Word: sullenly
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...wife, traveled out of ancient Corinth one day last month along the twisting roads that lead toward the rugged interior of the Peloponnesian peninsula. In a tranquil mountain valley, they came to the village of Kalavryta. When the villagers learned that the visitors were Germans, there were sullen mutterings in the village square. A white-haired woman in widow's weeds glared at the man. "He is one of them," she said. "He must...
...slurring Stanley Kowalski speech mannerisms, clearly enunciating the famous, rabble-rousing funeral oration. Less clear in his performance is that mercurial combination of demagogue and patriot, of force and "quick spirit" that is Antony's character. But Brando's characterization is more than competent, and his smouldering, sullen personality adds excitement to a crucial role...
...lies stacked in piles throughout his house. He becomes a specialist on the subject of interest on capital, which seems to him "the greatest wonder of creation, [combining] the mystery of birth and multiplication." All goes well, except that his only son, once a charming little fellow, now becomes sullen and spoiled. Egged on by the worthless Dr. Pal, the boy tries to get more & more money from Margayya; when Margayya resists, Dr. Pal spreads a rumor that Margayya is a fraud. In a matter of hours, the bank is bankrupt...
...Harvard Dramatic Club left the well-trodden field of Othello with creditable success, marred only by the lead's unfortunate ineptness. Richard Heffron, in the title role, was more of a weight than a buoy to the show. Playing his early scenes in a sullen monotone, he gave no hint of a character that could erupt into uxoricide. Then, in his big scenes, he abandoned himself to steady roaring, without climaxes or the delicate shading that devides the complete amateur from the budding professional. As a result, Othello was without depth, a man of stock motions, trite passions...
...really a land of murder and muddle. And there is little likelihood that either murder or muddle will halt soon. The sullen masses of evicted blacks in the overrun reserves; the white farmers and their wives besieged in their farmhouses with revolvers next to the dinner plates; the bearded commandos stumbling through forests after the elusive Mau Mau; the brittle Mayfair-in-suburbia life of spuriously gay Nairobi ; the purple-faced ex-colonels in the very, very particular Rift Valley Club- none of them seeming to know what to do. Not even the Mau Mau themselves seem to know what...