Word: angst
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...theme music, the swooping graphics and the story meetings ("Get me a show, people. Anything but same-sex marriage"). By keeping the pol-vs.-pol scenes brief, Markus has made the show specific enough to Nightline to satirize the genre but general enough to life to tap the comic angst of the human condition. Watch, and you'll see one from each of the major office types: the tightly coiled executive producer (played by Miguel Ferrer of Twin Peaks), who humors Freundlich with drunken promises of future anchordom written on a cocktail napkin; the booker (Sanaa Lathan), who reports that...
...vocabulary? Can today's moviegoers be--not shocked, we're too savvy and jaded for that--titillated by the spectacle of wicked creatures taking vengeful pleasures? If so, Wild Things may find an audience beyond the one lining up to see Neve Campbell translate her small-screen Sturm und Angst into surly beatnik chic...
...Brick." Powers writes: "Recently...the meaning of the power ballad has changed as the age of heroes gives way to more conflicted protagonists." But these mid-'90s songs do not belong in the same category as the ballads of the turn-of-the-decade. In content, they are too angst-ridden, too mad, too sad to fly as the power ballad must. In style, they are too soft, too cloying and too repetitive to claim a place in music history--in short, they are too small to be power ballads...
Something fundamental was happening to communism as well. Reagan's 1982 prediction that it was headed for "the ash heap of history" was lost in a rising sea of angst, captured in a 1983 made-for-TV movie, The Day After, that dramatized the clinical horrors of a nuclear exchange. The U.S. and U.S.S.R. had broken off all arms-control negotiations and were arming rival sides in shooting wars in El Salvador and Nicaragua (whose anticommunist guerrillas would play a central role in the great Iran-contra scandal of the Reagan years...
...Obvious unsaid. At a lunch yesterday in Adams House, two fellow seniors (who wish to remain anonymous) and I exchanged delirious conversation on everything but. We talked about plans for next year, which, believe it or not--and if you're a senior, you'll believe it--produce less angst than talk of The Obvious. The discussion ranged from professors' sexual habits to Soho, and spring break (the end all and be all, the Nirvana into which------writers will emerge) to summer revelry. But never once did we mention The Obvious...