|Vintage Pulp||Jan 5 2015|
Morbosità di una orientale, which would translate as something like “morbidity of an easterner,” was originally a 1977 Japanese film called Tokyo Chatterly fujin, and was released in English as Lady Chatterley in Tokyo. Katsuhiko Fujii helmed the production, and Izumi Shima starred, but every other name on these promos is a Western pseudonym for a Japanese performer. Ann Charlton, Janet Glythe, Price Williams, and King Byrbo never existed except as credits created for the art you see here, and are in reality Junko Miyashita, Kyoko Aoyama, Tatsuya Hamaguchi, and Minoru Okochi. What was the point of doing that? We don’t know. Japanese films had played in Italy before without being Westernized in this way, so it’s a mystery we presume we’ll never solve.
The film keeps to the themes—but not the plot—of D.H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover. When a millionaire’s son is rendered impotent by an accident, his wife succumbs to the charms of the groundskeeper’s willy, the chauffeur’s stickshift, and the construction worker’s retractable ruler. We last saw the amazingly striking Izumi Shima being molested by an invisible man, and here her paramour punches through a windowpane and fondles her through the splintered glass. That’s horny. Not to be outdone, Shima humps a tree. That’s horny. Also, a stallion fucks a mare. Really. So every living in creature in this film is incredibly horny. Did it make us horny? Hey, you think we typed this with our fingers? Think again.
|Vintage Pulp||Dec 6 2014|
You know that we’re sticklers about sharing art on its premiere date. Just by coincidence we had two tabloids published today, which we’ve shared above, and we also have movie promo art. This all makes for a very naked day on Pulp Intl., but that’s the way it happens sometimes. We take no responsibility—this is the smut of previous generations, not ours, so blame your grandpa. Anyway, the above poster is for Toei Studios’ Tôkyô dîpu surôto fujin, aka Tokyo Deep Throat, aka Deep Throat in Tokyo. This is a non-pornographic film because, as we’ve mentioned many times before, such acts were illegal to show in Japan at the time, so what you have here is really a pinku or softcore flick with a lot of suggestive action—such as star Kumi Taguchi tonguing a mango, as seen on the poster art—but no actual sex.
The plot is similar to the real Deep Throat in that a woman has a clitoris in her throat. How did it get there? Well, her husband had her undergo implantation surgery after she refused to give him a hummer. We know. She won’t go down on him, but somehow he’s able to make her go under the knife. Whatever. After the surgery oral sex is equally pleasurable for both of them, though she seems to have lost her voice, and what happens is… zzzzzzzzz. Where were we? What time is it? Oh yes—plot. Taguchi can now orgasm by eating a banana—that’s not a euphemism, as she does exactly that twice—and there’s some mobster stuff and a murder that really isn’t. But none of it matters. Just know that with a disastrously crappy transfer from the original print, production values here are so low you’ll feel like you’re in a sleazy, mid-disco era Kabukicho wankhouse. Not that we’d know. Tôkyô dîpu surôto fujin premiered in Japan today in 1975.
|Modern Pulp||Nov 27 2014|
|Vintage Pulp||Oct 19 2014|
Above, an alternate promo for Yoru no saizensen: Tôkyô onna chizu, aka Secret Zone of Tokyo. This one is nice, but the previous version is one of the coolest Japanese posters we’ve seen.
|Vintage Pulp||Mar 7 2014|
Above, a Midnight from today 1966 with cover star Nobu McCarthy, wild, wicked and willing. Or so Midnight claims. Born Nobu Atsumi in Canada of Japanese extraction, McCarthy won the 1955 Miss Tokyo pageant, and later parlayed a chance Los Angeles encounter with a talent agent into a television and theater career dotted with film roles. As far as Midnight’s suggestion of availability goes, McCarthy was already married with children by 1966, and probably already too well-known to have to stoop to cheap publicity techniques on the covers of second rate tabloids. Which means we’re putting this quote entirely on the editors. After many years on screen and stage, McCarthy died of an aortal aneurysm while filming Gaijin—Ama-me Como Sou in 2002. Below is a still of her from her first credited film role in the 1958 Jerry Lewis comedy The Geisha Boy.
|Vintage Pulp||Jan 21 2013|
Above is a January 1978 cover for Australia’s Adam, a magazine you know well by now if you frequent this site. The art here illustrates Terry P. Duval’s story “The Final Run,” in which a hapless truck driver picks up what he thinks is a damsel in distress, but who soon shows she’s a pure femme fatale. Adam began in 1946, and this is the magazine near the end—it folded, looks like, in May 1978. Inside this issue you get the usual literary, artistic and photographic treats, including five pages of Patti Clifton shots, plus skiing Nazis, and a profile of the notorious but misunderstood Tokyo Rose, who we wrote about last year. Readers also get to visit a Dakhma, aka Tower of Silence, a Zoroastrian structure where dead bodies—considered in the religion to be unclean—are left to be sun baked and picked apart by scavenging birds, thus preventing putrefaction which would pollute the earth. Mmm. Fun! The author visits a tower near Yazd, Iran, and must have gotten there just before the government shut all such structures down permanently. Today, the only towers still used for ritual exposure are in India. So put those on your travel itinerary. And lastly, on the rear page, you get Paul Hogan in another ad for Winfield cigarettes. Forty-seven scans appear below.
|Vintage Pulp||Nov 12 2012|
Above is a poster for the Japanese sexploitation movie Tôkyô neon chitai: Josei jishin de go shidô itashimasu, aka Tokyo Neon Zone: Lesson to You, which is pretty much in the same vein as this movie for which we showed you a poster a few weeks ago. Tôkyô neon chitai starred Rina Nagisa, Mami Sakura and Ami Takashima, and was directed by Shoichi Ikeda. Nagisa made several other pinku/roman porno flicks, all of which seem to be fairly obscure today. That is to say, we haven't been able to track down a copy of any of them. However we do have another Nigisa poster we’ll show you later. Tôkyô neon chitai: Josei jishin de go shidô itashimasu premiered in Japan today in 1977.
|Vintage Pulp||Oct 19 2012|
We love this. It’s a poster for Nikkatsu’s 1971 sexploitation flick Yoru no saizensen: Tôkyô onna chizu, which starred Satoko Sato and her interesting leather outfit, and was released internationally as Secret Zone of Tokyo. But that isn’t a literal translation of the Japanese title. If you glance at the bottom of the poster, the first two figures, if you’re looking left to right, say “Tokyo.” The red shape with the heart in the middle is a nifty mash-up of the two figures that make up the word “women.” And the last two figures say “map” or possibly “atlas.” Of course, in Japan reading is usually done right to left, but whichever direction you go, it says “Tokyo Women Map.” Which is something we really could have used at times in the past.
|Intl. Notebook||Oct 8 2012|
Last week we watched Meiko Kaji’s Kaidan nobori ryu, aka Blind Woman’s Curse, and were too busy being cute with our summary of the film to mention that the blind woman was played by Hiroko (Hoki) Tokuda, who is better known to many people as author Henry Miller’s last wife. When they met she was working as a lounge pianist in L.A. and Miller, who had established himself as one of the most important American writers ever, was living in Pacific Palisades. Tokuda told the New York Times in 2011: “Henry started asking every week to meet me. I realized he just wanted a Japanese woman to add to his collection, and I would always ask myself, ‘Why me?’ Soon after we met, he started telling people he was going to marry me.” And marry her he did in September 1967. She was twenty-nine and Miller, who had been born in 1891, was on the verge of turning seventy-six.
|Intl. Notebook||Mar 7 2012|
Above, two mugshots from today 1946 of Iva Toguri D’Aquino, who was one of many women who broadcast English-language radio from Tokyo during World War II. These broadcasts were aimed at Allied personnel in the Pacific, and the soldiers referred to all the women collectively as Tokyo Rose, despite whatever they actually called themselves on air. D’Aquino called herself Orphan Ann, and her radio stints were limited to twenty-minute segments on Radio Tokyo. It wasn’t much time, but her low, raspy voice made an impression on listeners. What did she say? History.net answers that question by providing an example of a typical D’Aquino intro:
Hello there, Enemies! How's tricks? This is Ann of Radio Tokyo, and we're just going to begin our regular program of music, news and the Zero Hour for our friends—I mean, our enemies!—in Australia and the South Pacific. So be on your guard, and mind the children don't hear! All set? OK. Here's the first blow at your morale—the Boston Pops playing ‘Strike Up the Band!’
When the war ended D’Aquino, who was an American citizen, was taken into custody and shipped back to the U.S., where she was tried and convicted of treason. There was no actual proof that she had done anything traitorous—in fact her humor-tinged broadcasts had often undermined her Japanese employers’ intentions—but she neverthelesslanguished in prison for six years. D’Aquino’s legal troubles only ended in 1977, when U.S. president Gerald R. Ford pardoned her after evidence emerged that witnesses had lied at her trial. Cleared of wrongdoing, and the constant threat of deportation lifted, D’Aquino lived the rest of her days quietly and died in 2006 at age 90.