Word: rhymed
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...reached some of his major intellectual conclusions. In Osborne's portrait, however, these preoccupations are so recurrent that they dominate the texture of the play and become its central image. "Papal decretals are the devil's excretals," cries John Osborne's monk in a burst of rhyme. Throughout the evening, it seems, scarcely two minutes are permitted to go by in which Luther does not resort to some self-dramatizing scatological simile: "I'm like a ripe stool in the world's straining anus, and at any moment we're about to let each...
...with his estimate that only 18 million people, not 50 million, would be killed here in a nuclear war"). He bristles with useless information ("Curmudgeon seems to derive from the French coeur mé-chant") and daffy definitions. At one point he supplies a graceful homemade nursery rhyme...
...these, is the only excellent piece in the entire issue: Mr. Johnston uses the ballad form, which he handles so adroitly, to express something darker than the fancies of his earlier work. His poem is an extended metaphor, illustrating the sophisticated command of language and ironic use of rhyme which has previously engaged the attention of this reviewer. It is a great pleasure to see someone write about a highly personal subject with detachment, eschewing the offensive gurgle which so many Cambridge writers mistake for the plainsong of genius...
...revert once again to the program notes, "Jacques Bersani and T. Morris rendered into almost modern French, pretty much metrical" the original version of the play, and very elegant and amusing almost metrical modern French it is. They kept the octosyllabic line, the often complicated rhyme scheme, and, most important, the delightfully naive ironies and anachorisms of the original. And even I, who barely understood French 20 lectures, could make out nearly every line. The lines that I didn't understand all came in a few tire-some and unnecessary scenes, full of argot about crap shooting and in-group...
...author of Harvey has attempted another wistfully whimsical frolic, some further genially wacky escapism. But she has not pulled another rabbit out of her hat or even put enough bees in Tallulah's bonnet. Her sort of nursery-rhyme old crone scampering upstairs, downstairs and in my lady's chamber has in places a nursery-rhyme lilt, but far too often a thin, struggling farce's laboredness. The kinfolk and clubwomen who keep trooping in and out make the struggle even harder. The play has charming moments, but only moments; flashes of bright Harveyesque humor, but only...