Word: slicking
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Selznick International) is a slick-dandy, too-well-tailored dressing up of Mark Twain's homespun yarn. Its Hollywood pretty-prettiness needs more than anything else to have its face & hands rubbed in good Mississippi mud. But neither time, Technicolor nor cinema trickery can dim the essential vigor of Tom Sawyer. Tom's system for getting the fence whitewashed is still a U. S. classic of super-salesmanship. His mind is still happily mercurial, weighted one minute with the agonizing secret that Injun oe, and not good old Muff Potter, killed young Doc Robinson in the graveyard; exalted...
...York Stock Exchange. For the holding company, although often used as a slick device for controlling other people's money, is a practical solution to the problem of carrying on interstate commerce under 48 varieties...
...last decade, Cinemactress Joan Crawford has been hushaby lady to millions for whom dreams at prevailing box-office prices are the only escape from failure and mediocrity. Her partner in romance is usually some slick-haired reigning actor. In Mannequin, crinkly-eyed, roughhewn Spencer Tracy seems ill at ease, especially with dialogue lines like "somebody hit me with a hypo full of love...
...Love Again (Walter Wanger) puts a favorite poser of slick-paper fiction, viz., whether there is a spark in that old campus romance yet, these ten years later. Its answer is a heart-warming yes, echoing around the shaded quiet of a i Vermont college town. Producer Walter ; Wanger has a theory of picture-making akin to Baseball's immortal Willie Keeler's formula for a good batting average ("Hit 'em where they ain't"). Hence this film, a reworking of the essentials of Allene Corliss' Summer Lightning (cloudbursts & all) aims soberly at the heart...
...people who write this material are, in spite of a continual campaign to get in new blood, a fairly constant band of professional "slick paper" magazine writers who make from $5,000 to $250,000 a year at their trade. Incorrigible highbrows criticize the Post's taboos (par for middle-class conception of decency anywhere), complain that in its non-fiction no intellectual rivers are ever set afire, in its fiction no Buddenbrooks appear among the Clarence Buddington Kellands. This is old stuff to Editor Stout's staff. Nowadays they respond simply by handing out a reprint...