Word: insipidness
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...Little Women" R. K. O. Keith's. Jean Parker has a hot potato in her mouth. Joan Bennet is insipid. Frances Dee and Katherine Hepburn are adequate. However, the best sentimental film this year or any other year...
When Frank is proposing to his charming protege, bullets fly through the windows. Calmly he ships Joan to Miami so that he may dispose of his enemies without endangering her life. An exclusive hotel harbors Joan until she meets an insipid crooner who confesses he is a coward. If a splinter pierces the delicate epithelium on his finger, or if the sun darkens his pure white skin, he has conniptions. Emasculated as he appears on the surface, he faces death with remarkable nonchalance; he is there in the pinch. Maybe this characterization conveys something mystical and beautiful...
...street as Chancellor Hitler drove through cheering Fascist crowds. Scowling Brown Shirts, rifle at shoulder, guarded the entrance of the refurbished Festspielhaus. It was Nazi Day at Bayreuth. Despite Hitler's prohibition of demonstrations "not pertaining to Wagner's immortal music," Karl Elmendorff's flat, insipid conducting of Die Meistersinger could not conceal the fact that Nazi Germany was again parading its national resurgence. Most foreign Wagnerites, regarding the Festival as an act of homage, remained away...
...young men that they were going to make the most of the two best ingenue parts in the Savoy Operas. Gilbert, in a particularly happy mood, made them two pert, attractive little baggages with minds of their own. Tessa and Gianetta steer a refreshing course, avoiding the Victorian doldrums (insipid Mabel, elfish Yum-Yum) and the Gilbertian caricatures (whining Ruth, tasteless Katisha). "When a Merry Maiden Marries" comes off with admirable airiness and grace, and so does the romping fantasy, "'Tis a glorious thing, I ween, to be a Regular Royal Queen." The right note of plaintiveness without nagging...
...modern art of Hungary, if it is to be judged by this show, can be called interesting, but hardly of outstanding importance. It lacks on the whole a depth of thought and feeling, without which the paintings appear weak and insipid. This is not however a wholesale condemnation, for there are notable exceptions in this exhibition. Istvan Pekary, for instance, in his small canvas called "The Funeral," has with his purposely naive and provincial style given us a picture fairly bristling with emotion. For some reason, his many genre figures scattered all over the picture do not distract us from...