Word: charm
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...George is concerned, these ventures are like trips on the Andrea Doria. Then a simple misunderstanding puts him in touch with the recently divorced Jennie Malone (Anita Gillette). The deftness, charm and earned intimacy of the pair's telephonic courtship would put Simon in a playwrights' hall of fame if one existed. George and Jennie meet, and love blooms at first sight, a sight for glad eyes since Gillette is an actress of such beguiling, womanly warmth that glaciers would melt at her approach...
...going to fuck him. Clint Murchison of the Cowboys has probably done that, albeit silently. It would be nice if owners were that dumb; the throwback owner of the Giants, Wellington Mara, probably is but not the Murchisons, Hunts, and Robbies of today. David Merrick depends on an abrasive charm as the Werner Erhardt figure who is a kind of camp follower cum guru, but in the end he is just abrasive. In fairness to Ritchie, the great part of the movie that involves Merrick and his est-parody probably had to be inserted quickly as the NFL refused...
That descent never came. What happened to the promise, the flamboyant charm? With care and intelligence, James Atlas chronicles a decline as moving as it is horrifying. By the time Schwartz reached 30 his center could no longer hold. He had started to drink heavily. His marriage broke up. One day in 1947, suddenly and finally, he left Harvard, convinced of his double exile from the American Dream: as a poet...
...flow directly from his subconscious, just as surrealist art is meant to do. Fernando Rey, a veteran of a decade of Buñuel films, finds as much baroque humor in his many bouts with coitus interruptus as he did in the unfinished eating scenes of The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie. The two mysterious Conchitas - one svelte (Carole Bouquet), the other voluptuous (Angela Molina) - are impossibly erotic...
...Obscure Object is not quite as good as Discreet Charm (1972) and Tristana (1969), the two Buñuel masterpieces it most resembles, the problem is one of tone. The new film opens on a note of antic humor only to turn, in the second half, unrelievedly grave: as Mathieu and Conchita's relationship lapses into sadomasochistic games, Buñuel's irony gives way to a surprising display of personal despair. The sudden shift in mood does not work, but it is forgivable. Having given his life to one of the century's great artistic revolutions...