Word: wanding
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...world-wide activities of the Communist Party in general. She has even defended the policies of the CPUSSR from attacks by those upset by reports of the persecution of Soviet Jews. While in Boston to stump for Edward Teixeira, the unsuccessful C.P. candidate for state representative from Wand 14 Angela explained that the situation of Jews in Russia "has been totally blown out of proportion by the bourgeois press because they're going to do everything they can to discredit socialism...
...about. He is the leader- he's the one who runs the band. He is proof of the power of evil. He is a capitalist, the prototypical entrepreneur, the Jack of Newbury of the music world, because all he has to do is sit there waving his little fairy wand and twisting his head around so the cameras can see his ugly misshapen flesh that is called, merely out of convention, a face. He just sits there doing nothing while those horn players my god there about to burst their lungs look their faces are getting all red their eyes...
...shacks up with both partners. They make a beautiful triple until No Name is visited by some outsiders carrying a plague of respectability. Elizabeth succumbs, and only an hour and a half after the audience anticipates it, she settles down with one of her husbands. The other follows his "wand'rin' star" to the next gold strike...
...raucous caucus of miners results in some explosions of laughter. The score-notably I Still See Elisa, I Talk to the Trees and Wand'rin' Star -is strong enough to levitate several musicals. But only Presnell has a legitimate singing voice, and he is given a single solo and a walk-on role as a bordello manager. Seberg's dubbed voice is as thin as the plot, and Eastwood's real one is scarcely a millimeter thicker. Marvin gamely rasps his lines, but crooning is not his bag. Comedy is. Fitted with outrageous muttonchop whiskers...
...route, some of the characters perish by fire, water and air?fleeting reminders of a return to elemental states. Age comes finally. Time reasserts itself. As the artifice is revealed, one almost expects to hear the snap of Prospero's wand. For this is Nabokov's autumnal fairy tale. Though not his finest book, it is certainly his most brilliant attempt yet to ransack the images and thoughts of his own past and shape them into a glittering now of the imagination...