Word: rainbow
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...American Negro has endured Little Rock and Selma; he will survive Missitucky, the mythological country of Finian's Rainbow. There, on a beaming day, a father (Fred Astaire) and his daughter (Petula Clark) wander into a valley where white and cullud folks are jes a-sittin' and a-singin' and a-waitin' for somethin' to happen. Nothin' does. A leprechaun (Tommy Steele) wanders in, a lot of galvanic twitching goes on in the name of choreography, and eventually a white-supremacist Senator (Keenan Wynn) gets changed into a Negro. At the end, when everybody...
...simplistic notion of the '40s that Negroes are just like whites beneath the skin is more than an embarrassment now. And Rainbow's light-headed whimsy is now done better by television, with its dreamed-of genii or married witches. Even so, the movie might have survived were it not for the ham-handed direction of Francis Ford Coppola, 29, whose only previous Hollywood feature was the moderately comic You're a Big Boy Now. Astaire and Clark are saddled with threadbare brogues, and both talk as if they were dictating letters to a tape recorder. Tommy...
...calling the group "transformations." At the same time, he has not entirely abandoned books and boxes. Painted cutout silhouettes of the latter hang in their own black frames, subtly suggesting the ax about to fall. A curiously shaped book, its ten pages cut in lacy patterns and stippled with rainbow dots, contains Samaras' own moody, erotically Joycean fantasies (even Grove Press, he claims, refused to print them). Samaras' most celebrated boxes are his huge, walk-in mirrored rooms (TIME, May 3), and his latest one will be a nine-foot-tall tower. An exercise in claustrophobia, it will...
There were beautiful rules: a way to hear thunder, praise a wise man, watch a rainbow, learn of tragedy...
...world of the haves and the havenots, the real losers may be the half-haves. They are the ones who come close enough to the rainbow to count the stripes, the ones who are suckered into stretching out their arms toward the pot of gold they will never touch...