Word: tales
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Distant Thunder has the deliberate, unadorned reality of a folk tale, a fable of encroaching, enlarging catastrophe. The thunder of the title refers directly to the war planes that Bengali villagers see flying overhead. More important, the thunder is the sound of the second World War. To the villagers it seems, at first, remote. They speak wonderingly of "the flying ships," trade rumors of Japanese advances on Singapore and Burma, and live very much as they always have, just skirting absolute deprivation. The war seems mysterious and alien. Then the rice starts running...
...becomes dismayingly obvious before The Devil Is a Woman gets too far along that Director Damiano Damiani intends yet another anticlerical tract, with healthy doses of lubricity included to get the unconverted over the rough parts. Assignations are revealed, suicides initiated and plots thickened. One resident spills out a tale of hot romance with his sister. His parents did not approve and shipped him off to the hostel for safekeeping. Jackson finds religious relief- and, one supposes, some measure of sexual satisfaction - by strapping a belt of thorns around her waist very tightly. The collaborationist priest craves extra desserts...
Brooding before a video-tape machine, a cigarette drooping from his mouth, Eliot Feld was working and reworking the choreography of his 1972 ballet of Stravinsky's A Soldier's Tale. Two dancers stood by. Finally, Feld snapped off the TV and nodded to the pianist. Spinning out a series of steps, he recited, "Passé, chassé, saut de basque, heel, toe." On the next run-through, he renamed the steps: "Strength, will, talent, musicality, perseverance, time...
Habeas Corpus. A British comedy about doctors, subtitled "A Tale of the Permissive Society." Its cast inclues June Havoc, Celeste Holm, Jean Marsh, Rachel Roberts and Donald Sinden. At the Colonial Theatre, 106. Boylston Street, Boston. Performances through November 15, evenings at 8 p.m., matinees Thursday and Saturday...
Three sweat-suit-clad prisoners invoke their fate and will with caresses, sudden scraps and the dancing-out of a killing. These toughs have a strangely romantic side; they tell about wanting to change into a rose after stealing or about being distracted from the tell-tale blood of a murder by lilacs. The rhythm of splayed hands and bare feet tapping, heads jerking and manacles dragging accompanies the actors' monologues and replaces visible props. The tension is overemphasized, but real. Presented by the Cambridge Ensemble, 1151 Massachusetts Ave., November...