Word: veined
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Margaret Courtenay as Gertrude stirs up a small storm with Mr. Neville in the Closet Scene, but everybody else is calmly, gracefully in the vein. Oliver Neville (Claudius), Joseph O'Connor (Polonius), John Humphry (Laertes), and David Dodimead (Horatio) play the most important parts, and all are guaranteed free from any active ingredients...
...Indian claimant, sister Beth finds a romantic solution that makes everyone happy-so happy that Elephant Hill's Dickensian climax reads far too untrue to be good. Luckily, this is not the case with a preceding string of incidents that show Author White in his liveliest vein, e.g., an Indian amateur production of Samson and Delilah (featured as Delilah and Simpson, or The Strong Man of Whiskers Reduced by Reason of Passions). Another high point is the long-dreaded moment when the missionaries tell their adopted son the truth about his parentage-and the eight-year-old, instead...
...serious vein, there is the calm, careworn father, his hand in groceries, his mind with God. There is the blunt, slangy, kindly matron who wants to marry everyone off; the professional matchmaker, with his human goldbricks and his spiel; the absurdly natty, paunchy, rich upstart. As they cluck, strut, brag, fib, fence, they have no great personal identity; they spill over indeed into caricature. But they boast a sort of tribal flesh; their pretenses and deprecations and denials are bequests from a world of hard competition to a world...
Their ringmaster is Jan Hartman'60, and in a sense his job is an easy one; it is difficult for an intelligent group of actors to go very far wrong with Waiting for Godot. The play is constructed of a series of savage ironies, with a vein of harsh pessimism running behind it and through it. So long as the ironies and the pessimism emerge, a director can take the play any way he likes, if he moves with intelligence and consistency...
Zendie could feel the little vein on the inside of her wrist pulsing. Felipe sat across from her. "God," Zendie said, feeling his dark eyes on her cheek as she looked out over the lake, "I think I'll never leave this place. Oh, look at the boats, they're like swans; and look at the swans, they're like white-caps. Oh," she read, lighting cigarette and penciling a notation in the margin...