Word: swanked
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...Saturday-night show in a Presbyterian church in Kansas City, Missouri, which began and ended with a prayer by the pastor, the fiftyish audience in rhinestones and T shirts responded wildly when Cash gave his trademark greeting, "Hello, I'm Johnny Cash." After the performance, Cash returned to his swank hotel, where a guest in a tuxedo called out, "Hey, Mr. Cash, welcome to Kansas City!" Then there was Dave Sheridan, a college student who attended a Cash concert in Columbia, Missouri, last week: "I'm hooked. Good music is good music," he said. "This guy's been around...
Many wealthy and famous not-exactly-wordsmiths are serving as contributing editors at swank publications. You may not see these celebrity editors' bylines too often, but you can trust that they are not collecting paychecks idly...
...once smarmy image of infomercials, moreover, is starting to improve. Three years ago, in an effort to avoid government regulation, the makers of infomercials issued guidelines that asked manufacturers to substantiate the claims of their products. Stricter rules and an influx of such yuppie-swank companies as Volvo and Braun to the $750 million infomercial business have resulted in the marketing of fewer gadgets ending in the suffix o-matic. In addition, Barry Diller's purchase of QVC has given the entire home-shopping industry an element of cachet. Diller was introduced to QVC by his friend Diane Von Furstenberg...
...Blue, Julie (played by Binoche) has every reason for her swank suffering. Her composer husband and their young daughter have died in a car crash from which Julie barely escaped. So she hides away from her friends and herself. "I don't want any love, memories, belongings," she says. "Those are traps." It takes her the length of the film to realize that isolation is the deadliest snare, that the only release is art and passion. But the true drama can be found in Kieslowski's meticulous images. Cool and seductive, they are the perfect frame for Binoche's harried...
...often though, Sydney Pollack, whose swank and care energized the Redford thriller Three Days of the Condor in 1975, surrenders to genre goofiness, setting up bad guys who are omnipotent at the start and impotent at the end. Like a complex lawsuit, the movie gets buried in paperwork; there's too much walking and talking. (See Tom think. See Tom brood. See Tom make photocopies. See Tom amble across his living room -- in slow motion.) And at the end, too much running and gunning. Maybe every thriller demands a chase, but a clever thriller deserves a better one. On that...