Word: warmth
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...sweaters made Lana, Lana also made sweaters; they were a universal fashion by the end of the '30s. Until that time, the sweater was intended almost strictly for warmth, in perfect conformity with its origins in the 19th century, when it was used by athletes intent on working up a healthy sweat. Today, after a lapse of several years, sweater fever is once again gripping the fashion world. In Manhattan, Paris, Los Angeles and London, the young are falling upon gaudily decorated knit tops like moths upon tweed. Top-ranking designers such as Bill Blass, Anne Klein, Valentino...
...Baskin is heavy laden with home truths. Big cities- Chicago in this particular case-alienate us one from the other. They corrupt. They deaden. Upon occasion, one stranger meets another. Some spark of humanity is generated, if only for a moment, but its warmth and light rapidly flicker and die. Alone once more, the stranger wanders down a crowded street...
...years back, Czech Director Ivan Passer made Intimate Lighting, which was acclaimed for its warmth and comic invention. In Born to Win, Passer seems a good deal less sure of himself-perhaps because he is working in America for the first time. He handles his actors well-Segal, Fletcher and Black are all exceptionally effective-but he shows no understanding of the social forces that eventually engulf the characters. The film's final scene is, unhappily, less resolution than stalemate. Worse, it has ceased even to matter which alternative J. will choose...
...bright, upended trapezoid canvases lining the staircases and covering exits. And Ken Kanter has done an efficient, unpretentious job of moving the actors on that stage. His is an "amateur" production in the best sense: everyone in it seems to be having a good time, and the warmth comes across. At times, in fact, the melodies (not the lyrics) and the general good cheer of the enterprise overcome all else...
Women's Lib has produced literary heat, but no warmth-and little humanity. The very person to redress this balance turns out to be no hot-panting tractarian, but rueful Novelist Peter De Vries, who, like Adlai Stevenson and Mark Twain, has suffered from the American assumption that anyone with a sense of humor is not to be taken seriously. De Vries is the most domestic of writers. Except for his masterpiece, The Blood of the Lamb, his literary charades more or less cheerfully present a more or less repetitive series of matrimonial alarums and excursions. The De Vries...