Word: fogs
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...things are always going bump! or aarrgh! or sploooosh! in the night. With They Came from Within, Rabid, The Brood and now Scanners, Cronenberg, 37, has joined the estimable company of John Carpenter and George Romero as a low-budget mahatma of the macabre. Like Carpenter's The Fog and Romero's Dawn of the Dead, Cronenberg's movies are hip parables of contemporary moral malaise, in which ordinary people are infected by a malignancy as invisible and pervasive as the most swinish flu virus. As his vision aged, like rancid fruit, the malignancy crept closer...
When he speaks of "patches of fog snagged in the treetops above," or "the uninsistent Northwest rain simply hanging there in the air like molecules made visible," we know exactly what he means. He takes our impressionistic links to the land and turns them into printed words. Here he is capturing the bustling life of a bluejay...
...where I restore myself," he tells the few friends he invites here. The ranch is accessible only by climbing seven miles on a switchback road, through gullies and blind turns that drop off sharply toward the water, a drive that still makes Nancy Reagan nervous. Strong winds and fog often roll in suddenly from the sea; at other times the air on the mountaintop is crystal clear and dead quiet, so still that a voice can be heard at great distances...
...weekends, carrying sandwiches in a brown bag, working all day and returning that night. They tore off the shabby side porch with its metal roof and framed in a large L-shaped veranda, the room they use the most now. The mountain air was cold that winter, and the fog sometimes so thick they could barely see out the windows. The old roof was pulled away and replaced by red-brown fiber glass tile. One day the wind was so strong, Reagan remembers, that some of the tile and long boards flew out of their hands. Inside they laid...
...soldier in the People's Liberation Army, by night an exponent of the funky layered look. "From the chin up he looks like a gangster. From his neck to his knees he seems like an Englishman who has just stepped out of his neighborhood pub into the London fog. But below his knees, where his army pants emerge to meet his khaki sneakers, he looks Chinese. His costume-fedora, trench coat and army uniform-creates the illusion of a man who has been cut in thirds and pasted back together...