Word: sing
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Even more impressive to the Russians, at one of their own artistic games, was George London, Canadian-born U.S. bass-baritone, who last week became the first American ever to sing Boris Godunov in Russia. It was, admitted London, "like a Japanese ballplayer being invited to play first base for the Yankees." The negotiations leading to his invitation, said London, almost broke down during the U-2 incident, but, he added wryly, "what was I supposed to do-chicken?" London, who has performed the role often in the U.S. and Europe, had only three days to rehearse with the Bolshoi...
...last shred of resistance before an engulfing passion is Marilyn, rigged out in black tights. Languorously she slides down the pole, uncoils, arranges her lips in Schlitz position and murmurs, "My name is. Lolita. And I'm not supposed to. Play. With boys." Then she begins to sing My Heart Belongs to Daddy...
...faced eagerness. One reason why the film, although consistently pleasant, is only fitfully funny may be a plague now widespread in Hollywood movies. Milton Berle, Gene Kelly and Bing Crosby appear in brief "cameo" parts as themselves (they are supposed to be teaching Montand how to joke, dance and sing), and whatever disbelief has been suspended comes crashing to earth. Miltie, Gene and Bing are good fellows, but farceurs should know enough to come in out of the reality...
...above all a supreme draftsman whose impeccable lines and fragrant colors could bubble with humor or sing with sadness. A drunkard tipsily shows off his strength by weight-lifting a barrel; two men get happily looped on a sake binge; a maiden frowns over a sour note she has struck while tuning her samisen; a ragged little urchin sits perched in a tree while majestic Mount Fuji soars incongruously in the distance. Under Hokusai's brush, Japan emerges as more than a floating land of stylized ritual: he had learned the secret he did not expect to know until...
...bandstand may support a ricky-tick piano, a musical saw, or a tuba-but it is the multiple banjos that reign. The crowds, like the proprietors, are mainly collegiate, and they sing along enthusiastically while the banjos plunk out the immemorially cubic rhythms of Hold That Tiger! or Sweet Georgia Brown. The whole wholesome atmosphere is enough to make the massed inhabitants of the beatnik colony at Sausalito slouch toward the sea like lemmings...