Word: flirts
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Broken Wing. Their device is the revelation that the wife has a brain tumor. If the movie was forced in its coarseness at the beginning, the sentimentality with which it concludes is simply rancid. The wife begins to flirt with other men, and the husband delivers his rebuke by vomiting all over her. When she leaves him, he adopts a seagull with a broken wing, nursing it back to health. This serves to demonstrate that there is a gentle nature lurking beneath all that calculated vulgarity. In any event, they are reunited. He allows her to stuff herself with candy...
...stiff, sexual repression. Daisy, said one Philadelphian publisher in rejecting the long story written in 1878, was "an outrage to American girlhood." Yet, Daisy is not an outrage: She is the one alive person in the story amidst a virtual morgue of grey propriety. She's also coquettish, a flirt of the worst sort, and a damnable tease. But throughout the story one is never sure if it's not just a reaction to what is expected of her, if in America she wouldn't be the life of the party. In Henry James's Europe, the locale for most...
...rare per formers whose magnetism rills every cubic inch of the house while his eyes count it. Working from a slapdash adaptation of Moliere's classic farce, Les Fourberies de Scapin, he keeps the evening fresh with the pleasure of his company. For one thing, he is a flirt. He vamps fellow actors even as they trade invectives. But the audience gets his most collusive winks and slanted asides...
...John Turner's producation, several of the lead characters are as fully and forcibly acted as Wicherley drew them. The butt for most of the bitter satire, Olivia--an insatiable gossip, scandalmonger and flirt--far surpasses a mere personification of hypocrisy through the impeccable performance of Susie Fisher. The moral horror felt by the playwright at the sight of such a character is infused into the audience. John Sedgwick is an entertaining Freeman, the eloquent mouthpiece for some of Wycherley's most incisive observation...
...night of a big high school dance thinking myself a failure as a person because no one had asked me. Most of the girls I knew were trained to serve the sexual code--in the expertise of how to win a man and keep him, how to flatter and flirt and sell their wiles. We disguised the jagged edges of our personalities to pander to the male appetite, and we sacrificed any principle for male applause. Trying to be siren seductresses was our assent to passivity and receptivity and all that men had laid down the definition of women...