Word: poseur
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...Shawmut, in that cap you look like an archaeologist." He: "And you look like something I just dug up." Herschel Shawmut has been reminded of his offense by a former friend, who has mailed him a blistering attack on what he was and what he has become: Shawmut the poseur, the TV huckster of musicology for the masses, the rich author of a popular textbook. The accused can dismiss these charges as spiteful, but he cannot deny that he is, nearing 70, a fugitive from U.S. justice hiding out in British Columbia. That, Miss Rose, is what he would really...
...Civil Servant. In it, the former artist's model and self-described stately homo of England detailed his early life and hard times. The book was surprisingly comic, acidulous and touching, and the TV-film version won awards for Actor John Hurt. It was precisely as the old poseur had figured: "Even if you only lean limply against a wall and you happen to live a very long time, gradually it will begin to give...
A.T.C. concerns the living arrangement of three people-Earl, an alienated poseur; Laurie, a morbid bank teller; and Jake, a banal house painter and eater of grilled cheese. Earl has snuffed someone, so he is at the mercy of a mysterious Mr. White, the landlord who never comes on the stage. Laurie is Earl's former girlfriend--she is the only one who deals with Mr. White. Jake is a mass of muscle and simplicity, the common man who finds himself lost in the midst of this weirdness. Laurie works at the A.T.C.--American Trust Company--and the play...
Kevin Fitzpatrick, her prey in that scene, also has trouble acting drunk, but otherwise his performance satisfies. A poseur, Richard Miller over-romanticizes himself and his love. Fitzpatrick is properly stagy. His adolescent self-consciousness comes across beautifully: when he quotes Omar Khayyam, we can feel his pride at knowing a poem by heart. Fitzpatrick manages Richard's tricky character development well. He really does change; Richard quotes poetry, by the end of the play, not to impress anyone, but because poetry expresses his thoughts better than anything else...
Back in Dublin, Beckett at first played the weary Continental poseur, then, to his parents' horror, degenerated quickly into a bum. The cause was a crippling depression that left him spending weeks bed, curled in the fetal position, his body racked with apparently psychosomatic symptoms: boils, cysts, headaches, flu, bursitis. Beckett tried to fight by drinking heavily and flying into periodic rages. When these attempts failed, he began cultivating an air of contemptuous indifference to the world and its pains. "All I want to do," he told a friend, "is sit on my ass and fart and think...