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May 1, 2003

There’s not one veil in sight, let alone seven. But for once, Salome’s mythic dance is effective in exactly the right way: sexy as all get-out and thoroughly demoralizing. It is hard not to identify with that old lecher who’s been watching her, frozen, through a haze of red light, looking like the ultimate tired businessman. ”Wonderful,” he says proprietarily, with a Yiddish lilt, at the dance’s conclusion. But you can tell this voyeuristic episode has taken a lot out of him.

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