Word: necked
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Everything about this movie seems carefully calculated for effect. Even the director. The ubiquitous advertisements for Electro Glide in Blue feature the 27-year-old James William Guercio in aviator shades and high-lace boots, looking like Bogdanovich from the neck up and DeMille from the knees down. It would not matter, of course, what the ads or the director looked like if the movie deserved either of the adjectives often associated with first features -"interesting" or "promising." In its slick pomposity, though, the publicity campaign has neatly captured the essence of the film...
...back and water-walking lessons, where swimmers would be expected to swim and damn the rest of the academic ball of wax, where he could negotiate athletic scholarships regardless of financial need, where he could settle back, heave his bulky shoulders, tighten the tendons in his squat neck, and butt his tubbly head into the midst of the national swimming power struggle. Gambril, who having built an instant title team with promises of national statistics and schedules and having roped two consecutive years of standout material, pulled the plug on the program and bid sayonara to New England...
...mirrored ceilings. Presumably resigned to the realities of urban smog, the designer has given up on white for coats, showing tones that range from golden beige ("oat") through bottle green. Those without fur collars were finished off with a fringed wool challis square folded in a triangle around the neck. Valentino's most famous client, Mrs. Jacqueline Onassis, visited Rome before the collection had been completed for preview; she ordered some clothes from drawings and will see the full embodiment next month in New York...
...against blacks? Right on, right? Thanks to the grace of Janet MacLachlan and Joyce Bulifant, the pilot episode managed to be nearly inoffensive, despite such lines as "I believe in calling a spade a spade," and "Show me a blue collar and I'll show you a red neck." But it has been downhill from there-a leftover lunch of cold jokes relying solely, it seems, on the word chocolate for chuckles...
...later Connors, high on his success, is surrounded in the pressroom. The Stockton family, minus Mr., waits for Dickie on the clubhouse porch, looking out over the grass now singed dusky by the sun's going down. He barely acknowledges them as he trudges by, towel draped around his neck for a shower. How do you greet a beaten Stockton when all the customary reassurances, the buck ups, the next times, the good fights, come as so much rubbing in of failure...