ChrisT
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Posts posted by ChrisT
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I wish!
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If we only get three squares, how are we able to ever sink anything?
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don't be daft
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THE GRADUATE
By BOSLEY CROWTHER
Published: December 22, 1967
Suddenly, here toward the year's end, when the new films are plunging toward the wire and the prospects of an Oscar-worthy long shot coming through get progressively more dim, there sweeps ahead a film that is not only one of the best of the year, but also one of the best seriocomic social satires we've had from Hollywood since Preston Sturges was making them.
It is Mike Nichols's and Lawrence Turman's devastating and uproarious The Graduate, which came yesterday to the Lincoln Art and the Coronet.
Mark it right down in your datebook as a picture you'll have to see—and maybe see twice to savor all its sharp satiric wit and cinematic treats. For in telling a pungent story of the sudden confusions and dismays of a bland young man fresh out of college who is plunged headlong into the intellectual vacuum of his affluent parents' circle of friends, it fashions a scarifying picture of the raw vulgarity of the swimming-pool rich, and it does so with a lively and exciting expressiveness through vivid cinema.
Further, it offers an image of silver-spooned, bewildered youth, standing expectantly out with misgiving where the brook and the swimming-pool meet, that is developed so wistfully and winningly by Dustin Hoffman, an amazing new young star, that it makes you feel a little tearful and choked-up while it is making you laugh yourself raw.
In outline, it may sound skimpy and perhaps a little crude—possibly even salacious in a manner now common in films. For all it is, in essence, is the story of this bright but reticent young man who returns from an Eastern college to his parent's swanky home in Beverly Hills, gets seduced rather quickly by the restless wife of his father's law partner, then falls in love with the lady's daughter and finds himself helplessly trapped in a rather sticky dilemma until he is able to dislodge himself through a familiar romantic ploy.
That's all. And yet in pursuing this simple story line, which has been adorned with delicious incidents and crackling dialogue in the screenplay by Calder Willingham and Buck Henry, based on a novel by Charles Webb, the still exploring Mr. Nichols has done such sly and surprising things with his actors and with his camera—or, rather, Robert Surtees's camera—that the overall picture has the quality of a very extensive and revealing social scan.
With Mr. Hoffman's stolid, deadpanned performance, he gets a wonderfully compassionate sense of the ironic and pathetic immaturity of a mere baccalaureate scholar turned loose in an immature society. He is a character very much reminiscent of Holden Caulfield in J. D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye.
And with Anne Bancroft's sullenly contemptuous and voracious performance as the older woman who yearns for youth, Mr. Nichols has twined in the netting the casual crudeness and yet the pathos of this type.
Katharine Ross, another comparative newcomer, is beautifully fluid and true as the typical college-senior daughter whose sensitivities are helplessly exposed for brutal abrasion by her parents and by the permissive society in which she lives. Murray Hamilton is piercing as her father—a seemingly self-indulgent type who is sharply revealed as bewildered and wounded in one fine, funny scene. And William Daniels and Elizabeth Wilson fairly set your teeth on edge as the hotcha, insensitive parents of the lonely young man.
Enhancing the veracity of the picture is first-rate staging in true locations and on well-dressed sets, all looking right in excellent color. And a rich, poignant musical score that features dandy modern folk music, sung (offscreen, of course) by the team of Simon and Garfunkel, has the sound of today's moody youngsters—"The Sounds of Silence," as one lyric says.
Funny, outrageous, and touching, The Graduate is a sophisticated film that puts Mr. Nichols and his associates on a level with any of the best satirists working abroad today.
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kudos to you for going through the looking glass in the first place.
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Where do you live, ChrisT? I can't tell the difference between bottled and tap (PDX) water.
In Vancouver WA, where i live as well. Our water is good, no need for aquafina.
Like I said, it was a treat, an impulse and now I have filled the Aquafina bottle with tap water and put in my fridge...like I always do.
BTW Blake your avatar says B-ham.
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Over 1/3 of bottled water samples tested have unacceptably high levels of bacterial growth.
Most bottled water is just municipal tap water. I guess it depends if the municipality where they bottle it has better water than where you buy it.EG In LA even I would drink bottled water if I ran out of beer (Which is cheaper)
But hey if you want to pay extra for something you already pay for just to get a disposable bottle then go for it
well maybe it was the bacteria that made this Aquafina taste so yummy.
Bottled by pepsiCo -
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I don't usually buy bottled water because I think it's a ripoff not to mention the added waste to our landfills, etc. But today I treated myself to a bottle of Aquafina. Man that stuff is good!
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Billygoat-
You have got to be hands down THE most generous person on this board.
May the Gods smile on you and reward you ten-fold for your kindness.Christ
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I saw Mt. Hood yesterday afternoon from Portland basking in a bright sunny glow. Did anyone get up there at all? High winds?
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Name My Dog
in Spray
I was at the Vet yesterday with the cat ("Rock Star" - the kids named her) and there must've been 5 pooches named "Buddy" in the lobby. Please do not name your dog "Buddy". thanks.
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Howard Dean!
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Good lyrics
in Spray
I always thought Bjork had good lyrics but only snoboy may share my fascination with B.
"Hyper Ballad"
we live on a mountain
right at the top
there's a beautiful view
from the top of the mountain
every morning i walk towards the edge
and throw little things off
like:
car-parts, bottles and cutlery
or whatever i find lying around
it's become a habit
a way
to start the day
i go through this
before you wake up
so i can feel happier
to be safe up here with you
it's real early morning
no-one is awake
i'm back at my cliff
still throwing things off
i listen to the sounds they make
on their way down
i follow with my eyes 'til they crash
imagine what my body would sound like
slamming against those rocks
and when it lands
will my eyes
be closed or open?
i'll go through all this
before you wake up
so i can feel happier
to be safe up here with you
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Good lyrics
in Spray
You just can't beat B. Dylan either
It's alright Ma (I'm only Bleeding)
Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.
While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?
And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
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Good lyrics
in Spray
*sigh*
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Good lyrics
in Spray
at least chelle was good enough to credit the author of the lyrics
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Not to hijack your thread or anything but I just made a kickass supper - Chicken Cacciatore with gemelli, peas and garlic toast. Man i totally outdid myself!
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I don't believe a computer can calculate what's ideal for me. It's bogus IMO. Petite I ain't but for probably the first time in my life, I am happy with body size, shape and weight. Call it acceptance. And I still like big tall men.
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Hah! You and me both. You know that kd lang song "Big Boned Gal" ?- I think she wrote that about me.
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When my son was bit by a neighbor's dog (on the ear - the dog almost ripped his ear off) Kaiser held this family liable for medical expenses and I believe it was covered by their homeowner's insurance. It's called third party liability. I did not sue the people - didn't even think about it - but their dog (a samoyed(sp?)) was eventually put down.
Pearl Jam
in Spray
Posted
Any of you Seattle-ites got the inside scoop on Pearl Jam's touring schedule? Are they *ever* gonna come to Portland again? Any sites that have real information as opposed to speculation and rumors?