Word: razzmatazz
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That he gets carried away is part of his appeal, yet his razzmatazz does not charm or convince all listeners. Harvard Sociologist David Riesman finds Iacocca's "showmanship" distasteful. "Somewhere between the excessive caution of most businessmen and the excessive bravado of Iacocca," Riesman says, "there is a position of responsible corporate leadership." A recent article in the New Republic suggests that Iacocca's mythic managerial skills may be seriously overrated. The Wall Street Journal, Iacocca's longtime antagonist, recently called him the "Motor City's most famous motor mouth." On the subject of trade conflicts with the Japanese...
...washes up the Mississippi to St. Louis, maybe. The soul, spirit and stomach of the World's Fair that started its six-month run in New Orleans a week ago is the city itself: brooding and flamboyant, raucous and urbane, devout and dissolute. The fair stirs together the razzmatazz of Mardi Gras, the harmony of New Orleans' elegant old buildings and the French-Spanish-African-Italian-Irish-German-Creole-Cajun gumbo gusto of its everyday, every-night street life. With a generous infusion of pavilions and exhibitions from the rest of the U.S. and 24 other nations...
Broadway audiences may have more trouble than George stepping into this austere, demanding concept. No high-kicking razzmatazz here; in fact, no choreography. No heart-pummeling sentiment; in fact, virtually no characters, as Author-Director James Lapine follows Seurat's lead and dehydrates his actors into cardboard stereotypes. Nor is there a surfeit of "humma-mamumma-mamum-mable melodies," Stephen Sondheim's derisively witty phrase from his last show, Merrily We Roll Along. Sondheim long ago renounced such simple show-biz pleasures; neither Dot nor the audience gets to go to the Follies. This score is often doggedly...
...atrocity at the Razzmatazz discotheque [Dec. 20] once again points up the solution to Ireland's problems: the British must...
...Razzmatazz disco in the small village of Ballykelly was no classy night spot. For about $2.50 a head, it offered British soldiers a rare chance to get together with local girls and escape the tense conditions of Northern Ireland. Gathering each week for dancing, the beer-drinking customers of the disco's Droppin Well bar and the gyrating couples on the dance floor took little account of the dangers of Ulster terrorism. Last week they paid the price. A small bomb, possibly smuggled into the disco in a handbag, exploded, collapsing the heavy concrete-slab roof on 150 revelers...