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Word: fleshed (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...line in the novel in which Stahr refers to Kathleen as a "Beautiful Doll." Ingrid Boulting is precisely that--a porcelain figure, heavily made-up and beautiful to look at, but seemingly ready to break at a touch. There is no real sensuality in her, none of the flesh-and-blood passion Fitzgerald probably means to suggest when he has Kathleen describe herself as "sex-starved...

Author: By Julia M. Klein, | Title: Movie-Making | 3/17/1977 | See Source »

...obvious shallowness, the film entertains because it panders to an innate fascination. In Richard III, Shakespeare described King Richard III as a man so ugly that people could not help but look at him. Pumping Iron appeals in a similar vein. After the first few scenes of rippling flesh, one easily becomes immune to the bodybuilders' gross distortions and enjoys Schwarzenegger's charismatic overconfidence. A guy from the refrigerator repair school may have suffered disqualification in a collegiate contest, but another mechanic has made a movie that entertains, but does little else...

Author: By Michael Kendall, | Title: Blubber Is Blubber | 3/1/1977 | See Source »

...whiskers and moustaches as full of alkali dust that you'd have thought I worked in a starch factory and boarded in a flour barrel." Twain might have been less than joyous about the whole affair; he once said that "all private letters of mine make my flesh creep when I see them again after a lapse of years...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: People, Feb. 28, 1977 | 2/28/1977 | See Source »

...gradual gut-tightening rhythm and the subtle sense of mood that causes men ace to materialize in the viewer's imagination instead of in the special-effects department. Winner goes in for violent shocks to the nerve endings. An eye is slashed and a nose cut off, flesh is seen to decompose, a corpse is eaten, hideous deformities are paraded, and through it all the camera does not flinch but presses luridly closer...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: Hellish Huggermugger | 2/28/1977 | See Source »

Temperature rising as he flashed his badge and journeyed upstairs to the press conference. It was in a small room, with little sunlight and tight around the collar. The speaker's table was engulfed by a grotesque blob of lenses and flesh and cigars and cameras and elbows and underarms. In the middle of the frantic enterprise she appeared. Like a jelly donut atop an anthill. They swarmed...

Author: By David Melody, | Title: Notes From A Photographer's Journal | 2/25/1977 | See Source »

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