Word: dwelled
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Norman Dine, 60, the insomniac proprietor of a New Jersey store called the "Sleep Center," provides his clients with custom tape-recorded exhortations from their minister or psychiatrist. One nagged, "You hate to face reality because you think you don't measure up. It's absurd to dwell on something like this." Of course, many iron-willed morning veterans rely on nothing more complicated than putting the alarm clock across the room. But if that fails, for $384, Dine sells an ejecting bed. At the proper ungodly hour, it catapults its owner upright...
Bunuel's own vision (apparent in the strange premature glimpse of the wheelchair and the ever-present emphasis on feet) draws us into the world of Severine's life and fantasies. Though Belle de Jour boggles the mind the first time around (audiences tend to dwell on peripheral ambiguities), the structural integrity becomes increasingly clear on repeated viewings (well worthwhile) and ends up simpler than many of Bunuel's other films; Bunuel's insight and humanity far transcends the realm of social allegory for which he is duly famous (Viridiana, Exterminating Angel). But this simplicity is sensed rather than understood...
...network presidents-Dr. Frank Stanton of CBS, Julian Goodman of NBC and Leonard Goldenson of ABC all defended TV, particularly TV newsmen, against charges that they dwell excessively on violence in accounts of civil disorders and the Viet...
...majored in directing at the Yale Drama School." Disdaining the usual directorial flourishes, he told his crew, Rachel-style: "I'm a virgin and I need your help." He coached Actress Woodward-his wife-in whispers and in a sort of private language. He had the camera dwell on her lovingly, so much so that one friend described the movie as Newman's "wallet." As a result, he infects the brief love affair with a tenuousness that everyone but Rachel can detect, and infuses the air of the small town with a palpable melancholy and unquiet desperation...
Most people readily exchange their nightly dreams for what passes as reality in the morning papers. Not Eugéne Ionesco. The celebrated playwright of the absurd prefers to dwell on his own private late late shows...