Word: tarkingtons
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...BOOTH TARKINGTON...
...Seventh Seal tonight and Wild Strawberries on Sunday. Renoir's The Rules of the Game, one of the best social-political movies ever made, is showing tonight, followed on Saturday by The Grand Illusion, Renoir's anti-war film about the 1914 world conflict. Welles's adaptation of Booth Tarkington's The Magnificient Ambersons is okay, but doesn't really belong with these classics. Monday night's Marx Brothers comedy, Room Service, is hardly one of their funniest and you should probably see Annimal Crackers in Boston instead. The 39 Steps, also playing Monday, is one of the best mysteries...
...Magnificent Ambersions. Orson Welles' second film, a worthy sequel to the toughest of all acts to follow, Citizen Kane. The film is loosely based on Booth Tarkington's novel, and this is one of its faults, for it matches Tarkington's rambling and disjointed style. Technically, however, it is once again vintage Welles, replete with deep-focus and up-from-the-floor, down-from-the-ceiling camera angles. The old Mercury Theatre gang is there, Joseph Cotton, Anne Baster, and Roy Collins, but the film cries out for the presence of the master himself. This film is an example...
...manufacturers have bothered to read the entrails. For despite the tocsins from Washington, despite intruders from overseas, the maligned frank furter has proved as irresistible in 1972 as it was in 1914 to a boy named Penrod. The hero of Booth Tarkington's Huckleberry novels thought the "winny-wurst" was "all nectar and ambrosia. ..it was rigidly forbidden by the home authorities." Like Penrod, contemporary Americans tend to ignore authorities; they consume 15 billion hot dogs every year - possibly even because of the warnings. Forbidden fruit tastes delicious; why not proscribed wieners...
...line, however, between charming farce of an innocent 1880's and the hideously sappy antics of a Booth Tarkington imagined era can be very thin. When the older clerk in miser Vandergelder's store convinces the junior employee that they should each kiss a girl on their secret daylong journey from Yonkers into New York, the boy protests. "I'm thirty-three," says Cornelius. "I've got to begin sometime." "I'm only seventeen," Barnaby retorts: "It isn't so urgent for me." It's an aptly humorous exchange. But when Barnaby does receive a kiss, the stage directions call...