Olivia Pascal heads to Hong Kong and cockfighting breaks out all around her.
This nice hand-painted and hand-lettered Belgian poster was made for the movie Vanessa, which starred German actress Olivia Pascal in the time-honored tale of a smokin' hot woman raised in a convent and suddenly loosed upon the world. Pascal is informed that her last relative has died and willed her a fantastic fortune. This relative lived in Hong Kong, so she heads there to check it out and discovers not only that the island is awash in sex, sin, and dark magic, but that her inheritance takes the form of ownership of several wildly successful bordellos. The twist here, if it qualifies, is that even though this is your basic softcore sexual awakening film, the main character never actually gets laid. She gets whipped, though, if you're into that sort of thing. Best dialogue in the movie: “Will you excuse me for a moment? Those are real fighting cocks.” As you might guess, cocks of an entirely different kind fight over Pascal, who was a big bonus in the film Griechische Feigen, aka The Fruit Is Ripe, and here spends substantial portions of the film naked, joined by luminaries like Eva Eden, Uschi Zech, and—wait for it—Astrid Boner. We're not making that last one up. We're also not recommending the movie, but Pascal gets highest marks. Belgium
, Hong Kong
, Olivia Pascal
, Eva Eden
, Uschi Zech
, Astrid Boner
, poster art
The moment you doubt is the moment it stops being real.
Corridor of Mirrors is fascinating movie, though not one everyone will appreciate. There’s an actual corridor of mirrors, and it’s a place of infinite reflections and madness, located in the sprawling mansion of man, played by Eric Portman, who believes he’s the reincarnation of someone who lived four-hundred years ago. As they say, when you’re rich you’re not crazy—you’re merely eccentric. The problem, though, is that Portman believes he was in love with a woman way back then, and that she has been reincarnated too, in the person of Edana Romney. This is very interesting work from a director—Terrence Young—who would go on to helm three James Bond movies (trivia: Lois Maxwell, the original Miss Moneypenny, makes an appearance here, as does future Hammer horror icon and Tolkien baddie Christopher Lee).
Perhaps the most successful element of Corridor of Mirrors is how the audience is dragged into the lead’s carefully constructed fantasy world. The film takes place in modern (1948) times, but by midway through, it has become a Renaissance period piece, as the camera rambles through Portman’s foreboding mansion where nary a lamp or electrical convenience of any sort is found. The use of candles is particularly effective when Portman unveils a painting of his centuries-old love—gasp!—she looks exactly like Romney. Well, maybe not so shocking, but the appearance of a flashlight late in the proceedings is actually shocking, as it’s a reminder that the previous hour has been spent inside the Neverland of a madman.
Is Corridor of Mirrors a film noir? Not even. It’s been placed on a double bill at Noir City with the stylistically similar The Picture of Dorian Gray, but noir fans might be disappointed to have bought tickets for this particular night. In fact, this year's festival features a high proportion of non-noir cinema—ten of the offerings aren't film noir, and arguably even a couple more fall outside the category. Still, Corridor of Mirrors is a nice melodrama, dripping with irony by the end, and worth seeing on its own merits. A British production, it seems as though no English language posters survive, so at top you see the nice promo from its run in Belgium, where it was called L’etrange rendezvous.
, Corridor of Mirrors
, L’etrange rendezvous
, Terrence Young
, Edana Romney
, Eric Portman
, Christopher Lee
, Lois Maxwell
, poster art
, movie review
Ciné-Revue's clever mix made it one of Europe's longest running celeb magazines.
This issue of the Belgian magazine Ciné-Revue was one of our treasures from last year's trip to the Saint-Ouen flea market in Paris. Inside you get too many stars to name (and too many pages to scan), but the highlights are Marlon Brando, Susan Denberg, Marilyn Monroe, and Nadja Tiller. On the cover is British actress and pop singer Minnie Minoprio, who during the early 1970s starred in several films, all considered obscure today. But that was Ciné-Revue's m.o.—giving equal exposure to both lesser lights and the biggest stars. And of course the obscurities were usually required to get naked, justifying their positioning on the covers and in the centerfolds. Monika Käser, who you see below, is a perfect example. We can find nothing about her. Her only moment in the spotlight—insofar as we can determine using the internet to research her—seems to have been the photo below. But Ciné-Revue's formula worked—it began publishing in 1944 and is still around today (though the days of centerfolds are gone). This issue hit newsstands today in 1973. Belgium
, Minnie Minoprio
, Marlon Brando
, Franco Nara
, Jane Seymour
, Roger Moore
, Sean Connery
, Jonny Wiessmuller
, Elizabeth Taylor
, Gérard Depardieu
, Susan Denberg
, Claudette Colbert
, Clark Gable
, Cary Grant
, Frank Capra
, Marilyn Monroe
, Monika Käser
, Nadja Tiller
, Dany Carrel
, jack Lemmon
, Mary Pickford
, Jean Lefebvre
, Robert Redford
, Robert Shaw
The man with the drag of a tattoo.
Once you’ve read enough H.P Lovecraft you begin to see his mindbending interstellar/transdimensional beings everywhere, and we see one on this cover for L’homme à l’étrange tatouage by Belgian author Michel Dahin, aka Michel de Roisin. It’s basically a pamphlet—sixteen pages—written for the S.O.S. Police! collection published by Éditions Paul Dupont. The art is signed by Dunbar, who is as yet unknown to us, but considering he put Cthulhu or some other octopoid monstrosity on the chest of his cover figure, maybe we don’t want to know him. The book doesn’t actually deal with Lovecraftian cultists, though. Just some really creepy sailors. 1945 on this.
If you’re going to have an empty life, at least make it a beautiful one.
La poupée d’amour played in the U.S. by the silly title Take Me, Love Me, but was originally released in Sweden as Naná, after the Emile Zola novel from which it’s adapted. Director Mac Ahlberg and cinematographer Andréas Winding deserve credit for making the film look fantastic, star Anna Gaël is certainly beautiful, and the cabaret numbers are entertainingly staged, but on the whole we found this one a bit tedious. The movie is basically ’70s arthouse porn and, thanks to some coupling by Gaël’s body double, still qualifies today as adult cinema, but only barely. Zola’s Naná ended up covered with pustules and dying in agony; this movie wouldn’t dare harsh on its own groovy high to that extent, but Gaël does find happiness elusive, as do her lovers. If you watch the movie you may find enjoyment elusive, but in purely visual terms, it’s a real treat. The Belgian promo poster, also a treat, was painted by Loris, an illustrator whose online presence is small, which means we can’t tell you anything about him/her—not even a full name. But he/she did paint other nice promos, and we may dig some of those up later. La poupée d’amour premiered in France/Belgium today in 1970.
, La poupée d’amour
, Take Me Love Me
, Anna Gaël
, Emile Zola
, Mac Ahlberg
, Andréas Winding
, poster art
, movie review
As far as we’re concerned the answer is still no.
We already wrote about 1949’s The Bribe and thought the movie was so-so. What isn’t so-so is the Belgian poster, which features text in both French and Dutch, and was used for the movie’s run as L'ile au complot. It’s so good it almost makes us want to watch the movie again. Almost… See our original write-up and some nice production photos here. Belgium
, L'ile au complot
, The Bribe
, Robert Taylor
, Ava Gardner
, John Hodiak
, Charles Laughton
, Frederick Nebel
, Vincent Price
, poster art
, film noir
, movie review
When Evelyn Keyes comes out of a lamp, is there really any need to wish for more?
The unusually beautiful French language poster above was made for the Belgian run of Aladin et la lampe merveilleuse, which was originally produced in the U.S. as A Thousand and One Nights. Some of the other posters for this set-in-Baghdad musical adventure are excellent too, such as the one you see at right (presumably made for the French run), but the version at top is the best—and rarest.
The art also manages to convey the mood of the movie quite accurately—it’s ninety minutes of cheeseball musical numbers, Vaudevillian slapstick, and Cornel Wilde caught in the world’s silliest love triangle. All of this is slightly marred by the unfortunate sight of white actors hamming it up with brown shoe polish on their faces, but that's to be expected in a Middle-Eastern themed movie made during an era when actors of color were more-or-less barred from cinematic roles.
On balance, the movie is a real mood lifter, but the whole effort is just a little too stupidly sweet for us to truly call good, with a bit too much syrupy baritone crooning from Cornel Wilde (or more likely his voice double), and too much of the various love interests making cow-eyes at each other. But Evelyn Keyes as the troublemaking genie is a fun touch. She makes the movie worth it. Aladin et la lampe merveilleuse premiered in the U.S. in 1945, and played for the first time in France/Belgium today in 1949.
, Aladin et la lampe merveilleuse
, A Thousand and One Nights
, Cornel Wilde
, Evelyn Keyes
, Adele Jergens
, poster art
, movie review
Eew, you mean you want me to, like, hug her and stuff?
When we saw this we had to share it. It’s a centerfold from Belgium’s Ciné Télé Revue magazine featuring Claudine Auger and Sean Connery. Made when they were promoting their pairing in the James Bond actioner Thunderball, the dubious expression on Connery’s seemingly lipsticked face is exactly the same as if he’d been forced to hug an octopus, while Auger seems to be having fun, but ended up with a double chin that probably made her shriek in horror when she saw the shot. But even though we suspect both actors probably fired their publicists after this, the result is a rare, candid photo showing that even the prettiest stars are, in the end, imperfect.
Sex and cinema in an open age.
When we went to Paris a couple of months ago we mentioned that we found a stack of Ciné-Revue magazines in Le Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen. Their dimensions make for extra work because we have to scan every page in two pieces and put them together in Photoshop, and even more daunting, any two-page spreads have to be scanned in four pieces and assembled (this is actually true for all the tabloids we post). That’s why we get a bit lazy about it sometimes. Yeah, yeah, we know—get a bigger scanner. Easier said than done, unless someone wants to mail us one. Anyway, we managed to get some pages together from the above issue of Ciné-Revue published today in 1973.
Ciné-Revue originated out of Belgium in 1944 and was the premiere French-language cinema magazine there and in France for many years. Today it remains popular, making it one of the longest-lived cinema magazines as well. On the cover of this one you get German softcore and hardcore actress Karin Schubert, and inside you get John Wayne, Pia Giancaro, Brigitte Bardot, Jean Gabin, and an artful nude shot of impossibly handsome Austrian actor Helmut Berger. You’re welcome, girls, but please don’t start doing internet searches trying to find out what he looks like now—you won’t be happy. Berger also appears on the back of the mag.
Regarding the Schubert cover, the line between mainstream cinema and porn was never blurrier than back then, and Ciné-Revue reflected that with its features of hardcore and softcore performers. Could you imagine such actresses routinely appearing in, say, Rolling Stone, and being given equal standing with mainstreamers? Nevertheless, popular American media is heavily porn-influenced, even if the seed, so to speak, goes unacknowledged. What is a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue about, for example, with its models wearing not swimsuits, but rather paint on their fully waxed bodies?
When cinema first developed into an industry many filmmakers thought of movies as simply a motile version of photography, or painting, or sculpture. Nudity was a regular occurrence onscreen during the pre-code 1920s, but a funny thing happens when you add motion and character development to the static nude—Michelangelo turns into Brazzers. Today, all nudity in American cinema is on some level political. No? Then why is it that only in American cinema there is such a proclivity for the clothed sex scene? It raises a question. Is it possible for both men and women, gay and straight, to celebrate their sexuality without conflict? Maybe, but only with more economic equality for women, less stigmitization of homosexuality, less racism, and more understanding that we are—male and female, gay and straight, green and purple—biologically driven by sexual desire.
Looking at the Schubert image above, we’re reminded of a time (in which we were basically zygotes, but go with us here) during which mainstream movies asked questions about freedom for versus exploitation of women, and how commerce in an age of mass media impacts women’s security versus the ideal of sexual freedom. For instance, how do we have sex and sexual aspiration but also have a safe pressure release for the millions who aren’t having sex in any given week or year? Can sex and porn safely co-exist? No idea. Option two is to beat the need for sex out of every man and woman on the planet. Not our preferred solution, but we can talk about it. Why did we write all this? Probably because there’s nudity/exploitation in the next two posts, so these questions just came into our minds.
On another note, we had to go back to France on short notice, but to Bordeaux this time, and we’re there at this moment. So maybe hanging out with the always philosophical French made us write this missive. Possibly some fine red wine has contributed. Anyway, we will scour Bordeaux for more wine—er, pulp—but especially Ciné-Revue, as we’re very interested in 1970s international movie stars, and this magazine gave them as much exposure as any publication we’ve seen. We have eighteen scans below, and more from Ciné-Revue to come.
, Le Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen
, Roland Fougeres
, Romy Schneider
, Helmut Berger
, Karin Schubert
, Pia Giancaro
, Brigitte Bardot
, Jean Gabin
, John Wayne
, Jacques Charrier
, Christine Delaroche
, Steve McQueen
The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
1920—Negro National Baseball League Debuts
The first game of Negro National League baseball
is played in Indianapolis, Indiana. The league, one of several that would be formed, was composed of The Chicago American Giants, The Detroit Stars, The Kansas City Monarchs, The Indianapolis ABCs, The St. Louis Giants, The Cuban Stars, The Dayton Marcos, and The Chicago Giants.
1955—Williams Wins Pulitzer
American playwright Tennessee Williams wins the Pulitzer Prize for Drama for his controversial play Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, which tells the story of a southern family in crisis, explicitly deals with alcoholism, and contains a veiled subtext concerning homosexuality in southern society. In 1958 the play becomes a motion picture starring Elizabeth Taylor and Paul Newman.
1945—Germany Announces Hitler's Death
German radio in Hamburg announces that Adolf Hitler was killed in Berlin, stating specifically that he had fallen at his command post in the Reich Chancery fighting to the last breath against Bolshevism and for Germany. But in truth Hitler had committed suicide along with his mistress Eva Braun, and both bodies were immediately thereafter burned.
1960—Powers Is Shot Down over U.S.S.R.
Francis Gary Powers, flying in a Lockheed U-2 spy plane, is shot down over the Soviet Union. The U.S. denies the plane's purpose and mission, but is later forced to admit its role as a covert surveillance aircraft when the Soviet government produces its remains and reveals Powers, who had survived the shoot down. The incident triggers a major diplomatic crisis between the U.S. and U.S.S.R.
1927—First Prints Are Left at Grauman's
Hollywood power couple Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, who co-founded the movie studio United Artists with Charlie Chaplin and D.W. Griffith, become the first celebrities to leave their impressions in concrete at Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood, located along the stretch where the historic Hollywood Walk of Fame would later be established.
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