Word: cladding
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...chilling winds of New-foundland may howl outside the St. Vincent orphanage, the setting of director John N. Smith's compelling new film "The Boys of St. Vincent," but the territory inside the cloistered stone walls provides no safe haven either. The black-clad priests of St. Vincent slip like sinister, dark shadows through the looming corridors, creating a world of terror for the young boys entrusted to their churchly protection. The orphanage is a realm of the wicked, built not only upon layers of deceitful whispers and abuse of religious power, but also upon the sadistic sexual molestation...
...sure, most of it is somewhat amusing. It's always entertaining to watch others make complete jackasses out of themselves-especially when they seem to have no compunction about doing it. And the guy who stood up in Gen. Fd. 105 clad only in tightly-whites and a T-shirt shouting "Dr. Coles we love you. Please don't leave," is only expressing a sentiment shared by a majority of the Harvard undergraduate population. (Although scenes like that may scar Coles enough to make him leave Cambridge permanently...
...women twirling about one another, their shapes congealing and dissolving. The trails of their dresses look like mermaid's tails, giving their bodies an organic quality as if they originated in the ground. Only one woman's face is discernible and her expression is decidedly vampish, although she is clad in white and set in nature. It is as if Picasso took a prostitute and placed her en plein air. The result is an intimidating woman with an cerie and wary gaze...
With the same close acuity for both detail and the grand sweep of the virtuoso, the film quietly captures these escapist tendencies of Gould, whether in his music or in the private spaces of his life. In one stunningly bizarre scene we see Gould approaching us across the snow-clad tundra. The distance and the alienation of his character from us the audience--humanity--is painful, almost violent. The ice and loneliness of the geography are a fitting metaphor for Gould's life as an artist...
...that now. Both warriors, clad in plaid pants with mustard yellow polo shirts and tweed hats, hurling cybernetic golf balls at each other and wielding bioengineered pitching wedges...