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There are a few remnants in this play-let's just call it Etc. of the old Inge-art. After all when pretty Tom (aspiring actor) and pregnant Teena (aspiring wife) step on stage in their underwear and start singing a cigarette add ("The Breeze at night is just as good as the Breeze in the morning") one certainly gets a fine sense of trivia. Shortly we discover (gasp of Recognition) that the play is really about the younger generation and growing up and accepting responsibility. Tom and Teena, we find, live unmarriedly in midtown Manhattan in a messy apartment...
Simple Pleasures. To a girl who never had anything, least of all expectations, the beginning of life can be new underwear, decent meals and the hope of one day being able to get and hold a job. Many of the girls who came to Cleveland had been frightened by the prospect of their first plane ride (three others going to another center turned back rather than fly). Most feared that they were getting into a kind of reform school. Actually, they will get the regimentation of an old-fashioned girls' boarding school, with supervised general and vocational education, plus...
...strings) by developing ear infections so that she needed him for a nurse whenever he made plans to hospitalize himself. Another woman bailed her boy out of jail while he was waiting to enter a hospital for addicts because she could not bear to have him wash his own underwear. Some mothers even encouraged their sons' habits by giving them $5 for a $1.50 haircut, or $15 for a $5 shirt, knowing that the money would...
Goldstein. From Lake Michigan's murkiest depths, a scruffy, bearded old tramp (Lou Gilbert) wades ashore wearing dirty long underwear. He pushes an obese violinist through the streets of Chicago in a wheelchair. He is pursued through the phallic phantasmagoria of a sausage factory by a uniformed guard until a junk sculptor (Thomas Erhart) darts to his rescue. The sculptor defeats the guard, who is ground into lunch meat...
...architect, designer and museum director, spent two years searching for an answer to his own question. He did not quite find one, and his route took him past many of the familiar inscrutabilities of an island where the kimono is dismembered before laundering, where the men wear long underwear in summer and in winter peel off their overcoats to bow to a friend, where the women surrender trolley seats to boys and rank no higher than condiments at table, where dinner ends with soup, and the guests, invited for eight o'clock, arrive...