Word: sweets
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...Merrill never missed a session. By her own testimony she was literal- minded and scalded by self-criticism. She was puzzled that Suzanne Farrell broke all the rules and still remained Balanchine's favorite. She fretted over exactly what he meant when he said Ashley's dancing was "sweet." "See the music, hear the dance," he cried, setting another conundrum for her wary intelligence...
From a similar window 134 years ago, Arnold beheld his progressive, aggressive world and began serenely: "The sea is calm tonight./ The tide is full, the moon lies fair/ Upon the Straits . . . Come to the window, sweet is the night air!" A long, successful life lay ahead of him. His new bride was near by. But by the end of the stanza, he was hearing the "eternal note of sadness" in the sea and the rolling of the pebbles, and by the second stanza, the "ebb and flow/ Of human misery" was overwhelming. The final lines of Dover Beach...
...road movie from It Happened One Night to Romancing the Stone, and give it the glaze of cerulean romance. It is as if the United Nations had launched a videodisk containing snippets from every Hollywood genre, which had then been synthesized by an alien culture with a gift for sweet-souled comedy and an eye for the bottom line. Which is to say that Starman has not an original thought in its head, but it should touch many a receptive heart...
There is the sweet air of an authentic memoir about The Flamingo Kid, which recollects an adolescent experience in gentle but nonsoporific tranquillity. The time is 1963, and Jeffrey Willis (Matt Dillon) is a poor Brooklyn boy working for the summer at an upper-middle-class Long Island beach club. There he meets a car dealer (Richard Crenna), slightly shady and blatantly materialistic, who tries to tempt him away from the good values of his decent dad (Hector Elizondo), a plumber whose trade may be humble but whose spirit is not. There is originality and poignancy in Neal Marshall...
...sterling cast handles nearly all of Jewel's haunted souls with understated urgency. As the gawky Daphne, Wooldridge is a particular marvel. Eyes wide and full of a startled innocence, she galumphs through life with such sweet diffidence that plainness itself seems radiant. An equally luminous pathos surrounds Dame Peggy Ashcroft's Barbie Batchelor, a sad little figure of baffled devotion who has little to do save muddle through her final days "very tired and old and far from home...