Word: colorlessness
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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There in a colorless London house lives George Smiley, Master Spy (ret.). Resolutely out of style, fat as the Michelin tire man, he has long been cuckolded by his wife and betrayed by close associates. It is tune the old cold warrior hung up his spites. Not Smiley. Once more, Author John le Carré trots him out in a flawed and misnamed adventure: Smiley's People is actually about the people's Smiley. All of his endearing characteristics, so well catalogued in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and The Honourable Schoolboy, are herein amplified. Now heading toward...
British Novelist Margaret Drabble has described the Eurocurrencies as ''colorless, odorless, tasteless, unspendable money that passes in hieroglyphics through computers from one part of the globe to another...
...away, I'd like to blow out all the candles and wish that someone would knock off the Orioles this year--California or maybe the Brobdingnagian Pittsburgh Pirates--with about 16 homeruns in a four-game sweep. The Orioles are the most boring team in baseball, a gaggle of colorless Holy Rollers. Around the league they tell this story about how Tippy Martinez, Baltimore's top bullpen twirler, invited Earl Weaver to a 7:30 a.m. Sunday prayer breakfast...
When Brooks arrives in Phoenix to begin his film, everything goes wrong. He follows Mrs. Yeager to her gynecologist, only to learn that the doctor (Johnny Haymer) has already enjoyed TV stardom in a 60 Minutes expose of "baby slave auctions." Yeager himself proves to be the most colorless veterinarian ever recorded on film. Local eyewitness-news teams descend on the Yeagers, transforming a TV stunt into a media circus. Finally, an exasperated studio chief (played as a disembodied speaker-phone voice by real-life Studio Executive Jennings Lang) clamps down on the project. He sternly reminds Brooks that reality...
...hand to her cheek like a sprig of flowers. The four soloists on opening night (Thursday) were a study in the company's uneven strength. David Brown floundered, as though classical technique were a suit of clothes three sizes too big, while Anamarie Sarazin wandered dutifully through a colorless waltz. But dainty Stephanie Moy, who has improved noticeably over the past couple of years, darted about deft as a hummingbird. And Elaine Bauer proved once again that she is the company's best female dancer, less by her limber elegance than by the harmony of each detail. For a moment...