Word: hand
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...last week, the family Deputies announced firmly that they "reserve the right to meet outside the Palace of the Cortes whenever their interests demand." Their defiance leaves the next move to the Franco government, and almost anything the regime does is likely to have unpleasant consequences. Having all but hand-picked the defiant Deputies, the generalissimo can hardly slap them en masse behind bars-or expect to find more compliant replacements for them. On the other hand, if "this attempt to help bring about a varying of opinion and the democratic evolution of the country," as one Deputy...
Shadow opened the festivities in Pnompenh, and it was a tossup whether the credits or the plot were more interesting. The credits were relatively simple: Producer, Norodom Sihanouk; Director, Norodom Sihanouk; Scenario, Norodom Sihanouk; Dialogue, Norodom Sihanouk; Music, Norodom Sihanouk; Star, Norodom Sihanouk. The story line, on the other hand, was a bit more complex...
...took away the locomotive. It was only after I called directly over long-distance telephone and gave up a good night's sleep that you returned it. (Turning to another leader): You took part in the looting of ammunition destined for Viet Nam. Can't you hand over what you have looted? You have seized 11,800 cases of ammunition. That is no small matter. How can you try to deceive us and get away free? How can you tell lies to us and try to get away with...
...times the pianist sounds like Oscar Peterson or early Dave Brubeck, as he lays down a firm base of intricate rhythms and unpredictable chord progressions. The right hand produces a steady, lilting melodic line that can flow from originals to classic themes-as in Chopin Prelude/ How Insensitive, which leads from an E minor prelude into a bossa nova favorite with a similar mood and melody. Pretty good for a 15-year-old. As Critic Leonard Feather puts it, by the time Craig Hundley is old enough to shave, he might well be the best-known pianist in jazz...
...hand-held camera intrudes rudely into a Brooklyn bedroom. There, a pregnant young wife is but a few days away from the birth of her first child; she giggles as her husband presses a parfait glass to her abdomen in hopes of hearing his baby. The wife is Debbie North, a commercial artist and the sole support of her husband Bruce, a painter of unbought paintings. The people are real, and so is the rest of the cinéma-vérité film that follows their practice sessions at a natural-birth clinic and their visits...