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...
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