Word: grinding
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Above the waist, merengue action has the approximate agility and combustibility of Mister Rogers doing a Maypole dance. Partners move sideways, taking a long step and hauling the other foot behind. The real fire is down below. Partners can press hips close enough to grind grain, dance a few steps, drift away from each other, then, as the music quickens, come together again. Says Oscar Herrera, 34, a Salvadoran immigrant who directs a San Francisco social-service agency: "The merengue grabs you so much that even if you get tired and soaked in sweat, you can't stop dancing...
...that inspired it remains. In Bald Mountain, Mussorgsky's music is suddenly interrupted by a prolonged cadenza of what can only be called socialist jazz jungle drumming. Pairs of pig-snouted satyrs and lissome succubi writhe lustily as syncopated kettledrums accompany an orgy of things that go bump and grind in the night. The outburst is as unexpected as it is finally gratuitous. But after an evening of demure wholesomeness, it makes a welcome, rowdy change...
...last week's Big Deal, a splashy, sassy, streetwise show from Bob Fosse. As choreographer or director, Fosse, 58, staged ten consecutive hits, from 1955's Pajama Game to 1978's Dancin'. Since Gower Champion's death in 1980 and Harold Prince's semiretirement after the 1985 fiasco Grind, Fosse has stood alone in his capacity to make movement seem magic. On the strength of his name, ticket buyers gave Big Deal a $1.5 million advance. The Shubert Organization invested $1.1 million co-producing the spectacle and an additional $7.5 million renovating its showcase, the Broadway Theater. With one more...
...grind of libraries is very real," says Tom Fitzsimmons, whose character Ford is Hart's waspy fellow classmate. The Yale graduate said he had no qualms about playing a Harvard student, adding that his Ivy League experience helped him give Ford that Northeastern touch. "I went to school with guys [like the character] I played," says Fitzsimmons...
...What religion are you, would you be interested in a Mormon meeting, what's your phone number, where do you live, can we stop by, here's a pamphlet. Once again a friendly introduction had accelerated into a heavenly sales pitch. Trapped in the moving subway, I could only grind my teeth into a smile as disingenuous as their's. After all the bubbly inquiries, I was just one more requirement to be met in their year of divine duty...