Word: scragged
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...statesman, Berlusconi is "a bloody good businessman." Could this have anything to do with the fact that Berlusconi's Medusa Group is distributing Pinocchio in Italy? Then, after Benigni restricted an awards ceremony photo-opportunity to just three minutes, Italian press photographers went out of their way to scrag him for getting too uppity. In a punishment crueler even than nasal elongation, the snappers all filed a single picture for the front pages - one with Benigni's face obliterated. By opening night, Benigni's grin was everywhere again. The film is beautiful, the music lush and memorable and the text...
...statesman, Berlusconi is "a bloody good businessman." Could this have anything to do with the fact that Berlusconi's Medusa Group is distributing Pinocchio in Italy? Then, after Benigni restricted an awards ceremony photo-opportunity to just three minutes, Italian press photographers went out of their way to scrag him for getting too uppity. In a punishment crueler even than nasal elongation, the snappers all filed a single picture for the front pages - one with Benigni's face obliterated. By opening night, Benigni's grin was everywhere again. The film is beautiful, the music lush and memorable and the text...
...Nordic Middle Ages, with their unrelenting insistence on the "four last things"-death, judgment, heaven and hell-to any Mediterranean tradition. Egon Schiele's knobbly waifs, all etiolated limbs and pinched flesh, are the lineal descendants of the fallen Eves in Gothic art. The expressionist body is a scrag of mutton with big extremities, very unlike the prosperous Renaissance nudes that, however mutated, survived in Picasso and Matisse. Expressionism was an art of confession, directed against the impermeable crust of a deeply formalized society. It had few political ambitions-as German Dada did-but it did carry a strong...
...Francisco, a city that cherishes its eccentrics, has never had a greater one than the late Architect Bernard Ralph Maybeck. Until his death a year and a half ago at 95 (TIME, Oct. 14, 1957), scrag-bearded Bernard Maybeck cheerfully held court in the house he built for himself of gunny sacks dipped in pink cement in the Berkeley hills, delighted his visitors by ripping off hunks of the wall to prove that they were light enough to float. Barely 5 ft. tall in his home-knitted tam-o'-shanter, Maybeck was a sartorial seventh wonder. He blueprinted...
...right of an Englishman true-born and free to get his beer and baccy, his Java, bread and scrape, plum-and-apple, cut off the joint and choice of two veg . . . good things sent in plenty from heaven above but niggled into pigeon holes by charity charlies with scrag-end notions of that arithmetical dead loss and bad debt...