Word: hints
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Imagine Clark Gable anchoring one of Frank Capra's psychodrama parables of Americana and you get a hint of Jeff Bridges' performance in Tucker: The Man and His Dream. The roguish, can-do smile looks welded on. No boardroom backstabbing, no political malfeasance can wipe that salesman's grin off his face. It is the smile of a cockeyed optimist whose tragic flaw is that he refuses to believe anything can go wrong. And it is attached to a mind racing with ideas and a mouth that motors even faster. Bridges' Preston Tucker is a man in perpetual motion -- gesticulating...
Larry and Joy Nelson's Fundamentalist Christian faith imposes strict rules on their children. What they watch on television is strictly monitored: no soap operas, no shows with a hint of sex. The children will not be allowed to date until 16, even though many girls in Nancy's seventh grade already wear boys' rings...
...first hint came in a statement from the general command of the Iranian armed forces, which called for "new stances in order to continue the sacred defense." Then came a startling message from Iranian President Ali Khamenei to United Nations Secretary-General Javier Perez de Cuellar, declaring Tehran's willingness to abide by U.N. Resolution 598, the measure calling for a cease-fire in the eight-year-old war between Iran and Iraq. Still, much of the world remained skeptical, aware that Ayatullah Ruhollah Khomeini had personally vowed to continue the fighting "with the last drop of blood...
...more of the smart same. Young MacPee-wee has a farm that is a sort of summer camp -- high camp -- for animals. In the barn, the sheep and cow sleep in beds. For breakfast the horse flaps pancakes, and Pee-wee's talking-pig pal devours them. At the hint of a hurricane, Pee-wee leads his brood into the storm cellar ("Women and chickens first!") and dresses them in party hats. Because there are no other humans on the farm and few children nearby, Pee-wee is his own role model, his only playmate, and the film...
Such passages, the self-abasements of a clearly superior partner, make painful reading. But Wharton's love letters are stirring in other ways. She could discreetly hint at sexual arousal intensified by social constraint: "You can't come into the room without my feeling all over me a ripple of flame." Writhing under Fullerton's sporadic indifference, she could summon up reserves of anger and pride: "What you wish, apparently, is to take of my life the inmost & uttermost that a woman -- a woman like me -- can give, for an hour, now & then, when it suits you; & when the hour...