Word: bogus
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...bogus preacher, Mostel, who has been long applauded as a light-heavy with all the graceful moves of a bantamweight, is restrained from dipping into his repertoire much beyond an occasional grimace and a few eye-pops. His performance is perfunctory; he may well have been bored. Kim Novak, one of his seedy band, wearily remarks of herself at the outset: "Sister Lyda's ass is draggin." Indeed, she bestirs herself only for the strategic seduction of Clint Walker, who has no trouble at all playing an oafish, one-dimensional Ranger. Despite The Great Bank Robbery's pretentious...
...poets, chasing them and censoring them like a worn-out scold. But that war is nearly over. A middle class, as conventional and tolerant as anybody's, is now growing up in the cities, and the Charm is being taken over by the Tourist Board. Bogus castles, renovated pubs and professional colorful characters may be all that survive of it, unless the Irish pass a miracle that has defeated other folk people and keep the flower without also keeping the dunghill it grew...
...Victorian artist. Lear was always a little below the salt. He had his studio at-homes, but those who came to scoff his scones did not remain to pay for his pictures. Briefly he joined the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. But how could his neat landscapes compete with the bogus medievalism of Burne-Jones' Sir Galahad or the religiosity of Holman Hunt's The Light of the World, in which a mournful schoolmaster wearing a mortarboard of thorns drew devout thousands to the doors of British and U.S. museums...
...Mussolini and his Fascisti offer humanity's best hope. She sends one girl packing to fight in Spain for the Falangists-where she is killed. Her favorite informant (Pamela Franklin) turns against her and squeals to the authorities. "Assassin!" shrieks Miss Brodie, and the echoing walls provide a bogus, melodramatic echo...
...squash court of New York's Eli Club, Professor Bertram Langsam loses his head and thumb. Ferdinand Fields, an Episcopal rector partial to horror flicks, is decapitated in the men's room of a Long Island railroad train by a Peruvian sun priestess turned tramp. Whittaker Duchamp, bogus play producer, is more fortunate: he only loses an ear. The bloody trail is also strewn with a vengeful rabbi, scheming and pathetic women, a semi-transvestite, and other odd characters who are for the most part linked...