Word: mouthings
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Even more admirable than the way he bore Terrell was Ali's toleration of Howard Cosell, the New York big-mouth who now seems to have exclusive rights to conversations with Ali. Howie used every opportunity in the early period of Ali's reign to speak condescendingly and broadly intimate that every win was worthless or a fluke. Now he devotes his words to each challenger's courage and gameness. When Cosell started praising Terrell to Ali's face, we had faint hopes that the champ would make good his pre-fight threat that he would turn on the sportscaster...
Already, in place of Ian Fleming, we have John le Carre, and outgrowths thereof. The drab, coarse, hand-to-mouth existence led by unshaven forty-pounds-a-month British counter-intelligence persons appears to have awakened yet another romantic streak in the masses. The first of the new breed was Martin Ritt's deliberately ugly adaptation of Spy Who Came in from the Cold; there followed The Ipcress File (which might be termed a transitional product), and now The Deadly A flair, The Quiller Memorandum, and Funeral in Berlin...
...fanfare, and dozens of swords swirled in salute But the arrival was not the customary motorcade-and-siren sort of thing. Harold Wilson had come from the British embassy on foot down the Rue St. Honore and there he was: hatless, in rumpled suit, hands in pockets, pipe in mouth, t was a fitting prelude for a meeting between the socialist from Yorkshire and the grand seigneur who had regally blackballed Britain's entry into the Common Market...
...Gehlbach, of Corydon, Ind., is the youngest of the group, believes that the program "makes good sense." Says he: "A county agent's job is getting people together, coordinating, helping. That's what we'll do in Viet Nam. But I know enough to keep my mouth shut if they know more than I do. Farmers don't push very good...
Pasty-faced and crater-eyed, behind his boldly rouged cheeks, the lone figure onstage when the footlights go up on Broadway's hit musical, Cabaret, is a garish apparition indeed. He twists his scarlet mouth into an obsequious leer as he whines the lyrics of Willkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome. The character has no name, no dialogue. But in Joel Grey's insinuating performance, the sleazy, empty-souled, fanny-grabbing emcee of Berlin's Kit Kat Klub is not only the glue that holds the musical together but also the embodiment of a nation's depravity during...