Around the world in sixty pages.
Exotic Adventures was a men's magazine put out by NYC based Gladiator Publications, Inc. It seems obvious the company had great ambitions, but it managed only six issues before folding. This one came in 1959 with cover art signed “Louis,” whose full identity is not given. In fact, only three people are listed as staff—editor George P. Wallace and two others—so the cover artist wasn't the only hard worker who got short shrift. The individual authors are given bylines, though, as are the men who narrated their "true" tales to biographers.
Exotic Destinations lived up to its name, with pieces set in Kashmir, French Cameroon, Morocco, Honduras, Malaya, and Borneo, and nude models who are supposedly from Japan, Brazil, France, and Germany. It was all printed on glossy paper, which is why you won't see the usual yellowing you get with old magazines, though the printing got a little streaky and inconsistent in the middle pages. Still, taken as a whole Exotic Adventures is a high quality publication, which we snared courtesy of the now idle Darwin's Scans blog. Forty-plus panels below.
Kenneth Anger explores Hollywood's darkest recesses in his landmark tell-all.
Kenneth Anger's Hollywood Babylon is the grandaddy of all Tinseltown exposés. It was published in 1965, banned ten days later, and shelved until 1975. It's exactly as advertised, outing everybody that was anybody for everything. Entire chunks are devoted to Charlie Chaplain, Lana Turner, Errol Flynn, Fatty Arbuckle and other cinematic luminaries. Some of its claims have been proved false—for instance the assertion that Lupe Velez died with her head in a toilet, and that Clara Bow screwed the USC football team (we doubt anyone really believed that one, even back then). But other tales are basically true, including accounts of various legal run-ins and feuds.
Anger's writing is uneven, but at its most effective mirrors the type of pure tabloid style that influenced the likes of James Ellroy and others. Besides the salacious gossip the book has a ton of rare celeb photos, and those are of real worth. We've uploaded a bunch below. They came from a digital edition because our little paperback was too fragile to get on a scanner. By the way, don't feel as if we're working overtime on our website this Christmas morning—we uploaded everything in advance and are actually nowhere near a computer today. We're glad you took a minute to drop by. Copious vintage Hollywood below.
She's had it up to here with men.
And in complete thematic contrast to the above, here we have a Japanese poster for the French porn film Le sexe qui parle, aka Pussy Talk. Believe it or not, like Casablanca, this was an award winner—it took the grand prize at the first and only Festival du Film Pornographique de Paris, held in August 1975. Does that mean it's a good movie? Well, it's still porn, so good is relative, isn't it? Plotwise it's pretty simple. Pénélope Lamour's vagina starts talking. What does it say? That it wants air, firstly. Other demands come later. And they are demands, because this organ with a witchlike voice doesn't take no for an answer.
It sounds a bit out there, perhaps, but French filmmakers have a way of infusing anything with intellect, which means there's an underlying social message here. Or are we giving them too much credit? Maybe anything a vagina says would seem packed with metaphor, under the circumstances. This particular unruly organ even talks when Lamour is asleep, which leads to it telling Lamour's appalled husband about its notable past encounters, including with a priest. Her vagina is spilling these secrets because it wants to drive the husband out of her (their) life. Just imagine.
When asked why it started speaking, little Lamour reveals, “We can all speak. It's just that most of us don't feel the need until one day we've had enough.” And we've revealed enough. You'll have to watch it yourself to find out where it all leads. We expect a woman's take on the film would differ greatly from a man's, but in both cases it will certainly generate material for discussion. After opening in France in November 1975, Le sexe qui parle talked its way into Japan today the same year.
From behind the microscope to in front of the camera.
You don't know U.S. actress Emily Yancy but she's been around for a long time. She started performing on television in 1963 and is still going strong as of 2018. Of her few cinematic efforts two were notable—the blaxploitation classics Cotton Comes to Harlem and Blacula. Her small screen appearances include Starsky & Hutch, The Mod Squad, and MacGyver.
The above photo is from 1961, and it was made when she was eighteen years old and competing in the Miss American Beauty Pageant, not be confused with the Miss America Pageant. Interesting story, she was a biology major and was working at NYU Medical Center operating an electron microscope when her coworkers persuaded her to give parading up and down a stage in a swimsuit a shot. She won Miss American Beauty, which gave her a chance to compete again in France.
She was sent to Cannes and finished second in the Miss Cannes Film Festival competition. After that Hollywood called and those boring old electrons were forgotten. Television, film, nightclub performing, modeling and a lot of travel followed. There's a lesson in this story, and maybe not one that should be taught to little girls—Forget science! Give us a little leg!—but you don't need a microscope to see that Yancy takes a great picture, and her career longevity suggests she made a good choice.
It's all fun and games for Goldilocks now but her luck will change.
In this promo image from the mid-1940s Frances Gladwin continues the longstanding Hollywood trend of posing on bearskin rugs. This particular polar bear still looks angry to have been killed, which you can really understand. Gladwin's happy though. When this photograph was made she was in the midst of a good run, accumulating thirty-one film appearances in five years from 1941 to 1946, mostly bit roles in westerns, although she did appear briefly in the film noir classic Laura. Then after 1946—nothing. She had no screen credits, and we found no biographical info. It's like she disappeared off the face of the Earth. We think the bear's relatives got their revenge.
French publisher borrows a face for L'assassin anonyme that isn't anonyme after all.
We did a double-take before reaching an inescapable conclusion—this is Jack Palance on the cover of the thriller L'assassin anonyme, published by the French group Éditions du Champ de Mars for its Collection Moulin Noir. After recognizing the face it was easy to find the photo you see below, a promo shot made for the 1950 movie Panic in the Streets. We thought the book might be a novelization of the film, but nope—it's straight up unlicensed usage of Palance's mug. The book was written by J. Scotland, which is of course a pseudonym, in this case for the prolific Viviane Cambon, who also wrote as Liane Méry, Cesar Valentino, and—our definite favorites—Harry Mitchum and Mickey Spolane. Rumor has it she created or shared up to forty pen names. This effort is copyright 1959, and the art is uncredited.
Sorry about that last shot, Rita. I get overaggressive sometimes. Is your face okay?
We'll admit it. When we play table tennis we love it when one of our smashes hits someone in the face. Victory is secondary. In the two photos above we imagine Hollywood legends Carole Landis and Rita Hayworth vying for table tennis supremacy on a warm afternoon. The two were born only a couple of months apart as Frances Ridste and Magarita Cansino, and had similar career arcs in Hollywood, which at one point led to Landis being aced out of the lead in 1941's Blood and Sand by Hayworth. Landis probably wasn't too happy about that, but the two later acted together in 1942's My Gal Sal. If they still had issues after that, at least they finally settled them in our imaginary pairing. Both photos are from around 1943.
That's no lady—that's Brigitte Bardot.
Above, an iconic poster painted by Giorgio Olivetti for the 1957 Brigitte Bardot comedy Una parigina, originally released as La Parisienne. The Bardot figure here was the first femme fatale graphic ever used as the symbol of Pulp Intl., which some of you may remember. Olivetti painted two promos for the film. The second one, just below, is less famous, but still beautiful. We talked about this movie over the summer, and in short it's Bardot running around Paris creating Monroesque chaos among the male population, though with a winkingly more adult subtext than in your average Monroe romp. In other words, there's a hint here and there that Bardot actually gets laid. We don't think that ever happened in Marilyn's comedies. If you're curious about the movie, or interested in seeing the nice U.S. poster—which also features Bardot in her famous red dress—have a look here.
You know why I'm great at my job? Because I'm sweating like a racehorse in this get-up and you can't tell.
French artist Alex Pinon knocks this cover for the spy thriller Mission spéciale à Rio out of the park with his black clad femme fatale and backdrop of Guanabara Bay and its famed Sugarloaf Mountain. Since Rio's average daily temperature never drops below 80 Fahrenheit, no Brazilian would actually dress like this, at least not during daytime, but the art is great. The book was published by Société des Éditions Nouvelles Valmont and its author called himself Commandant René. You're probably assuming that's a pseudonym, and you're right. It was used by Jacques Dubessy, Guy de Wargny, Henri Certigny, and other authors. Between them they wrote more than thirty books as this Commandant person, with the above coming in 1959. We have a lot of French art in the website, so poke around if it interests you. We'll have more soon.
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