Word: motel
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THESE PEOPLE around here are just disgusting," mutters the Motel Lady (Andrea Feldman), whose poolside establishment is the hub of a grotesque little universe. An audience otherwise dazed and disoriented nods its head in agreement: if nothing else, at least we can be certain of that. But, with another question the Motel Lady does not help us, namely, are these people disgusting for any good reason...
After his television speech, McGovern drove to Lyndhurst New Jersey to a Holiday Inn, where a half hour was set aside for the press to file stories on the morning's event. The McGovern campaign had taken a large suite in the motel and had put in over 25 telephone lines so that reporters and radio commentators could phone in their stories. The McGovern staff provided typewriters and prepared texts of the address to make it easier for the press to write their pieces...
...Martha wanted to get him out of politics. So far unexplained is the mystery surrounding Martha Mitchell's claim that only five days after the Watergate arrests, Steve King, now head of security for the Nixon committee, ripped a telephone off the wall of a Newport Beach, Calif., motel room where she and her husband were staying, threw her on a bed and held her while a doctor gave her an injection. She was cut badly enough on the hand in this fracas, the Washington Post reported last week, to require hospital emergency room treatment. The man who took...
...fact if crafty old Nabokov had not written the first and best motel tour in Lolita, one might think that cityfolk like Mrs. Roiphe should stay off the road and leave the driving to the sons and daughters of the wide-open spaces. Long Division is a disappointing book by a talented writer. What it lacks is convincing physical settings or incidents to sustain the mournful interior monologues of the trapped and finally boring heroine. The author is energetic enough. She offers accounts of breakdowns and highway fatigue, as well as side trips to the Hershey chocolate factory, a Cherokee...
...like his master, exploits the sorry selection of freaks who have been recruited for the cast. Thus the audience is invited to have a good laugh at the gargoyle visage of Miles, chortle over Dallesandro's near-autistic blankness, and revel in the antics of an obese motel owner, and a schizophrenic lesbian. The lazy profanity and the grungy, grim quality of Heat's ambidextrous sexuality will be familiar and predictable to Warhol addicts. What is despicable about Heat is the way it both flaunts and mocks the grotesqueries of its cast, who seem generally neither to notice...