Word: torso
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CACTUS FLOWER is a French farce successfully transplanted to the U.S. by Director Abe Burrows. Handling dialogue like a bone-dry martini, Nurse Lauren Bacall is all efficiency in the office, but predictably cuts loose on the dance floor with some torso twisting that causes Dentist Barry Nelson to drop his dentures...
...supposed lover and see if he is a good sort. By the time the fictional couples are locked on a discotheque floor in the steely bonds of subterfuge, Cactus Flower is a prickly web of deceit. Inevitably, Bacall kicks over the old-maidenly traces and turns into a bewitching torso-twisting temptress, while the dentist drops his dentures...
...pitiful and poor creature. Endowed with poor plumbing, a disorderly mind and much mental blindness, he is the only imperfect being in an increasingly computerized environment." As he takes shape in Antes' oils, man is consistently deformed, his body pudgy with baby fat, a spineless creature whose torso is nonexistent. At times he has a single eye that seems to see too much, at other times even three cannot focus on reality. But, insists Antes, "I am trying to make man perfect again, attempting to take him again into the center, rediscovering him." Strangely, it works, for out from...
With a wham and a bam, a sock and a pow, Director Edwards' accumulation of cliches explodes around the world, pausing for Curtis to demonstrate his torso and his skill with the epee, and for Lemmon to do a tedious bit as a faggish Mittel-European prince. No pastiche of the old masters would be complete without a pie fight. This one is the Ben-Hur of pie fights-it splatters more than 2,000 real cream pies of assorted flavors, and took five days to shoot. The scene even has a plot: Will Tony Curtis...
...Some 16 ft. high at the tallest point, the two pieces represent the rounded rump and upright torso of a semireclining figure. Typically Moore-ish, she abstractly lounges in the reflecting pool, mingling the domestic grace of a nude in her bath with the powerful, primitive presence of a goddess disturbed from sleep by Leonard Bernstein. Manhattan's mightiest piece of modern sculpture was wrestled into place pretty much the way marbles were muscled into place in Michelangelo's day. Grunting workmen wedged the huge metallic shapes onto rollers, eased them down wood beams, hoisted them upright with...