Word: charm
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1970-1979
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...Sloane (Peter McEnery) is a blond thug cursed with bisexual charm. In the Satyricon, he would have been one of the boys in Fellini's band. Still, if one cannot have pre-Christian Rome, contemporary London will do. Sunning himself in a graveyard one afternoon, Sloane is taken in-in every sense-by Kath (Beryl Reid). She is a bloated harpy who will never need silicone or estrogen. Enter two gentlemen who provide complications and multiply laughter. Kath's father Dadda (Alan Webb) is a senescent buzzard; her brother Ed (Harry Andrews) is a lantern-jawed caricature...
...typically visceral. Siegel's talents, however, are weighed down by a heavy script and unwieldy performances by the two stars. Eastwood looks grizzled, stares into the sun and sneers, but anything more demanding seems beyond his grasp. Shirley MacLaine, on the other hand, has considerable range and some charm, both of which have been pretty well blunted by the monotonous consistency of her roles. Things do not bode well for the future either. Next year she will be making a television series for the 1971-72 season, which is like going from confinement to prison...
Somehow in your time for many the taste for this long wished-for kind of life has gone flat. Its authenticity and its attractiveness have lost their charm. In the university world this is a present major problem, perhaps our most frightening one. But whatever the deepest origins of our current troubles, we need not wait on their full explication to acknowledge that their effects on higher education in your time have been, at the best least, jarring...
...kind of behavior which Harvard has always wanted to teach- or rather has hoped that it might in some degree exemplify in its teachers and teachings, and so strongly represent that those coming here to learn would inevitably find it for themselves- and finding it, be beguiled by its charm and sign on for life in allegiance...
...huge salad of royalty rubles thrust on him, Bech and the head of the Soviet Writers' Union joust with vodka glasses: "He toasts Jack London, I toast Pushkin. He does Hemingway, I do Turgenev. I do Nabokov, he counters with John Reed." Elsewhere, Bech vainly attempts to charm Yevtushenko by describing his own position in America not as a literary lion but as a "graying, furtively stylish rat indifferently permitted to gnaw and roam behind the wainscoting of a firetrap about to be demolished anyway...