We were drawn to Il sesso della strega, aka Sex of the Witch, because of its excellent posters painted by Lamberto Forni, an artist whose work you've seen here before. But as often happens, the movie didn't live up to the promo imagery. The strange tale begins with Sir Thomas Hilton, a wealthy wine grower, who dies of old age. His family gets a surprise when the will is read: all those closest to Hilton, including his secretary, benefit from the profits of his holdings, but nothing can be broken up or sold, his sister gets nothing, some heirs don't benefit immediately, and if anyone dies their share is distributed among the others. Basically, the will is a blueprint for the Hiltons to start murdering each other. When that happens, the spurned sister is suspected of being a witch. But is she?

None of it matters. The movie is an merely excuse for a lot of overlong softcore sex scenes of the worst kind. You know the ones we mean—interminable slow wriggling devoid of even a hint of erotic heat. You have to really drop the ball to make naked people boring—especially naked Italian women from the ’70s, with their enormous bushes*—but director Angelo Pannacciò, aka Elo Pannacciò, accomplishes that here, in his debut. It's impossible to care about the movie's central mystery, and despite Pannacciò somewhat giallo visual stylings there's just nothing to get enthusiastic about. Except those posters. Nice work, Forni. Il sesso della strega premiered in Italy today in 1974.

*We love enormous Italian bushes, both tactilely and visually. This one is large, but not stupendous. You know when a bush is really big? When the moment it's revealed you think there's suddenly been a citywide blackout.

In science there are four great apes, also known as hominidae—chimps, orangutans, gorillas, and bonobos. But here the four great apes are all Kong. These Japanese posters were painted by John Berkey for the 1976 remake of King Kong, which starred Jeff Bridges, Jessica Lange, and a big animatronic puppet. The movie was mostly panned but it made $60 million in profits. It's considered by many of its detractors to be a prime example of how hype and advertising can make the public show up to see a bad movie. Today you have to wonder if this is a standard Hollywood formula, which in retrospect would make King Kong not just a great ape, but a guiding principle. It opened in Japan today in 1976. 

This gold colored June 1963 cover for Confidential magazine is entirely given over to actress Barbara Payton, whose self-penned hard-luck story appears inside and details her life troubles. The tale is well known and is one we’ve touched upon before—early marriage and early motherhood, followed by stardom, romances, and riches, followed by booze, drugs, divorces and crime. Confidential being Confidential, the editors neglect to mention that the story here is not an exclusive, but rather is excerpted from I Am Not Ashamed, Payton’s painfully revealing autobiography.

For example: “He hated what I had been [but] loved me for what I was. He tortured himself. Every part of my body reminded him of another man.” And this bit: “I had a body when I was a young kid that raisedtemperatures wherever I went. Today I have three long knife wounds on my solid frame. One extends from my buttocks down my thigh and needed I don’t remember how many stitches.” Payton’s anecdotes are cringe worthy, but they read like she’d gotten a grip on her life. No such luck. After four more long years of drugs, drink, and disaster she was found dead on her bathroom floor in 1967.

We like that passage, because nearly all the stories about Payton declare, or at least suggest, that everything that happened after Hollywood stardom was part of a terminal plummet. That’s pretty much the default setting in American journalism—anything other than wealth and fame is by definition failure. It’s an idiotic conceit, even a harmful one, and Payton reveals that in Mexico she landed someplace solid and safe, and got along fine without money or recognition. Two years of happiness is nothing to take lightly. But she just couldn’t sit still—not because of where she was, but because of who she was.

Peter Driben cover art for Robert Harrison’s Titter, October 1949. Inside, showgirls, showgirls, showgirls, including Jessica Rogers, who was known as the Wow Girl. We're getting a distinct message from this, which is that Harrison was a horny guy. See more Peter Driben art here, here and here.

More random Japanese goodness today. This is a poster for the 1962 Angie Dickinson romance Jessica. We’re showing you this just for the art, which is to say we haven’t seen the movie. Sorry about that, but we have a lot of Japanese posters, which means if we wait until we see each flick before uploading them we’ll never get them all online. This is an image we were particularly eager to share because, one, we’ve never seen it anywhere before, and two, it’s spectacular. It just smashes the American poster to pieces. But that’s normal when it comes to these Japanese promos. Both versions feature Angie on a scooter, but the colors and graphics on the photoillustrated Japanese version just scintillate. Of course, they have an advantage because their alphabet looks so cool. The text actually does read “Jessica” by the way. The four characters on the right are the Japanese for that name. The four on the left say “nice.” We couldn’t agree more. 

We mentioned a while back how frequently we run across foreign language Hitchcock posters, so here are a bunch for your enjoyment, including yet another version of Vertigo. FYI, Il Sipario Strappato is Torn Curtain and Ptáci is The Birds.