Word: herds
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What on earth is taking place? Over here, ten teenage kids in green tops and white miniskirts are jerking their heads into the air, then locking elbows, back to back, to form a herd of lurching pushmi-pullyus. Over there, a gang of pink-lipsticked, sunglassed young blonds, in matching scarlet outfits, have gathered in a circle around a giant radio and are joining together in a chorus of banshee wails. And all about, twirling, swirling, waving their hands in the air Al Jolson-style or vaulting on top of one another's shoulders are girls with turquoise streaks...
With a thud heard round the movie world, Michael Cimino went straight from Oscar winner (The Deer Hunter) to studio wrecker (Heaven's Gate). Neither honor was deserved. Indeed, Heaven's Gate was the better film, with a certain suicidal grandeur about it, like a herd of buffalo stampeding toward a firing squad. United Artists took a $44 million bath on the film and within a year was absorbed by rival MGM. Now, in a delicious triple irony, Final Cut, a UA executive's memoir of the debacle, wins raves; Ted Turner agrees to buy MGM/UA; and the studio releases...
...excavated. A long-buried murder that comes to light cuts to the heart of the family, or should. The discovery provokes another death. Yet the survivors behave more or less as they would have done if nothing had occurred. This is not satire, with the family members portrayed as herd animals who go on grazing as a lion drags down one of them. The author is sharp but not cruel. She does not tell her story in order to solve a murder (although solve it she does) nor to subject her characters to unbearable stress in order to analyze their...
...little surprise that cowboys write poetry. Knox has spent hours in the saddle watching the south end of a herd moving north, with plenty of time to roll phrases around on his tongue. He is observant, a necessity for the writing of verse or the tracking of cows. Good poetry demands good drama, and that is no stranger to Knox either...
Five hours have passed since the riders left Twin Buttes. A hot autumn sun has burned away the dawn's biting chill, and the cowboys have gathered about 100 head of cattle from among the cedars and hillocks. Knox watches as they herd the cattle into a dusty pen. On horseback the cowpunchers separate five long-eared calves that escaped spring branding and guide them, along with their mothers and a few strays, into a smaller enclosure...