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...Bertolt Brecht. This Eric Bentley adaptation of a 1926 play by the late great German playwright uncannily prefigures the process of brainwashing. Amid chalky white masks, silent-movie captions, and honky-tonk pianos, a sardonic 20th century dirge is sounded for the death of the individual...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: Oct. 19, 1962 | 10/19/1962 | See Source »

Shoot the Piano Player. Charles Aznavour is the male Edith Piaf of France. Like Piaf, he is slight, darkly sad-eyed, and sings and looks as if he were in mourning for his life. In this movie, Aznavour sings nary a note. He plays Charlie Koller, a shy honky-tonk piano tinkler in a demimonde bistro, who has a great deal to be mournful about...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: New Wavelet | 8/3/1962 | See Source »

...Piano Player suggests that the New Wave is carrying its own logic to absurdity. Together with the Neo-Realist school of French fiction led by Novelist Alain Robbe-Grillet (TIME, July 20), the New Wave set out to give the "object" its due. In Piano Player, things-the honky-tonk piano, the hero's brass bed, an auto careening through the night-are vibrantly and almost independently alive, and man has become the lifeless inanimate object, draped over this brilliantly animated photoscape with the limp surrealistic pointlessness of one of Dali's melting watches...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: New Wavelet | 8/3/1962 | See Source »

...Player Bob Haggart, Drummer Gene Krupa, Trumpeter Jimmy McPartland, Clarinetist Pee Wee Russell, Pianist Joe Sullivan, Trombonist Jack Teagarden. Their enthusiasm has withered little with the years. The album is a remarkable recreation of a style 40 years dead-a style that is reborn in Sullivan's honky-tonk piano and Russell's keening clarinet and, most delightfully, in Teagarden's lumpy but moving vocals in Logan Square and After You've Gone...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Music: Jazz Records | 2/16/1962 | See Source »

...45th Street. Out climbed a distinguished-looking, grey-haired man. He negotiated the litter-strewn sidewalk, threaded his way through a scattering of post-teen wenches in black leather jackets and boys with duck-tailed haircuts. For a moment, he stared dubiously at a hole-in-the-wall honky-tonk called the Peppermint Lounge, then rushed back to the waiting limousine burbling, "This is the place!" Quickly, two men and three women got out and gingerly followed their scout past the long, noisy bar into the back room. Through the low-level light, furred over by cigarette smoke, they could...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Customs: Instant Fad | 10/20/1961 | See Source »

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