Kôshoku: Genroku (maruhi) monogatari, aka Story of a Nymphomaniac is the tale of a free-spirited woman living during Genroku era Japan who wants to be happy but can’t seem to find the right guy. Natsu, played by the lovely Yuriko Hishimi, who you see in a promo shot below, is always horny (she believes semen nourishes her), and always conniving (at one point she pretends to be pregnant—complete with a pillow under her kimono), but her troubles don’t stem from her sexual urges. No, they stem largely from male assumptions that she’s available to any of them.

Indeed, the fictional character of Natsu may live in the 1600s, but her problems are very 2015. Yet she isn’t blameless. She digs a kimono merchant and won’t leave him alone even though he’s married. Bad things are bound to happen. Turns out matrimonial vows are elastic to him too. Bad things are really bound to happen. While all this is done with utter seriousness, there are also bizarre comedic bits here. What can you say about a movie in which a snake crawls in a woman’s pussy and she thinks it’s her lover getting frisky? Words fail us.

A direct translation of the movie’s Japanese title would be “Amorous Genroku (secret) story.” Well, there’s no secret here—Natsu is a nympho. But despite all her ups and downs she comes away feeling just fine about herself. And so do we. Kôshoku: Genroku (maruhi) monogatari premiered in Japan today in 1975.

This is a rather nice 1959 edition of Bernard O’Donnell’s The World’s Worst Women, a collection of bios on assorted female murderers. Among them are Belle Gunness, who we wrote about several years ago, Martha Wise, who was known as the “Borgia of America,” Vera Renczi, who poisoned thirty-five people in Bucharest, Romania, and Anna Marie Hahn, who killed five people in Cincinnati, Ohio. Other famed killers include such colorfully named characters as the Red Witch of Buchenwald (Ilse Koch), the Poison Widow of Liege (Marie Alexandrine Becker), the Ogress of Paris (Jeanne Weber), and the Angel Makers of Nagyrév, a group of women who poisoned up to 300 people in Hungary. We were just kidding about a sequel dealing with men. Finding enough paper to print something like that would wipe out half the world’s forests…  

This beautiful promo photo of Romanian actress Tala Birell strikes a film noir note, but because her career flourished before the advent of the genre she never made a movie that can be fully classified as noir, though 1937’s She’s Dangerous comes close. Birell appeared in about forty films, first in Europe, then the U.S., and eventually moved back to Europe where she worked for the U.S. Government organizing theatrical productions in Germany, France, and Austria. You’re thinking what we’re thinking, right? She was totally a spy. Well, perhaps not, but she sure looks like one above. The shot was made for Columbia Pictures after she was signed as a contact player there in 1933.  

You can find plenty of amateur reviews of La mansion de la niebla, aka Murder Mansion, aka Maniac Mansion around the internet, so we won’t add another. We watched it, though, and basically, it’s about a bunch of people stranded in a fogbound manor house, and a plot to frighten one of them to death. Hope that didn’t give away too much. What really struck us was the poster, which was painted by an artist who signed his work Mac. Mac was short for Macario Gomez, and for four decades beginning in 1955 this Spanish painter created posters for such films as Dr. Zhivago, For a Few Dollars More, El Cid and others.

Gomez’s effort for La mansion de la niebla is a bit cheeseball, but we rather enjoy the numerous elements he managed to fit in, including a disembodied face, some skulls, a ribcage, a full moon, assorted gravestones, some random ironwork, a spider web, a bare tree, a couple of bats, and, of course, copious fog. Faced with all that, it’s no wonder the central figure is fleeing for her life. But just to show that Gomez really does have top tier talent, we’ve shared a few of his more successful posters below. La mansion de la niebla, an Italian/Spanish co-production, premiered as Quando Marta urlò dalla tomba in Italy, and in Spain six weeks later, today 1972.

We mentioned Romanian-Tatar dancer Nejla Ates yesterday, and commented on her appearances on numerous bellydancing album sleeves. Well, above are five of those with Ates as the model. At the height of her fame, she danced in some of the most famous clubs in the U.S., and at one point, to promote her role in the 1954 Broadway production Fanny, producer David Merrick commissioned a nude statue of her and had it clandestinely installed in New York City’s Central Park. The statue didn’t last long, but the publicity helped Fanny run for 888 performances. Ates eventually returned to Istanbul, where she died of cancer in either 2005 (if you believe most sources) or 1995 (if you believe her husband’s detailed account). Below are three shots of her in her prime performing at the NYC nightclub Latin Quarter in 1953. If you want to see her in actual motion, her short dance from 1955’s Son of Sinbad is here, and there’s more of her in yesterday’s post.

At the end of last month we posted a few images of Bettie Page that hadn’t appeared online before. They came from an issue of Carnival we were too lazy too scan in its entirety at the time. Today we have the rest of that great issue, vol. 1, no. 2, published out of Chicago, U.S.A. by Hillman Periodicals, who were the same people behind the magazine Show. The cover star is burlesque queen Lilly Christine, aka The Cat Girl, and she reappears in all her wild-eyed glory in a photo set we've placed at the very bottom of this post. We’ve seen at least two of those photos before in other magazines, however Carnival claims it was an exclusive set, shot especially for them, and indeed, that could be true, since theirs appeared before the others we saw.

After a peek behind the scenes of the Miss Universe pageant, readers get a profile of Ernest Hemingway’s most recent trip to Spain. Hemingway was visiting the Festival of San Fermin in the Basque Country town of Pamplona in order to see how his favorite sport of bullfighting had fared in the years since he’d last visited. Since the text in these digest-sized magazines scans large enough to be legible, you can read whatCarnival says about the famed festival yourself. We will note, however, that the writer’s description of Pamplona as dull when San Fermin isn’t happening is wrong. Spain in general, and the Basque Country in particular, are never dull. Trust us—we’ve spent a lot of time there. If you’re interested, you can read our firsthand observations of San Fermin here and here.

Carnival next presents readers with photos of dancer Nejla Ates, whose short set begins just below. We first saw one of these shots in an issue of Uncensored dating from June 1954, but once again Carnival seems to have gotten there first—their photos are from 1953. Ates, who for some reason often appears online unidentified, was Romanian born ofTatar descent, and danced her way through Cairo, Rome, Paris, and London, before finally gaining international fame in New York City. She appeared in three American films during the 1950s, and was the go-to cover model for Middle-Eastern and bellydancing themed album sleeves, but despite her successes suffered the usual slate of dead end affairs and romantic heartbreaks with such men as, among others, Billy Daniels, George Sanders, and Gary Crosby.

Following Ates is a photo feature on American actress and party girl Barbara Payton, who burned a swath through Hollywood during the 1950s, bedding co-stars, feuding with her studio, and generally raising a ruckus before eventually drifting into prostitution and dying at age thirty-nine of heart and liver failure. She’s described here as possessing the “assets of Hedy Lamarr, Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe” all at once. Not sure about that, but we'll be finding out more about her later, because we will be examining her very pulpish life story in detail.

Next you get a great close-up photo of Jersey Joe Walcott having a disagreement with Rocky Marciano’s fist. Does that shot also look familiar? Perhaps because it was the cover of a January 1953 National Police Gazette. We had no idea that the fight was considered controversial at the time. Apparently, many thought Walcott took adive. Since this photo is of the actual the shot that sent Walcott to the canvas, we have to respectfully disagree. It’s lights out, and anyone can see that. In any case, you can take a gander at that Gazette cover and learn a bit about Marciano and Walcott here.

A few more treats: panel 24, just below, contains a hot shot of Marilyn Monroe at a charity baseball game; panel 26 features actress Sheree North, who doesn’t look very impressive, which means you shouldclick over to our lovely femme fatale post on her here and get a sense of what a knockout she really was; and lastly, in panel 28, above, you get a killer shot of Zsa Zsa Gabor, who, believe it or not, was already nearly forty at the time and had been married three times on the way to her final tally of nine.

Looking at all these pages and visiting the accompanying links, you perhaps get a sense of how the mid-century tabloid industry was fueled by handout photos, with all the publications using the same shots but concocting editorial angles to create the illusion that the images were exclusive. But in Carnival’s case, it does seem to have published many of these images first. It billed itself as “a magazine of excitement”, and we have to agree. It’s also a magazine that, because of its tightly bound construction, we had to destroy in order to scan. But even though this particular issue of Carnival is now only loose leaves scattered across the room, there are other issues out there, and we’ll have some of them later, hopefully.  

In our continuing chronicle of mid-20th century tabloid magazines we have a new player—Whisper magazine. Whisper was founded as a girlie magazine in 1946 by Confidential owner Robert Harrison. By the time he sold out in 1958 Whisper was already a clone of Confidential in style and content, although sometimes it sported a simpler cover motif with a celeb framed inside a circle. In this example from 1956, the circle becomes a blood red disc reminiscent of the old Short Stories covers, but which is probably supposed to suggest werewolves. The spotlight here is on George Sanders, one of the more interesting Hollywood characters of the time. Born in Russia, Sanders was British by lineage, and built a film career playing aristocrat types, often with an air of menace. This was most aptly displayed in 1950's All About Eve, a role for which he won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar.

Sanders was known as a smooth operator, but his personal life was a wreck. He married four women over the years—including serial bride Zsa Zsa Gabor, and her older sister Magda. He would have been between marriages at the time of Whisper’s alleged strike out with an unnamed ingénue, but he’d be back in the saddle by 1960, marrying actress Benita Hume. Health problems eventually robbed Sanders of his acting talent and he finished his career in the low budget stinker Psychomania. Eventually, he also lost the ability to indulge in his beloved hobby of playing music, which prompted him to destroy his piano with an axe. Not long after, he took a fatal dose of Nembutal, leaving behind a suicide note addressed to the world that read in part: I am leaving you with your worries in this sweet cesspool. Good luck. 

Here’s a nice Romanian promo poster for the anti-Nazi drama Lissy, starring Sonia Sutter, and based on a novel by Franz Carl Weiskopf. The film was made in East Germany, and against all odds, earned an American release and brought Sutter a measure of critical acclaim. She eventually acted in more than twenty films, but is better remembered for her distinguished four-decade career at the famous Burgtheater in Vienna. Lissy premiered in East Berlin yesterday in 1957.