Michael Coles), the victim of a pit accident, lies on the floor of his shack while his widow (Judy Parfitt) begins to wash him, keening to herself...