Poke around inside National Informer and there's no telling what you'll find.
Today we have another National Informer from a water damaged batch we rescued last year. This issue delivers the usual goods—or bads, depending on your point of view—including breast fondling techniques for men, sex fantasies women are ashamed to talk about, and why married couples should consider the “pro's and con's” of swapping. With all the sex stories here, the few attempts to be a real newspaper come across as jokes, such as when editors pose the question of whether hot dogs cause cancer. Hot dogs? What next? An exposé on the annual Chicopee Kielbasa Festival? Stick to what you're good at, we say. And Informer is good at smut.
Of the smut in this issue, we're partial to the centerspread article on sex resorts. Informer reports that this is a growing trend in the liberal European countries, then claims even Africa is getting in on the act: “There is a little country called Gambia, in West Africa, that has only 300,000 people, three hotels, and a growing tourist boom. The big attraction about Gambia is that the government officially closes its eyes to all goings-on. That's why Gambia has become the IN place for Swedes who come to frolic nude along its sparking white beaches.”
Gambia as a Swede swinger's paradise circa 1972 is news to us, but checking online, it certainly looks worth a visit. White beaches? Plenty of those. White people? Thin on the ground. Perfect, because we prefer friendly locals any day of the week over hoards of backpack lugging foreigners. Elsewhere in Informer, one of the issue's models looks familiar. Didn't the woman in the ad directly below appear—frontally nude with a Mona Lisa smile—in Informer's October 1972 issue? Decide for yourself. We have eighteen scans below and many more tabloids to share going forward. If you like this sort of thing check our tabloid index at this link.
She's got the best seat in the house.
Above is yet another awesome promo photo of Swedish sexploitation actress Christina Lindberg you've never seen before. We've featured her many times, with some of the images being the first ever to appear online, such as this one, this one, and these. This one isn't our scan. It's a download we scored years ago off a now defunct forum page, so consider it a re-up. We have a couple more from the same source and maybe we'll post those at some point.
Anita Ekberg bares all for art.
Anita Ekberg graces the cover of this February 1957 issue of Sir! magazine, laid back, colorized, and looking good. She gets in depth treatment inside, with a focus on a nude statue of her made by Hungarian sculptor Sepy Dobronyi. The story was perfect for Hollywood gossip rags, and accordingly they all reported breathlessly that Dobronyi wanted to make the statue a nude, and since he was headed back to his studio in Cuba and couldn't have Ekberg sit for him, took a series of nude reference photos. Dobronyi was a scuba diver in his spare time and had collected gold coins from sunken Spanish galleons to use in his art, some of which he applied to Ekberg's likeness, leading to this boob-related witticism from Sir! editors: “Anita's statue has a real honest-to-goodness treasure chest.” The sculpture was mostly bronze, though, and became known as the Ekberg Bronze, which when last seen was in a Norwegian museum, though Ekberg was actually Swedish.
Elsewhere in Sir! you get the short feature, “A Homo Speaks Out.” The title alone. Really. The author, working in confessional form, admits to deep feelings of regret, shame, self-loathing, and so forth at his “condition”—basically writing everything mid-century homophobes would have wanted to read. It ain't pretty, so we won't transcribe any of it. Readers also learn about marriage rites on the Pacific islands of New Hebrides (now Vanuatu), where tribal ceremonies involve all the male members of the groom's family having first crack at the bride. Is that true? We have no idea, and really aren't inclined to find out. To each culture their own, we say—as Americans, we come from the weirdest one on the planet. Other stories deal with Elvis Presley, burlesque, and prostitution. While Sir! wasn't one of the top mid-century tabs, it outdid itself with the Ekberg cover alone, which we consider one of the most eye-catching images of her we've seen.
Delon and company play cops and robbers in the City by the Bay.
Once a Thief opens with a San Francisco nightclub drummer playing a cracking solo, cymbal crashes synched to quick edits, and we immediately think we're in for some sort of revolutionary beat generation noir, with the edgy rhythms and nervous energy that idea entails. But the movie quickly subsides to conventional pacing, telling the story of a former thief gone straight suspected of a recent murder, and the cop determined to put him away—guilty or innocent. Alain Delon plays crook-turned-family man Eddie, and Ann-Margret is his wife Kristine. Even if the movie doesn't live up to its jazzy opening, getting Sweden's hottest actress and France's hottest actor together should be a can't-miss proposition.
Though Eddie is innocent of the murder, police harassment costs him his job. But when you're broke you can always count on family—to make things worse, that is. Eddie's criminal brother shows up and wants help with a bank robbery. After a few fraternal preliminaries, Eddie decides to partner up with his erratic bro, which is when his troubles really start, because his darker nature emerges and it isn't a pretty sight. Ann-Margret, working from the hysteria-as-acting playbook, is not pleased with these developments and over-emotes her displeasure at every opportunity. Even if criminal conspiracy doesn't do Eddie in, marital strife might.
Once a Thief oozes cool, but in the end it's a middling heist drama that asks a bit too much of its principals. It didn't do well in 1965, and we suspect it'll be the least liked offering at Noir City. Audiences may respond to a few aspects, though: there are some nice San Fran exteriors, Lalo Schifrin's soundtrack is top notch, and character actor John Davis Chandler knocks his role of the druggy hepcat villain Jimmy Sargatanas out of the park, over the promenade, and into McCovey Cove. His line, “I don't dig women,” paired with a sneer and a fatal gunshot, will probably bring the house down. As for Delon and Ann-Margret, well, at least they look good.
Marie Forså is clean as a whistle.
We already covered the Swedish sexploitation flick Flossie back in December and paired the write-up with a West German promo poster. Above you see an exceedingly rare Japanese promo for the same film, with young star Marie Forså giving us various O-faces, as well as reclining nude in the center. Pretty sure this one hasn't been seen online before. Flossie opened in Japan today in 1975. You can see the other poster here.
It's not like any circus you've ever seen.
The Hottest Show in Town was originally released in Sweden in 1974 as Sex-Cirkusse, and just as promised by the Japanese poster art above, you get a circus, a hot one, populated by assorted acrobats, aerialists, and clowns, some nude, some not. You also see people hook up, explicitly, which is really the entire point of this production. These bits earned the film an x rating, as well as some controversy caused by a sex sequence involving a very small man and a very small woman—aka dwarves. This isn't particularly shocking today. Or is it? Certainly dwarves are more mainstream now. Game of Thrones even features the horniest little person in entertainment history, so we're guessing Sex-Cirkusse's dwarf sex won't bother you. We could be wrong. But dwarves, clowns, and aerialists are all a sideshow. The real star of the movie is the lovely Danish actress Anna Bie Warburg, seen below in her bushy altogether, a bold image we couldn't resist sharing. We guess the general thrust of the film is that all the world's a circus and all its denizens merely players. Really horny ones. The Hottest Show in Town premiered in Japan today in 1976.
Flossie regularly is good for your mental health
Yes, Marie Forså is back in another of her popular sexploitation romps. We just checked her out in 1973's Der Fluch der schwarzen Schwestern, saw her a while back in Bibi, and here she is again in 1974's Flossie, aka Swedish Sex Kitten. We could tell you the movie is good, but there's barely any movie to recommend. In the same way a chocolate chip cookie is just a delivery system for sugar, a production like this is just a delivery system for boners. This one takes two passes at that goal, with a softcore version, and a harder iteration with some actual penetration scenes edited in. Despite the audience's most fervent wishes, these aren't Forså's furry nether regions having a grand opening, but some other natural blonde's, woven in cleverly enough that some viewers may not notice. But you know the old rule—if the face isn't in the edit, a body double gets the credit. We've now watched three Forså movies and we think that'll about fill our lifetime quota. They're all the same—sweet, easy to enjoy, and with some gooey parts. Just like chocolate chip cookies. The above poster was made for Flossie's West German premiere, where it began delivering boners today in 1974.
Ménage à trois? With that little thing I don't think he can ménage à one of us.
Oh yeah, baby, this is great. Give it to me. Make me— Hmm, has that crack always been in the ceiling?
I forgot to wear sunscreen today. I didn't get too red, did I?
Nose all clean? Yes, all clean. And look—no bats in my cave either!
Can we stop soon? Doing it on the rug sounded fun but I'm getting a friction burn on my spine.
Mwah! That was wonderful. I guess you're right. Who needs men?
We're gonna need a bigger bottle of shampoo.
What do I look like—a waitress? Get your own damn drinks. These are all for me.
Desire is easy. It's fulfillment that's hard.
This unusual promo pamphlet was made for the Australian release of May Britt's romantic drama The Blue Angel, which opened Down Under today in 1959. 20th Century Fox's publicity department was calling it “one of the great classic films of all times,” though it had only been out a few months. The lesson here is never believe the publicity department. In the film, which is a remake of Marlene Dietrich's 1930 classic of the same name, Swedish bombshell May Britt plays a burlesque performer named Lola-Lola who dances and sings nightly at a smalltown cabaret called the Blue Angel. She draws the romantic attention of a prudish, perhaps even virginal, high school professor, and all kinds of complications follow, ranging from the good (love and romance) to the bad (scorn and unemployment).
It's been said that Britt was chosen over Marilyn Monroe for this role, but if that's true, we're looking at a remarkably different movie than Monroe would have made. For one thing, while financed by 20th Century Fox, the movie is set in Germany and everyone in it hails from somewhere in Europe. We can't imagine that was the plan if Monroe had starred, but as a remake of a German classic, we suppose it's possible. Anotherbig difference is that Britt is not in any way Monroesque. While both are blonde and beautiful, Britt has a knowing, grown-up, real-woman demeanor, her voice a throaty contralto, while Monroe played wiggly-hipped high-pitched kittenish to the hilt. We can only assume the role was intended as a departure for Monroe, and a major departure it would have been.
But this is Britt's film and one thing is sure—she has talent. This isn't a surprise. She had already been in thirteen movies by this point. The Blue Angel came out the year before she met and married Sammy Davis, Jr. She made one more movie then was out of show business until after she and Davis divorced eight years later. These would have been her prime moviemaking years, but she chose to be a wife and mother,has said she chose correctly, and more power to her. Yet The Blue Angel gives a strong indication what sort of star she might have been. 20th Century Fox may have jumped the gun calling the film one of the great classics of all times, but now that it's actually an old film, and it's undoubtedly good thanks to May Britt and the very capable Curd Jürgens, maybe that description isn't so far off after all.
Once again Brazil brings the freak out of an unsuspecting visitor.
This chirashi mini-poster, of which you see both sides above, was made to promote the Japanese release today in 1984 of the softcore epic Emmanuelle IV, spawn of a franchise that just gave and gave and gave, to the tune of seven direct theatrical sequels, plus dozens of television films and at least thirty other cinematic excursions of close or distant relation. This one will really make you wonder what happened to the big budget softcore movie. It's fun, engaging, highly budgeted, and a consistent turn-on.
Since Emmanuelle's original portrayor Sylvia Kristel was by now deemed too old to be the title ingénue, the writers decided to send her away to Brazil for rejuvenating surgery. She opens the film, gets on a plane, and when she emerges from her full body treatment, she looks like twenty-four-year-old Swedish actress Mia Nygren. Wanting to test out this new chassis, Nygren runs amok in Rio de Janiero and environs, as Brazil's tropical heat and wanton ways wreak havoc on a yet another white girl's psyche. By the end of the second reel she's a full-on nympho.
Emmanuelle IV is a cut above regular sexploitation—it's brilliantly shot in city and jungle, competently acted, and absolutely chock full of lithe hot bodies. Besides Kristel and Nygren, the parade of world-class beauties include Deborah Power, Sophie Berger, Dominique Troyes aka Marilyn Jess, and Sonja Martin. There was no porn in the original release, but x-rated scenes were shot and did appear in the French DVD version. But of the red hot goddesses mentioned above, only Jess went all the way, which is just as well—in a film as elegant as this, it would be a shame to see hairy-assed dudes climbing all over the entire female cast like monkeys. Or maybe that's just us.
We have some images below, and should explain, their sheer number reflect our love for this movie. We first saw it on cable in our youth and it stayed with us. Whenever asked why we live abroad, we always credit high-brow literature and cultural curiosity and everything to do with the brain. But when we're truthful we have to admit stuff like Emmanuelle IV had an influence too. Even if people in exotic lands didn't act that crazy, the places existed. We had to see them. And you know what we found? People do act that crazy.
The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
1916—Rockwell's First Post Cover Appears
The Saturday Evening Post publishes Norman Rockwell's painting "Boy with Baby Carriage", marking the first time his work appears on the cover of that magazine. Rockwell would go to paint many covers for the Post, becoming indelibly linked with the publication. During his long career Rockwell would eventually paint more than four thousand pieces, the vast majority of which are not on public display due to private ownership and destruction by fire.
1962—Marilyn Monroe Sings to John F. Kennedy
A birthday salute to U.S. President John F. Kennedy takes place at Madison Square Garden, in New York City. The highlight is Marilyn Monroe's breathy rendition of "Happy Birthday," which does more to fuel speculation that the two were sexually involved than any actual evidence.
1926—Aimee Semple McPherson Disappears
In the U.S., Canadian born evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson disappears from Venice Beach, California in the middle of the afternoon. She is initially thought to have drowned, but on June 23, McPherson stumbles out of the desert in Agua Prieta, a Mexican town across the border from Douglas, Arizona, claiming to have been kidnapped, drugged, tortured and held for ransom in a shack by two people named Steve and Mexicali Rose. However, it soon becomes clear that McPherson's tale is fabricated, though to this day the reasons behind it remain unknown.
1964—Mods and Rockers Jailed After Riots
In Britain, scores of youths are jailed following a weekend of violent clashes between gangs of Mods and Rockers in Brighton and other south coast resorts. Mods listened to ska music and The Who, wore suits and rode Italian scooters, while Rockers listened to Elvis and Gene Vincent, and rode motorcycles. These differences triggered the violence.
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