Word: mad
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Lloyd Carew-Reid, the street musician from Perth, is a squirrelly little guy, blond beard, soft speech, 37 years old, who lives on the rim of the Chelsea area of Manhattan in a dog-eared hotel where drug deals and muggings go down every month or so, where one mad woman thinks she's a rooster. His home environment to some would seem a nightmare; his work environment to most would seem hell. After a day of breathing the iron filings in the New York City subways, one would think he could blow his nose and sink a Hudson River...
...mad, get even. That was the cry on Capitol Hill last week, as Congress considered retaliation against two foreign companies that illicitly sold to the Soviet Union important high-tech equipment used in building submarines and aircraft carriers. The targets looming in the congressional periscope: Toshiba Machine, which is 50.1% owned by the Japanese conglomerate Toshiba Corp., and Kongsberg Vapenfabrikk, a state-owned computer and weaponmaker in Norway. Several lawmakers even suggested that Toshiba and Kongsberg be barred from selling products in the American market. "I'm talking about retribution," said Republican Senator Jake Garn of Utah...
John Updike, on whose lovely, wicked novel this film is based, is alert to the minutest shifts in a suburbanite's emotional barometer. George Miller, director of the wondrously violent Mad Max movies, sneezes and blows a typhoon. At first it seems a mix of two unsuited masters. And anyone who comes to The Witches of Eastwick expecting a Masterpiece Theatre adaptation will be disappointed, not to say grossed out. Alex wakes up in a bed of snakes; puke spumes as if from a seasick sewer pipe. No problem. Miller and Michael Cristofer have simply chosen to tell the story...
...eyes, a ready smile, muscles taut from gym work, autumnal hair with a fine early frost. He could be a cousin of his fellow Rocky Mountain resident Robert Redford. Then look closer and find a superhero's face as it might have been drawn by Wallace Wood for a Mad comic- book parody. The jawline, a shade too prominent, entertains the rumor of buffoonery. The smile is one of unwarranted self-assurance. His eye squint seems not to have registered that the world sees him differently: as a preening oaf. With every gesture he is screaming, Help...
Berlin's third great architecture exhibition, the Interbau of 1957, was the high-water mark of this slightly mad, modern abstractionism, and the first such exhibition that produced a thicket of real buildings. "Planning for the City of Tomorrow" was the theme, and the results were as blandly anodyne as the motto suggests. A whole section of the city was turned into an urban- renewal proving ground, an amorphous campus where highly evolved notions of citified density were abandoned: each forgettable high-rise was an isolated Objekt plopped in sunny isolation on a lawn...