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Daily Probe Movie Review by Agatha Florenze-Bindercuff
Full Frontal
On Sunday morning, I grudgingly set aside my copy of the New York Times
so that I could stroll down to the local movie house and see the new
film, Full Frontal, of which I've heard much pooh-poohing in
my social circles. Evidently, the title is contemporary slang for
complete nudity. Admittedly, this is something I've never experienced
in a theater before, with the exception of a little after-hours surprise
cooked up by a projectionist I once dated -- an event better left in
the past, if you don't mind.
So it was with much blushing (and a small degree of titillation, to be
perfectly honest!) that I found myself in the Upper East Side's Paris Theatre
on Sunday, pad and Mont Blanc in hand, ready to perform my duties as
a film critic. And wouldn't you know, someone sat directly in front of me,
his head adorned by one of those "afro" hair styles so favored by the
young folks these days. If any body parts were actually bared during the film,
I was not privy to them, peering as I was through the underbrush.
In short, my dear readers, I could not see a thing!
From the sound of things, Tyrone Power was playing the part of the jaded
newspaperman, with Myrna Loy as the harried socialite who falls for him against his
better judgement. More than that, I'm afraid I cannot tell you. The blushing
did arrive, however, courtesy of a stream of cursing the likes of which I've
never heard in my life. I hope it didn't originate from the film itself,
as most movies shown in polite company are not so... well, so earthy. Perhaps
a theatre employee dropped something on his foot behind the screen. Those
of us in show business know that sort of thing to be all too common.
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