Word: marceau
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...Current's examination of the problem of a Catholic at Harvard is continued in a series of a three articles by undergraduates. These pieces, by Christian Ohiri, Carla Marceau, and "Jane Wilson," though not badly written, carry with them a vague bit of embarrassment. We learn very little from such declamations as "How can a very small and insignificant soul break from a creed, which, if it does nothing else, at least proclaims consistently and vehemently and unwaveringly that it alone possess the one complete truth in the universe? I am torn." Montaigne's remark that "We must reserve...
...Marcel Marceau is an exciting architect of empty space, an eloquent poet of silence. This matchless mime shares with the early Charlie Chaplin the knowledge that no matter how funny the pratfall, the heart is where the hurt...
...Marcel Marceau, a mime conceivably without living equal, celebrates the Pyrrhic victories of the human spirit. He is a pantomimic accountant of the laughably saddening costs of being human. Mimicking a dynamiter, he blows himself up at pre cisely the moment when he is casually admiring his technical know-how. As a partygoer, he pirouettes through all the socia graces, only to get stupidly, staggering!) drunk. With his toes seemingly reading a tightrope in faltering braille, he teeters across the high wire, but only after the audience is made to know that courage can be the vanity of cowards...
...Marceau's art has an autumnal seriousness, his artistry bubbles with Gallic springtime vivacity. He mixes sweetness with strength. His head wobbles like a flower on a too-slender stalk, but his feet are sprung steel on points when he dances his soundless ballets. He is a theatrical master of total illusion. When he climbs an imaginary ladder, the rungs creak; when he leans against a nonexistent bar, the bar leans back with wooden stubbornness; when his outthrust palms slide feverishly along a make-believe wall, the air turns brick-solid...
...Marceau has obviously tutored himself on early Charlie Chaplin. The Little Tramp wore a derby; Marceau's Bip character sports a dented stovepipe hat. In The Tramp's hand was a flower; from Bip's hat sprouts a rose. Both share the knowledge that no matter how funny the pratfall, the heart is where the hurt is. In nursing that hurt, Marcel Marceau shows himself to be a stylish musician of motion, an exciting architect of empty space, an eloquent poet of silence...