Word: artlessness
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...Wanksta,” there was so much buzz around him that it seemed impossible that he’d ever record trash like this. Like nearly everything he’s done since “In Da Club,” this is just artless misogyny and bank-account-dick-measuring. The lone semi-bright spot is the “Tipsy”-lite beat, but on the whole, this is awful. Grade: F —Staff writer Eric L. Fritz can be reached at efritz@fas.harvard.edu...
...lose--whether Gonzlez Irritu, del Toro and Cuarn come away with a half-dozen Oscars or none--their individual and collective eminence is great news for international cinema. And for Hollywood too. American movies are in their most artless, complacent period since, I don't know, ever. Somebody's got to shake the place up, and it might as well be the Mexicans...
Underneath the now famous Internet campaign, there is a movie. Which, it might be argued, is essentially over the minute the main title flashes on the screen. What film could possibly live up to that alarming phrase: Snakes on a Plane? It has the artless - not to say cheesy - directness of an old-fashioned bottom-of-the-bill B picture, promising thrills of a purely visceral kind: no aliens from outer space, no philosophical musings about man's place in the universe. All the movie has to do is show us a familiar, alarming menace - the aforementioned snakes - slithering around...
...could oppose a plan to scrap the tradition of players walking between the Sydney Cricket Ground's members as they enter and depart the arena. And he could step in and declare "Enough!" when his speedster Brett Lee bowls unsporting bumper after bumper at tail enders. Competitive and artless, Ponting is doing his best to ensure Australia keeps winning. That's the job as he sees it, and he's doing it well. Reflecting on his early days, however, might remind him that there's more to sport than that. If he then began to grasp the possibilities...
...actor in the drama, much as Alex Haley did in Roots, piercing the narrative with his own meditations: "We are periodically asked to choose between the Land and the Book, as if our presence [in France] did not show that one can be faithful to both at once." These artless interludes serve to remind the reader that the sufferers may be fictional but the suffering is not, and that no matter how febrile the imaginings of an author, the truth is far more unsettling...