Let me put it to you the only way men seem capable of understanding.
Cool Aldé cover art for Les aventures de Zodiaque #39 — Drôle de musique, published by Éditions de Neuilly in 1952. We talked a bit about Aldé and Zodiaque several years ago, so if you're curious just follow this link. We also have a cover collection you can peruse here.
Ascent of a woman.
French actress Hélène Chanel was born Hélène Stoliaroff, and since the fragrance Chanel No. 5 predates her birth we guessed she deliberately borrowed the name for her pseudonym. How's that for some crack detective work? We're more than just pretty faces around here. But we may have been wrong. The story goes that she actually chose “Chancel” for her last name, but her agent—ahem—misspelled it “Chanel.” In any case, Hélène Chanel is how she went through the rest of her career, as she starred in numerous films, including Killer calibro 32, Cjamango, and Asso di picche: Operazione controspionaggio, aka Operation Counterspy. And she's also this person's sister, which would make her Chanel No. 2 as far as we're concerned, except for the fact that her sis chose a different pseudonym. We'll let them sort out the pecking order at the next family get together.
Mmm... rack of lamb with garlic and rosemary, right?
Golden Lust actually sounds more like a Chinese restaurant than a French one, but since this paperback came from France Books we had to go French with both our header and our menu item. Remember to brush after meals so all your kisses are minty fresh. Author Adam Coulter was the name behind sleaze efforts like Big Mama, Lesbian Captive, Rape of Eden, and Couch of Desire, which we highlighted a while back. We say name behind because Coulter was a pseudonym, used in this case by James T. Smith. Golden Lust is copyright 1962, with cover art by unknown.
Huh? What do you mean you tipped him enough earlier to cover our whole stay?
David Dodge was a very deft writer. When he died in 1974 The Last Match hadn't been published, but Hard Case Crime put it out in 2006, and it falls into the same category as his To Catch a Thief, as well as jet-set grifter novels by other authors. For us this was tremendously entertaining. Dodge takes his protagonist to Spain, southern France, Tangier, Central America, Brazil, and other exotic locales, weaving in foreign vocabulary and mixing it all up to reflect his character's life as an international rolling stone. Like when he explains offhand that the Brazilian soft drink guaraná is fizzy like a Portuguese vinho verde, but sweet, and perfect for mixing with cachaça. Little things like that give the tale great flavor. And the story of an inveterate con man knocking about from country to country while stalked by a smitten aristocratic beauty (who he refers to as Nemesis) has plenty of amusements. Some say it's not Dodge at his best because it has no plot, but stories only need to entertain. Dodge, like his main character, is remembering the highlights of his life and mixing in a portion of male-oriented fantasy. We'll admit to having a weakness for the tale because we've been to most of the places mentioned, had high times drinking guaraná mixed with cachaça, and met more than one charming hustler or beauty who arrived from parts unknown to send the town reeling. But as objectively as we can manage to assess, we think The Last Match is good, lighthearted fun. Highly recommended.
If anyone can get these people whipped into shape it's her.
Above is a cool cover for Jak Delay's 1953 thriller Mission “microbienne”, a title that would translate as “microbial mission.” He wrote it for Éditions Le Trotteur and the art is by Mik, aka Jacques Thibésart, someone we've talked about extensively. We particularly like his femme fatale here. She's carrying a whip, the indispensable accessory for any modern woman, perfect for keeping male subordinates in line, and good for getting the attention of bartenders and waiters. The microbienne aspect of the story has to do with chemical warfare. The heroine Isabel Didier is tasked with retrieving French bacteriological weapons stolen by East German spies. As usual in these types of tales, Isabel is a real hotty and that's basically her main advantage dealing with various hapless commies. Or put another way, the Cold War warms up quickly thanks to Isabel. Mission “microbienne” could be the first in a series. We aren't sure. But maybe we'll check into that and report back. In the meantime, more Mik covers here and here.
De Sade administers shock treatment in new art book from Goliath.
Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade, was a French nobleman, revolutionary politician, philosopher, and author of novels, short stories, plays, dialogues, and political tracts. But he's best known, of course, for his libertine sexuality. Since his death in 1814 he has continued to enthrall scholars, social critics, and historians. Now Berlin based art publishers Goliath, a group always fascinated by the sexually bizarre, have taken their own careful look at de Sade, publishing Marquis De Sade - 100 Erotic Illustrations, a collection of art from various Marquis de Sade books, put together as a hardcover volume.
Goliath points out that everyone knows what sadism is, but nobody actually reads de Sade. They've solved that problem by doing away with text entirely. It's a canny choice, because for all de Sade's renown, critics remain passionately divided over his literary worth. There are those who say his writings were merely a fig leaf for his obsessions. If that's the case his fig leaf has been ripped away in this book, and you get a set of ink drawings that detail everything he loved without trying to intellectualize, condemn, or justify it.
The illustrations are shocking, of course, but de Sade lived to shock. He'd probably be thrilled to know he still manages to do that more than two centuries after his death, as well as to learn of his influence on Japanese roman porno cinema, women-in-prison movies, bondage literature such as Fifty Shades of Grey, and other odd niches of modern media.
Considering de Sade's fame, those who don't know his history might assume that French society was hopelessly depraved to tolerate his acts. Actually, the opposite was true. He spent thirty-two years of his life in prisons and asylums, and escaped having his head and shoulders separated by the guillotine—more than once—due only to political upheaval.
When examined by psychiatrists the diagnosis was that de Sade was “insanely obsessed with vice.” There can be little doubt this diagnosis was spot on, as he gambled away his fortune, consorted with prostitutes, staged orgies, forced servants and maids to perform sexual acts, drugged the unsuspecting, indulged in corporal punishment, and of course engaged in every sexual variation and deviance known.
Though 17th century France didn't find much humor in de Sade, with the passage of two hundred years the illustrations in Goliath's book do provoke a few laughs—from us at least—as lords and ladies relentlessly diddle, fondle, suckle and paddle each other. We don't mean to make light of de Sade's crimes—the French were probably right to stuff him away. But considering the fact that his work has been routinely banned and burned—even by his own son at one point—it's instructive to be able to look at the contents of a mind that has had such an influence on our own weird and depraved age. You can find more information about Marquis De Sade - 100 Erotic Illustrations on the Goliath website.
Marquis De Sade - 100 Erotic Illustrations
Being diplomatic is one way to get what you want. And then there's Bardot's way.
This is one of the most classic of Brigitte Bardot's movie posters, with the smiling superstar holding an Eiffel Tower in her hands, implying that all France is her plaything. That much is undeniable. It was originally titled Une parisenne, but for its English language release it was given the slightly different title La Parisienne, and in it Bardot does what Bardot always does—stops traffic, generates previously undiscovered quantum states of chaos, and flips reality upside down. This time around she plays Brigitte Laurier, the prime minister's stubborn daughter, in love her father's assistant, who tries as hard as he can not to get involved with her. Why would he resist Bardot? Because she's too young, and he already has a (married) girlfriend. He finally marries Bardot through a set of crazy circumstances, but refuses to give up his mistress, which of course leads to a jealous Brigitte taking matters into her own hands. This is a classic French style sex comedy, with confusion, mistaken assumptions, and people sneaking into each other's beds, all in service of teaching the lesson that what's good for the goose is good for the gander.
Focusing on the poster for a moment, you can see it's a high quality piece of art, but it's attributed to nobody. We checked around and came up with zip. You'll notice it says La Parisienne was Bardot's first big picture. We doubt that—it was her eighteenth movie. We can find no evidence anywhere that this one was different budgetwise than her other headlining efforts. Possibly, “big” is a reference to the plot's focus on international politics and diplomacy. The film does seem to have a larger scope, and take place against a larger backdrop than usual. So maybe that's it. Or maybe the American distributors meant that it was the first of Bardot's films to receive a big promotional push in the U.S. We just don't know. But here's what we're sure about: after a successful run in Europe beginning in late 1957, La Parisienne premiered in New York City today in 1958.
The dancers of the chorus line request your attention.
This is the fifth issue of Cancans de Paris we've shared. The magazine is fast becoming a favorite. It has that mix we like—celebs, showgirls, and cartoons. It's similar to magazines such as Paris Hollywood and Gondel, but with a simpler layout and all black-and-white photography. This issue is from July 1966 and features Gila Golan on the cover, and inside are Julie London, Mireille Darc, and others from the acting profession. You also get Sally Ann Scoth, Karin Brault, Juanita Sanchez, and other colleagues from the dancer side of show business. The entire issue appears below in thirty panels, and you can see the other issues by clicking the appropriate keywords at bottom.
I find plants ideal for alleviating stress. I've already successfully killed three ferns, a cactus, and four pots of posies.
A Pascal is a physics unit that measures, among other things, internal pressure or stress, and it's pretty clear that Pascale Roberts is feeling none of that. She's a César Award nominated French actress who appeared in such films as Weiße Fracht für Hongkong, aka Mystery of the Red Jungle, and the television series Allô police. This shot of her tending some unlucky plants appeared in Belgian film magazine Ciné-Revue in 1964.
Lady Luck shines on Roques book front.
Above is a beautiful cover for La Chance aime le jolies filles, published in 1955 with art by an unidentified genius. The work looks like Jef de Wulf to us, but we won't swear to it because we've guessed wrong before. French book titles can be a bit arcane but not this time—it translates as “luck loves beautiful girls.” Roques was an interesting character. He was both author and publisher of this and other books, running his company out of Boulevard Beaumarchais in Paris. He continually pushed the boundaries of what censors considered acceptable, for twenty years skirting but managing to avoid serious trouble, though books like 1955's Viol and 1957's Dit oui, madame were banned. Roques did not skimp on cover art. Every edition we've seen from his company is beautiful. In fact, one of our favorite fronts ever came from Roques. See that here, and expect more in the future.
The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
1937—The Hobbit is Published
J. R. R. Tolkien publishes his seminal fantasy novel The Hobbit, aka The Hobbit: There and Back Again. Marketed as a children's book, it is a hit with adults as well, and sells millions of copies, is translated into multiple languages, and spawns the sequel trilogy The Lord of Rings.
1946—Cannes Launches Film Festival
The first Cannes Film Festival is held in 1946, in the old Casino of Cannes, financed by the French Foreign Affairs Ministry and the City of Cannes.
1934—Arrest Made in Lindbergh Baby Case
Bruno Hauptmann is arrested for the kidnap and murder of Charles Lindbergh Jr., son of the famous American aviator. The infant child had been abducted from the Lindbergh home in March 1932, and found decomposed two months later in the woods nearby. He had suffered a fatal skull fracture. Hauptmann was tried, convicted, sentenced to death, and finally executed by electric chair in April 1936. He proclaimed his innocence to the end
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