Word: flickingly
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...premise is familiar enough: A respected director loses all credibility after the failure of his latest multi-million dollar flick. And the film moves quickly at the beginning. After a brief segment from Felix Farmer's (Richard Mulligan) epic disaster, the camera turns to Felix himself. Staring at Variety catatonically as his wife leaves him, he decides to kill himself by inhaling the exhaust of his $80,000 Cadillac. Julie Andrews, as Sally Miles, Farmer's wife and the star of his films, plays herself. When told by her lawyers that she should not seek a divorce in the wake...
Episodes from a late-night horror flick? Not at all. More like cinema verite. Once again, the Northeast has been infested by gypsy-moth caterpillars in record numbers. Last year the bugs chomped so voraciously through more than 5 million acres of woodland that the usually lush summer landscape looked as leafless as in late fall. This year's damage, patchily extending from northern Maine to Maryland and beyond, is far worse: an estimated 11 million acres of forest, an area larger than all of Massachusetts, Connecticut and Rhode Island...
...acting, the writing and the direction break no new ground, and provoke little thought. Sentimental and airy. I Sent a Letter to My Love is more posicard than epistle, asking little of the sender, and demanding little from the recipient. Is is just the sort of gossamer summery flick that may challenge The Last Metro for top spot at the Welles...
REMEMBER BACK IN junior high school, there was always one kid who used to drive the teacher crazy? That's right, the Class Clown--the kid who could belch all the words to "God Bless America" on a single breath, who could pick it and flick it with one hand, the kid who knew the lines to every Three Stooges movie ever made. And when the teacher would tell him to "quiet down," and accuse him of acting like a two-year-old, he would always come up with something like "I resemble that remark! (nook nook nook...
...screen lovers raise their glasses in a toast, so does just about everyone in the audience. Wooroo! Such synchronized celebrations take place nightly at a growing number of movie bars in the South and Northeast, where patrons may chase a good flick-or drown a bad one-with beer, wine or cocktails. Seated in executive-style leather swivel chairs ranged around butcher-block cocktail tables, customers have only to beckon a waitress for refills or to order sandwiches. They manage thus to combine the comforts of home with the fillip of a night out. Indeed, sipping cinemas...