Word: sweetnesses
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...book "Spectacular! The Story of Epic Films," the elegant historian Carlos Clarens (using the pseudonym John Cary) gave a fair evaluation of "King of Kings": "De Mille's version of Christ was a fundamentalist one: H.B. Warner was indeed 'a sweet Jesus, meek and mild,' and this time sheer reverence held De Mille in check. There were a couple of zebras drawing Magdalene's chariot, and the earthquake that follows the crucifixion was as stunning as the Red Sea parting, although virtually thrown away.... De Mille's sincerity was on a par with his stern ruling that, during production...
...Daily Show," Rob Corddry accurately described the "Godspell" Christ figure as "a '70s pop rainbow suspendery kind of Jesus." Brown-eyed, frizzy-haired Victor Garber, who 30 years later has a career on Broadway ("Art") and TV ("Alias"), stresses Jesus' gentility in sensitive-clown makeup: teardrop eyeliner and a sweet heart on his forehead. The rest of the young cast follows suit, miming up a storm, sipping imaginary sacramental wine from invisible chalices. Drinks for the Last Supper are served in paper cups. Was Jim Jones watching...
...many in the media, a threat or a joke. They don't understand religious devotion, at least in the less attractive sense of the term. They are much more comfortable producing anti-religious entertainment (all the comedies that make mock of God, Jesus and the clergy) than some sweet sappy Nun's Story...
...Best Picture award right in over a decade. It’s seen fit to honor hacks and one-hit wonders galore, but has never gotten around to giving a nomination to Donald Sutherland. Ian Holm wasn’t nominated in for 1997’s The Sweet Hereafter, even though his performance may have been the best of the 1990s. I, too, feel that Kingsley hasn’t been sufficiently appreciated by the Academy; I thought Kingsley’s work in Sexy Beast was the best of its year, but he was snubbed at the Oscars...
Suddenly, I was playing field hockey on sprinkler-fed fields tended by legions of gardeners. I went to sleepovers in mansions, and attended sweet-sixteen parties that would have given Caligula a run for his money. Instead of getting chased around the schoolyard by pit bulls, I spent my afternoons at meetings for the various clubs I’d joined, or reading quietly beside one of the stained-glass windows. I graduated in a white gown, holding a basket of red roses...