Word: squealing
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...temper tantrums that Tyler throws might be out of character for Edward, the two share a dark, cool demeanor. Tyler is not immensely charming or sympathetic, and Pattinson’s acting is ultimately neither commendable nor totally deplorable. “Twilight” fans, though, will probably squeal with delight (or tremble with envy?) at Pattinson’s kissing and wet shirt scenes...
...starts off strongly with the group’s two previously-released singles, “Mouthful of Diamonds” and “When I’m Small;” by far the two best songs on the record. The former flaunts an orca-esque squeal and is driven by a warm, droning synthesized bass line that, when isolated at the beginning of the verse, creates a beautifully hazy atmosphere. “When I’m Small” follows, sounding like a less dramatic or soul-infused Portishead cut. Though somewhat rhythmically monotonous...
...Nancy (Katie K. Schick ’10) swings into a harsh sort of jazz, sung with appropriate swagger and well-coordinated stage direction that emphasizes the awkwardness of the moment for Albert. Imitation folk songs are sung in a child’s squeal. Mock-Italian quintet singing is delivered with appropriate exuberance. Herring hiccups repeatedly to the “Tristan und Isolde” chord before he goes out for his night on the town—Britten’s in-joke to regular operagoers, and one entirely appropriate for an opera that depicts desire...
...perhaps this anecdote is just a crutch for my own insecurities. See, in truth, I don’t really know anything about professional sports. Currently, my favorite athlete is Wiggler, the giant female worm in “Mario Tennis” that, upon winning a match, will squeal and giggle (the cross-species equivalent of a chest bump) and then turn into a flower. And, to make it worse, all but one of my blockmates is just as completely uninformed as I am. On our last blocking group vacation, beach football was almost unanimously booed down in favor...
...stood on the kill floor, I watched the moment when each pig, emerging from the chute, sensed its fate; the sudden piercing squeal followed by the too-late attempt to turn and run—some pigs literally attempting to scramble up vertical walls—as metal shackles were clamped around their ankles. And I watched as the shackles hoisted each pig into the air and as the slaughterer’s knife sent blood splattering across my overalls...