Word: wig
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Only Morse seems to feel an obligation to act. Since his lines are unspeakable, he mumbles them inaudibly and distracts the customers by giggling, wriggling, itching, twitching, wearing a wig, dancing a jig, and crossing his eyes till he practically looks out of his ears. People who did not see him on Broadway will probably think he is just a somewhat shorter, somewhat quieter Jerry Lewis. People who did will wonder what makes him tic, and wistfully murmur: " Autre temps, autre Morse...
...small Austrian village in the middle of the eighteenth century. Hanswurst, a chimney-sweep, is madly in love with Columbina, whose father is Odario, the town money-grubber. Odario tries to wed his daughter to the richest man he can find, and he picks priggish Fleandar, a wig-curler in the guise of a nobleman. From there on, the plot takes every traditional turn imaginable, with ghosts peering from balconies and men dressed as women. By the end, of course, the good Hanswurst gains the hand of the sweet Columbina, Odario wins the coveted Stone of Saxony (a jewel...
...yellow rain bonnets and finally record basso profundo--a rugged TV ad for "the Man's cigarette." Other skits are extended and often scathing parodies like the first act closer, a merciless debunking of Britain's heroic World War II effort Listening to Dame Myra Hess (a scraggly gray wig accomplishes this transformation) play the moonlight sonata in those courageous British Museum Concerts, a veddy upper matron advises her son, "This music was written by a German, deah. That's something you'll have to work out for yourself." Funny thing, war. The review also gets its licks...
Died. Sir Albert Edward Richardson, 83, British architect, onetime (1955-57) president of the Royal Academy of Arts, an 18th century addict who considered modern buildings "cellular facades cloaked with vitreous indifference," believed that "nothing should be streamlined except water closets," himself eschewed electricity and telephones, entertained in wig and knee breeches and paid calls on special occasions reclining regally in a sedan chair; of heart disease, in Ampthill, Bedfordshire...
...fatten them up for the slaughter." Oh oh, slip of the tongue. Sorry. Lucy looks away. Pretty soon, by golly, a person can't carve a roast for dinner without precipitating a household crisis. Someone scissors through the family album, decapitating old snapshots. Then Lucy gets a black wig, a flowered silk dress, and three pounds of bangles for her wrists. She looks the same as she did 20 years ago, and . . . Several ax murders later, the problem appears to be: how you gonna keep Momma down on the farm when she has such a penchant for pruning...