Word: sexes
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...towns he visited. Philadelphia, with its preponderance of Quaker businessmen, he found dull: "I never was in a place so populous where the gout for publick gay diversions prevailed so little . . . Some Virginia gentlemen . . . were desirous of having a ball but could find none of the feemale sex in a humour for it." New York (pop. 11,000) pleased him better, especially the conversation and the women, but in Albany the local custom of asking strangers to kiss the women "might almost pass for a pennance, for the generality of the women here, both old and young, are remarkably ugly...
...Meadowbrook! (by Ronald Telfer and Pauline Jamerson; produced by John Yorke) is a bedroom farce that should have been left in the attic. Under his psychoanalyst's orders, a mousy, middle-aged English taxidermist (Ernest Truex) stalks sex on a Connecticut weekend. All the women in the house beat a path to his door-the housekeeper (Sylvia Field), the hostess (Grace McTarnahan) and a worldly lady playwright with heart of brass (Vicki Cummings...
...situations. Truex can dig a coy toe into the carpet with the best of the professional Milquetoasts; he can be equally amusing as a self-fancied Don Juan who struts only to trip. But here he is the victim of a greater incongruity-a script that manages to make sex look pretty stale...
Lend an Ear attempts other targets with varying aim: those squalid Latin American tourist villages where hot sex and heavy gunfire are hourly occurrences in the public square; a bandleader and his wife sweating to live up to the lurid-and contradictory-bulletins the columnists issue about them; an old-fashioned Friday afternoon dancing class, in which the Penrod motif loses out to the pretty-pretty. There are the usual-all-too-usual-dance numbers in Lend an Ear, and some pleasantly forgettable tunes...
...Shelleyblake is too shy, or too ambitious, or too much in need of money to admit that having just blown his top in Opus i he hasn't got enough steam up to do it again. What's more, he has recently fallen in love and married ("Sex," says Connolly, "is a substitute for artistic creation"), and the charm of new-blooming domesticity is making his old notions about art-for-art's-sake look rather silly. So Mr. Shelleyblake signs the contract and goes home to write-what? Well, at least he knows...