Word: agee
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...princess also has some sympathetic defenders. Columnist Peregrine Worsthorne of the Daily Telegraph, a staunch monarchist, insists that "royal black sheep there are bound to be" and argues that it is no crime for a Windsor woman to admire younger men, particularly in England's second Elizabethan age. "Admittedly," adds Worsthorne in afterthought, "Roddy Llewellyn is no Essex or Walter Raleigh, but then she herself is no virgin queen." The princess's defenders also recall Margaret's pathetic trauma of 1955, when she was forced to end her much publicized romance with R.A.F. Group Captain Peter Townsend...
This flabbiness spoils a considerable effort to look clearly at the defeats of old age. A courageous old boarder in Rosa's house simply collapses and dies. Rosa knows that her mind is slipping into senility. The boy Momo, caught in the erratic currents of adolescence, tries to puzzle out these shabby indignities. When the film sees life through his eyes, its strengths begin to cohere. There is no discredit to Signoret in speculating that Madame Rosa would have made better artistic sense if it had been called Momo, and if it had given most of its attention...
Claude is nearly 17, and the only thing in his head is, to employ a euphemism, girls. Like every teen-age male in creation, he sees the world through a spermy haze, a green fog of concupiscence. He runs after girls in the street, and when he overtakes one, doesn't know where to put his eyes, his hands, his conversation. He is quite normal...
...clear that Director Claude Berri regards The First Time, like his earlier films The Two of Us and Marry Me, Marry Me, as a roguish memoir. The mighty engines of nostalgia come into play as male viewers in their 40s, harassed by their own teen-age children and the spores of mid-life fungus, look backward with Berri. It is a rueful pleasure to watch Claude and his randy school friends stumble rubber-kneed after anything in skirts. The viewer smiles to himself and thinks, "My God, yes, it really was that crazy...
...them strut across the page, in aviator jackets and miniskirts, equipped with flick knife and carbine: young bourgeois clones of affectless violence, Black Shirt, S.L.A. or Brigata Rossa. It is an uncannily predictive drawing. "The Mickey Mouse face," Steinberg remarks, "is sexless, neither black nor white, without character or age: for me it represents the junk-food people, the spoilt young ones who have all their experiences, inferior as they are, handed to them on a plate." An encyclopedic disgust pervades these drawings. But it is not a common emotion in Steinberg's work. In general, he is a paragon...