Word: garters
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1950-1959
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Kneepads, shin guards beneath her stockings, and sponge rubber tucked under her garter belt have not been enough to protect Patty from assorted cuts, bruises and a chipped tooth. Similar padding from ankle to bustle have not saved Anne from equally painful accidents. "The impulse during rehearsal," says Director Arthur Penn, "was to set the fight scene, to plan every move and response." But then he saw his stars at work. Once Actress Bancroft had persuaded Patty not to hold back ("Naw! You come on and hit me!"), the scrap quickly developed into impromptu reality, a little different every night...
...confusion, he escaped to Belgium, earned his living shining combat boots for the 82nd Airborne Division and other U.S. units, absorbed a rugged version of colloquial American. Later he joined a two-bit traveling circus, where he led a two-man band, painted spots on garter snakes to turn them into "American rattlesnakes," had the job of poking a senile lion in the rump to make him roar...
...crotchety as Caius, the French physician, who is normally "abusing of God's patience and the King's English." Carnovsky has introduced some side-splitting bits with a rapier; and indeed the entire Evans-Caius duel scene is brilliantly staged. Jack Bittner rants vigorously as the Host of the Garter Inn with an excessive penchant for the adjective "bully." Frederic Warriner is aptly idiotic and cringing as the suitor Slender. And nine-year-old Mark Carson acquits himself admirably in his amusing Latin lesson with Evans...
...escape sure death as witnesses to the slaughter, Curtis and Lemmon leap into garter belts and padded bras, join an all-female orchestra heading for Florida. The band's singer: Actress Monroe. For the rest of the movie, Curtis and Lemmon are rarely out of their dresses...
...wail of jazz drifts smokily through San Francisco bistros, the lean man with the horn-rimmed glasses and a grey-flecked crew-cut walks up to the bar and acts like the squarest square from Endsville. He orders milk. But from the Red Garter to the Purple Onion, not an eyebrow lifts. Everyone knows that on matters that count-a beat and a lyric-Columnist Ralph Gleason. 42, has a taste so cool that he turns out much of the solid reporting and comment on the convoluted world of jazz...