Word: moreau
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Imperfections & Cares. With 40 films and a brilliant career on the Paris stage already behind her, Moreau has been La Moreau to the French for years. But up until very recently, her American audience ran to cinemaphiles and espresso drinkers-the crowd that goes to Yugoslav film festivals, the people who liked 8½. Her great films-The Lovers, La Notte, Jules and Jim-played mostly in art houses, and some of her films found no U.S. distributor at all. Now, in a turn of taste that is as encouraging as it is surprising, Moreau is everywhere: opposite Burt Lancaster...
Despite such success, Moreau can still go unnoticed in a crowd: her forlorn, equivocal beauty is not to be seen at a glance. At 37, she looks younger than she did at 30, but at 30 she was older than winter. Her lips point down in an inverted smile, her teeth end in saws like a child's, the color of her hair is indistinctly reddish-blondish-brown. Her eyes can be hopeful and occasionally serene, but they kindle smaller fires in the imagination than do the dark circles under them. There is desperation in her mouth, especially when...
...light as the first tourists filed off the plane. Then she appeared in the welcoming glare-and nobody took her picture. An awkward moment. She smiled and started down the ramp. "There she is!" cried the producer of the film she had come to make. "That's Jeanne Moreau...
...tired, startled eyes smiled out from all the papers the next morning, decorating stories that explained that Jeanne Moreau was the other girl in Viva Maria!, the movie that had brought Brigitte Bardot to Mexico five days earlier. Brigitte's arrival had been the real wild-eyed thing-riot police with tear-gas pistols, screams, a fight, grown men fainting. But Moreau is not the kind of actress who requires a motorcycle escort. Indeed, she hardly looks like an actress at all-too small, too thin, too true. "Beautiful?" she says. "Of course not. That's the whole...
...Moreau, in a word, is it. There is no actress in Hollywood or Europe who can match the depth and breadth of her art. There is no personality in films so able to withstand the long, lingering look of the modern movie camera, no one whose simple presence on the screen evokes such a variety of moods. Her love scenes are among the most intense ever filmed, her suffering agonizingly acute. She is an actress of infinite complexity and conviction, and the only thing wrong with calling her the modern Garbo is that she is so much better an actress...