Word: blends
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...Iron Curtain (20th Century-Fox) is the fact-fictional story of the Soviet-Canadian atomic spy ring, and of how it was cracked (TIME, March 11, 1946). It centers on the Soviet Embassy Code Clerk Igor Gouzenko (Dana Andrews with a short haircut) who did the cracking. An odd blend of naivete and expert craftsmanship, the picture is an above-average spine-chiller. It is also topnotch anti-Communist propaganda...
...Hawthorne formula is a well-stirred ragout of one part Henry Morgan, three parts Arthur Godfrey and a dash of Colonel Stoopnagle; it is a blend of the outrageously unexpected and the shaggy dog joke. In the middle of a recording, a voice may suddenly announce: "I've got cole slaw in all my pockets. I'm cold." Sometimes Hawthorne heckles his lovesick records. "What are you in the mood for, honey?" he will ask during the opening bars of a song. "I'm in the mood for love," the record croons back...
...answer is that there is much more to conducting than just keeping time; though even keeping time in a complicated score isn't always easy. At any given moment the flute player or the violinist is concerned only with his own note, which the conductor must blend-in time and volume-with the playing of 100 others. And while concentrating on the notes being played at any given moment, the conductor must also have one part of his mind listening to the entire piece. He must be on guard not to exhaust prematurely, in a too early climax...
...story, like the movie as a whole, is a nice blend of journalistic hardheadedness and softheartedness. Peering through windows, late on a summer night, the camera finds a room in which a girl is being murdered. There is the killer, but the watcher knows neither his identity nor his motive. The body is found and the news buzzes through to Homicide. During the balance of the show, the audience follows a veteran detective (Barry Fitzgerald), his young helper (Don Taylor) and a swarm of assistants, from laboratory experts to pavement pounders, at the long hard job of smelling out suspects...
...content of Son of the Moon. It is a novel of some passion and excitement, and the slow accumulation of brief scenes, following the pattern of Passage to India, is very nearly incompatible with such passion. Here & there the novel has a kind of Oriental power of hallucination: experiences blend and retreat; characters dissolve; a spell is cast by the very remoteness of the happenings so precisely described. At such moments the novel seems a blend of several books, about an India that seems partly familiar and partly a new world of still formless action...