Word: rawness
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Kefta Lunch. "The hippies come here for the pot, of course," says a young visitor from New York-and indeed Morocco is a hashhead's delight. Kif, raw leaf marijuana, is openly (although illegally) sold for $4.50 a pound and widely smoked in public in clay pipes that can be bought for 100 a dozen in any souk, or shop. With or without the assistance of kif, Morocco is a delight. In winter, a venturesome visitor can swim in the morning off the beach at Essaouira on the Atlantic, lunch on kefta (skewered minced steak with herbs) in Marrakesh...
...incredible year ended, to be sure, with a growing view that the worst is over, the raw angers of race and generations spent and replaced by a national readiness to begin anew. As if symbolizing its potential for great cooperative projects, the U.S. sent three articulate and sensitive men on a faultless trip around the moon. Yet Richard Nixon, unfortunately, cannot rely on what may be only a passing moment of domestic peace and pride. Dark forces endure in U.S. life; stubborn problems remain to be resolved. Clearly, the daunting task of the American President in 1969 is nothing less...
...past ten years, the growth of the American economy has far outstripped the comprehension of most individuals; even economists are at a loss for an abstract theory to explain it. But beyond dispute is the fact that never before has man transmuted energy and raw materials into wealth at such a fantastic rate. With 7% of the global land mass and 6% of its population, the U.S. produces about one-third of the world s goods and services. Every five years the American economy grows by the equivalent of that of West Germany, the third largest industrial nation...
...Working with Lewis John Carlino's spare script, Director Martin Ritt has fashioned a film like grappa, with a raw kick and a bitter aftertaste. Seldom has a movie so resembled its characters. Like them, it has a primitive volatility, churning from glee to fury in the space of a second. Like them, it has aspects of a legend that has outlived its time. Like them, it strains for respectability-and never makes it. For all its sober posture, the film is hooked on its participants. It stays too long at the graphic garroting; it details too lovingly...
...they loomed secret and dim On the wall of the drunk-tank, Scraped there by a raw fingernail In the trickling crusts of gray mold...