Word: hollywoodized
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...mysteries in the fraternity system, none is more inexplicable than the complete disappearance of the fraternity man . . . after his graduation from college. No managing editor was ever heard to say, even in a Hollywood film : 'Lead the paper with Himmelfarber's story-he's a Sigma Sigma from the Wingding School of Mines! I understand the Tau Taus were after him too.' And . . . who ever heard of a fraternity man, even with distress signals flying, beating out a son-in-law for a fat job in the family business...
Young Pancho, one of seven kids of a Hollywood studio painter, has been playing tennis since 1941, when his mother gave him a 51? racket for Christmas. School never interested him much ("If it was a warm day and the fellows said 'Let's go to the beach,' who was I to say no?"). Though Perry Jones, the Southern California tennis czar, looked askance, he quit high school in 1943 and then did a hitch in the Navy. He finally played his way back into Jones's good graces-and the tournament bids, expense money...
...Melchior, Marina Koshetz and young Jane Powell, who is expected to carry the burden of a clumsy plot about a sea captain (George Brent) and his amorous passengers. Miss Powell makes a game try against heavy odds. The handling of Mr. Melchior, who also tries hard, is in the Hollywood tradition: two pan shots of enraptured listeners to every shot of an opera singer in action. Luxury Liner has also stowed in its cargo Xavier Cugat, his orchestra, and his miniature pooch. The ship was badly overloaded before it ever cast...
...will be British-born Cedric Belfrage, onetime cinema critic for the London Daily Express, and James Aronson, New York newsman. Among the contributors: Author Louis Adamic, Dr. Guy Emery Shipler, editor of the Churchman; Roger (American Past) Butterfield, Sportwriter John Lardner and his screenwriter brother Ring Jr. (one of Hollywood's "unfriendly ten"); Max Werner, Anna Louise Strong, untiring apologist for Russia, and ex-New Masses Cartoonist William Gropper...
...make the heat, the stench, and the occasional beauty of the African jungle almost tangible. Stripped of its pretentious symbolism, its agonized soul-searching, this could have been a good travel book. But the vivid jungle is matted and twined with the perilous Africa cliché, reminiscent of Hollywood's stock treatment: "Well," he muttered, staring up at the constellations, "don't go too deep into Africa. Don't try to grasp her. Don't try to penetrate her. Don't get sucked into the whirlpool. The deeper you go, the more poisonous she grows...