Word: hogarthian
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Copper Gold by Pauline Glen Winslow (St. Martin's; $8.95). A former Fleet Street court reporter who now lives in Greenwich Village, Winslow, fortyish, focuses on swingin' London's demimonde with Hogarthian relish. Her world of pushers, prossies, punks and rotting Establishment pillars is counterpointed by the decent, diligent coppers who come a cropper. What might otherwise have been a merely expert Scotland Yard procedural is elevated by Soho low jinks and, believe it or not, a pervasive and finally persuasive romanticism...
...they float across stage on a gondola bearing a resemblance of sorts to Washington Crossing the Delaware. But nothing is flat about David S. Brown's and Diane Nabatoff's performances. Nabatoff manages to look both pinched and bombastic simultaneously. Uppercrustedly on the bourgeois make, Brown has the perfect Hogarthian face for the role: his oblivious facial reactions to his own spectacular antics make him all the funnier. With Brown as the Duke of Plaza-Toro, it is the couple that caws together that brings life to the stage together...
...treatment of it. Seducer, charlatan, scribbler, dabbler in black magic, Giacomo Casanova was that most magnetic of figures, the legend with nothing lofty about him. Born in a glittering Venice that was rife with disease and intrigue, he was equally at home in scenes of Watteau-like elegance or Hogarthian stench. He roamed the capitals of Europe, living by his wits, his nerve and a nice instinct for when to get out of town. He dreamed up mining schemes and lotteries, supported himself at the card table, survived imprisonment by the Inquisition, taught manners to princes and, almost constantly...
...critic described as "this very complex style . . . really quite tough going, with very long sentences," exemplified in books such as The Ambassadors, The Golden Bowl, and others; and how splendid that the honor was accorded him in a city (London) which had first repelled him as a raw, Hogarthian place, and more precisely, in a cathedral (Westminster Abbey) from which he had once fled because the crowds emitted an odor that "was not that of incense," and that he eventually came to love both places; and how quite exquisitely appropriate that last week, finally, he was recognized with a marble...
...reviewers will tell you O'Neal is a rogueish Lyndon. He seemed to me to be the type of guy who gets hit by the Second Avenue Subway while trying to rape a Tactical Force policeman in drag. Kubrick also ignores a potentially exciting view of the 1760s--the Hogarthian underside of English society. All told, the carefully composed landscapes and Kubrick's use of a new German lens to film in candlelight just save this film from being potboiler par excellance. That Kubrick's visuals can overcome such poor acting is a credit to his skill with the camera...