Word: languor
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1970-1979
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...studious camp follower Roman Polanski (playing a peasant) and the late Vittorio De Sica, who, even acting and primping as broadly as he does, lends the proceedings a few fleeting moments of dignity. Morrissey has little time for dignity, how ever. He has, for the moment, forsaken his customary languor; it is this rejuvenated spirit - perhaps a result of all the blood - that gives Andy Warhol's Dracula its few silly, phantom pleasures...
...Blue Angel. Perfect to contrast to the above. One of the most sensuous movies ever made. You can't hurry this picture--you have to let its pace wash over you slowly, and feel the real, physical undercurrent beneath the stern languor. Set in decadent cabaret Weimar; made in 1930 by Joseph von Sternburg. With Marlene Dietrich and Emil Jannings...
...expression. He could give a bronze skull a terrible, impacted and bulletlike solidity, the very reductio of death; or paint a jug so that it seemed distended with anxiety; or confer on the rounded limbs of his mistress in the '30s, Marie-Therese Walter, a rhythmic and sensuous languor that might otherwise have vanished from the nude after Ingres. No modern artist has been able to pack more sensation into a form than this Spaniard, engaged in his lifelong conversation with Eros and Thanatos...
...speculative, even impractical mind, and notorious as a bad scientist, seizes on such sentences and enters them in a notebook crammed with similar apercus. In this act, and in its cause (here, Eddington's observation), the reader's temperament is revealed, a temperament at once impatient and imbued with languor, undiscipfiined and ordered. It conspires to receive all ideas as echoes of other ideas, on a diachronic level. In other words, whenever the reader happens to notice an idea which resonates through time, associations clamor like heirs to be recognized, and a number of them receive admittance...
...feral power. In the succeeding nine years, he has foundered in murky metaphysics (Tiny Alice), dabbled in adaptations (The Ballad of the Sad Cafe) and gone down experimental blind alleys (Box-Mao-Box). Instead of lunging for the jugular, as he once did, Albee has cultivated a Jamesian languor in his prose, a fastidious dandyism of manner, a dusty, librarefied reserve. Portentousness of delivery is used to mask vacuity of thought. In his latest play, All Over, we instantly recognize him for what he now is -the club bore...