Word: glow
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Hard to see why. The film is no winner but no atrocity either. We are in Shanghai, 1938. Warlords and China dolls are bumping into faded carbon copies of Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre. That must make Penn the Bogart figure -- a hustler and self-styled "Glow-in-the-Dark-Tie King" who helps a prim but spunky missionary (yep, Madonna) find 1,000 lbs. of opium to help soothe the wounds of Chinese soldiers. "Guns cause pain," she says fervently. "Opium eases pain...
Bertagna manages to transform 250-odd pages of encyclopaedia material into attention-grabbing vignettes. Nonetheless, a few questions peek through the pervading glow...
...secrets piled on top of secrets lent a lurid glow that was not in the paintings. And the Wyeths, inadvertently or intentionally, added to the titillation. His decision to try to protect the privacy of Helga made the suspicious more so. And Art & Antiques reports that when Betsy Wyeth was asked what the works were about and why her husband had kept them secret, she took a long, pensive pause and replied, "Love." Did Betsy mean that the artist, known for his continuing and intimate relationships with the subjects of his paintings, was having an affair with his model...
...swathed in easy glamour, and Mark is that cuddly predator Jack Nicholson. Heartburn is a movie about old- fashioned Hollywood star quality -- the sort that, say, Irene Dunne and Cary Grant radiated almost 50 years ago in another love-and-divorce comedy, The Awful Truth -- and about how the glow of celebrity can blind anyone, especially a spouse, to the black hole of secret sins. What woman doesn't want to believe she is marrying a star? What man doesn't want to believe he is one? It is love's first innocent deception and the basis for the lies...
...saint, so a nice place, once quit, becomes an Eden. As the years slide by, the places we have visited are steadily pushed back to an enchanted distance, and memory, the mind's great cosmetician, begins to remove wrinkles, soften edges, touch up the past in a golden glow. The 26-hour bus trip, the simultaneous swarm of hucksters and mosquitoes, the revolutions of the stomach are all forgotten or, better yet, transfigured into the unforgettable adventures with which we can impress our friends. Paradise's loss is our gain. Small wonder that Proust, great poet laureate of reminiscence, wrote...