Word: women
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...darkness fell over the abandoned pineapple estate in southern Malaysia, 50 miles from Singapore, police moved in and took up positions among the trees. Thus ensconced, they witnessed a strange rite. On an open-air stage, blue-clad men and women in their 20s sang, recited the sayings of Chairman Mao Tse-tung, and performed acrobatic dance versions of his most intrepid deeds before a rapt audience of other youths. The police waited until the performance had ended, then moved in quickly and arrested 123 performers and members of the audience. The pineapple estate was a clandestine Communist Party school...
...Women, to be sure, can also be something of a financial drainees- pecially if they have a perfectionist turn of mind, like my friend Mrs. Guinness, who feels that "for a fur coat to look proper, it must be completely new." The quest for youth and beauty is the female way of whiling away time and money slimming expeditions to Main Chance or the Greenhouse, animal-cell injections by Niehans in Switzerland, face liftings by Rees or Converse in New York, and assorted blood aerations, breast shapings, or skin peelings. These cosmetic Sayings leave a woman pretty unsightly...
...talk than in her writing, and does not hesitate to correct someone's erroneous ideas about a movie. A chain-smoker, she exhibits that edge of insecurity of the almost emancipated woman. About the only publication she refuses to write for is Playboy, because of its condescending view of women. "For a woman to write for Playboy," she says,"is like a Negro being against civil rights...
...think we ought to pretend like we got some new colors and see what we can do with it. Nathanson: What a television color commercial it could be, with fuchsias and, oh, I don't know, you name them. You know, orchid colors. You'll get women to write letters with orchid . . . Westbrook: You could have a black pen with white ink or a white pen with black ink. Sort of an integrated pen, you know. (Laughter.) It could be called "the soul...
...worked in Mexico for more than 20 years, is no Cervantes, his portrait of the tyrannized, superstition-racked land is as primitive as the peasants themselves. The film's best moments are miniatures: the grotesque love story of a dwarf and a whore; the sudden hysterics of women keening over a dying child; a love-haunted, plague-struck woman who is offered dirisxian aid but spurns the comfort of heaven to sigh for her lost lover. The stretches between such moments are bare and boring. Moreover, Bunuei's anticlerical polemics add up to nothing more than creaky village...