Word: inhumanness
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...because of a misunderstanding. Platoon could very well be misunderstood into superhit status. The army of Rambomaniacs will love the picture because it delivers more bang for the buck; all those yellow folks blow up real good. Aging lefties can see the film as a demonstration of war's inhuman futility. Graybeards on the right may call it a tribute to our fighting men, in whatever foreign adventure. The intelligentsia can credit Platoon with expressing, in bold cinematic strokes, Stone's grand themes of comradeship and betrayal. And the average youthful moviegoer -- too young to remember Viet Nam even...
Pasternak declined to join the chorus. "What I saw could not be expressed in words," Russia's greatest modern poet recalled in an unpublished memoir. "There was such inhuman, unimaginable misery, such a terrible disaster, that it began to seem almost abstract, it would not fit within the bounds of consciousness. I fell ill. For an entire year I could not write." What he had glimpsed was the consequences of Stalin's war against his country's peasantry, otherwise known as the collectivization of agriculture. Between 1929 and 1934, 20 million family farms had disappeared. So had the kulaks...
...contributed to his doleful outlook, though it does not appear to have affected his compassion. As Troyat suggests, while Chekhov's journey to a remote penal colony was motivated by sympathy, writing The Island of Sakhalin was not a labor of love. Yet the book riveted attention on the inhuman conditions at the Czar's gulag and eventually led to reforms...
...original ideas in my life. The rest of them were bounces. I sense the limitations of where my talents are." Some of this sudden vote of no confidence may come from the realization that a new talent is howling at the door. The British horror writer Clive Barker (The Inhuman Condition) has been gaining in reputation and sales, and King has become something of a cheerleader: "You read him with a book in one hand and an airsick bag in the other. That man is not fooling around. He's got a sense of humor...
...Their walk is slow, for they are dead weary . . . Every line and sag of their bodies speaks their inhuman exhaustion. On their shoulders and backs they carry heavy steel tripods, machine-gun barrels, leaden boxes of ammunition. Their feet seem to sink into the ground from the overload they are bearing. They don't slouch. It is the terrible deliberation of each step that spells out their appalling tiredness. Their faces are black and unshaven. They are young men, but the grime and whiskers and exhaustion make them look middle-aged . . . All afternoon men keep coming round the hill...