Word: aristocratism
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...construct the perfect dialogue from long-retired phrases and adolescent sexual puns. Oscar's favorite line, as he tries to figure out how much the girl is really worth, is the standard flyer: "Didn't her brother leave her something?" In classic versions of the "fortune" plot an aristocrat's title was responsible for all that loot. But this is a painstakingly American comedy; it turns out that Freddy's mother has left her a fortune in Quintessa Sanitary Napkins...
Blazing Carrots, 4, 5:30, 7, 8:30, 10 p.m. The Ruling Class. Peter O'Toole is a saintly-string of blonde hair and blue eyes here, playing a young aristocrat who is a psychotic, schizophrenic, paranolac, psychopathic nut, who takes his relaxation by hanging himself up on a crucifix in the parior, and who is uncomfortable in the role of noble and has no respect for his wealth or position. We're supposed to like him--he's the truly sane one, right? A worthless creep, I think--the idea is admirable, and there are a couple of good...
...Aristocratic Disdain. Biographer Skidelsky, who teaches at Johns Hopkins, works hard at creating a sympathetic and revealing study of the root of Mosley's fascism. A shameless elitism and a longing for an almost feudal sense of self-sufficient community, a revulsion against war caused by his experiences in 1914, and an aristocrat's disdain for the middle class are primary elements in Mosley's career. The author goes soupy, however, when it comes to explaining Mosley the man. A comparison to Goethe's Faust-who used evil to gain a higher good-is material...
Since no single aspect of Glenda Jackson's performance is unflawed, there is a wealth of errors to choose from. Hedda is a fastidious aristocrat and the proud daughter of a general. Jackson endows her with all the grace, style and elegance of Eliza Doolittle hawking flowers in Covent Garden. Hedda is broodingly neurotic and desperately bored. Jackson seems to be suffering no more than a fuzzy hangover...
...wife, is even thinner as a character; she is a walking, talking Vogue cover; a silent, cosmetically perfect femme fatale who faints at the proper time and ornaments Stavisky's life in the most necessary way. The center of sympathy in the film is Baron Raoul (Charles Boyer), an aristocrat whose purpose in life has been to dissipate a fabulous century-old fortune. "It was very satisfying," he says of this experience. He is old now, and penniless, with only his courtliness and wry smile left, but he defends his dead friend Stavisky before the Parliamentary inquiry much as Talleyrand...