Word: pile
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...picture everybody has been waiting for it to come across with. "Desperate Journey" which is now at the Met makes no bones about itself; it is pure, unvarnished adventure. From beginning to end, from the first bridge blown up to the last emplacement of Nazi guns reduced to a pile of rubble, it moves quickly, excitingly, and (what is the big surprise) uncornily. It never slows up, never wanders from its theme, and never becomes patriotically maudlin, as have so many of the war pictures to date...
...been warned to expect-however harassed they may think they have been heretofore. It would mean that nonwar manufacturers-even those who are limping along without using critical materials or machinery needed elsewhere in its present form-are about to see their means of production go to the junk pile. More important to the U.S. as a whole, it would mean that, when peace comes, there will be no machinery left that is designed to produce for the inevitable tidal wave of post-war civilian demand. $40 for $4,000. An index of what such wholesale destruction would mean came...
...today the 1,200-acre Higgins Liberty Shipyard outside New Orleans. Amid a burst of fanfare, it was started six months ago as a gigantic project to build cargo ships on a water-borne assembly line. Two months ago the vast yard teemed with 7,000 workmen, scores of pile drivers, steam shovels, drag lines, floodlights. Over $10,000,000 was spent. Then suddenly came Maritime Commission orders: Close the yard. Official reason: the steel shortage...
...Cossack took up his ax and called his 13-year-old grandson from a neighboring house: "Come here, grandson, and let us cut down the orchard and smash the beehives." Apple, pear and apricot trees laden with still unripe fruit fell one after another. "Pile it up in the street," the old man said. "Let anybody who wants take it, and what is left the armored tractors will crush to pulp when they come...
...Nights in a Barroom" fall hardest where it should have shone brightest. The specialty numbers--especialty those of old-timer Vic Faust, a toothless Al Smith with a hangover--click beautifully. But the attempts of the rest of the cast to pile on the old-fashioned melodrama with a trowel fall pretty flat. They use restraint where hamming is called for; and they don't even give the villain-hissing audience a fighting chance to display its wares. A livelier paced direction, with more emphasis on the exists and entrances that give blood-and-thunder its special quality would have...