Word: baldingly
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...trainer) are well cast, then-scenes together are perfunctory and impersonal. Emotions are provided in stead by a busy and overbearing musical score. The film's story begins to move in fits and starts. Except for the inevitable big race, it is not advanced visually but by bald snatches of voice-over dialogue. No doubt children in the audience will have a fine time anyway; they may even enjoy the film's prosaic conclusion more than its arty opening. Still, adults cannot be blamed if The Black Stallion 's highly disappointing final stretch motivates them to take...
...black ties and bald heads could belong to old college classmates at a 40th reunion. The Supreme de Volatile Eugenie on the menu is standard hotel chicken with yellow gravy, and the platitudes served up by the speakers might be heard at any nostalgic or vaguely patriotic gathering. But the memories are not of the promise of youth or of bright college years. Mostly, they are of spying...
...thing to remember about State Rep. Melvin H. King, who is running third in the polls, is that he is black. He is also bald, has a beard and answers the phones in his campaign headquarters. He will also never be mayor of Boston. Sad to say, of course, because King's politics are refreshingly progressive. If elected, he says he would turn public housing projects into tenant cooperatives, attract more federal funds to the city and fire the guys who run what he labels the implicitly racist Police Department. As one might assume, King is expected to cut fairly...
...Carmel, an old man is playing the piano, not too well. The room is large, worn and comfortable, decked with the heterogeneous souvenirs of a long life?rows of Indian pottery, elegantly woven tribal baskets and a huge Chinese ceremonial drum. The piano player's head, a bald mass, gleams in the light. His hands, swollen from arthritis, hardened by decades of immersion in darkroom chemicals, skitter over the keys, assaulting the same phrase again and again. "Damn," he says, "I've lost it." But not altogether. Once you have practiced to concert discipline, even 50 years ago, the traces...
...their transformations seem arbitrarily decreed by Coppola rather than dramatically justified. We feel nothing. Still, the crew members are almost Dostoyevskian in complexity compared with the deranged Kurtz. When we finally meet the renegade at his camp of Montagnard disciples, Apocalypse Now collapses into a terminal anticlimax. An overweight, bald Brando weaves in and out of the shadows of his temple headquarters, doing little more than spouting quotations from Conrad and T.S. Eliot...