Word: slicks
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1970-1970
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...favor pink and pigtails, and announce with pride: "I was valedictorian of my high school class." He falls in love with both the girl and the country, but neither romance can sustain the burden of examination and analysis to which Adam constantly subjects them. The film is too slick by half, and often uses caricatures instead of characters. But it at least refuses to give simplistic answers to complex questions...
...there are any truly American sounds, one is surely the radio station break, complete with fragmentary tune and a slick chorus−"Double-yew Emmm Eeee Ellll, Light and Lively!" Blame it on Pepper & Tanner of Memphis, those wonderful folks who also brought you "Hey, Culligan Man" and the Roto-Rooter jingle (". . . and away go troubles down the drain...
Tuesday Weld is an understandably desirable love object, a genuine Lolita, but she can make little sense of her rather muddy character. Ralph Meeker, as the ruthless moonshiner, is all sinister smiles and barely repressed violence. The music, sung by Johnny Cash, is slick and unemotional. The main flaw is that the love affair between Alma and the sheriff lacks the qualities of desperation and frustration that would make it convincing. Alvin Sargent's script does not help matters much with such ritual movie Southernisms as "Eat your beans, Grandpa" and "Would you like a Dr Pepper?" Peck succeeds...
...pursued to the point of agony and death. Demonstrating incidentally that the body costumed can be more profoundly arousing in theater than the body naked, Jarry on sex as produced by Barrault is visually delightful, intellectually provocative, closer to Sade's black understanding than to Tynan's slick preaching...
Those who stayed at home cut further into the dreams of their time. Schnorr von Carolsfeld's entwined lovers jump from a cliff, in erotic slow-motion; romantic fascination with the "inseparability" of love and death was never put more concisely than in this smooth, slick image of sexual harakiri. Johann Hummel transformed a granite bowl, erected in the Berlin pleasure gardens, into an object as disquieting as a flying saucer: with fanatical precision, the tiny reflections of passers-by are caught in its mirror-polished surface, twisted and topsy-turvy, as though Magritte had been let loose...