Word: thuddingly
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...almost hear the faint, far whisper of their forgotten songs. Youth, strength, aspirations, struggles, triumphs, despairs, wide winds sweeping, beacons flashing across uncharted depths, faint bugles sounding reveille, far drums beating the long roll, the wail of sirens, the crash of guns, the thud of bombs, the rattle of musketry-the still white crosses...
...Belloc's view, must go hand in hand in literature, as they do in life. So, when one of his Four Men puts to the others the question, "What is the best thing in the world?", the Sailor answers: "Flying at full speed . . . and keeping up hammer and thud and gasp and bleeding till the knees fail and the head goes dizzy." But the Poet says: "[The best thing in the world] is a mixture [of] great wads of unexpected money, new landscapes, and the return of old loves." To which the third man, oM Grizzlebeard, retorts contemptu ously...
Planets connect with a dull thud in this rehash of an earlier science-fiction thriller made last year by the same producer. There are some shots of a familiar-looking space ship and rumors of an impending collision between the earth and Bellus, but the picture spends most of its time on a cold love triangle between a hot flyer, a hot woman scientist, and a drab doctor. Unfortunately the picture never shows how the world would act as Doomsday approached...
...Millionaire for Christy (Thor Productions; 20th Century-Fox) falls, with a resounding thud, under the heading of madcap romantic farce. Heroine Christy (Eleanor Parker), a fortune-hunting legal secretary charged with telling a client (Fred MacMurray) that he has inherited $2,000,000, decides to make a favorable impression on the heir apparent before spilling the good news. She impresses him as a lunatic, disrupts his wedding, woos him in a boxcar, wins him with the connivance of a poor but dishonest psychiatrist (Richard Carlson). By the time MacMurray is convinced that the inheritance is actually his, the money...
...heavy thud that follows is caused as much by Irish whisky as English bullets. It is this mixing of noble and ignoble motives that gives Insurrection its salty, human tang. By sticking close to the theme and laying it out in the plainest of prose styles, Author O'Flaherty gives the sharpest possible picture of Dublin bursting its buttons, its streets crisscrossed with an interweaving mob of poets, patriots, drunks, floozies, looters and sharpshooters. The result is not a great novel, nor even a very remarkable one, but it does suggest that the "Troubles" may go marching along...