Word: parisian
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...pancreas; in Manhattan. Son of a Belgian painter and a Bavarian brewer's daughter. Bemelmans worked as a hotel waiter, opened his own restaurant, became a bon vivant and peopled his books and canvases with epileptic Ecuadorian generals, French jewel thieves. American ladies in feather boas, and a Parisian moppet named Madeline. "The purpose of art," he once said, "is to console and amuse-myself, and, I hope, others...
...Rest), directed by ex-Husband Roger Vadim, was lavishly lauded as her best bedtime story to date. To celebrate, she and her constant consort, Actor Sami Frey, 27, buzzed off to a Right Bank bistro to nuzzle the night away, touching off a spate of speculation in the Parisian press that Brigitte might, for Sami, convert to Judaism. ∙ ∙ ∙ As Russian Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin, 52, told it to a select little clique gathered to watch the Bolshoi Ballet troupe at the Metropolitan Opera House in Manhattan, his wife, Irina, is an in curable shutterbug, with a passion...
...Paris has traditionally assayed high in romance (a garret out of La Boheme, professorial brilliance in a drafty Sorbonne classroom) and low on education (the French was hard to follow, the credits usually nontransferable). Last week, in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, a school opened to provide both Parisian culture and American credits...
Directed by Agnés Varda, a 34-year-old photographer whose first film (La Pointe Courte) established her as "the Founding Mother of the new French cinema," Cleo tells the story of 90 moribund minutes in the life of a featherbrained Parisian canary (Corinne Marchand) who has just begun to peck the plum of show-business success. As the story starts, the singer is nerving herself to ask a doctor whether or not she has a cancer. Pale with dread, she visits a fortuneteller first and asks the old crone what is in the cards for her. Death...
Whether it will or not, the U.S. has just been saddled with a second Tropic of literary conversation. Tropic A, published in the U.S. for the first time last year, was Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller's long-banned wallow in Parisian vice. Tropic B is Tropic of Capricorn, its torrid twin. In the past, when both books had to be smuggled into the U.S., hosts of nonreaders thought of them only as interchangeable smut. Now anyone with a strongish stomach can find out for himself: smut they may be, but interchangeable they...