Word: wanna
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Fosse is not completely without heart; Mr. Bojangles, in which Sergio Trujillo gracefully portrays an aged, down-at-heels dancer, is genuinely moving. In general, though, the show's rare lyric moments are as unconvincing as the synthesized string sounds that swirl out of the orchestra pit in I Wanna Be a Dancin' Man. For all its compulsive flair, Fosse is cold and enigmatic at the core, as glittering as a perfect diamond--and hard enough to cut glass. What makes it work is its maker's willingness to stare into the abyss, backed up by the taut, pellucid brilliance...
Republicans who gathered for a meeting of the full conference Thursday evening thought they were there to discuss the impeachment vote. It was not until 45 minutes into the meeting that Livingston quietly dropped his bomb. "I wanna talk to you about something I'm not proud of, something I wanted you to know. I've been Larry Flynted...
There's a deep, basically serene well of silence in most men, which, for better and worse, is where we live. I do not mean to start claptrapping myself, but I often think that all our acts of aggression and wanna-fight posturing arise from that well as forms of overcompensation or panic. Unlike women, men are not social creatures, not born administrators. It's nicely P.C. to think of God as female, but no woman would have thrown Lucifer out of heaven; she would have offered him a desk job. Had Lucifer been a woman, she would have dropped...
...effort to prove just how godly he is. Instead of taking advantage of the chance to react to each statement and give us subtle clues to his character's actual thoughts, Pitt prefers being mysterious. His face remains blank for nearly three hours, occasionally flashing the famous smile. "You wanna know what I'm thinking?" he seems to be asking with his random pauses and interminable stares into the camera. The problem is, of course, that Pitt really isn't thinking. Death, as a character, is incomprehensible and thus unengaging...
...Your next-door neighbor traded his car for a dozen on a black-market website, but he's hoarding them until just before Christmas, prime time for scalping. You're stuck with a K Mart waiting list and cheerful lies from salespeople: "We'll call you soon." Makes you wanna gouge those adorable Furby eyes right out of their electronic sockets. So who's to blame? How did a little fuzzy doll become crucial to your eight-year-old's survival...