Word: dint
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What ever happened to Yvonne De Carlo? You remember her: the torrid brunet who started as a harem handmaiden and by dint of hard work, moxie and what her lover Howard Hughes called a "nice set of lavalieres" became queen of costume dramas in the '40s and '50s. For one thing, she became an autobiographer who, in the great tradition, bares just enough to keep it interesting but not enough to worry the censors. Her offscreen memoirs offer a short course in studio politics and a long list of amours, including Hughes, Robert Taylor, Robert Stack, the Shah of Iran...
Certainly the University wants to solve the problem, and to a degree it appears many more administrators are more sensitive to the issue if only by dint of repetition. But if any more women have been helped through their own experiences of harassment the credit probably should go to student-run counseling groups such as Response and Contact...
...across as an expressionless blank, conveying nothing but tenacity and absolute cool. His body is impeccable, but the voice is flat and high pitched. He has instructed writers to give him as few lines as possible, yet he rushes the elemental dialogue that remains. Words slur: "didn't" becomes "dint." If he is the first really bankable blond leading man since Robert Redford, he is also the most successful really terrible actor since Audie Murphy...
...Rousseau was very conscious of style, and loved referring to other art. "I cannot now change my style, which I acquired, as you can imagine, by dint of stubborn labor," he wrote to a critic shortly before his death. He wanted his work to be a homemade replica of the values enshrined in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, as manifested in the big French Salon painters: Jean-Leon Gerome, Adolphe-William Bouguereau, Felix-Auguste Clement. He loved their important subjects, their grasp of the colonial exotic, their professionalism and high finish. So when artists 40 years his junior like Picasso...
...much as the actress who plays Anna, the Englishwoman who educates the King's children; and of the half-dozen songs that still elate the memory (Hello, Young Lovers, Getting to Know You, I Whistle a Happy Tune, etc., etc., etc.), the King sings none. It matters not. By dint of dogged charisma, Brynner has identified himself with a role more than any other actor since Bela Lugosi hung up his fangs. Last week, when his "farewell" tour opened to packed, enthusiastic houses on Broadway, he was incarnating the King for the 4,434th time...