Word: pussycats
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Henry. ('It is entirely about a man named Henry,' he told his Harvard audience last month.) He has a tendency to talk about himself in the third person. His last name is in doubt. It's given at one point as Henry House and at other points as Henry Pussycat. He has a friend, moreover, who addresses him regularly as Mr. Bones, or some variation on that," Finis. At Harvard, he added, "In general, he does not hear his friend, who has no name. That is, I know his name, but none of the critics have come...
...with wit in the language. The poem, taken as the whole it will someday be, acts on the imagination the way any good pun does, writ large. On the crudest level there is something cardinally and delightfully sylleptic about the fact that Henry can be both Henry House and Pussycat, Mr. Bones, the professor and the jazzman. What results is a comedy of tone. Humor depends on the way things are said. "My psychiatrist can lick your psychiatrist (women get under things)"; or from the best Eisenhower poem in years...
...play by Peter Weiss (Marat/Sade); 2) a musical based on Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's, written and directed by Abe Burrows; 3) a musical based on The Fourposter starring Mary Martin and directed by Gower Champion; 4) a new comedy by Bill Manhoff (The Owl and the Pussycat): 5) a new play by Brian Friel (Philadelphia, Here I Come!); 6) Hugh Wheeler's dramatization of the Shirley Jackson novel, We Have Always Lived in the Castle; 7) a play by Cartoonist Mell Lazarus: 8) an Italian musical starring Marcello Mastroianni. For the season after that, he has already...
...Connery. The film sputters with genuine excitement in the scramble for Regrav, a secret process for reversing the law of gravity. But the laws of levity begin to go topsyturvy as well in Agent's craven acts of homage to its prototype. Curling under Adams' sheets, one pussycat purrs: "I met someone like you in Florida. Called himself James . . . James Something." If the bogus Bonds abhor originality, they should at least show enough professional savvy to cover their tracks...
Whiplash. Still, De Sade's letters are interesting not only for his status as a metaphysical monster but for his human inconsistencies. Sometimes he addressed his wife as "my lollote" "celestial pussycat," "joy of Mahomet" and "whiplash of my nerves"; at other times he complained that she had visited him in immodest clothes, told her he would rather see her in a whorehouse than with her mother, and lectured her sternly about his superior philosophical systems ("Mine," he wrote, "are based on reason, and yours are merely the fruit of stupidity"). He was more jovial with his valet Carteron...