Word: mien
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...womb; I was over on the right"). Michael Moore of Roger & Me reruns his rollicking contempt for General Motors (and for humanity) in Pets or Meat. The gem is A Sense of History, directed by Mike Leigh. Jim Broadbent, who wrote this deft monologue, plays a squire of Churchillian mien and Sweeney Todd meanness. Not since Browning's My Last Duchess has an aristocrat confessed his crimes with such self-lacerating...
...Colleagues in the conservative movement have cuddly nicknames for Floyd Brown -- Boy Scout, Buckwheat, Baby Huey -- because of his deceptively gentle mien and innocent face. So it was hardly unusual last week, as he unveiled a feral TV ad attacking Bill Clinton's character, that Brown said in a mournful tone, "It's a sad state of affairs, but these are things the people have to know about." If neither the press nor the Bush-Quayle campaign will hound Clinton anew about his past, Brown said, someone must...
Through it all, he stayed clear of drugs and alcohol. But he refused to enter the local Market Street Mission program because of its "religious element," and he shunned the alternative of a shelter. Having rejected the middle-class ethic, Kreimer was equally unwilling to adopt the deferential mien expected of a street person...
Where Homefront is loud and brassy, I'll Fly Away is quiet and relentlessly sober. Sam Waterston, with his somber mien and drooping shoulders, plays Forrest Bedford, a liberal-minded prosecutor in a small Southern town who is raising three children on his own. (His wife has been hospitalized after a nervous breakdown; Forrest, meanwhile, is growing friendly with a rival lawyer, played by Kathryn Harrold.) The family has just hired a new maid, Lily (Regina Taylor), who becomes the focus for an exploration of changing race relations at a crucial historical time...
...lacks the heroic mien -- steel forged in Camelot -- of central casting's great military strategists: Wellington, MacArthur, Cordesman. His stare, which can be ferocious, is undercut by a fretful brow; the small, almost gentle features are stranded in his moon of a face. And no fellow shaped like a nose tackle is going to cut a chic figure in those desert jammies. You look for John Wayne, and you find Jonathan Winters crossed with Willard Scott: a lunch- pail lug who should be shambling into the Cheers bar to a chorus of "Norm!" Norm? Is that any name...