Word: lesses
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...after a while it seemed equally pointless to sit all day, on a chair, in a building, with a ranger who knew little and cared less. It was the first day my legs hadn't pumped more than six miles and the fact I was using furniture in a solid structure seemed sacrilegious, a contradiction of the whole purpose behind the trek. The longer I sat, the less I liked it; rain or shine I knew I would hike out the next...
...through the symptoms and tell myself that, so far, I was fine. My mind's ability to stifle fear and panic came into play. So did the fact that finally, after climbing 11 passes. I knew how to hike up a verticle climb of 3200 or so feet in less than four miles without getting tired. It meant plodding along until the pass in the rock itself appeared and then scrambling down the other side...
This movie asks several less than momentous, perhaps risible, questions. Could a figure very like Columnist Jimmy Breslin, the slob-throb voice of New York's little guy, find love and happiness with a young woman cut from the same fine cloth as Dancer Gelsey Kirkland? Can the public be persuaded to accept, as a heartwarming example of the human spirit's indomitability, her triumph over what appear to be terminal leg cramps on opening night of her first starring part in a ballet? Can another big crash-bang score by Bill Conti once again drown...
...narrative is provided by a chorus, playing medieval instruments. Luchini is more a suggestion of a knight than a knight himself. With a receding chin, concave chest, and dangling, half-open mouth, he looks as if he would be afraid to kill a mouse with a trap, much less joust with a man in armor. The sets are also symbolic, rather than realistic-sculptured trees, cardboard castles, painted skies-and they have the strange beauty of a Dali painting. But the beauty quickly palls. Rohmer's films have always been an acquired and sometimes peculiar taste, like snails. Even...
...couldn't paint that today. I just don't believe it. I was doing this best-possible-world, Santa-down-the-chimney, lovely-kids-adoring-their-kindly-grandpa sort of thing. And I liked it, but now I'm sick of it." In the '60s, glimpses of a less Arcadian society surfaced in his work?most memorably, an illustration of U.S. marshals escorting a small black girl to school in Little Rock, Ark. But these did not represent the essential Rockwell as far as his public was concerned. What they wanted was a friendly world, shielded from the calamities...