Ian - a month ago I made/used exactly the same distinction in an exchange with an architect, ie playability vs pandering.
As you note, it is an elusive distinction: it's not necessarily about length or width etc, and yet we know it when we see it, or, more accurately, when we *feel* it.
Strange that I should get annoyed with a course/architect who is so clearly trying to ensure I have a good time. But I think that's it, ie it's that he has put *himself* and his ideas of what I want, and his hopes for popular (and thus future) work ahead of what *I* want and need -- which is a terrific golf course that challenges and beguiles both.
And that the attempt/charade is so *obvious* rankles even more. I feel like saying "Please, at least *try* to fool me -- try to make the lie a convincing one".
When for all its aesthetic charms a golf course glorifies options yet limits the (real, and often hidden) consequences; when it provides more than ample width yet without significant (but often obscure) meaning and relevance; when it celebrates its short 4s and 5s not in relationship to/as counterpoints of the other holes in the routing, but instead as undeniable goods in and of themselves; when it pretends to use short grass surrounds as an enemy when it was clearly (the proof being in the pudding) meant to be my friend; and when dramatic and difficult looking green contours actually serve mainly as framing for large flattish areas of easily pinnable (and make able) putting surface, then I suspect that the architect and his course is pandering to me.
I don't like it in movies, I don't like it in music, I don't like it in books, I don't like it in political discourse, I don't even like it in personal relationships. Why would I want it in golf courses? But, as Jim suggests, it does seem to 'work' for many others when it comes to golf -- and they are clearly willing to pay big dollars for it.
Peter