Word: scripted
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...idea I want to get rid of," said Theatrician Peter Ustinov, 46, "is that of Actor Ustinov coming in to save a fragile bauble-a script by Writer Ustinov." By way of making his point, Ustinov is looking on as his new play, Halfway Up the Tree, opens this season in five productions in four countries in three languages-and he won't have a role in any of them. Lest he seem totally idle, he will direct the New York version, hop over to London occasionally to watch Sir John Gielgud direct that company, shove on to France...
...farmyard geese that "hissed and nipped at my legs above my buttoned boots"; they feared the somber Blackfeet Indians, who fished in the Flathead River. The trio hurried along, since before every class Miss Blachly had to put all the lessons on the blackboard in her neat, round Palmer script for the students to copy-no one had a textbook...
Faced with O'Neill's rhetorical soliloquies and the awkward device of having characters utter their unspoken thoughts, Director José Quintero apparently folded his hands in slothful reverence. When it came to cutting the script by three hours, however, he became indiscriminately agile, severing vital tendons of continuity, meaning, mood and theme. O'Neill had specified that the play be destroyed if he could not revise it, and after a fashion, Quintero has obliged. What remains is a remnant of O'Neill's melancholy conviction that hell hath no fury quite like a human...
...William Manchester has earned at least as much from The Death of a President. Freelancers with a talent for fiction have another escape-and that is television. If they find they can write episodes for a series, they are paid $2,500 to $3,500 for a half-hour script, $4,000 to $6,000 for an hour. A few emerge from this fiercely competitive field as so-called hyphenates. Like Rod Serling or Paul Henning, they become writer-directors or writer-producers and can earn more than $100,000 a year...
...wheels a shiny red convertible around like a hell driver. His partner, mooning around Sue Lyon's earthy smile, is a love-struck leftover from turn-of-the-century melodrama, yet speaks the language of the contemporary soldier. Like the cars its heroes steal and riotously wreck, the script starts strong but plots its own collision course, and eventually piles up in a harmless heap of miscellaneous parts that no longer mesh. The viewer, who begins by sympathizing with the Flim Flam Man, ends film-flammed as another one of his victims...