Word: bathtubfuls
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...Shout), Skolimowski has sometimes been too ready to sacrifice social feeling for a quicksilver cinematic intelligence. Moonlighting has its share of incongruous images (a flowerpot Nowak discovers in a toilet bowl) and gorgeous ones (a sweetly comic Degas overtone as one of the laborers reposes in a bathtub), but every shot is there to serve, heighten, reveal. The mundane and the surreal are one: Nowak sees images of his beloved, perhaps unfaithful wife Anna in a store window, on TV, naked in a cellar apartment. She is the vision-memory of all the hopes and fears he left behind...
...until he began to talk, they had no proof he had committed any of the murders. Watts' luck ran out last May 23, when he was arrested while trying to drown Lori Lister, 20, in her apartment bathtub. In the end Watts' culpability came as no great surprise to Houston police. When Watts migrated south in March 1981, Michigan authorities warned Texas police that he was suspected of being Michigan's "Sunday Morning Slasher." Houston police placed Watts under surveillance, but he was obviously not watched closely enough...
...viewer's emotions when he is there. This is the clue about how he must be regarded: foam rubber or not, it is wrong to call him a good trick. He is a good actor, quite capable of handling a drunk scene or of splashing about in a bathtub (though Spielberg, to his eventual regret, cut the bath scene). His co-star Henry Thomas, 10, now lonesome for E.T, says, "He was a person...
...hours after the flames died down, thick clouds of smoke covered the charred remnants of buildings. In one burned-out house, water still gushed into a bathtub. Broken gas lines blazed like torches in the remains of apartments; the twisted hulks of blackened cars were scattered through the rubble...
...hair. At 15, she practically lived in one of the family cars-the big, gleaming '57 Chevy, which awaited us at the bus depot. Arnie hopped into the driver's seat and started the engine as Liz babbled about giant Texas scorpions which apparently awaited me in the bathtub. Between the bus station and the Oranges' house in North Austin lay six miles of dry Texas land, minus the cacti and split by the freeway. The road had six lanes heavily populated with loud, fast Camaros, Continentals, VW buses, and larger vehicles. The side street the Oranges live...