Tate gives chase in an international fortune hunting comedy about a missing chair.
In ¿Las cual de 13?, aka 12 + 1, aka Twelve Plus One, an Italian barber played by Vittorio Gassman inherits thirteen chairs and, deeming them useless, sells them to a London antique shop. He later discovers one of the chairs contains a fortune, but when he returns to the shop he's told they've all been sold. So he offers the antique shop employee Sharon Tate half of the fortune to help him track down the chairs, which of course have scattered to the four winds. Their search takes them to Paris, Rome, and beyond, in 1960s screwball fashion with its expected pratfalls, mix-ups, and sticky situations. Gassman and Tate do reasonable jobs with the goofy script that's been made of Soviet authors Ilf and Petrov's satirical source novel, and the film is boosted by appearances from Vittorio De Sica, Mylène Demongeot, Terry-Thomas, and Orson Welles. This was an Italian production, but the poster above was painted for the film's Spanish run by Carlos Escobar, who signed his work “Esc.” This is the best we've ever seen from a very good artist. Since the movie didn't premiere in Italy until after Tate had been slain this month in 1969, and didn't reach Spain until mid-1970, the poster very likely was painted post-murder, which means Escobar probably was thinking of how to best portray someone who'd become a tragic figure. We suspect he put special effort into his work as a tribute, and if so, a fitting tribute it was.
, ¿Las cual de 13?
, Twelve Plus One
, 12 + 1
, Sharon Tate
, Vittorio Gassman
, Vittorio De Sica
, Mylène Demongeot
, Orson Welles
, Carlos Escobar
, poster art
, movie review
Love and the art of armed robbery.
Above, a French promo poster for the American film noir Gun Crazy, which premiered in France as Le Démon des armes today in 1950. Haven't seen it? We think it's well worth a viewing.
Apologies for the omission, Miss Michiyo.
Years ago we shared a poster for a Michiyo Mako roman porno flick and called her a “little known” actress. Well, live and learn. She wasn't little known—we knew little about Japanese film, is what the problem was. Now we know more, which is a benefit of maintaining this website, and we can report that Mako appeared in thirty movies between 1967 and 1976. Today we have promo posters for three of those to make up for giving her short shrift before. Top to bottom: Yorokobi no sekkusu, aka Sex of Joy or Nymph of Delight, Onna zakari: Mishitsu no yorokobi, aka Pleasure in the Secret Room, and 処女誘
拐魔, for which we did not find a phonetic Japanese title. In English, these chracters would read something like Virgin Kidnapping Magic. More Mako posters later.
, Yorokobi no sekkusu
, Sex of Joy
, Nymph of Delight
, Onna zakari: Mishitsu no yorokobi
, Pleasure in the Secret Room
, Virgin Kidnapping Magic
, Michiyo Mako
, poster art
, pinky violence
, roman porno
Russ Meyer's tale of killer cats from Southern California is absurd but entertaining.
Though the text is in English, this promo for Russ Meyer's Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill! was made for a 1994 re-release in Japan. You can see that the flipside at right is partially in Japanese. Faster Pussycat is one of those movies—everyone has heard of it, but fewer than you'd suspect have actually seen it.
So what's the deal? Tura Satana, Haji, and Lori Williams drag race, wisecrack, and roughhouse their way around Southern California. But because they're bad tempered and sociopathic, they eventually kill a guy, which then requires abducting the only witness, and in turn leads to a scheme to cheat a wheelchair bound old man out of his disablement stash. It's an uneasy alliance between these three kittens, destined for implosion, an inevitability helped along by Satana's unending torrents of shouty abuse.
You really have to hand it to Meyer—what he did, he did really well. Faster Pussycat is a completely overdone tale of reckless youth and the lawless west, but ripping around the Mojave Desert with these girls is consistently fun. The type of moral decay and geographical desolation showcased here is one of American film's time-honored motifs. Meyer's entry in the genre holds up pretty well. The movie originally premiered today in 1965.
Someone in the sleeping compartment isn't going to wake up.
Film noir teaches us that anyone can get in too deep, even a railroad engineer. In Human Desire, Fritz Lang's retelling of Emile Zola's 1890 novel La Bête humaine, Glenn Ford finds himself trapped between lust for Gloria Grahame and reluctance to kill to have her. He's already helped her cover up another killing and gotten in the middle of blackmail plot, but every man has his limits. This is flawed but canonical noir, with a cocky Ford, a quirky Grahame, a brutish Broderick Crawford, and Kathleen Case playing the loyal gal pal, who for our money is much more alluring than Grahame. Ford figures that out too, eventually. Too bad his realization is sandwiched between two murders on his train. Human Desire premiered today in 1954.
La Bête humaine
, Human Desire
, Fritz Lang
, Emile Zola
, Glenn Ford
, Gloria Grahame
, Kathleen Case
, Broderick Crawford
, poster art
, film noir
, movie review
Oh my God—she's pretending I'm Brad Pitt right now.
We thought we'd make up for the blah poster below by offering an un-blah counterpoint. This lovely effort is for the roman porno flick Semi-dokyumento: Ocaruto sex, and it starred Yuki Minami in a tale written and directed by sexploitation vet Shinya Yamamoto. Ocaruto means “occult” in Japanese, so the movie, called simply Occult Sex for its Western release, is a genre mash-up that mixes the usual sin and skin with horror movie elements of ESP and psychokinesis. But would you really want to be able to read someone's thoughts during sex? We wouldn't. And we wouldn't want to be the recipients either. The Pulp Intl. girlfriends already think we spend way too much mental energy on baseball. If they only knew. Semi-dokyumento: Ocaruto sex premiered in Japan today in 1974.
Hong Kong kidnappers have problems mastering possession, and so do the filmmakers.
If Tarantino likes it, it must be tops. At least that's the assumption some would make upon learning that 1976's Ebony, Ivory & Jade has Tarantino's stamp of approval. Well, despite the endorsement and status as a minor classic of the blaxploitation genre, the film isn't great. It has some highlights, including confidently staged action sequences and camerawork that does seem to have influenced Tarantino. But its failings are legion—bad script, wooden acting, and heavy duty crushed black levels that make the actors almost impossible to see in the night sequences. We'll give a pass on that last problem, because it could have happened during the video or DVD transfer.
We'll admit though, this flick is damned funny in parts—unintentionally so, foremost the character Stacy's beatdown of a bad guy who morphs into a dummy at the moment she hoists him overhead and helicopter spins him through a room divider. The basic idea of the film is also appealing—Hong Kong bad guys kidnap five female track stars for ransom, unaware that two of them happen to be martial arts experts that will cause no end of trouble once they untie themselves. Playboy playmate Rosanne Katon in the lead role is also a plus. But as blaxploitation, even a discernibly elevated budget doesn't lift the film above other entries in the genre.
As a side note, the above promo poster should help put to rest any idea that apostrophe illiteracy has something to do with modern education or the internet or whatever. It has always been a problem, and we see it all the time in vintage material. This particular failure to master the possessive form is pretty egregious, though. Yes, it's attached to a movie shot in the Philippines, but the error made it all the way through a phalanx of American writers, designers, pre-press workers, printers, and producers working in the U.S. of A. at—or at least for—Lawrence Woolner's Dimension Pictures. Pretty bad. Though as we've noted in the past, sometimes apostrophe placement can be legitimately tricky.
, Dimension Pictures
, Lawrence Woolner
, Ebony Ivory & Jade
, Rosanne Katon
, Colleen Camp
, Sylvia Anderson
, Quentin Tarantino
, poster art
, movie review
Secrets are meant to come out.
The poster sucked us into this one. The posters always do that. Una mujer sin amor isn't a thriller or noir. It's straight drama about a woman who cheats on her husband, plans to leave him, but due to various circumstances changes her mind and spends the next twenty some years with him. When her old lover dies and leaves his fortune to her younger child it triggers suspicions on the part of the older sibling that his brother is the product of infidelity. This matters because both brothers are in love with the same woman and the older one has no qualms about using this information to his advantage. Sound like your cup of tea? The good news is that you'll now be able to say you've seen a movie by Luis Buñuel, something every film buff ought to be able to say they've done. The bad news? Buñuel himself said this was his worst movie. Love that poster though. Una mujer sin amor premiered in Mexico today in 1952.
Sometimes a devoted following is a bad thing.
Above, a Japanese poster for the British thriller Peeping Tom, which we talked about in detail here. The movie premiered in the UK in 1960, and opened in Japan as Chi wo sû kamerathis month in 1961.
Whatever happens don't lose your head.
This weird Japanese poster was made to promote the weird Hong Kong movie Xin Mo, aka The Bedeviled, aka Sam moh, a horror flick starring Taiwanese actor Chun Hsiung Ko and Japanese actress Reiko Ike in a tale of corrupt elites in a rural village who frame a peasant and force his wife into sexual servitude. This is not a pinku film—the story unfolds with restraint and the plot is linear. And the moral is clear: don't use your power to subjugate others. But alas, the one-percenters of this village let their greed run rampant and as a result are haunted by severed heads and eventually wind up dead. Too bad greed isn't punished like that in the real world, right? So many severed heads would be flying around they'd turn the noon sky to midnight. We prefer Ike with her head attached, but this is still a good movie. It premiered in Japan today in 1975. Japan
, Hong Kong
, Xin Mo
, Sam moh
, The Bedeviled
, Chun Hsiung Ko
, Reiko Ike
, poster art
, movie review
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