Word: rant
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...MOON FOR THE MISBEGOTTEN, one of Eugene O'Neill's last plays, laments a loveless trio. W. B. Brydon, Salome Jens and Mitchell Ryan give poignant portrayals of three emotional cripples hiding their afflictions beneath blather and rant. Theodore Mann directs a finely composed production at the Circle in the Square...
...Haydn was more than a musical wag. Sharing the spirit of the Sturm und Drang poets of the time (among them Schiller and Lessing), he made his instruments weep and rant as well. The supple, rhapsodic lyricism of the slow movement of Symphony No. 44 is far removed from the aloof, balanced expressiveness sought by most composers of his time; the demonic orchestral outbursts and sudden silences in the first movement of No. 80 point ahead to the struggle-locked manner of the later Beethoven. To initiate the finale of the Sinfonia Concertante, four solo instruments conduct a nonverbal argument...
...orchestra trills from one end to the other, you know that Falstaff has just taken a colossal chug of wine which is going to work on his insides; when the trombones blast, you know that Ford is feeling the full gamut of green-eyed emotions, even without hearing him rant about "Gelosia"; and if you are a little pedantic, when you hear the French horns bay, you will think of the cuckold's horns which the anti-Falstaffians are about to plant on Falstaff's head...
...Rant & Sigh. Haranguing the crowd, Brown then advised them that "if you are gonna loot, brother, loot a gun store. Don't be running around here looting no liquor, 'cause liquor's just for celebrating. We ain't got nothing to celebrate about. You better get yourselves some guns, baby." While Brown ranted, Kirk sighed. "Nobody wants to hear me talk. It's a shame. I can give dandy speeches at the drop...
...Neill's, is a sort of Iceman Crumbleth set in 1828. The Irish emigrant hero is an impoverished Massachusetts tavern keeper adrift on booze and Byronism, who rages at wife, daughter (Jeanne Hepple) and creation. Actor Denholm Elliott buries the poet in a rubble of rant, and the cast mouths more different brogues than there are counties in Ireland. As for Noel Coward's brittle trio of one-acters, time has partly damaged them, and this butter-fingered troupe completes...