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Of all the songs ever written about a woman violated by her brother’s ghost after she decapitates him playing croquet, “The Musical Box” remains the best.
It would not be overstating the case to say that Mike Nichols was a social and moral barometer for an entire generation of film and theatergoers.
Brooke Adams portrays Winnie as the ultimate smiley face; her husband, Tony Shalhoub, is little more than another prop weathering her on-going babble.
Unlike past concerts where Dylan gave what he could but the audience gave nothing back, at the Orpheum Bob seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself on stage.
The prose of Patrick Modiano, this year’s Nobel prizewinner, has a distinctive French style whose directness and grammatical limpidity by no means exclude semantic depth and complexity.
Because of first-rate performances, St. Vincent rises above Hollywood’s standard ‘cranky old man finds love through friendship with needy child’ trope.
Starchitect Renzo Piano and his team did very well given their constraints. It is damn hard to build the right frame for so much abundant beauty.
Under Michael Tilson Thomas’s leadership, the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra’s sound has been refined and tightened; its repertoire has grown to embrace American music of all stripes.
Saturday’s attendance hopefully warms the hearts of the BSO’s management. Not only was the house very full, but the assembly also included a healthy proportion of younger heads.
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