Word: thumpings
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...kind of art he likes: he hopes it will preserve vital distinctions in human consciousness. If it is a claim less grandiose than that of Kael or Simon, he applies it to more different kinds of subject matter. Second, he has what it takes to know when to tub-thump hard, and when to leave well enough alone. It's called "Balance". Third, he's a better writer than even the smoothest of the slick mags' stable. His style is extremely personal: mostly wryly clever, but sometimes almost lyrical. And it moves as cleanly as a well-oiled trip-lock...
Hopper bore these goings on with stoic tolerance, only occasionally interjecting in the midst of one of her conversational spasms a resigned "Oh, Jo." Mrs. Hopper had her own complaint. "Sometimes talking with Eddie is just like dropping a stone in a well, except that it doesn't thump when it hits bottom...
...celebrity. "In the future," he once remarked, "everyone will be famous for at least 15 minutes." Warhol's own 15 minutes has been very long. His fame is self-replicating: like a perpetual-motion machine, it grinds on amid the iridescent cavorting of his superstars and the thump of heavy, if rigged auction prices ($60,000 from a Swiss dealer for a Campbell's soup can recently). It has reached the point where Warhol is not so much famous for doing something-he rarely turns out any paintings beyond a few commissioned portraits a year, and no longer...
...vaguely medieval sound: thick, sonorous and brassy. The dancers parade in solemn sequence across the softly lit stage, looking rather like harlequins in leotards. When they reach the footlights, the mood is suddenly jolted by a more familiar noise: the harsh twang of amplified guitars and the racketing thump of a rock beat. What follows this seemingly incongruous prelude is a swirling, eye-and ear-catching panoply of ballet maneuvers, from chastely classic lifts to Broadway shuffles, set to an eclectic score (by Alan Raph and Lee Holdridge) that blends the modish and the modal. The climax is a joyous...
...Yale Repertory's theater was once a church, and Brustein has exploited its dark interior to augment the play's supernatural dimension-even to the otiose point of having important speeches delivered from the pulpit. The electronic sound effects that thump and mutter portentously reflect not so much Newness as good, old gothic hokum. But these mechanical excesses hardly detract from a vibrant updating of the quintessential symbol of love 'em and leave 'em. The presentation deserves not to be left in New Haven...