| Vintage Pulp | Nov 30 2017 |
This ought to really blow your skirt up.
Above is an epic Italian poster for the film The Seven Year Itch, which in Italy was called Quando la moglie è in vacanza, or “when the wife is on vacation.” They probably changed the title because Italians don't understand the concept of a seven year itch. They have a seven week itch—it happens about seven weeks before the wedding. The art here is by P. Franco, aka Franco Picchioni, whose work you can find more of by clicking his keywords below. There's also a very interesting West German poster for the film here.
ItalyQuando la moglie è in vacanzaThe Seven Year ItchMarilyn MonroeTow EwellFranco PicchioniP. Francoposter artcinema
| Vintage Pulp | Nov 30 2017 |
Swedish goddess Christina Lindberg explodes onto the international cinema scene.
The movie Rötmånad premiered in Sweden today in 1970, and since a good scan of its promotional poster is almost impossible to find, here you go—a nice clean version featuring star Christina Lindberg walking across a dock in all her glory. We can't imagine where this poster was displayed, unless it was in adult cinemas. Or maybe we're just prudes. Maybe it actually hung in the lobbies of every Swedish movie house and people from Sundsvall to Malmö got a nice look at Lindberg's little fur coat while going into showings of Darling Lili and The Aristocats.
Rötmånad's Swedish title would translate as “dog days,” but when it arrived in English speaking countries it was called What Are You Doing
After the Orgy? And funny thing, the film features no orgies, although sex is central to the story. What happens is a man and his seventeen-year-old daughter Anna-Bella's tranquil lives in a lakeside house are turned upside down when mom comes back home after five years away. Surprised at how beautiful her daughter has become, she concocts a scheme to open a brothel in the family boathouse and make Anna-Bella the star attraction. She's for sure not going to win mother of the year for this move, but in her favor, at least she plans to do some of the hard (sex) work herself.
When Anna-Bella meets a nice boy his presence threatens to ruin mom's plan to turn her daughter into a tourist attraction. The situation looks like it will necessitate a drastic solution, but what exactly can you hope to get away with on an idyllic Swedish lakeshore? Rötmånad is billed as a comedy, but if so it's a dark one. No surprise there, since Nordic humor is generally thought of as challenging for other cultures. But whether comic, tragic-comic, or just plain tragic, in the end Rötmånad is still little more than a vehicle for Lindberg to introduce her ample gifts to the world. She does exactly that—explosively. Watch the film and you'll see what we mean. She was nineteen—not seventeen—when the movie was made, she was gorgeous, and after this debut her stardom was assured.
Rötmånad's Swedish title would translate as “dog days,” but when it arrived in English speaking countries it was called What Are You Doing
After the Orgy? And funny thing, the film features no orgies, although sex is central to the story. What happens is a man and his seventeen-year-old daughter Anna-Bella's tranquil lives in a lakeside house are turned upside down when mom comes back home after five years away. Surprised at how beautiful her daughter has become, she concocts a scheme to open a brothel in the family boathouse and make Anna-Bella the star attraction. She's for sure not going to win mother of the year for this move, but in her favor, at least she plans to do some of the hard (sex) work herself.When Anna-Bella meets a nice boy his presence threatens to ruin mom's plan to turn her daughter into a tourist attraction. The situation looks like it will necessitate a drastic solution, but what exactly can you hope to get away with on an idyllic Swedish lakeshore? Rötmånad is billed as a comedy, but if so it's a dark one. No surprise there, since Nordic humor is generally thought of as challenging for other cultures. But whether comic, tragic-comic, or just plain tragic, in the end Rötmånad is still little more than a vehicle for Lindberg to introduce her ample gifts to the world. She does exactly that—explosively. Watch the film and you'll see what we mean. She was nineteen—not seventeen—when the movie was made, she was gorgeous, and after this debut her stardom was assured.
SwedenRötmånadWhat Are You Doing After the Orgy?Ulla SjöblomCarl-Gustaf LindstedtChristina Lindbergposter artcinemasexploitationnuditymovie review
| Intl. Notebook | Nov 30 2017 |
They all screwed people but only one of them wanted the public to watch.
We were fishing around online and found a couple of November covers of The National Police Gazette, both quite interesting, issued fifteen years apart. On top you have Gazette editors predicting a 1960 election victory for John F. Kennedy over Richard Nixon “by a nose!” They were right about that, though Nixon would become president later and his nose would grow greatly. Meanwhile Kennedy had his own fun with a piece of anatomy that got bigger, if reports are to be believed. The second cover features a very nice image of Marilyn Chambers from 1975, whose specialty was making other people's body parts swell in x-rated films. The shot comes from the same session that produced this rare image we shared back in 2011. We still have a pile of Gazettes but we've been very lazy about scanning them because of the requirement to scan each page in two parts then join them in Photoshop. It's a pain, so we tend to focus on smaller magazines whose pages we can scan in one piece. But we'll get to those Gazettes eventually. Promise.
| Vintage Pulp | Nov 29 2017 |
That isn't the place where kisses make me go crazy. Think lower. A lot lower.
In The Place protagonist Bill Martin is a novelist whose sexual adventures have earned him the nicknames the Goat of Gotham and the Monster of Manhattan. He's separated from his wife Betty, but they're happy to get together for sex. Enter Rika Balsemis, founder of STAIS, which stands for the Society to Abolish Instant Sex. Bill sees her as another conquest, but try as he might he can't get in her pants. He even resorts to force at one point and gets judoed for his efforts. Rika explains, “I realized that in certain situations our members might encounter violence such as yours, so I took a course in judo. It's admirably suited for female use. Karate is too violent. I might have kicked you and ruined you for life. I know how.”
At this point thought we had Rika Aoki on our hands. We thought we had a character that was going to unleash martial arts madness across the storyline. We were looking forward to it. But there are no more ass whippings. Rika instead gives in to Bill, but sex is just a prelude to hypnotizing him into being totally unresponsive to further sexual stimuli. Yes—she eunuchs him with the power of her mind. It's hilarious, though not to Bill. You know this state of affairs won't last, and indeed Rika can cancel the spell when she wants to make use of Bill's goatly talents. But the point of the wider narrative becomes getting him back together with his wife Betty. Written in 1966, The Place is a middling effort by Arthur Adlon, aka Keith Ayling, written with some style but virtually no sex. With sleaze, we recommend you prioritize the latter over the former.
At this point thought we had Rika Aoki on our hands. We thought we had a character that was going to unleash martial arts madness across the storyline. We were looking forward to it. But there are no more ass whippings. Rika instead gives in to Bill, but sex is just a prelude to hypnotizing him into being totally unresponsive to further sexual stimuli. Yes—she eunuchs him with the power of her mind. It's hilarious, though not to Bill. You know this state of affairs won't last, and indeed Rika can cancel the spell when she wants to make use of Bill's goatly talents. But the point of the wider narrative becomes getting him back together with his wife Betty. Written in 1966, The Place is a middling effort by Arthur Adlon, aka Keith Ayling, written with some style but virtually no sex. With sleaze, we recommend you prioritize the latter over the former.
| Femmes Fatales | Nov 29 2017 |
Calvet proves red warms up any room.
Corinne Calvet, née Corinne Dibos, was born in Paris and tried a few different careers before migrating to Hollywood. She studied criminal law at the Sorbonne, then became an interior designer, where we assume all she did was walk into a room to redecorate it. When she made the move to Hollywood in 1940 she generally played French characters, appearing in On the Riviera, Rope of Sand, The Far Country and numerous other films. This is really a stunning shot of an especially beautiful star but we aren't positive of the date. Best guess—1950.
| Politique Diabolique | Nov 28 2017 |
MI5 files reveal another compromising John Profumo affair.
An interesting report came out of Great Britain earlier today about John Profumo, the disgraced Secretary of State for War who resigned in 1963 after it emerged that he was having an affair with Christine Keeler, who also had sexual ties to a Russian intelligence officer. When authorities learned of the potential security threat, Profumo was interrogated, at which point he denied involvement with Keeler. When his denial was found to be false, he resigned amid the spiraling scandal.
Now MI5 files have revealed that Profumo had a previous affair with a Nazi spy who may have tried to blackmail him. The woman was named Gisela Klein, and she and Profumo met at Oxford University in 1936 when he was an undergrad. During World War II she began working for Nazi intelligence, and after the war was imprisoned as a spy. However the American in charge of her jail got her released 
and married her. As Gisela Winegard she maintained contact with Profumo after he entered politics, and he allegedly wrote letters to her on House of Commons stationery.
There's no evidence Profumo knew about his old flame's Nazi connections, but he may have learned of her blackmail schemes by becoming a target. In 1951 Winegard was living in Tangier with her husband when she applied for a visa to visit Britain and listed “Jack Profumo MP” as a reference.
Observers are speculating whether Profumo may have been under pressure to help push her application through. But the visa was eventually refused because of Winegard's Nazi past, with the head of British intelligence in Tangier also noting: “We have good reason to believe Mr. and Mrs. Winegard have recently engaged in blackmailing activities and now think it is possible their intended visit to the UK may be connected with this affair.”
Since we've mentioned the Profumo Affair several times, we found this to be an interesting footnote, especially in light of the ongoing U.S. Justice Department investigation into White House connections to Russian operatives. It's curious that Profumo's affairs would twice send him orbiting so close to spies of adversarial countries, but it doesn't seem as if the Klein/Winegard connection will produce any real smoking gun in terms of improper favors. As for Trump and Russia, that remains to be seen. You can read some previous posts on the infamous Profumo Affair here, here, and here.
BritainRussiaMoroccoTangierOxfordOxford UniversityJohn ProfumoChristine KeelerGisela KleinGisela Winegardnazis
| Intl. Notebook | Nov 28 2017 |
This tabloid doesn't reflect well on anyone.
Every tabloid has its focus. NYC based National Mirror dealt in sexual violence. Some sample headers from this issue published today in 1967: Undertaker Sells Human Flesh to Sex Ring, Virgins Tease Plumber to Death, Over-Sexed Lover Bites Off Teen's Nipple, Motorcycle Gang Tortures Co-Ed. You get the gist. To offset the parade of horrors there's also some sports, cheesecake, hollywood gossip, and a bit of the weird. Of the stories fitting the last category, by far the top finisher in the bizarro sweepstakes is the article about a woman who said she laid nine eggs after being overcome by a compulsion to sleep in a hen house. “Doctors reacted cautiously to the claim. There was no reason to doubt [her], but there was no reason to believe her either.”
Huh? No reason to doubt her?
“An egg is an egg,” said Justin Case, 51, head of the Silver Sands Medical Association. “How can we tell?”
Of course, the story is pure fiction. You know that. The clue to the editors knowing it's fiction is in the good doctor's name—Justin Case. But as always with these tabs, the real question is whether any readers believed it. We don't think so. But we think some readers believed other readers believed it, and laughed about how dumb those people were. Making some people feel good by encouraging them to think others are dumb is a formula similar to that used by many cable news programs. For example, rather than interview a smart person who disagrees with the audience's point of view and would blow it to smithereens, they get a shill who's paid to be baffled and made to look foolish, thus reinforcing viewers' beliefs (and keeping them glued to the telly).
Way back when PSGP lived on Venice Beach in Los Angeles he was approached one morning by a film crew for something called Street Smarts, which was a segment that appeared on some late night talk show. He can't remember which one. The point of the show was to ask questions and watch people get them spectacularly wrong. After being plucked from his morning foot commute precisely because these Hollywood types thought he looked like a jock moron, PSGP answered 38 of 40 questions on camera correctly. He still remembers the two he missed: he failed to identify a photo of Britney Spears, and when asked what capital gains are, replied, “I don't know exactly what they are, but I know they're something I'll never have to worry about.” Laughter all around.
Of the 38 correct answers, getting gestation period right sticks in his mind. Presumed to be a moron, he was expected to answer with something about menstrual cycles, but instead said, “It's the period of time it takes a single cell to develop into an autonomous life form.” Raised eyebrows all around. The producer guy then said, “You were great. You looked great. You're really comfy on camera. You're funny. There's only one problem. We need you get some questions wrong. I'm not supposed to pay you, but I will if you do that.” He then re-asked several questions which PSGP now got wrong. The segment was later put on television for the entire country to point at and say, “Well, you know a guy like that's a fuckin' idiot. Just look at him.” Amazing what you'll do for twenty-five bucks when you're broke.
Anyway, we suspect basically the same thing went on with cheapie tabloids—i.e. that they were mainly designed to reinforce stereotypes for the enjoyment of basically closed-minded people. And today isn't the first time we've noticed the similarity between these old tabloids and today's cable news. Widely circulated magazines like Confidential and Hush-Hush served powerful roles by—it seems to us—nurturing and disseminating various regressive beliefs about smoking (harmless), students (spoiled), feminists (ballbreakers), blacks (the real racists), Europeans (commies), commies (godless), and sex (easily available to everyone except you).
We've had a lot of opportunity to ponder the whole concept of vintage tabloids because we've done more than 350 entries on them over the last nine years. Many of those entries, probably a hundred at least, come with multiple scans from our personal collection. Basically, Pulp Intl. is internet ground zero for vintage tabloids. No other website even comes close. We have some scans from today's issue of National Mirror below, and if you want (or dare) to go down the rabbit hole, you can see aaaaaaall those other tabs at our handy index right here.
Huh? No reason to doubt her?
“An egg is an egg,” said Justin Case, 51, head of the Silver Sands Medical Association. “How can we tell?”
Of course, the story is pure fiction. You know that. The clue to the editors knowing it's fiction is in the good doctor's name—Justin Case. But as always with these tabs, the real question is whether any readers believed it. We don't think so. But we think some readers believed other readers believed it, and laughed about how dumb those people were. Making some people feel good by encouraging them to think others are dumb is a formula similar to that used by many cable news programs. For example, rather than interview a smart person who disagrees with the audience's point of view and would blow it to smithereens, they get a shill who's paid to be baffled and made to look foolish, thus reinforcing viewers' beliefs (and keeping them glued to the telly).
Way back when PSGP lived on Venice Beach in Los Angeles he was approached one morning by a film crew for something called Street Smarts, which was a segment that appeared on some late night talk show. He can't remember which one. The point of the show was to ask questions and watch people get them spectacularly wrong. After being plucked from his morning foot commute precisely because these Hollywood types thought he looked like a jock moron, PSGP answered 38 of 40 questions on camera correctly. He still remembers the two he missed: he failed to identify a photo of Britney Spears, and when asked what capital gains are, replied, “I don't know exactly what they are, but I know they're something I'll never have to worry about.” Laughter all around.
Of the 38 correct answers, getting gestation period right sticks in his mind. Presumed to be a moron, he was expected to answer with something about menstrual cycles, but instead said, “It's the period of time it takes a single cell to develop into an autonomous life form.” Raised eyebrows all around. The producer guy then said, “You were great. You looked great. You're really comfy on camera. You're funny. There's only one problem. We need you get some questions wrong. I'm not supposed to pay you, but I will if you do that.” He then re-asked several questions which PSGP now got wrong. The segment was later put on television for the entire country to point at and say, “Well, you know a guy like that's a fuckin' idiot. Just look at him.” Amazing what you'll do for twenty-five bucks when you're broke.
Anyway, we suspect basically the same thing went on with cheapie tabloids—i.e. that they were mainly designed to reinforce stereotypes for the enjoyment of basically closed-minded people. And today isn't the first time we've noticed the similarity between these old tabloids and today's cable news. Widely circulated magazines like Confidential and Hush-Hush served powerful roles by—it seems to us—nurturing and disseminating various regressive beliefs about smoking (harmless), students (spoiled), feminists (ballbreakers), blacks (the real racists), Europeans (commies), commies (godless), and sex (easily available to everyone except you).
We've had a lot of opportunity to ponder the whole concept of vintage tabloids because we've done more than 350 entries on them over the last nine years. Many of those entries, probably a hundred at least, come with multiple scans from our personal collection. Basically, Pulp Intl. is internet ground zero for vintage tabloids. No other website even comes close. We have some scans from today's issue of National Mirror below, and if you want (or dare) to go down the rabbit hole, you can see aaaaaaall those other tabs at our handy index right here.
| Femmes Fatales | Nov 27 2017 |
Even paradise can be improved.
Italian actress Elsa Martinelli makes a beautiful beach look even better in this nice promo image, and we can only assume she didn't go in the water with all those necklaces on, because otherwise she might have sunk and been lost forever. Martinelli was an era spanning star who debuted onscreen in 1953, made numerous excellent films, including The Indian Fighter and Et mourir de plaisir, won the Silver Bear for Best Actress at the 6th Berlin International Film Festival in 1956, and accumulated more than fifty screen and television credits through 2004. The above photo was shot in Brazil around 1970.
ItalyBrazilBerlinBerlin International Film FestivalParade MagazineElsa MartinelliEt mourir de plaisir
| Modern Pulp | Nov 27 2017 |
Junko Mabuki starts a chain reaction.
Junko Mabuki is an important actress of second generation Japanese S&M movies, and that's her above on a poster for Dan Oniroku onna biyoshi nawa shiku, aka Female Beautician Rope Discipline. What you see is what you get here. Junko is a hairdresser who meets a photographer who shoots bondage and discipline. At first she's repulsed, but this being a roman porno flick, the thought of it grows in her mind. Meanwhile we meet Izumi Shima, who's one of Junko hairdressing clients. Junko is attracted to her—and who wouldn't be? Shima also happens to be the ex of the perverted photographer. It's a pretty big coincidence, but not the biggest in the film. The photographer also randomly stumbles upon Junko after she's been tied up and assaulted. It's just the beginning of a descent into degradation, jealousy, sexual assault, and serious male-driven pee-version.
We're still trying wrap our heads around the various forms of Japanese cinema. Toei's pinky violence films usually had cool ’70s street action and ass kicking gang girls, whereas Nikkatsu's roman porno had submissive women and sexual subjugation. They're all generally considered to be pink films, along with output from OP Eiga and other studios, but to us they're night and day. Pinky violence and roman porno represent two big studios in competition with each other, but more and more the patriarchy smashing ethos often embedded in the former versus the sexist subjugation usually present within the latter feel like a corporate level political divide writ large. In this one, though, the sadistic photographer gets his—spoiler alert!—head deservedly bashed in. So lines were occasionally crossed. Dan Oniroku onna biyoshi nawa shiku premiered in Japan today in 1981.
We're still trying wrap our heads around the various forms of Japanese cinema. Toei's pinky violence films usually had cool ’70s street action and ass kicking gang girls, whereas Nikkatsu's roman porno had submissive women and sexual subjugation. They're all generally considered to be pink films, along with output from OP Eiga and other studios, but to us they're night and day. Pinky violence and roman porno represent two big studios in competition with each other, but more and more the patriarchy smashing ethos often embedded in the former versus the sexist subjugation usually present within the latter feel like a corporate level political divide writ large. In this one, though, the sadistic photographer gets his—spoiler alert!—head deservedly bashed in. So lines were occasionally crossed. Dan Oniroku onna biyoshi nawa shiku premiered in Japan today in 1981.
JapanDan Oniroku onna biyoshi nawa shikuFemale Beautician Rope DisciplineJunko MabukiIzumi Shimaposter artcinemaroman pornobdsmshibarikinbakupinkunuditymovie review
| Vintage Pulp | Nov 26 2017 |
The pieces of treasure are worth a fortune. The nuggets of wisdom—not so much.
Barbara Walton art graces the dust sleeve of John D. MacDonald's A Deadly Shade of Gold. It was published in 1967 by Robert Hale, Ltd. two years after the book's U.S. debut. MacDonald's franchise character Travis McGee kicks ass and dispenses unsolicited wisdom, and while the action is fun, the philosophizing is less so. The latter is sometimes insightful when directed at civilization, but is often sweeping and incorrect when directed at civilians. Vacationers are this way. College boys are that way. Lesbians are this way. We've had plenty of experiences with all the categories of humans McGee thinks of as tedious and banal, and we found them to be as varied and interesting as any other group.
The book, though, is engrossing, built around our favorite film noir and crime fiction device—a trip to Mexico, with the action set in the fictional coastal town of Puerto Altamura. There McGee seeks to uncover the killers of a close friend and determine the whereabouts of a set of golden pre-Colombian statuettes. Five entries into the series and MacDonald seems to have hit his stride. We liked this caper, though McGee is obviously going to keep making dubious pronouncements (we sent a supposed-to-be racially insightful passage from the seventh entry Darker than Amber to a friend who'd be qualified to judge, and he said: “What idiot wrote that?”). If you're curious about the character or author you can learn more at thetrapofsolidgold.blogspot.com, pretty much the last word on all things Travis McGee and John D.
The book, though, is engrossing, built around our favorite film noir and crime fiction device—a trip to Mexico, with the action set in the fictional coastal town of Puerto Altamura. There McGee seeks to uncover the killers of a close friend and determine the whereabouts of a set of golden pre-Colombian statuettes. Five entries into the series and MacDonald seems to have hit his stride. We liked this caper, though McGee is obviously going to keep making dubious pronouncements (we sent a supposed-to-be racially insightful passage from the seventh entry Darker than Amber to a friend who'd be qualified to judge, and he said: “What idiot wrote that?”). If you're curious about the character or author you can learn more at thetrapofsolidgold.blogspot.com, pretty much the last word on all things Travis McGee and John D.
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