Word: wined
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Stream, has scraped the marrow of his Greek characters. He recognizes their fortitude under real pain, their histrionics over emotional trifles and their bristling pride. Above all, he captures their gift for draining each passing moment of life as if it were a glass of their own villainous retsina wine. Author King overexposes and underdevelops his hapless English hero, but his color shots of Corfu are snapped with the eye of a Matisse, and Patrick's departure from the Ionian isle seems like expulsion from a demi-paradise...
Zymotic Bilge. Among the playwrights only Shaw is placed above suspicion of shoddiness, and the long arm of an O'Casey grudge can reach far back to cuff an offender ("Pinero . . . turned the wine of drama into water. A miracle, a miracle!"). Three pieces are devoted to the demerits of Noel Coward, whose works are finally summed up in two words (of George Jean Nathan's): "zymotic bilge." As for the "flea minds" of Ireland who are not properly reverent to their self-exiled bard, "these critics do not injure O'Casey, but they disgrace Ireland...
...trace of a smile on his lips. The busload of pleasantly jabbering tourists had stopped in Viggiano to avoid traversing the southern countryside during the very hottest part of the day. Most of the safari had headed straight for the nearest cafe and the combination of watered red wine and water which the proprietors dearly loved to sell tourists for only 25 times its cost. A few of the more enterprising members of the group wandered off, cameras ready, to look for "typically native scenes" for their lenses to immortalize...
...took a long, slow swallow of the freshly refilled wine glass. His mood was not bitter; it was, in fact, quite friendly, as though he were telling his tale to a group of trusted friends. The camera had been put away, and everyone was thinking, not unsympathetically, that "here was a neat story for the folks back home...
Tony, a balding Mario Lanza who didn't speak much English, had come over from the old country and made a killing on the California wine market. When the pressure of business subsided, middle-aged Tony saw he needed a woman, and sure enough, some pretty little Frisco waitress sends him a post-card professing love. On his way to the village railway station to meet her, Tony is drunk with triumph and a good deal of his own vino. His truck crashes, Tony is hurt, and henceforth is confined to a wheel-chair. He entreats his dear, departed...