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...position is not in darkest Africa but in the steamy slums of Edwardian London. His task is to rescue the souls of their prostitute population. Unfortunately, this earnest young cleric is distracted by the pleasures of the women's generously proffered flesh, and by the importunings of his rich and lubricious patroness (a subdued Maggie Smith). The missionary is played by the Monty Python's Michael Palin, who also wrote the script. But the jokes are mild, single-minded and, too often, familiar. Palin appears less interested in being funny than in offering criticism of a society that...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: Rushes: Nov. 8, 1982 | 11/8/1982 | See Source »

...freshman woman, dismayed about the spare flesh the chunky Union granola has added to your frame...

Author: By Caroline R. Adams, | Title: Club Forms For Runners | 11/3/1982 | See Source »

...heart of Elkin's work, one usually finds longing and pain as old acquaintances, pleasure as an embarrassing surprise, the inevitability of risk and the mysteries of power and chance. Says Ben Flesh in The Franchiser: "The world is a miracle, history's and the universe's long shot. It runs uphill...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Birth of the Blue-Collar Blues | 11/1/1982 | See Source »

...bodies were lifted from the agonized postures of sudden death and shrouded in brown blankets by volunteer civil defense and Red Cross workers, wearing gas masks against the stench and rubber gloves to fend off the toxins from the decaying flesh. Frantic clusters of Palestinians gathered around the rigid, pathetic bundles. From time to time, one of the onlookers would shriek in horror, catching sight of the distorted features of a friend or family member. At one point, a woman torn by grief stood over one of the bloated corpses waving a scarf and a handful of personal letters...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Middle East: God - Oh, My God! | 10/4/1982 | See Source »

...photographs are becoming a sort of genre of the late 20th century: the massacre shots. We see the crumpled litter of bodies, the familiar, companionably mounded flesh reposing on the bare dirt in the sun in a stunned fatal sprawl. The inarticulate carrion aftermath. We have seen them in Viet Nam and El Salvador and Uganda and Rhodesia and God knows where. My Lai is the primordial scene of the type. The same evil black bats burst flapping out of the pictures, into the brain, and each time the mind flinches and contracts and sickens and grieves for a moment...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Essay: Israel's Moral Nightmare | 10/4/1982 | See Source »

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