| Hollywoodland | Jan 1 2023 |
When you're a movie star you can't simply have a bad day.
When you're a celebrity, even in professional decline or retirement, you can always make news with a public misstep. Such was the case with Rita Hayworth when she was helped from a TWA flight after it landed in London today in 1976. Hayworth had caused a disruption by directing an angry outburst at a flight attendant. The press was on hand at the airport, so Hayworth was photographed from arrival terminal to limousine looking as tired as if she'd walked instead of flown to London.
It was bad day for Hayworth, but it was only the latest in a long run of them. She had been deeply affected by both her brothers dying within a week in March 1974, had been drinking heavily since then, and in fact was allegedly intoxicated on the flight. When news of the disturbance hit the papers she took a public relations beating and, of course, back then the press wasn't circumspect about attacking a woman's looks.
It wasn't until several years later that Hayworth was diagnosed with the still largely unknown ailment Alzheimer's disease, which helped explain her increasingly erratic behavior. Aging is difficult, there's little doubt. Aging as a sex symbol must be incredibly hard. Some would say growing old in public is back payment for fame, fortune, and undeserved adoration, and that may be so, but to us it seems like a mighty high price. We have a few more photos below.
| Intl. Notebook | Dec 31 2022 |
Well done. You survived another one.
A toast, friends, for though the years keep piling high, you've survived yet another. Hopefully those years are getting better for you all the time. Ours certainly are—knock on wood. The festive photo above was made by U.S. lensman Paul H. Oelman, feautures an unidentified model, and dates from the early or mid-1940s. Oelman was born in 1880 and began his career in Dayton, Ohio, where he met the Wright Brothers and shot photos of their airplane flights. His nude period came later, when he moved his base to Cincinnati, a place which, considering its conservative values, seems a dangerous locale for erotic photography. But he made himself a success there just the same.
Oelman eventually became known throughout the U.S., gave talks to regional camera clubs, and in 1948 founded a national lecture program for the Photographic Society of America. Interesting note about his work method: he preferred to shoot local society girls, and did so with their mothers present as chaperones. We can't even conceive of how that would be viewed today. Would the mothers be called groomers? Anyway, Oelman titled this particular work “Pagan,” and that seems as good a wish as any for the upcoming year. We plan to have a positively pagan year, and we hope you have whatever type of year you seek. 2023! Let's do this!
| Vintage Pulp | Dec 31 2022 |
You're a political radical? We think that's sooo hot.
The beautiful promo you see above threw us into confusion for a bit. It's supposedly for a film called Gendai kôshoku-den: Teroru no kisetsu, aka Modern Passion: Season of Terror, but the poster contains only the first half of that title, which could conceivably make it for an entirely different film. And since our initial research revealed that Gendai kôshoku-den: Teroru no kisetsu has strong political elements, the art here seems incongruous. But after a bit more digging we've decided it's the correct poster alright. The two female stars listed in all the Japanese websites we checked—Tomomi Sahara and Yûko Ejima—are right there front and center, visually confirmed. We suppose the poster is an example of the studio, Wakamatsu Production, selling their political drama by any means necessary, including making it look like a roman porno flick.
That said, Gendai kôshoku-den does have sexual elements. It's about an alleged political terrorist played by Ken Yoshizawa, who's living with two women in a vast suburban housing block, but is unaware that he's under surveillance by Japanese security services and that his apartment has been bugged. We see no signs Yoshizawa is involved in any shady activities, though he's suspected of an embassy arson that occurred several years ago. He appears to have no job, while his girlfriends both work. This quiet existence is suspicious to the two agents. They see it as, “laying low.” Day after day they listen to Yoshizawa eat, have sex, chat with his girlfriends, and talk to himself. On the occasions he leaves the apartment, they follow.
The irony is thick with this situation. One agent asks the other, “Does he have anything worth living for, like us?” What a question, coming from a federal voyeur, watching a guy who has a lordly existence chilling, eating, wandering around, and screwing all day. His partner responds to the question: “I no longer know what we're watching.” Indeed. Is Yoshizawa really a political risk, or is it all just another state-level paranoid delusion like so many of the past? And since states have the power to make their fantasies real, even if Yoshizawa is innocent of all wrongdoing, will he be fashioned into a traitor anyway, unjustly prosecuted and perp-walked before the masses?
Gendai kôshoku-den: Teroru no kisetsu isn't a roman porno because it didn't come from Nikkatsu Studios and predates the official establishment of the genre, but there are similar elements, particularly an exploration of rape fantasy, mercifully brief. In this case, it's possible to argue that this is a metaphor for Yoshizawa's alleged urges to hurt people for political gain—or maybe he's not even a terrorist, but just a regular man, prone to terror in pursuit of whatever he wants. It's a question that roman porno, being mainly a template for kinky male fantasies, doesn't usually ask. That isn't to say roman porno is all bad. There are some deep ideas explored occasionally, but Gendai kôshoku-den: Teroru no kisetsu, with its underlying political intrigue, is engaging in a way Nikkatsu's offerings usually aren't.
Kôji Wakamatsu, the man in the director's chair, makes an engrossing slow burn of the movie, and expertly milks this central question of terroristic acts, inching toward a conclusion that will exonerate Yoshizawa, condemn him, or leave everything ambiguous even after the credits roll. On another layer just below is a subtle questioning of the nature of Japanese/U.S. relations, of imperialism, and the national ennui of an occupied nation. In addition, ocurring at intervals is a wonderful and haunting Vince Guaraldi-style solo flute score by Meikyu Sekai (a group, not a person), which is later supplanted by Max Roach's great tune, “Sunday Afternoon.” Gendai kôshoku-den: Teroru no kisetsu, despite its proto-roman porno digression, is a movie we can recommend. It premiered today in 1969.
JapanWakamatsu ProductionGendai kôshoku-den: Teroru no kisetsuModern Passion: Season of TerrorKen YoshizawaYûko EjimaTomomi SaharaMeikyu SekaiMax Roachposter artcinemamovie review
| The Naked City | Dec 30 2022 |
The never ending quest for the ultimate shot.
Back during the heyday of on-scene crime reporting, mayhem-chasing news photographers were a standard sight at situations in progress, and they got very close to the action. The photos above were taken today in 1957 after police responded to a robbery, trapping the bandits inside a Los Angeles bar, where they were holed up with hostages. In the zoom, just above, note the photographers angling for a good shot. This in a situation in which bullets were likely to fly. They were a different breed of lensmen back then.
The police teargassed the bar, stormed the premises, rescued the patrons, and conducted the malefactors to jail. You see the aftermath below, courtesy of the numerous photographers on hand. The images came from the collection of the Los Angeles Examiner, which is held by the University of Southern California. We've mined their crime photo stash many times. You can see all those images by clicking the Examiner's keywords at bottom, but if you're very interested we recommend visiting USC's website. Just be careful—you could spend all day there.
| Femmes Fatales | Dec 29 2022 |
Hold the balloon in your teeth and don't move. I've gone through too many partners this year to lose another one.
Italian superstar Sophia Loren looks her most beautiful in this promo image made for the 1962 anthology film Boccaccio '70, in which she starred in the Vittorio De Sica-directed segment, “La riffa,” about the owner of a sharpshooting concession at a carnival who consents to be the prize in a lottery. Most agree that of the four segments Loren's was the best, which we're sure comes as no surprise. She's a unique talent. See a few more fun images of her here, here, and here.
| Vintage Pulp | Dec 29 2022 |
Okay, I think we're ready. Formula for edible pomegranate flavored body oil, test seventeen, commencing now.
Brian Aldiss was better known as a sci-fi author, but his 1961 novel The Male Response deals with sexual mores and politics. On Aldiss's website he writes: “Only marginally science fiction, the story tells how the indecisive Soames Noyes is sent by his company with a computer to the newly free black state of Goya, in Africa, where he becomes entangled with women and witch-doctors. Reluctantly, Noyes faces all challenges and, following by public promiscuity, becomes President.” That certainly sounds fun, especially the promiscuity to president part. It obviously could only happen in sci-fi. The cover art here is by Robert Stanley.
| Vintage Pulp | Dec 28 2022 |
After she homicides Johnny, she's going to homicide everyone else who ever crossed her too.
We've returned to Steve Fisher, as we said we would, after reading his 1954 social drama Giveaway. We chose Homicide Johnny because of the title and the Rudolph Belarski cover art. The tale stars Johnny West, a cop in tiny Mamaroneck, New York, about to give up his badge for a private detective gig in far away San Francisco, but who's pulled into one last case. A priceless anti-streptococcic compound has been stolen, and West not only has to solve the crime, but must work with his ex-girlfriend, police investigator Penny Lane. She has a very good if not photographic memory—which is too bad for Johnny because she can't forget or forgive that time he cheated on her. Collaborating with someone who seems to despise you isn't easy, but without trust and cooperation a murderer just might generate more victims. Spoiler alert: he does. Despite Steve Fisher's good rep, we consider Homicide Johnny to be average, even with its unusual medical research backdrop and relationship tension. But there was nothing in it to discourage us from trying him again, so expect to see him here down the line.
| Vintage Pulp | Dec 28 2022 |
Slippery pavement ahead. High accident risk. Proceed in low gear.
Above is a poster for Sex rider: Nureta highway, or alternatively Sex Rider: Wet Highway, starring Mari Tanaka as a woman about to be married who succumbs to a case of cold feet and flees her impending nuptials. Her escape gets off to a bad start when she hits a guy with her car. He's not seriously hurt, but seeing a chance to possibly profit, pretends to be gravely injured. Tanaka, no doctor she, mistakes his fake unconsciousness for death and decides to dispose of the body. Reality gets a little bent from that point, as the film descends into a dreamlike state and we poor confused viewers aren't actually sure if the guy is dead. In any case, Tanaka dumps the body in a lake, but is seen doing it by a nearby hunter, and is sexually assaulted by this witness. At that point the dead/not dead man reappears to defend her, claiming, “I'm the ghost of the guy you hit.” Okay.
That's all we'll do on the plot. We want to note that Nikkatsu Studios, undeniably, had an obsession with rape. Their movies are very against the grain nowadays (and were back then too, we suspect, or at least hope), but we think there's value in looking at them objectively. Modern art is always a momentary endpoint and has to be understood with its evolution in mind. That's why we don't judge these sometimes disturbing films too harshly. The 1970s were a time of cinematic exploration and it was coupled with a new sexual freedom wherein merely to shock with nudity was usually considered a nudge toward more liberation. As we understand it, many feminists back then were pro-nudity. It was a flip-off to a patriarchy that had stifled women for centuries.
But when VHS and the porn explosion came along the winds shifted. Billions were made selling women's bodies and women made virtually nothing. Digital tech, which arrived to stick nudity and sex in the faces of people who hadn't even asked to see it, was the final straw. Today, many people see any female nudity as exploitative, and rail against any depiction of violence against women as implicit endorsement of the same. It's understandable. We all have our own red lines. Everybody's upsettable. Even the people who claim to be hard-as-nails free expression absolutists. Don't believe it? Tell one of them you think belief in a god is childish, or you're tired of veneration of the armed forces, and see how that goes. Everyone is upsettable.Japan was a more patriarchal society than many leading up to the roman porno period, so the push toward sexualization was quite strong there. Though cinematic censorship against frontal nudity and sex acts was firm, such prohibitions merely made Japanese filmmakers creative. It's incredible how shocking a roman porno movie can be without showing a wisp of pubic hair. The rape obsession is just one example. There was also a focus on bodily functions, submission, and more. Despite those shocks, we feel like roman porno films differ only in number—rather than content—from what was being produced in the West during the same period. In the U.S., France, Italy, Spain, Sweden, et al, the 1970 to 1980 timeframe was likewise characterized by an exploration of themes that today are considered taboo.
We love foreign films, and upon exploring Japanese cinema, we progressed from post-war dramas, to samurai and martial arts epics, to counterculture pinky violence films, and thence to roman porno. Ultimately, poster art is one of the linchpins of our site, and roman porno films have great posters, which is the main reason we talk about them so much. We could just share the posters and stop there, but that usually feels inadequate for people who take film as seriously as we (and hopefully you) do. So we watch the movies, but sometimes wonder if we've learned all we can from the genre and maybe should call it quits and move on. But for now we'll keep exploring films such as Sex rider: Nureta highway. In the end, we have to give it credit—at least it tried to be different. But it also should have tried to be better. It premiered in Japan today in 1971.
JapanNikkatsuSex rider: Nureta highwaySex Rider: Wet HighwayMari TanakaKen Yoshizawaposter artpinkuroman pornonuditycinemamovie review
| Hollywoodland | Dec 26 2022 |
Everybody, listen up! Grace is having a nap, so I guess the whole production has to grind to a halt until she's done.
Online you see this photo captioned something like, “Grace Kelly has a nap in Africa on the set of the 1953 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer movie Mogambo." It's clear, though, that the shot is staged. See all those footprints around Kelly's mattress? Grips, best boys, production assistants, and other species of cinematic wildlife have been constantly trekking through there lugging heavy gear. If she were really in need of a catnap we feel she'd be off to the side, somewhere under shelter from the brutal African sun, for example in a tent reserved for her, so we suspect she and the good folks at MGM chose this spot for a quick photo op. But it's a fun shot. In Africa or out of it, Kelly was hella hot.
| Vintage Pulp | Dec 26 2022 |
I know you're new to this life but I feel you have a lot of untapped potential.
Above: a cover for Toni Adler's Dance-Hall Dyke, 1964, from Playtime Books, with a blurb written by an editor who was the William Butler Yeats of teaser text. It's so good it stands alone as a poem:
The vicious jungle
of lesbian lures
the fickle and the fake
screaming the obscenity
of the passions
while tender lovers
cry for understanding
We may inaugurate a Pulp Intl. awards season just for cover blurbs. We wanted to buy the book despite its rude title, but it was going for more than two-hundred bucks, which meant no sale. The cover art is uncredited.
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