Word: brutish
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...five, he four when they were married in Westminster Abbey. But the year was 1478, when life was nasty, brutish and short. Within a decade, the groom, Richard, Duke of York, was murdered in the Tower of London, along with his brother, King Edward V-according to legend by order of their uncle, who afterwards reigned as Richard III. Many historians believe that it was not Richard "Crouchback," but England's next ruler, Henry VII, who murdered the princes; yet no one knew what had become of York's bride, Anne Mowbray. Last week the London Museum announced...
...calling the gold brick black. Would he wheel a naked maiden around to catch a knife thrust meant for him? Would he, ensconced in the sack with a pajama topped blonde, refuse to meet his boss because "something big's just come up?" Would he grin patronizingly as a brutish adversary crushed a golf ball with one menacing hand? Or jump atop Pusey Galore after she'd bested him two judo falls out of three...
...deals largely with writers and artists, good, bad and indifferent, whom Ehrenburg met in the capitals of Western Europe in the interwar years. Ehrenburg seems almost under a compulsion to mention as many as possible, as if to atone in some slight way for their "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short lives. His portraits are touching, affectionate, anecdotal, but he scrupulously avoids discussing the writers' ideas. Only obliquely does he hint that many of the Russian writers were victims of Stalin, and by the time of their death thoroughly disgusted with Communism...
...Brig is a raw slice of new American cinema filmed on an off-Broadway stage by Jonas and Adolfas Mekas (Hallelujah the Hills) with such brutish authenticity that it won a Venice festival grand prize as best documentary. Part drama, part polemic, with shockwave sound and a nightmare air that suggests Kafka with a Kodak, the movie does exactly what it sets out to do-seizes an audience by the shirtfront and slams it around from wall to wall for one grueling day in a Marine Corps lockup...
Jean Harlow, first sex goddess of the talkies, had a life that epitomized Thomas Hobbes's phrase for the life of the "natural" man: poor, nasty, brutish and short. Her mother was domineering and obsessed with sex; her stepfather was a sponging promoter of fake gold mines. Jean's second husband, Producer Paul Bern, shot himself two months after the wedding. She could not act, but her platinum hair, husky voice, and refusal to wear a brassiere were enough to gross millions at the box office for Howard Hughes and Louis B. Mayer. She died...