Word: hollywood
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...hysterically re-enacts one killing by wrapping his hands around an imaginary girl's windpipe. Hovering between pathos and terror, Curtis suddenly makes the viewer's breath stop in his own throat - and incidentally gives a glimpse of the picture that got lost somewhere between Boston and Hollywood...
...says: "I was drifting between James M. Cain and Kathleen Norris." Unfortunately, that is also the drift of Sagan's seventh novel, which is a little more weird than her usual blend of native wit and updated Colette. The characters and setting are American, but Dorothy Seymour, Hollywood scriptwriter, may as well be one of Sagan's Parisian cocottes: she wears St. Laurent copies, vacations on the Riviera, suffers liver attacks and has a quintessentially Gallic attitude toward love. Her latest suitor, Paul Brett, is another familiar Sagan figure, the older protector, handsome, successful, slightly triste-well...
...HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER. Alan Arkin's magnificent performance as the mute in this Hollywood adaptation of Carson McCullers' novel is the only real glimmer of poetry in an otherwise determinedly prosaic film...
...According to Hollywood Talent Agent Bill Cunningham, the new Negro stereotype created by TV commercials derives at least in part from the notion that white buyers "won't go for actors who have very Negroid features. What we all see are the very attractive Negroes who, if you bleached their skins white, you'd think were Caucasian." Adds one agency talent director: "If they sound like Negroes, they haven't got a chance. They have to look like Negroes and sound like white people...
...more than an embarrassment now. And Rainbow's light-headed whimsy is now done better by television, with its dreamed-of genii or married witches. Even so, the movie might have survived were it not for the ham-handed direction of Francis Ford Coppola, 29, whose only previous Hollywood feature was the moderately comic You're a Big Boy Now. Astaire and Clark are saddled with threadbare brogues, and both talk as if they were dictating letters to a tape recorder. Tommy Steele's hyperthyroid performance mistakes popped eyeballs for emotion and shrieks for singing. Coppola...