Word: faked
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Others in the tight Ibiza circle-a raffish collection reminiscent of Humphrey Bogart's Beat the Devil-added color to the story. There was Elmyr de Hory, the slightly flamboyant art forger who is the principal figure in Irvine's book Fake! Another good friend is Gerry Albertini, an idle millionaire with dual British-American citizenship who, apparently as a favor, once kept Irving's Hughes manuscript in his safe on the island...
Impromptu press conferences on Ibiza turned into parties, with Edith serving drinks and snacks. One evening, reports TIME'S Roger Beardwood, the group was joined by Elmyr de Hory, the master Hungarian art forger about whom Irving wrote his best-known book, Fake! Something of a personage on Ibiza (he sports an English shooting jacket and a monocle), De Hory confided that it was "possible but not probable" that anyone could have forged a nine-page letter from Howard Hughes. "He would have to be a genius," De Hory whispered. "And Cliff, dear boy, is no genius at anything...
Peter Graves, of Mission: Impossible, is St. Luke. Sometime MGM musical Star Jane Powell is Pontius Pilate's wife. Actor Harve Presnell, his 6 ft. 4 in. frame draped with a mini-toga, is a troubled centurion. And there, amid crosses, a sepulcher, live olive trees and fake grass on Stage 4 in NBC's Burbank studio, is the real superstar of the $150,000 Easter special, waiting for the 40-minute semi-rock "cantata" to conclude. At a signal from the producer, the tape rolls. Oral Roberts beams a broad, benign smile into the camera...
...perspectives tilt irrationally and contradict one another, the façades are cardboard, the inhabitants ghosts. "These characters in costume who gesticulate under a 'real' sky, in the middle of 'real' nature, have always given me the impression of something as stupid as it is fake," De Chirico wrote later. He was speaking of theater, but the preference is equally true of his early painting. De Chirico had intelligently brought some of the flattening devices of Cubism to bear on a wholly anecdotal art. The fragments of memory found their distorted space; the means...
...Does he have something new to tell us? Is his theatricality so exciting as to justify telling us nothing? Does he extend the forms of drama? If all the answers are no, as in Handke's case, he should be accorded no more attention than a purveyor of fake antiques. In reality, such a playwright is insulting the audience-what the Germans call Publikumsbeschimpfung. That was the title of an earlier Handke play in which four actors simply revile the audience. Slightly more subtly, he's done it again...