Or, thanks to the new and brilliant approaches of Halpern and Johnstone, The Old Testament of Improv.

At any rate Viola Spolin influenced improv more than any other human being. She was the first, the pioneer. Her son, Paul Sills, founded both The Compass and Second City. He carries on her work.

Easily 90+% of all improv exercises taught in American universities are derived from her. And most mediocre books on ipmrov are small samplings of re-cycled Spolin exercises, without her focus.

Which is a nice way to segway into telling the reader that even 'The Bible' is bound to disappoint if one misses the theme of Spolin's thought.

Without it one simply gets a collection of 'games' that are ponderously cross referenced. (And a big so what.) It'll gather dust on the bookshelf as a 'reference work'

Here's a secret: Spolin was far less concerned with the comedy audience suggestion improv theater ( Second City notwithstanding.) Her main concern was training actors.

(Her influence has been vastly underestimated, e.g; Meisner trained actors should check out her "Preocupation A" exercise. You'll get deja vu. And Spolin came first.)

She took one of Stanislavsky's best idea, "Concentration of Attention" and ran with it. She created the credo of POC (point of concentration) and 'sidecoached' the players into weaving magic . . .

Well, if this film doesn't put hair on your chest, nothing will.

Look up 'film noir' in the dictionary and there should be a picture of Robert Mitchum in The Yakuza, alongside Bogie in The Maltese Falcon. It's that good of a film.

The theme is about honor, or "giri." The last bastion of manhood in an relativistic world ambivalent towards heroism, unsure about any values, moral or otherwise, and gone to hell.

Against this background, you may be a tad on the shady side of the law, but do you keep faith with your friends?
For that matter, would you risk taking a bullet for someone you personally loathe but whom you "owe" because he's saved the life of your wife and child?

The plot begins when Mitchum is approached by an old army buddy that he hasn't heard from in decades, save for the annual obligatory Christmas card. His daughter's been kidnapped by Japanese mobsters and he needs his help.

As to Mitchum, his character is established in one line.
"You've been successful?"
Mitchum: "That depends on how you figure those things."

True enough. He has no family, no friends, no one even remotely close. The film noir loner, now in his sixties.

He goes back to Japan, links up with the only woman he ever loved, and the one enemy who can help him gain entry into the dark world of the Yakuza; an ultra-traditionalist latter-day Samurai ( Tanaka Ken ) who "owes" Mitchum.

One small problem, he's no longer a Yakuza. He's been out of the mob for years. When Mitchum finds out this unpleasant bit of inforation and blurts out "I can't ask you to do that!" Tanaka Ken quietly replies: "You already have."

The aged warriors go to it again. A great story of love and betrayal. Acted in a style of understated whispers between flashing katanas that bring the house down.

Possibly the best written, most enjoyable, and well acted drama ever filmed. It's hard to believe this was produced by the same species that made 'Waterworld', 'Orca', 'The Swarm' or any soap opera that has blighted your daytime TV.

One of the reasons the drama packs such a wallop is the brilliant humor that serves as a counterpoint to all the evil machinations of the most dysfunctional royal family imaginable. Virtually every scene is a masterpiece of biting wit and macabre intrigue.

It is the contradictions that make the larger than life characters so thoroughly human and believable. Goldman's play captures the love between Henry and Eleanor wonderfully, even when they're trying to outfox and destroy each other. Yep, this IS a marriage!

Not one actor in a million could pull this off. Fortunately for us, that's who gets cast in the leads: Peter O'Toole as Henry, Katherine Hepburn as Eleanor and the future Hannibal Lecter, King Arthur and James Bond as, respectively, Richard the Lion Hearted, Prince John and King Phillip of France.

Treat yourselves to the twelfth century! It might remind you of home . . .

Yes is the testament of Viktor Frankl, a psychiatrist and neurologist who was imprisoned at Auschwitz and endured years of brutality under the shadow of the gas chamber.

So what is the meaning of life?

You are, according to Frankl.

Neither joy nor suffering can give a man's life any meaning. It is the man who gives suffering, joy, or whatever his life contains a meaning, the way he accepts his fate and all that it entails.

Regardless of external circumstances, there is a spark of freedom which enables man to fight or despair. To choose to be a demon or a saint.

Agree or disagree, this book has power because it is written by someone who has been to hell and back. Who has seen it all with his own eyes. It's an antidote to the 'bumper sticker' feel-good juvenile slush that passes for philosophy nowdays.

Whatever this book is, it's not superficial.

It's astounding. This is one of the funniest comedies ever made and few people have even heard of it.

Everyone's seen "Some Like it Hot" (I HOPE!) but even die-hard Billy Wilder fans have missed out on this one.

Like "The Apartment" it's co-written by Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond, stars Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine and is directed by the man himself.

There's one big difference, though. "The Apartment" has been justly acclaimed as a masterpiece of cinema, but despite what critics have written about it, it is NOT a 'romantic comedy.' It's a drama. A poignant love story with a happy ending.

This one's a screwball comedy. A first class farce.

But, that's another story . . .

In the last place you'd expect to find it; a 'teenage sex comedy flick'. The genre of the Beavis & Butthead crowd ususally released during summer vacations. It would be as if you were expecting 'a war flick' and walked into "Schindler's List", "Das Boot" or "Lawrence of Arabia"

Amazing.

Great writing and directing by Cameron Crowe. There's about 140 reviews at Amazon, which cover every aspect of it quite well, here's my 2 cents worth: This is the story of a knight, in modern kickboxing armor, in case you missed the metaphor, who thinks well of women, and has the capacity to fall in love and the bravery to pay the price which love entails.
In fact love, rather than career, sexual conquest, or popularity is his highest value.

It's the story of a man, not "a guy". As one of the characters says: "Be a man, the world is full of guys"

This book is indeed 'magisterial'. Over 945 pages long, thoroughly annotated, and heavy enough to use as a weapon.

It covers the period of time referred to as 'Hellenic'; When the Greeks finally had it with the burden of freedom. After Alexander forced his troops to kneel to him in worship, murdered his closest asociates, and subsequently dropped dead himself.

Alongside palace murders and dynastic wars, Green gives us a detailed account of a Greek-centered world after the suicide of Greek liberty, integrity and brilliance. Such are the pitfalls of conquering the world. A geographical expansion concurrent with a contraction of genius.

Now, everybody and his cousin is Hellenized. It's the in thing to be since Alexander's generals have become kings in their own right. They may lack his courage and military genius but not his megalomania, tyranny or paranoia. And their princely offspring are generally inclined to be either half-witted or even more vicious.

No matter how much history may have romanticized Themistocles, Pericles, Socrates, and the rest of the boys in the previous 'golden age,' the Hellenic period is such a fall from grace that the reader can hardly wait for a sane and efficiently corrupt Rome to wipe them out in the final chapters.

Green's style may be too breezy and ironic for some readers who prefer their scholarly works dry.

As an example, Green mentions that Cleopatra respected Caesar while Mark Antony "nearly drove her nuts."

Above all, it's in the area of philosophy that Green show his most original or, to some, annoyingly cute writing.

Philosophy, far from being a rarified persuit of academics, is the central spirit of the culture and times. And the times were tough.

This is why Cynics, who would normally be considered parasites or simply nuts, flourished and why Skeptics often brought men toward rather than away from religion. After all, if nothing can be proven with certainty, why not go for the afterlife with gusto?

For those of us who are inclined to think of Stoics as heroes or of Epicureans as noble, Green rounds out the portrait unflatteringly.

Epicurus was, according to Green, a cult leader who was able to live placidly in his 'garden' thanks to the generous donations of rich dilettantes. Working for a living does not enter into his philosophy. A dogmatist who shunned debate and anathematized all 'heretics' in his polemics, he was probably suffering from bulemia. Hence, his constant emphasis on avoiding pain as the greatest of virtues.

In this 'monastic life' his followers engaged in friendly conversation trying to convince themselves that all careers were uselesss and death was not such a big deal.

Stoicism also takes a beating. We're told it was a pop philosophy, logically suspect in its premises, a consolation for a once free people who were now politically powerless.

Stoics became vastly more influential than Epicureans, not because their message was more profound than, 'Gather your rosebuds while ye may,' but because it provided a cosmological support to astrology, an increasingly popular fad among the powerless as well as an incentive to the ambitious that they were fulfilling the destiny of the living universe as they strove for their goals by hook or by crook.

Therefore, it could be all things to all people, producing such unlikely bedfellows as Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, and Seneca.

Bottom line? For anyone intersted in the Hellenic period, this is THE book.

What's wrong with this picture?

1) A CIA officer in Lebanon strikes gold : He discovers a safe house for Abu Nidal, one of the top terrorist organizations which is interconnected with practically every other. He prepares to rent an apartment next door, bring a tech team, stick a mike in the wall and bug their meetings. His name is Robert Baer. Baer is outraged that the US embassy in Beirut has been bombed and no one seems close to a solution as to who did it or where they may strike again.

His chief, a confirmed desk jockey, vetos the operation on the grounds that it might upset the Lebanese government if they found out. He suggests Baer should finagle an invitation to attend an Australian embassy party instead. When Baer replies "Who the hell do you expect is going to show up at an Australian embassy reception?" he is met with silence.

2) Former KGB archivist, Vasili Mitrokhin gets turned away by the CIA on the grounds that Russia is now a friendly country.

This, despite the resurgence of Russian nationalism, possibly missing nuclear bombs, and the exposure of traitors Rick Ames (CIA) and Robert Hannsen (FBI).

This story, at least, has a happy ending. Vasili subsequently volunteered to British intelligence and the info provided culminated in the arrest of dozens of spies, including a U.S. colonel.

3) In 1995 Baer runs an 'office' in the hills of Kurd occupied northern Iraq. Opposition leaders and Iraqi generals join forces in a coup de etat against Saddam Hussein. The plan involves precise timing. As the US representative they give Baer all the details and ask if they have US cooperation. Baer reports all to his superiors stateside. He assures them Washington wants to get rid of Saddam.

The preliminary attack to divert Saddam's attention begins as scheduled. At this eleventh hour, Baer gets a telegram from HQ that the US is backing off and the Kurds and Iraqi generals are on their own. One of them ironically asks if they have never heard of the Bay of Pigs.

4) President Aliyev of Azerbijan informs Baer and other American 'delegates' that he is ready to help but that the US must "live up to its bargains".

The 'delegation' has no idea what he's talking about so Aliyev explains that the State Dept undersecretary and Deputy Energy secretary promised him help against Iran and threatened 'bad relations' with the US if Aliyev did not give a contract to Exxon---never mind competing American oil companies, or free market ideals---According to Baer, Clinton was "pimping for Exxon".

He reports on widespread corruption in Washington when it came to oil deals with former USSR republics. He names names and recounts how his offers to testify before Congress met with--you guessed it--silence.
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See No Evil is the story of Rober Baer, a self admitted ski bum who applied for a job at the CIA in his early twenties as a lark, not really thinking he'd be hired but hoping that if he were, he'd be able to get a paycheck while fooling around Switzerland's mountaintops.

No such luck. It turned out to be hard and dangerous work. However, he discovered he had a taste for being a field officer--rather like a cop who enjoys working the streets. He worked the streets for 21 years and recounts it in this best selling book.

Baer's main beef is that the US intelligence community is enamored of the "eye in the sky"--satellite photos and high tech gizmos whcin cannot tell what goes on inside the human mind. For that one needs field officers and infiltrators, which the increasingly PC establishment was unwilling to keep backing Consequently they became dinosaurs.

Baer's critics seem to charge him with wanting to dismantle the NSC, or down all American satellites and sell them for scrap. Rather absurd charges that side step the issues.

Great reading before we all become dinosaurs.

The Bobo (Bourgeois/Bohemian) are baby boomers and middle aged yuppies who made good in college, embraced corporate America and are now the new ruling class of educated elites.

A class defined by pretensions of artistic sensibilities, left wing politics and a penchant for constant self improvement. Consequently Bobos do not enjoy orgasm, they achieve it, rather like getting an A in algebra thanks to the right tutor. Lady Chatterly's lover has become Lady Chatterly's 'empowerment counselor'.

In formerly exclusive Bohemian fields borgeois etiquette and mainstream acceptance are now the new standards. Sadomasochistic groups which less enlightened souls would have termed perverts during the stone age of pre-Bobo American society nowdays respectfully refer to themselves as 'the leather community ' and host charity drives.

As Mr. Brooks observes, self-respect is a laudable goal to attain while one is tied naked to the floor worshipping a leather boot.

Bobo theology is somewhat reminiscent of the church of the month club. So tolerant and vague Unitarians are put to shame. Brooks believes The last Judgement will be replaced with The last Discussion group in which the damned will be separated from those who re-cycle.

Even the legendary orgiastic two fisted parties of disenfrachised artists have crumbled before the onslaught. Bobo parties sin against Dionysus. Two white wines at most and it's time to go home to the kids. In the past the Bohemians raised hell, but now that CEO's have delusions of quirky artistry and all corporate work is 'creative' parties are sedate affairs to chit chat about your vacation in Nepal, or better yet, Vietnam. No one needs to let off steam, just lay back and talk about the latest offerings on N.P.R.

The Clintons, according to Brooks, are the quitessential Bobos, hip anti war protestors of the 60's and futures traders in the 80's.

As to Bobo child rearing, Brooks likes to contrast Tom Sawyer with today's PBS kids. Tom was beaten by kindly Aunt Polly into acquiring table manners and attending school but was otherwise left free to adventure and wander. The children of Bobos are never spanked, but according to the author they are more enslaved than they were in the Victorian era. They are shepparded from one adult sponsored event to another. Adventure and wander? You must be kidding! All games and activities must be edifying, as the specter of SAT tests loom around the corner.

Above all, it's in the art of unconspicous consumption that Bobos truly show their mettle. A diamond necklace is declasse and mansions are gaudy, but what could possibly be wrong in spending $25,000 on a shower stall? Or designing a kitchen that looks like an airport hangar?

If it's a 'tool', the sky's the limit in spending. Hence we have Sports Utility (a contradiction in terms) Vehicles and R.E.I. sweaters and ponchos that cost an arm and a leg. Never mind that the SUV will hardly ever be taken off road, nor that 99% of the R.E.I. consumers will ever hike a glacier. The gear is cool.

Bobos in Paradise is a very witty book and worth the reading though the author is careful not to cut too deep.

In the first place, Mr. Brooks errs in assigning Bobos the title of the new upper class. They're not. Despite all their money, they're middle class to the core. And Mr. Brooks, a self admitted Bobo himself, attempts too hard to defend their contributions to American culture.

True, hippies produced the lava lamp and Bobos produced Martha Stewart. And while we should let history decide which is the greater cultural atrocity, we should not to forget Mort Sahl's definition of yuppies as that detestable generation whose idea of courage is to eat at a restaurant that has not yet been reviewed.

This least known of Shakespeare's romances was enormously popular during his day judging by handbills and other evidence--though not, of course, as much as his all time blockbuster; Romeo and Juliet.--And Pericles continued going strong for quite a while.

Immediately after the Restoration, when the Puritans (bless their hearts) fell from power and the theaters opened for business again, guess which play was the first the court wanted to see?

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So what happenned?

Oscar Wilde once said there were two ways of disliking poetry. One was to simply dislike it and the other was to like Pope.

Preicles did not do well with the 18th century pundits because it deviates from the 'Aristotalean unities'. Unlike The Tempest, for example, which takes place in one locale over a couple of days, Pericles takes place over 10 to 15 years all over the ancient Mediterranean. It has the form of an epic. What can I say? Homer would have dug it.

It's the story of a prince who screws up. Partly from his fault, mostly not. It's got tyrants, incest, treason, murder, knights, wizards, teenagers, kings, pirates, brothels, young love, a great hero and The Goddess Diana.

Oh yeah, the poetry's not too shabby either.

The theme is what to do when everything goes horribly wrong. How to weather sorrow and get through your life. How to be honorable and not give in to despair.

Someone once remarked that the romances are tragedies turned upside down e.g; The Winter's Tale begins as Othello and then has a happy ending. At least if it's performed by a good cast who commits to the miracle of the statue coming back to life.

If they 'apologize' for an outlandish miracle, it's doomed. Likewise, Pericles also has a happy ending if it's produced by a company who loves the play rather than by a group who views it as a rare curiosity in the Shakespeare canon.

It might interest some readers to know that the nonsense about Shakespeare only writing part of it is, God help us, a compromise position from a few scholars who don't want to get into an argument with unorthodox loons about who really wrote Shakespeare's plays.

Pericles was left out of the first folio. For that matter so were 100 lines of King Lear and there's 300 lines that appear in the folio version of Lear that aren't in the quarto (having fun yet?) which, of course, is positive proof that de Vere or Queen Elizabeth or Bacon or Lope de Vega was really the true writer and never mind that while William Shakespeare lived and for 200 years later no one thought to question his authorship, what did those Elizabethans know , anyway?

Besides he never went to college, so there.

(sigh)

As James Barrie, the author of Peter Pan once remarked: I do not know if Francis Bacon wrote Shakespeare' plays, but if he didn't he missed the opportunity of a lifetime.

In the hands of the right director, Pericles, Prince of Tyre is pure gold.