Word: whirly
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...plays Mitchum with laconic assurance, and a cast of veteran character actors is warmed up for a first-rate courtroom drama, a la Caine Mutiny, that only makes it to second. Some of the fault must lie with Director Guy Hamilton, who borrows his pace from those fans that whir lazily overhead in every tropical sinkhole. But justice triumphs, and the made-in-England script gives the saving final testimony to Trevor Howard (so rational, so decent, so British). Thus Man tosses off its message with a chaser of backhanded amity...
...with cries of "Track!" ''Attention!'' "Pista!" and "Achtung!" (In many U.S. spots, "track" has been supplanted by golfdom's "fore.'') Spanking new lodges in a variety of architectural forms range from swish chalets to high-wayless motels; ski tows and chair lifts whir upward through clearings in the fir trees, queues of skiers wait patiently in the valleys to take dizzying trips to the peaks, only to dash back down to do it all over again...
With this new whir of activity, the vast emptiness of the Yukon and Northwest Territories is changing fast. Eskimos whose fathers hunted seals and lived in igloos now drive bulldozers and travel by outboard-powered glass-fiber canoe. One Eskimo, who needed a new hair sight for his rifle, calmly dismantled his $100 wristwatch for a piece of the mainspring. In Inuvik, Indian youths with ducktail haircuts and jeans crouch over a pool table, while their girl friends in ribboned pony tails and candy-striped toreador pants play A Teenager in Love on the jukebox...
...high-quality tequila (from the modernized distilleries in the town of Tequila, 35 miles away) and Sangrita, a tequila chaser made of a secret formula of tomato juice, lime juice, orange juice, sugar, salt, pepper, chilies and spices. The couples watch carefully as automatic cash registers whir up the week's purchases in toothpaste, carrots and dehydrated pimento soup - and then they stop by the Laundromat to pick up the washing...
...periscope sliced through the surface, and the playing reflections of stars rippled in retreat like scattering minnows. Fifty-eight feet below, in the control room of the submarine, men stood their watches in the eerie green glow of instrument lights. The prison silence was broken only by the whir of a generator, the purr of a hydraulic pump, the leaky-faucet sound of water trickling down the packing gland of the periscope barrel. The sub broke water, the bridge hatch swung open, the skipper and his lookouts scrambled topside. There they began the countdown required before launching...