Word: decorative
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Inside, she regained her composure. Symphony Conductor Erich Leinsdorf gallantly kissed her hand as she entered, and she chatted comfortably at the dinner table with him and Henry Cabot, board president of the symphony. Amid the dimly lit candelabra and the red-globed lamps of the Edwardian decor, sweating photographers dashed about popping dozens of flashbulbs at her, occasionally overturning chairs and breaking wine glasses. The guests-from Boston grandes dames to college boys-gaped openly at Jackie, but she seemed unperturbed. Dinner was surprisingly good for such an affair: lobster, veal, braised endive and soufflé glacé. Jackie...
...very dry breath interpret the intricacies of a raga (a traditional Hindu melody) played on a sitar (like a guitar). His wife must not only be pretty, but be able to frug in a sari while folding her hands in the traditional greeting of namaste. His home must be decorated in the best Western decor, but carry at least one careful Indian touch-perhaps a Mogul miniature or a divan with a brightly colored, hand-loomed bolster from the Punjab. Clubs are one British social heritage that upper-class Indians will not revolt against, perhaps because they were excluded...
Director Losey tries to cover cliches with camera trickery. He works from arresting angles, all but caressing the decor of a world made to order for the filthy rich. Fond of polished surfaces, he dotes on reflections in mirrors, sunglasses, brandy snifters. But the validity of Eva lies in Moreau's accomplished bitchery. As a sleek alley cat commuting at her whim between Venice and Rome, she slinks from warm beds to warm baths, purring over her furs and silks and blues records with such hypnotic self-absorption that even a silly role begins to seem not just interesting...
Opulently photographed in and around a crumbling English abbey, Ligeia, like its predecessors, offers meticulous decor, shrewd shock techniques, and an atmosphere of mounting terror that fails to deliver on its promise. Again, the cream-centered menace is Vincent Price, an actor who appears to be swooping around in a cape even when he stands perfectly still. His first wife dead, Price marries a breathtaking beauty (Elizabeth Shepherd) and takes her on a honeymoon that includes a stop at Stonehenge. Back home he resumes his necrophilic fancies until, as usual, a great raging holocaust consumes castle, corpses, black cats, Price...
Despite serious shortcomings, Circle of Love is worth seeing if only for its breathtaking color decor. The camera wizardry of Henri Decae produces acres of gauzy portraiture, plus one exquisite vignette in the style of Lautrec, and nearly always the film glows in a red, green and golden wash of art-nouveau elegance. Against such sumptuousness, Vadim's elementary lechery seems to be the only thing out of place...