Word: glossing
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Such relentless optimism provides ready ammunition to those who would prefer to gloss over genuine problems. Statistics documenting what Wallenberg, in a dreadful stylislic lapse, calls the "deeliticization of American higher education," say nothing about the quality of life on campus. Nor does the claim that aimless retirement or a dreary nursing 'home are belter for the elderly than "dying in the traces" provide much comfort for hungry old people languishing on park benches...
...construe their social roles as conduits of sensation, the levels of human sympathy and understanding to be found in them won't be very high. That's too bad, but the situation isn't hopeless. Other media, particularly film, can take the same sort of events newspapers sensationalize and gloss over, and convey some genuine feeling for what goes on in people's minds and hearts. It is a significant and difficult task--especially in a movie industry that is used to milking "real-life human drama" for all the dough it's worth--and it's a task Edouard...
...Miller is skittish and well observed. Bogdanovich, a hugely eclectic director, borrows heavily here again. The use of a popular tune-Maggie, in this instance-as a sort of sentimental signature comes directly from John Ford, and the mood of much of the light-comedy moments seems a gloss on Ernst Lubitsch. The film's opening is quite ravishing, however-the early moments of a hotel stirring for a new day-and throughout there is a kind of stylistic steadiness new to Bogdanovich...
Such a repetitious maneuver is exquisite torture for the corps de ballet, but it danced with a purity of feeling and tautness of leg muscle that did not falter. Nureyev's staging was a light modern gloss on the original Petipa choreography. It was also an exercise in personal nostalgia: La Bayardère is the crown jewel of the Leningrad Kirov Ballet where Nureyev was trained...
...RAGMAN'S DAUGHTER is one of those English proletarian soap operas, done up this time with a patina of gloss. The script was written by Alan Sillitoe (Saturday Night and Sunday Morning) in what could only have been a fit of self-loathing. An unhappy employee in a cheese factory, approaching middle age and dwelling on the glum fringes of the lower middle class, recalls a teen-age romance with the ragman's daughter. She was a lustrous girl who came riding down his street on a horse, smiling in soft focus. With glistening white teeth and flowing...