Word: bitters
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Have to Call Me Darlin', Darlin', But You Never Even Call Me By My Name"), rocking mockers ("Up Against The Wall, Redneck Mother"), chomping satires ("My Whole World Lies Waiting Behind Door Number Three"), love-into-lust songs ("Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw"), and bitter-enders much bleaker than the usual tears-in-beers ("Sam Stone: There's A Hole in Daddy's Arm Where All the Money Goes"). The sound was a lot cleaner than the Nashville over-productions in the early '70s, but the revolution, the genre-busting, was in the lyrics...
Some of the best poetry appears in the middle section of the book, "Desert." It is here that Tamsen's willingness begins to bitter. The impossibility of the odds finds expression in paradox: "we age in the youngest canyon; we fumble through/the same impassable passage." Hope finds outlet in dreams, signs and visions: a rainstorm on the ocean; a mirage of fellow travelers. Rock formations and vegetation come to stand for futility: "the children chase [Tumbleweed]/as though they were chasing/hoops or balls/the rootless chasing the rootless...
Voight becomes unrealistically angelic. Once bitter and cynical, after he befriends Fonda--whom he had known in high school when she was a cheerleader and he a football star--and after he is released from the confines of his bed to a wheelchair, he changes. The blond-haired, bearded wonder becomes totally hip--sympathetic, concerned, committed to the anti-war movement rather than despair, and the model responsive lover. His abilities as a teacher and healer are unsurpassed--from helping Fonda achieve her first satisfying orgasm (in a surprisingly graphic love scene) to consoling the chronically depressed brother of Jane...
...spare the rod" philosophy of rearing is literally taken by the father of the future writer Gavio Ledda (Saverio Marconi). Mario Masini's cinematography especially shines in filming the lush greens and radiant ambers of a sunlit Sardinian landscape. But most importantly, few movies have ever probed the bitter relationship of an intractable patriarch and his eldest son more sensitively and his unflinchingly than the quasi-literary "Padre, Padrone...
...while the polls indicated that the Left might win anyhow. But a sufficiently large fraction of voters who had deserted the Majority in 1974, '76 and '77 for the Socialists, returned to the Right to ensure its victory. They could not bring themselves to support a coalition of bitter enemies engaged in fierce mutual recriminations and incapable of agreeing on a platform. Even though the French youth from 18 to 21 voted for the first time, the Left did a shade worse than in the Mitterrand-Giscard duel of 1974. And so, the C.P. is back in the political ghetto...