Who's up for hanging out in the hot tub?
Above is U.S. actress Ingrid Greer, who appeared in a few television shows and starred in one low rent exploitation movie—Ciro Santiago's hilariously bad 1978 women-in-prison flick Hell Hole. Though Greer's career was minor, this photo is major, which is to say she looks great in it. However we'd be remiss in our pulply duties if we failed to inform that Greer has a place in bizarro Hollywood lore—earned by drowning in a hot tub in 1981. Oh well. There are far sillier ways to go.
I find plants ideal for alleviating stress. I've already successfully killed three ferns, a cactus, and four pots of posies.
A Pascal is a physics unit that measures, among other things, internal pressure or stress, and it's pretty clear that Pascale Roberts is feeling none of that. She's a César Award nominated French actress who appeared in such films as Weiße Fracht für Hongkong, aka Mystery of the Red Jungle, and the television series Allô police. This shot of her tending some unlucky plants appeared in Belgian film magazine Ciné-Revue in 1964.
This little guy is a jailbird and he just got his parole today. Who says rehabilitation doesn't work?
Above is a photo of U.S. actress Teresa Graves, whose primary claim to fame was starring in the blaxploitation inspired television cop drama Get Christie Love. It ran for one season on ABC from late 1974 through early 1975. We've never seen it but it seems to have developed a cultish following—no surprise, with Ms. Graves in the starring role. Below you see another shot, and her signature line from the show: “You're under arrest, sugar.” Get Christie Love is being rebooted for a 2018 cable movie with a celestial being named Kylie Bunbury in the starring role, but maybe we'll watch the original first. If we do you can be sure we'll report back.
Sometimes you have to write your own second act.
This shot shows the beautiful Denise Nicholas, who as an actress is known for Let's Do It Again, Blacula, A Piece of the Action, and the television series Room 222. After all those credits she became a novelist and wrote Freshwater Road, which was selected as one of the best books of 2005 by the Washington Post, the Chicago Tribune, and several other papers. That's a feat—not just writing a novel but writing a widely acclaimed novel—we don't think very many other film performers have managed. At the moment Nicholas seems to be retired, but you never know when it comes to writers. The above image is from around 1975.
What can I say? It's my favorite color.
Hidemi Aoki gained early fame via the beauty contest route, winning a major pageant at sixteen. She modeled, made commercials, then moved into cinema, with her second credited role being 1976's British-produced comedy Seven Nights in Japan, in which she co-starred with major star Michael York. But the expected international film career didn't happen, and today Aoki is best known for appearing on Japanese television. The above shot of her trying to pull off the tricky red-leather-head-to-toe look was made in 1970, when she was still a model.
She's ready to go anywhere her legs take her.
British actress Veronica Carlson's first screen role was an uncredited bit in Casino Royale, and her latest role is in 2018's upcoming House of the Gorgon. In between she became well known as a regular player in various Hammer Studios horror films. The above promo image was made when she appeared on the British television series The Saint. She looks a bit sinful, though, don't you think. Copyright 1969.
Decades later the question is still being asked.
Did Yvonne De Carlo think Hollywood producers secretly hated women? Like most National Enquirer quotes we can't confirm this one, but if she said this it's a good example of how words out of context can take on unintended meaning. Today's actresses express similar thoughts and their comments are feminist in nature, but De Carlo was not feminist. In interviews she spoke about how she believed that “men should stay up there and be the boss and have women wait on them hand and foot and put their slippers on and hand them the pipe and serve seven course meals—as long as they open the door, support the woman, and do their duty in the bedroom.”
In reality De Carlo was making a comment about being offered a narrow range of roles, as well as fewer of them as she neared forty years of age. A need for variety might explain why she acted almost as much on television as in movies, even during her peak years. Most television was shot in Los Angeles, so we aren't sure if small screen work offered a respite from traditional Hollywood, but it's still a noteworthy aspect of her career. And in the end she achieved her greatest popularity on the 1960s television show The Munsters. As for the Enquirer query, whether De Carlo said it or not, it's a question that is still being asked all these decades later. We have plenty more National Enquirer in the website. Just click the keywords below.
In a mirror, darkly.
Jennifer Connelly is one modern actress we often see cited as having classic looks, which we suppose to mean she could have been a star in 1945. We imagine she'd have been a star anytime. She debuted on the showbiz scene in the 1982 television series Tales of the Unexpected, appeared in one our favorite movies of the 2000s Requiem for a Dream, and a couple of years later won an Academy Award for A Beautiful Mind. The above imagery of her is from 1990, the same year, appropriately, she starred in The Hot Spot.
A rage to love? Right now I'd welcome a mild interest in cleaning up after yourself.
This is a nice piece of uncredited art fronting Frank Tilsley's A Rage Love, his second of numerous novels, this one dealing with a cruel and ambitious man named Jimmy Magnall, who's fresh out of the army in 1919 and eager to pluck the world's plump fruit for his enjoyment, and who uses women in his climb from slummy Birmingham roots to the top of the London class pyramid. He rides high for some years, but of course eventually loses all he has, including the women, and enlists right back in the army at the beginning of World War II. These are especially interesting bookends for the character because the author Tilsley was bothered by having been too young to fight in World War I and too old to enlist for combat in World War II, so engineering Jimmy Magnall into both wars may be a case of living vicariously. The book was originally published in 1953 as The Fortunate Man and was well reviewed in most quarters. We would love to know who painted the cover art, but no such luck. 1959 copyright on this Popular Library edition.
A priest, a cop, and a heroin addict walk into The Mist...
Last night we watched the sixth episode of Spike Television's horror serial The Mist, and though we weren't going to weigh in on the show, we got frustrated enough to bang out this write-up labeling it what it is—a disappointment. Which is too bad, because the Stephen King novella sourced for the series might be the best thing he ever wrote. It's hard to know where to begin discussing the show, so we'll start not with that, but with its medium. Television has changed. Where the real talent once gravitated toward cinema, today some of the best conceptualizing and writing is on television, as top creatives are driven to the small screen because movie studios are almost wholly focused on puerile superhero movies and juvenile comedies. Television is where The Wire, Game of Thrones, and Fargo made indelible marks on American culture. Hell, we can even go back to The Sopranos for an early example. The point is you have to bring your A-game.
But the creator of The Mist, Danish writer-director Christian Torpe, took one of Stephen King's best works, adapted it to a medium that is incredibly receptive to serialized horror, and blew it. King is credited as a writer on all ten episodes, but that's only a nod to him as the originator of the source material. He wasn't involved in the new teleplays, and they're spectacularly botched, put together by the worst kind of horror writers—those who force the characters to serve the convolutions of the plot rather than their own need for self preservation.
We'll give you an example. When a priest and a ’60s flower child disagree on whether the mist is sent by God or is a manifestation of Nature-with-a-capital-N, they decide to both walk into it to see which of them is spared. This is a mist filled with creatures that have caused the most painful deaths imaginable, but ho hum, they have a spiritual pissing match they need to settle, so into it they go, and a group of bystanders allows this lunacy to occur without raising an objection. Maybe next time they're at the zoo they can leap into the lion enclosure to see whether razor sharp claws and fangs are God or Nature.
In another example of the same terrible writing, a group stuck in a mall comes up with a set of rules to ration food and keep order. That's fine. The punishment for breaking any of the rules is expulsion from the mall. That's not fine. That's a sentence of death for even minor infractions, and this has been agreed upon by characters isolated for only a day or two, far too little time to go full Lord of the Flies. Under those circumstances virtually any normal person would say, “No, we don't agree that expulsion from the mall is a fair punishment, and if you get anywhere near us we're going to use a three wood from Dick's Sporting Goods on your cranium.” Those disinclined toward violence would perhaps say, “You know what—this mall is massive, so you have your crazy old testament punishment zone here, and we'll just hang out in the Cinnabon at the far end.”
Another issue with The Mist is that the characters are diverse in unrealistic and manipulative ways. See if this sounds like the beginning of a joke to you: there's a priest, a cop, a heroin addict, a jock, a hippie, and a bully. In the best television shows the characters are very much the same when you meet them, but their differences manifest over time because of who they are inside—not due to the uniforms they wear. In The Mist the cop wears a uniform and the priest wears a different uniform and the solider wears a still different uniform, but no less obvious are the uniforms worn by the flower child (sun dress and pants), the gay kid (eyeliner), the heroin addict (sweat), and the good girl (virginal white skin). Even many of the minor characters are written as clichés. Compare that to a show like The Walking Dead. In season one what is the difference between the two major characters Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh? There is none, except one is duplicitous and one is honorable. What is the main difference between Rick and Carol? It's not their sex. It's that she's more easily capable of cruelty for what she feels is right. What is the difference between Carol and Morgan? It isn't their skin. It's that he abhors lethal violence and has to come to grips with its necessity. Their differences are internal, and watching them revealed is one of the joys of the show. But in The Mist the uniforms—literal and figurative—are there to do the work the writers were too lazy to manage.
Basically, there are no genuine surprises in the way The Mist's characters develop. The cop becomes an authoritarian but later seems to climb down from total assholery. The priest at first seems reasonable but eventually decides he must impose his faith on others. The heroin addict clings to worldly pursuits like money and being high, but later decides she needs to kick. She does this, by the way, in a sequence bracketed by a standoff and fight elsewhere in the building. She'd said the process of medically assisted detox would take five or six hours. As two characters elsewhere in the building argue, she's tied to a bed, where she sweats and screams, and is later untied, presumably five or six hours later. Then we cut back to the argument, which shortly turns into a fight. Did those two argue for five hours? It's the type of egregious timelime weirdness you see only in badly made shows, and it's symptomatic of the lack of deep thought behind The Mist. We stuck with it for more than half its ten episode run, but now we're giving up. It's clear the writers aren't going to overcome any of the show's problems in the next four episodes.
The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
1910—Duke of York's Cinema Opens
The Duke of York's Cinema opens in Brighton, England, on the site of an old brewery. It is still operating today, mainly as a venue for art films, and is the oldest continually operating cinema in Britain.
1975—Gerald Ford Assassination Attempt
Sara Jane Moore, an FBI informant who had been evaluated and deemed harmless by the U.S. Secret Service, tries to assassinate U.S. President Gerald Ford. Moore fires one shot at Ford that misses, then is wrestled to the ground by a bystander named Oliver Sipple.
1937—The Hobbit is Published
J. R. R. Tolkien publishes his seminal fantasy novel The Hobbit, aka The Hobbit: There and Back Again. Marketed as a children's book, it is a hit with adults as well, and sells millions of copies, is translated into multiple languages, and spawns the sequel trilogy The Lord of Rings.
1946—Cannes Launches Film Festival
The first Cannes Film Festival is held in 1946, in the old Casino of Cannes, financed by the French Foreign Affairs Ministry and the City of Cannes.
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