Word: sons
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...such a strong vehicle, the Eliot House production could hardly go wrong, and for the most part it doesn't. John Hall handles the difficult role of Serge with magnetic physical presence and emotional depth. He is believable not only as a caustic, wise-ass stud, but as a son desperately trying to communicate with his father, and he carries the show admirably...
...film are its several amazing set-pieces: the whirlwind opening, in which Grant gets whipped into the spy stuff before he can look askance; a black-humor elevator scene, with Grant at gunpoint as his mother pecks over his captors, "You men wouldn't be trying to kill my son, now would you?" ha-ha; the famous crop-duster scene in which a biplane machine-guns Grant; one scene in which Grant sneaks into an auction, and foils his pursuers by getting himself arrested for disorderly conduct; and the real cliff-hanger denouement on Mount Rushmore. Gasp. Eva Marie Saint...
...ballroom of the second act, too--famous for Orlofsky's aria "Chacun a son gout" as well as some of Strauss's best dances--the waltz should be king. Even though the Lowell performers cut much of Strauss's music, deliver the rest on a distinctly un-Viennese stage, and have to work on the less-than-ballroom-size Lowell dias, they can't help unleashing the waltzes by the end of the act, and a little of the Wienerblut seeps...
Young blood is in the wings. The Thayers' long absent and somewhat alienated daughter (Barbara Andres) arrives with her current lover, a divorced dentist (Stan Lachow), and, more important, the dentist's 13-year-old son Billy (Mark Bendo). Billy is parked with the Thayers for a few weeks, and Norman takes a shine to the kid. He teaches him how to fish, and Billy, a bit of a smartass, brushes up Norman's archaic lingo with such modernisms as "suckface" for "to kiss." A brush with death further restores Norman's zest for life...
Stories about shabby beggars who hoard secret fortunes are commonplace enough, but Eddie the Monkey Man, who died in his sleep last month at the age of 79, was unique. The son of a Jewish immigrant peddler in Pensacola, Fla., Eddie Bernstein lost both legs at the age of twelve when a train ran over him. He began riding around in a goat cart, selling newspapers. In the mid-'30s, he left the Depression-ridden South and moved to Washington, D.C., where he established himself on a wooden platform on F Street between 12th and 13th Streets. He joked...