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...turns obsessively to the tensions and tenacity of marriage, its tidal lure and its shipwreck debris. Almost at the moment that his songs brighten with the delights of love, they darken with the pain of love's transience and loss. Sondheim's inner beat is the tempo of Manhattan and Broadway. His scores are minidramas. His people are night people, thirsting for fame and applause and always vulnerable to the morning-after of the defeated quest. Some of Sondheim's songs are as hard-edged as New York's steel and glass spires, but this British...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Theater: String of Pearls | 5/2/1977 | See Source »

...than the Dead has produced in years. The show began with a slow rendition of "Sugaree." Despite its domination by Garcia's guitar and whiny voice, the song serves well as an introduction because of its rousing and familiar refrain. Having warmed the audience, the band used a faster tempo to create unusual versions of "Cassidy" and "Me and My Uncle." The first set roamed through Dead history from the early "Too Too Minglewood Blues" and "It's All Over Now," to a new song that must be called "Fire on the Mountain" if the endlessly repeated refrain...

Author: By Thomas W. Keffer, | Title: A Long, Strange Trip | 4/30/1977 | See Source »

...second act the verbal fencing of the prosecutor (George Dzundza) and the defense attorney (Paul Collins) markedly steps up the dramatic tempo...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Theater: Stop Watch on Life | 4/18/1977 | See Source »

EVEN MORE EVOCATIVE are those progressions of shots with which Goretta establishes the rhythms of the film. The increasing tempo of excitement is matched by tighter, more frequent cutting. Scenes alternate from light to dark. A solitary tree stands still in a haunting though brightly lit field. Bits of broken chairs, marred by flame, are discerned in the warm earth-tones of a neglected garbage heap. A light flashes on a bank window. Nelly stands across the street by a bicycle. When Pierre dashes out we realize the two have become accomplices...

Author: By Joellen Wlodkowski, | Title: Much Better Than All That | 3/29/1977 | See Source »

...Goodman came in, the audience stood. He looked tired but suave, with his thinning white hair, holding his black clarinet, in his black and white suit. The couple in the balcony sat on edge. Benny was not young. His hand did not look strong when it gave Bunch the tempo, and he took a few deep breaths before he put the clarinet to his lips. But he followed the beat in and when he started to blow, forty years made no difference. Goodman played strong and jubilant, and moved like the puppet of some demon beat he swallowed...

Author: By George K. Sweetnam, | Title: A Spell of Style | 3/22/1977 | See Source »

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