Word: gusto
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...impressive occasion. At the theatre, garbed in a belted shooting jacket which he said had been made in 1904 and in what one observer called "an indescribably peaked Tartar cap," Shaw greeted his guests with gusto and much pleased tugging at his flaring, white beard. He left, however, before the final curtain...
Across dazzling millions of little sun-flecked wavelets Prime Minister Mohammed Mahmoud Pasha last week came sailing home. Smiles softened his arrogant face. Fellow passengers noted with what gusto His Excellency ate. Oranges he seemed especially to relish. Here was a contented traveler who had been to distant London and brought the draft text of a proposed treaty which optimistic phrase-coiners were already calling "The Magna Carta of Egyptian Liberty...
...Voice of the City (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer). Irish love in a garret pads the complicated and somewhat disconnected framework of this story of a prisoner's escape and revenge. The old-line stage detective who is disagreeable until the last minute is played with remarkable gusto by Willard Mack, who also directed and wrote the picture. After the first performance in Manhattan, the following tribute appeared in an advertisement in the N. Y. World: "The Voice of the City . . . would fit any medium but is best as a talkie. . . . (signed) Willard Mack." Best shot: a living corpse dangling from...
...Perhaps some of them will now gratefully vote Conservative. Therefore the angry Labor pixie spat at Conservative Churchill that his latest opus was a "Brib-ery Budget!" After that-cripple or no cripple-it was Parliamentary war to the knife. Not unnaturally, Mr. Churchill, a man of flesh and gusto, who looks as if he had never spent a sick day in his life, watched keenly for a chance to catch his enemy off guard. Swaying on his canes, Mr. Snowden worked himself up to a pitch of spleen, harked back to the old debt settlements made by Chancellor Churchill...
Zasu Pitts carries the brunt of the work, doing a much more careful job as the gangster's moll than Ruth Chatterton, whose sobs as the mother bereft never equal the gusto of that master of the choked gurgle, Mr. Al Jolson (applause, a little scattered). When Mickey Bennett sits on the sofa with the little girl with the curls, and she attempts to pull his head down on her juvenile and probably bony breast, and he draws away, she says: "Don't you understand?" It's a talkie...