Word: tediously
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Most of this is tedious routine, but Tracers does not shun sly tactics. For example, to confirm that it has found Alfred Alumnus, whose last address was 1500 Shady Lane, Tracers may place a person-to-person call to William Alumnus at the suspected new address. "There's no William here; my husband is Alfred," the wife replies. Tracers' agent interrupts, tells the operator, "We're looking for the one who used to live at 1931 Shady Lane." "Oh no," says the wife, "we used to live at 1500-it's not us." But Tracers...
...Playboy parody had put Chagrin Falls, Ohio, on the map.) As for the worst offense -- well, the incomparable Max Beerbohm once wrote of W. S. Gilbert that his "one notion of humorous prose was to use as many long words and as many formal constructions as possible -- a most tedious trick, much practiced by other Mid-Victorian writers." Three Lampoon pieces are guilty on that count...
...vessels stand out in bold relief on the victim's legs. Deciding on treatment is something else, and the choice is most likely to depend on the doctor's nationality. In U.S. hospitals, the preferred approach is to "extinguish" the offending veins by stripping them out in tedious operations that take up to twelve hours and leave the footsore surgeon himself a candidate for varicose veins. In Europe, doctors reach for hypodermics, hoping to harden the veins and cure the trouble quickly with simple injections...
...horas. But there are other problems. Kimball and Kimbrough, while excellent, are all too evidently acting toward their roles from their personalities (which shouldn't exist); the result is a lag in the first act that is enhanced by the lengthy argument between Sade and Marat. This is fairly tedious, since the play doesn't want to give ideas, but only imitations of ideas, swathed in anger and spectacle. The debate is something a callous director could cut down, a careless director here takes seriously and a really alert one would accelerate; it should go by like a shot...
...that's the first act--90 minutes of tedious exposition, interrupted at nitervals by flashy cabaret numbers signifying nothing, plus two musical attempts to represent the unrest which will shortly usher in Nazism. Some of the scenes and some of the songs are briefly engaging, particularly the "Pineapple" number sung by Miss Lenya and Jack Gilford, and Jill Haworth's opening carabet song. But nothing jells. The book seems to have been written as padding for an inspired score, and the score as the same for an exceptional book...