When he does, he barely opens his mouth, choosing words with care and delivering them in a monotone.
Her alcoholic mother, a sultry blond beauty whose face is turning back to baby fat, is grabbing at what may be her last days of pleasure, and she barely opens a can to make dinner for her children.
Her partner, Marshall Mann, is played by Frederick Weller, a physically imposing actor, except for two things — he has an unexpressive, blurry face, and when he speaks he barely opens his mouth.
(She has been saddled, like Michael Westen, with a meddling, uncontrollable mother, supplied here by Lesley Ann Warren). Her partner, Marshall Mann, is played by Frederick Weller, a physically imposing actor, except for two things—he has an unexpressive, blurry face, and when he speaks he barely opens his mouth.
But in this case, for once a little bit of knowledge does help me to set aside my defences and surrender to the melodies that float effortlessly and undramatically from this enigmatic, undemonstrative musician, who barely opens his mouth to let the sounds slip between his lips.
Expletive-laden tirades against hapless chefs and kitchen staff have become Gordon Ramsay's signature dish, while Malcolm Tucker, the BBC's fictional Downing Street director of communications in The Thick of It, barely opens his mouth without uttering a four-letter word or six.
