Word: ardors
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...standard" for the newly democratic nations of the east, "a way of completing both symbolically and materially the move to the West." Now the aspirant countries are more skeptical. Their politicians still want in, but are trying to get better terms. This is not ingratitude, or irrationality, but maturity. Ardor has gone; a thoroughly modern - and Western - mix of self-interest, conflicting opinions and, yes, apathy has replaced it. Maybe that's a sign that this historic union will work after all: the newcomers will fit right into the club...
...radio. Soaring Broadway ballads, dewy with emotion, were instant anachronisms. A few female singers did essay the occasional show tune: Aretha Franklin did a rousing "Are You Sure" from "The Unsinkable Molly Brown," and Ketty Lester turned "Once Upon a Time" into the last frail breath of remembered ardor. But these thrushes were crowded out of the Top 40 by jail-bait divas like Rosie Hamlin ("Angel Baby"), Little Peggy March ("I Will Follow Him") and Lesley Gore ("It's My Party"), and by the teen girl groups. Many of the anthems they sang, of suicidal angst or jolting...
...glorious, multicolored archangel lifting the last trumpet. Kandinsky is perhaps suggesting the confusion, delight and anxiety we might feel on encountering such a being. Alexei von Jawlensky, another Blaue Reiter, wrote of the years 1905-06, "I understood how to translate nature into color according to the ardor of my soul." His drawing became schematic, as color carried his paintings' emotional content. In Helene with Dark Blue Turban (1910) the clash between the cold fuchsia background and the warm red of Helene's blouse delivers an electric charge. Emotion and ardor fill the collection, as if Gabrielle and Werner Merzbacher...
...Jerry Lee was Lenin triumphant - the shock of the new suddenly sitting, smirking, raving on the old throne. Except JLL sat on a piano stool. Sat at the beginning, anyway. Then the fingers at the ends of those long, thin, untanned arms attacking the piano with the furiously proficient ardor of a Rubinstein or a Rubirosa. Yes, children, I remember that performance as if it were from the best, clearest yesterday that changed my teen tomorrows. But Nick Tosches, Lewis' biographer, conjures it with an infernal eloquence I couldn't match. Here, then, a passage from "Hellfire...
...like "My Voyage to Italy." For this is a love letter - to a form of cinema, to its creators, to the nation that inspired it, to the generations of Marty's cinematic children who may learn to appreciate it. But should Marty undertake this third grand project of ardor and remembrance, I have a few other British artists for him to consider. Vivien Leigh ... Jean Simmons ... Joan Greenwood ... Margaret Lockwood ... Celia Johnson ... Claire Bloom ... Jessie Matthews ... Kay Kendall ... Dorothy Tutin ... Barbara Steele ... Julie Christie ... And who was that elusive beauty whose gravity anchors Carol Reed's "The Third...