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ENTERTAINMENT
November 3, 1991
What a singular study in contrast in the two facing pop singer profiles Oct. 20. On the left, Ozzy Osbourne, mad drug- and alcohol-addicted rocker reputed (though you couldn't prove it by me !) to bite the heads off small animals during his frenzied performances. And on the right (in more ways than one), Barry Manilow, whose most banal pop trivia were always delivered with style, and whose third jazz-standards album, "Showstoppers," is a worthy successor to "2:00 A.M. Paradise Cafe" and "Swing Street."
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SPORTS
October 11, 1997
Still having trouble accepting someone else's success, Larry Stewart? Your left-handed criticism of Jim Rome, whom you took to task last week for having to apologize for being too niiiiiiiice, was plainly a cheap shot and a desperate attempt to fill the final two inches of your column. Despite your journalistic use of the first person plural, Times readers know that you alone compose the weekly collection of banal observations that make up the TV-radio column. For the record, Jim Rome may cut loose sub-par callers from time to time, but he's never been suspended from his duties for telling a particular Raider fan to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger.
MAGAZINE
July 10, 1994
The clue Wanda Coleman lacks in "A Loner's Leap" (Three on the Town, June 5) is not the "race, size or hair color" of the suicide victim but rather why people commit suicide. We don't owe people who take their own lives anything after the fact. By then it's too late. We already know that suicide is usually a messy, cowardly way to exit life at the expense of others. But if viewing "mounds of flesh, some flattened in a trail of skid marks" only incites Coleman to write a column about the ennui of society and banal parallels to rock songs, then she doesn't get it either.
ENTERTAINMENT
October 17, 1988 | LYNNE HEFFLEY
NBC's "Double Standard," airing tonight at 9 p.m. on Channels 4, 36 and 39, tippy-toes into the illusory world of bigamy. Robert Foxworth ("Falcon Crest") plays Leonard Harik--loving father and husband, respected lawyer, soon to be a circuit judge--who weds his secretary/mistress in a bogus ceremony after the birth of their illegitimate daughter. He does this because "anything else would be morally wrong."
OPINION
April 16, 2006 | David Cesarani, DAVID CESARANI is research professor in history at Royal Holloway, University of London. "Becoming Eichmann: Rethinking the Life, Crimes and Trial of a 'Desk Murderer' " is to be published May 1.
Adolf Eichmann is an icon of the 20th century and of the genocide the Nazis waged against the Jews. The image of the murderer sitting inside a bulletproof glass booth at his trial in Jerusalem in 1961 has come to encapsulate the satisfying story of the perpetrator meeting justice at the hands of his victims. Eichmann today is the face of Nazi mass murder. Yet Eichmann was not always among the pantheon of Nazi killers, and few have been so mythologized and misunderstood.
ENTERTAINMENT
May 18, 1998 | MARK SWED, TIMES MUSIC CRITIC
Often in the name of political correctness we end up wronging a culture through patronizing and trivializing it. We neutralize it by making it palatable. Mrs. H.H.A. Beach understood that at the end of the 19th century when she realized what nonsense Dvorak was promoting when he suggested that American composers follow his example and make their essentially European-modeled symphonies sound indigenous by using Native American tunes.
ENTERTAINMENT
July 11, 2003 | Philip Brandes; Daryl H. Miller; David C. Nichols
Courage is hardly the quality we first associate with Adele Scabaglio, the timid and decidedly unglamorous waitress who recounts her mundane life story from a solitary perch atop her New York apartment building in "Weight on the Roof" at the Court Theatre. Yet Audrey Wasilewski's razor-sharp solo performance consistently surprises and delights as she mines humor, pathos -- and, yes, bravery -- from Adele's struggle to break her cycle of self-defeat.
MAGAZINE
May 5, 1991 | Sheldon Teitelbaum, Sheldon Teitelbaum is a frequent contributor to this magazine.
The carpeted bridge of the starship Enterprise was suddenly invaded by several dozen bald and sandaled beings attired in burnt-orange robes. Intrigued by the Lucite-and-halogen spectacle, they wandered about quietly, gently touching the flashing consoles, pointing to the padded chairs on which the famous starship captain and his officers usually sit and whispering among themselves in what seemed to be an alien language.
ENTERTAINMENT
March 18, 2000
Is it any surprise that almost no one takes contemporary art seriously anymore? Artists create utterly inane, inconsequential little baubles, exhibiting no imagination, no taste (not even bad taste!) and no craft, only for critics like David Pagel to praise them to the skies. Take the show by Andrea Bowers at the Goldman Tevis Gallery, which I recently went to see ("Thrilling and Shiny, Bowers' Works Resonate," Feb. 25). Her work consisted of nothing more than small images of celebrities pasted onto a cheap silvery background, along with equally vacuous videos of people singing karaoke.
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