Word: couchful
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...muster up genuinely powerful emotions. In a play running at normal speed, he's still stuck moving in 33 RPM. The only real life he shows in all of the first act appears when Pat gives him an overzealous shoulder massage, making him bounce up and down on the couch during his monotonous monologue. What a pity that the life he possesses in this scene is drawn entirely from another person's action...
...this a couch spud's dream or a sports purist's nightmare? Actually, it's the latest twist in the increasingly sophisticated world of sports advertising: an electronic-imaging "occlusion" technology developed by New Jersey-based Princeton Video Image that replaces real ballpark billboards with customized computer-generated signs visible only to selected folks back home...
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a f----ing big television...Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows...Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f----ed-up brats that you've spawned to replace yourselves...But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin...
...afterdeck of a dismasted sloop, adrift and rudderless in the deep Caribbean blue. Enormous sharks circle the boat. Their ominousness is reinforced by the zone of black water from which they rise. (The catalog, rather absurdly, suggests that celibate Homer was invoking that hoary phantom of the Freudian couch, the vagina dentata. This could make sense only to an art historian who has never been near a live shark.) On the horizon, a square-rigger sails indifferently by, and we see the waterspout of a coming tornado. There will be no rescue. The painting refers back to other images...
...blasted American lives, the terror never stays so politely out of sight--it's usually smacking you in the face. Buried Child, first produced in 1978, opens with a marital conversation conducted across a chasm. Dodge, a foghorn-voiced geezer (a hilarious James Gammon), sits nearly immobile on a couch, exchanging shouts with his wife (Lois Smith), who spends most of the first act offstage. One grown son (Terry Kinney) shuffles in and out with armfuls of corn; another (Leo Burmester) stomps around on a false leg and terrorizes his father by snipping his hair while he sleeps. "You think...