Word: rhythm
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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DIED. Lee Krasner, 75, pioneer abstract expressionist painter of the New York School, whose mastery of draftsmanship and color, informed by an angry toughness and an exceptionally strong sense of rhythm, showed the influence of Matisse and Picasso as well as Jackson Pollock, her husband from 1945 until his death in 1956; after a long illness; in New York City. When they met in 1936, the Brooklyn-born Krasner was the better credentialed of the two and helped move Pollock toward the avantgarde. She continued to paint in a mutually respectful, noncompetitive partnership with him during the years of poverty...
Shrewd and stupid, sly and blustering, but always coolly gliding to some strong rhythm only he can hear, Venkman is a brilliantly observed caricature of the contemporary urban male. At one point Weaver, representing the reality principle, informs him that he seems less a scientist than a game-show host. But he is a far more amusing figure. He is, in fact, some ultimate Yuppie, seemingly stoned on fern-bar manners, mores and folk wisdom. His utter imperviousness to anything that cannot be comprehended in those basic materialist terms is finally a more potent weapon than all the atomic gadgetry...
...would have directed Gershwin had he been allowed to. In fact, using only two pianos, he and Musical Director Craig Smith stage the songs with charm and style. It is a pleasure to hear little-known works like the title song along with old favorites like Fascinating Rhythm, which is affectingly sung by Marianne Tatum and a group of children. But with very few exceptions, George and Ira seem as uncomfortable in Gorky's play as they would be if they had been invited to the wrong party by the wrong person. In Oh, Lady Be Good!, for instance...
...song on Broadway is an anthem of optimism, for those happy to leave the past behind. "Now." The word pulsates, over and over, to the rhythm of Marvin Hamlisch 's brassy tune. From MacLaine it reverberates to the back of the theater as a boast, a cheer and, in her mind, a Zen-like prayer to live by: let the bygone be bygone, savor the present, and allow the future to take care of itself...
...rotund man with the barrel chest and impeccable mustache would sit down at the piano, pop his fingers a couple of times to get the rhythm just right and, boom, his band would take off. Reeds and brasses would blast out in an ensemble sharp enough to shave with, trombones explosively punctuating the seductive murmurs of the saxophones. As the smoke cleared, there would be the piano, light and airy in the right hand, gentle in the left, keeping the whole thing together. "I'm only part of the rhythm section," William (''Count") Basie would...