home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1995
/
TIME Almanac 1995.iso
/
time
/
101992
/
10199942.000
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1994-03-25
|
4KB
|
97 lines
<text id=92TT2380>
<title>
Oct. 19, 1992: Reviews:Short Takes
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1992
Oct. 19, 1992 The Homestretch: Clinton in Control
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
REVIEWS, Page 81
SHORT TAKES
</hdr><body>
<p> THEATER: Crazy Like a Fop
</p>
<p> When Simon Gray's Melon opened in London in 1987, it dealt
memorably if imperfectly with the random, amoral way that
glittering success and crippling insanity are doled out,
sometimes to the same person. In compulsive revisions, the most
recent of which, THE HOLY TERROR, opened last week off Broadway,
the normally astute Gray (Butley, The Common Pursuit) has flung
out the baby and preserved the bath water. Two ideas worked in
the tale of a foppish, philandering publisher: narrating his
decline in flashback, from the vantage of a man afflicted and
now somewhat healed, which earned instant sympathy; and letting
his worldly fall lead to a moral rise. Both have been muted, and
only stray witticisms linger.
</p>
<p> MUSIC: Dizzy in Gear
</p>
<p> "Old Cadillacs never die," observes the great trumpet
player and immortal bopcat at the close of Swing Low, Sweet
Cadillac. "The finance company just fade 'em away." DIZZY
GILLESPIE must never have had a brush with the collection
agency: there is no fading, only gleam on Dizzy's Diamonds
(Verve), a 3-CD collection spanning 1950 to 1964. Grouped into
three broad grooves -- Big Band, small group and Afro-Cuban --
these 40 wondrous cuts show Dizzy setting the pace for some fast
company, including Stan Getz, Charlie Parker and Bud Powell. The
Big Band material blasts, the small-group sides jump, and the
Afro-Cuban tunes sound drivingly modern. Dizzy is an Eldorado
that never runs on empty.
</p>
<p> BOOKS: Half a Holden
</p>
<p> Reading Eve Horowitz's Plain Jane (Random House; $20) is
like listening to a World Series no-hitter called by a taciturn
announcer: the listener knows something terrific is happening
out there, but he just can't hear it. The narrator is teenager
Jane Singer, second daughter of a gently Jewish family from
Cleveland and worshipper of Holden Caulfield. Jane tells about,
among others, her mother, who divorces Jane's father and takes
up the violin, and her formerly promiscuous sister, who marries
an Orthodox doctor and gives birth to a boy Jane jokingly calls
"the Little Messiah." Except for eloquent moments, the reader
longs for a little verve. Jane is a nice girl who should go to
college, marry a nice boy and leave narrating no-hitters to
another heroine.
</p>
<p> TELEVISION: Name Dropping On Sunset
</p>
<p> The best thing about Tales From Hollywood is its subject.
Christopher Hampton's 1982 play focuses on leading German
literary emigres who settled in the film capital in the '30s and
'40s, namely Bertolt Brecht and Thomas Mann and his brother
Heinrich (along with Austro-Hungarian dramatist Odon von
Horvath, who never really made it to America but serves as
fictionalized narrator). Yet an impressive cast -- Jeremy Irons,
Alec Guinness, Sinead Cusack -- cannot lift this PBS American
Playhouse adaptation much above elegant name dropping. Despite
snatches of Ragtime-esque fantasy and an ending that pays homage
to Sunset Boulevard, the drama is hobbled by an old plot: crass
Hollywood grinds down true artists, told once more with less
feeling.
</p>
<p> CINEMA: Crushed by Fate
</p>
<p> One tast of a novel's value is whether it has relevance
beyond its time. John Steinbeck's OF MICE AND MEN (1937) meets
that challenge. Its loser-heroes could be two of today's
homeless horde searching for work, for value, for someone --
anyone -- who might find value in them. In Horton Foote's
scrupulous new adaptation, John Malkovich is lumbering Lennie,
whose frustrated tenderness crushes the things he would cherish;
Gary Sinise is George, Lennie's protective pal; Sherilyn Fenn
is the lonely wife held hostage by capricious fate. The
credibility of their playing breaks through the familiar
sanctity of a "classic" revival. Sinise also directs, in a
muted style sensitive both to the palette of a waning California
autumn and to the texture of an enduring American parable.
</p>
</body></article>
</text>