Word: businesswoman
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...would come very close to non-partisanship. The film's power is in the eye of Raoul Coutard, who here debuts as writer-director. American soldiers freeze in grotesque command postures. A theater explodes and its audience flees, losing intestines en route. Slum kids piss on a child-exploiting businesswoman's car. The connecting tissue doesn't equal the fragments, but these fragments are hard-edged stuff...
Political Conspiracy. There the matter would have ended, except that the proprietor of Ramona Foods happens to be Mrs. Romana Banuelos, a Mexican-American businesswoman whom Richard Nixon had just nominated to be the 34th Treasurer of the U.S. George K. Rosenberg, director of the Immigration Service's Los Angeles office and the man who called the raid, said he did not know Mrs. Banuelos' identity until after the raid was over. In any case, noted Rosenberg, he had sent a routine letter to Ramona Foods in August 1969, warning the company to stop employing illegal aliens...
Madame was, of course, a great businesswoman, with an intuitive sense of what products would sell and an eccentric genius for publicity. She ruled her company much the way that Catherine the Great ruled Russia-through nepotism and terror-and openly played one faction of the huge family she kept employed against another. "Go tell my nephew, what's-his-name, that he's a rotten vice-president," she once ordered her secretary. "They all want to prove their worth," she complained to O'Higgins, "but they all want to enjoy their own lives. People . . . people...
Divorced. By Lilly Pulitzer, daughter of Millionaire Horseman Ogden Phipps and a successful businesswoman in her own right as designer of subtly sophisticated casual clothes: Herbert Pulitzer Jr., grandson of the famed St. Louis publisher; on grounds of extreme cruelty; after 17 years of marriage, three children; in Miami...
...film's romance is the narrow province of the guide (Ian McShane) and an American businesswoman (Suzanne Pleshette). Between their mooning glances, the viewer is given a fast shuffle of Venice, London, Brussels and Rome. The scenes flick by like telephone poles seen from a moving window; Director Mel Stuart is more interested in drawing gross caricatures of his gawking, squawking, hamburger-hungry tourists...