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...CAT BALLOU. Lawlessness and disorder abound in this wickedly funny western about a pistol-packing schoolmarm (Jane Fonda) and the company she keeps. The best of the company is supplied by Lee Marvin, memorably double-cast as a couple of gunslingers-for-hire...
...works from arresting angles, all but caressing the decor of a world made to order for the filthy rich. Fond of polished surfaces, he dotes on reflections in mirrors, sunglasses, brandy snifters. But the validity of Eva lies in Moreau's accomplished bitchery. As a sleek alley cat commuting at her whim between Venice and Rome, she slinks from warm beds to warm baths, purring over her furs and silks and blues records with such hypnotic self-absorption that even a silly role begins to seem not just interesting but absolutely essential to watch...
...mines blared a call to revolt, some-1,000 army troops marched into the town of Oruro, killing six miners in a two-hour pitched battle. Another 2,500 soldiers captured four union strongholds in the mining districts and moved to within H miles of the huge Cat-avi-Siglo Veinte complex, where thousands of well-armed miners had barricaded themselves. At that point, the miners requested a 48-hour truce. Barrientos insisted on unconditional surrender. He then summarily canceled all union wage increases granted since last Aug. 31, 1964, and gave the Comibol state mining company freedom to hire...
...films in which he satirizes the types he normally plays. In the forthcoming Ship of Fools, he is a whoring, has-been ballplayer, turns in one stunning, tragicomic scene in which he drunkenly explains the torture of being unable to hit a curve ball. And in the just-released Cat Ballou, he does a double parody, first as the silver-nosed gun fighter and then as a wildly comic former gunman so booze-ridden he can barely ride. Either way, he seems sure of a supporting-actor Oscar nomination...
Like his other books, The Tin Drum and Cat and Mouse, and like the rest of the new generation of German fiction, it deals with the Nazi era. Dog Years is powerful, jumbled, symbol-cluttered, too long, exhausting. It drifts in and out of fantasy, scratches at memories as if they were swords too dangerous to grasp, and says nothing directly. The narrative follows, circles about, sniffs at, is diverted from, and returns to the careers of two friends, boys who were born in 1917 in a fishing village on the Baltic...