Swedish goddess Christina Lindberg explodes onto the international cinema scene.
The movie Rötmånad premiered in Sweden today in 1970, and since a good scan of its promotional poster is almost impossible to find, here you go—a nice clean version featuring star Christina Lindberg walking across a dock in all her glory. We can't imagine where this poster was displayed, unless it was in adult cinemas. Or maybe we're just prudes. Maybe it actually hung in the lobbies of every Swedish movie house and people from Sundsvall to Malmö got a nice look at Lindberg's little fur coat while going into showings of Darling Lili and The Aristocats.
Rötmånad's Swedish title would translate as “dog days,” but when it arrived in English speaking countries it was called What Are You Doing After the Orgy? And funny thing, the film features no orgies, although sex is central to the story. What happens is a man and his seventeen-year-old daughter Anna-Bella's tranquil lives in a lakeside house are turned upside down when mom comes back home after five years away. Surprised at how beautiful her daughter has become, she concocts a scheme to open a brothel in the family boathouse and make Anna-Bella the star attraction. She's for sure not going to win mother of the year for this move, but in her favor, at least she plans to do some of the hard (sex) work herself.
When Anna-Bella meets a nice boy his presence threatens to ruin mom's plan to turn her daughter into a tourist attraction. The situation looks like it will necessitate a drastic solution, but what exactly can you hope to get away with on an idyllic Swedish lakeshore? Rötmånad is billed as a comedy, but if so it's a dark one. No surprise there, since Nordic humor is generally thought of as challenging for other cultures. But whether comic, tragic-comic, or just plain tragic, in the end Rötmånad is still little more than a vehicle for Lindberg to introduce her ample gifts to the world. She does exactly that—explosively. Watch the film and you'll see what we mean. She was nineteen—not seventeen—when the movie was made, she was gorgeous, and after this debut her stardom was assured.
Junko Mabuki starts a chain reaction.
Junko Mabuki is an important actress of second generation Japanese S&M movies, and that's her above on a poster for Dan Oniroku onna biyoshi nawa shiku, aka Female Beautician Rope Discipline. What you see is what you get here. Junko meets a photographer who shoots bondage and discipline. At first she's repulsed, but, this being a roman porno flick, the thought of it grows in her mind. Meanwhile we meet Izumi Shima, one of the photog's bondage subjects. Junko soon crosses paths with Izumi and is attracted to her—and who wouldn't be?—but it's just the beginning of a descent into degradation, jealousy, and serious male-driven pee-version.
We're still trying wrap our heads around the various forms of Japanese cinema. Toei's pinky violence films usually had cool ’70s street action and ass kicking gang girls, whereas Nikkatsu's roman porno had submissive women and sexual subjugation. They're all generally considered to be pink films, along with output from OP Eiga and other studios, but to us they're night and day. Pinky violence and roman porno represent two big studios in competition with each other, but more and more the patriarchy smashing ethos of the former feels like a rebuttal to the latter. In this one, though, the sadistic photographer gets his—spoiler alert!—head deservedly bashed in. Dan Oniroku onna biyoshi nawa shiku premiered in Japan today in 1981.
Brando and Niven break hearts and bank accounts on the French Riviera.
Les séducteurs had its French premiere today in 1964, with the above promo art by Russian born illustrator Boris Grinsson paving the way for a U.S. production featuring Marlon Brando, Shirley Jones, and David Niven. Séducteurs translates to “deceivers,” but the original title was Bedtime Story. What you have is a couple of con men who fleece women out of jewels, cash, and more. When they cross paths on the French Riviera their egos bring about a clash of wills and a high stakes wager to see which of them can scam ripe target Shirley Jones out of $25,000. Later the bet shifts to which of them can scam her out of her clothes. File the movie with set-in-France caper comedies like To Catch a Thief, Charade, and Beg, Borrow or Steal. For that matter file it with 1988's Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, which is actually a quasi-remake of this flick. For most watchers Bedtime Story won't be up to the standards of those other films—even the one based upon it—but we thought it was pretty damned good.
Nobody wants to be around when the bill comes due.
We've seen a few posters for the Japanese horror classic Jigoku, but never this one. The title is a Japanese word meaning “hell,” and that idea comes across pretty strongly on this bizarre promo. If you haven't seen the movie, it's about a group of people, all who have committed sins of some sort or another, that find themselves in hell. What's that like? Well, there are lakes of pus, pools of boiling water, fields of spikes, etc., as well as numerous baroque tortures, including people buried alive head first up to their ankles, chopped up, torn apart, de-toothed by various brutal means, and worse. In short, the filmmakers showed everything they had the efx capabilities to depict. It must have scared the bejesus out of people, but the movie was so successful it was remade three times. Real film buffs will want to check out the original, which premiered in Japan today in 1960.
Laura Gemser bites off more than she can chew in z-grade zombie epic.
Finally! We've learned that the Italian poster artist who signed his work Aller was a man named Carlo Alessandrini, and we owe that information to a new book by Roberto Curti called Italian Gothic Horror Films 1970-1979. Above you see Alessandrini's work for the Laura Gemser sexploitation flick Le notti erotiche dei morti viventi, aka Sexy Nights of the Living Dead. Gemser started in erotica in 1974, and as the years wore on she basically traded on her name and did less and less actual performing, appearing in several films in little more than cameo roles. In this one she secures top billing for not showing up until the thirty-three minute mark, and not uttering a line of dialogue until probably forty minutes in.
Plotwise, a sailor takes a greedy gringo developer and his prostie companion to a deserted island where the American wants to build the finest resort in the Caribbean. The place is called Cat Island and whenever anyone mentions it to the locals who live on nearby islands they run out of the room. To normal people this would be a strong non-endorsement concerning travel to Cat Island, but such blatant hints are lost on lunkheads in horror movies. So a-boating they go. When the developer announces his plan to pave over the old island cemetery to build a heliport you just know he's sticking his dick somewhere he's likely to lose it—Gemser's mouth (see below). Her army of zombies are equally opposed to gentrification, and lodge their protests by chasing the living all over the place. But all is not lost. As the hero explains at one point: “The advantage we have is that they move at a snail's pace.”
So does the movie. One plus is that it was made primarily on beautiful beaches in the Dominican Republic, and several scenes were shot in Santo Domingo, which is interesting to see pre-tourist era. Another plus is that there's wall to wall sex featuring such beauties as Dirce Funari, who's the real star of the movie, and Lucia Ramirez. The unrated version goes all the way, and even treats viewers to a Tijuana donkey show-worthy routine involving a stripper and a Champagne bottle. None of the X action includes Gemser, who was strictly softcore her entire career, though her nudity is more explicit than usual here. Basically, it's all just as dumb as it sounds, but we'll admit it's accidentally funny in parts, which helps. Le notti erotiche dei morti viventi premiered in Italy today in 1980.
The real counterfeit is the film.
Southside 1-1000, which premiered today in 1950, is a crime drama in documentary style about the U.S. Secret Service chasing counterfeiters. It opens with narrated propaganda about the free world (the U.S.) fighting the enslaved world (commies), complete with Korea combat footage. The narration then morphs into a paean to the U.S. dollar before finally setting the stage for a story about a wave of funny money originating from a California prison. Any plot nuance is overshadowed by b-level acting, along with the voiceover and its message—that the Secret Service is holy and the dollar is noble. One character even corrects his minister, who had said in his sermon that money is the root of all evil. “But that isn't what Paul said in his epistle to Timothy,” this sad sack intones. “He said love of money is the root of all evil.” Is there really a distinction there? Semantically, yes. Realistically, no.
But at least the movie is honest about its intentions—to indoctrinate, with entertainment a distant secondary consideration. As with all older films, reviews on Southside 1-1000 are generally positive. But that's due to what we call the flickering celluloid effect—any old film will seduce certain viewers by virtue of the inherent romance of its setting. All those old cars. Those elegant dresses. And the hats! One thing we try to do here at Pulp Intl. is be nostalgic (for an era we never lived through, but whatever) while avoiding being blinded by it. Yes, popular movies were, in our opinion, generally better back then, but the percentage of debacles was, objectively, still fairly high. Southside 1-1000 has a single redeeming sequence—a fight involving an overpass, a speeding train, and a villain the audience isn't sure is a villain until late in the film. Otherwise, it's a turkey, but with promo art worth sharing anyway.
Ever watch a movie that really makes your skin crawl?
The above poster was made to promote the Italian release of the sci-fi movie L'allucinante fine dell'umanità, which was originally made in Japan and called 昆虫大戦争, or Konchû daisensô. The chaotic Japanese poster appears just below. It's a mutant bug movie obviously, an angry bug movie, a swarming bug movie, a planes-crashing-because-of-bugs-ganging-up-on-jet-engines movie. Basically, these insects get into everything, including your sinus cavities. If you know the film at all, it's probably as War of the Insects or possibly Genocide, which were its two English titles. It is, amazingly, part of the Criterion DVD Collection, which consists of “important classic and contemporary films,” but we can't call it anything better than adequate.
It's interesting on one level, though. Japanese creations such as Godzilla are often called a reaction to being the victims of two nuclear bombs. If so, then Konchû daisensô fits that category too, as the rogue insects that turn on humans can only be defeated with a lost but undetonated American atomic bomb. Germany is worked into the plot as well, so with three major World War II powers involved there may be war psychology at work. Entomopohobia is at work too, so if you hate or fear insects, definitely give this one a pass. Konchû daisensô premiered in Japan today in 1968, and began its run in Italy as L'allucinante fine dell'umanità at some unknown date afterward.
The Price is wrong in these bikini themed clunkers.
Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine and Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs, for which you see the U.S. promo posters above, are inexpressibly bad spy movie spoofs, but since they were such strong influences on the iconic Austin Power series we decided to feature them anyway. They're supposed to be absurd, of course, but does anything hurt the soul more than comedy that isn't funny? Reviews on these aren't uniformly horrible, but we think many critics give them credit for merely trying to generate laughs.
The plots are as follows: in the first movie Vincent Price as the evil Dr. Goldfoot sends an army of bikini-clad robots to charm rich men out of their assets, with the ultimate of using the capital to take over the world; in the second film Price uses a cadre of girl robot bombs—what we'd today call suicide bombers—to blow up NATO bigwigs, with the ultimate plan, again, of taking over the world. It's actually amazing that the first film spawned a sequel, but the follow-up effort was so bad it killed any potential franchise stone dead.
Are these films funny if you're expecting comedy? No. Are they funny if you're expecting idiocy? Somewhat. Are they funny if you're chemically altered to the gills? Undoubtedly. Choose your state of mind and proceed to camp Goldfoot accordingly. And like all camp trips, group participation helps. Invite your cleverest friends and you just might—might—have the time of your life. Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine premiered in the U.S. today in 1965, and Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs premiered one year and three days later, on 9 November 1966.
When your number is up it's up.
Dial 1119 is a simple film noir with a similar set-up as 1948's Key Largo—i.e. a criminal holds a barful of people hostage. This particular bar, called the Oasis, is in the fictional metropolis Terminal City. While the movie is simple it isn't one-note. We meet each of the characters earlier in the day, before they've gone to the Oasis to be terrorized, and they're an interesting mix—a newspaperman, a barfly, a cheating wife, an expectant father, and more. The man who holds them is a full-blown psychopath, a conscienceless killer, and the main plot question is whether he'll make Terminal City literal for the entire group by simply exterminating them all. Sure looks like it most of the time. This is a tidy flick, satisfying like a snack rather than a meal, well worth consuming. As a side note, you may find it interesting that the Oasis has the world's first wall mounted flatscreen television. It isn't real—the filmmakers bring it to life with projection fx. But we love that they even thought of it. Dial 1119 premiered in the U.S. today in 1950.
Worse comes to worst in a dusty western town.
We told you the film was on the slate. When we noticed its premier date was right around the corner we watched it immediately after finishing Hell Hath No Fury. First order of business—the poster and tagline are terrible. It shows how easy it can be for a studio to screw up both. The text tells you The Hot Spot is a film noir, but the triptych style art provides no compelling imagery. Worse, you don't see Don Johnson clearly, though as a huge television star thanks to Miami Vice he was the movie's greatest asset. And you don't see Jennifer Connelly at all, who even back then was one of Hollywood's most beautiful women. Posters are seen before they're read, and the visuals here give no reason to examine further. We grade it a major fail.
But what of the film? Well, it got generally good reviews, but the public never turned up to see it. Johnson is nicely cast as the drifter/grifter Harry Madox, so he isn't to blame. Jennifer Connelly and Virginia Madsen were less known, but as supporting characters they more than did their part. Other modern noirs had performed well in cinemas, so it's not the style of The Hot Spot that hurt it. The direction from Dennis Hopper sticks reasonably close to the novel, and he gets the overheated small town atmosphere right, so we'll give him a pass too. Most likely the studio simply didn't make an effective push behind the movie—a theory backed up by the bad poster.
But The Hot Spot holds up well these years later. Some might find Madsen's honeydripping femme fatale improbable, but she's channelling both the source material and classic noirs. Other viewers probably doubted a nineteen-year-old Connelly could develop feelings for a Johnson on the far side of forty, but it happens. People who doubt that just haven't spent enough time in the real world. In the film the age difference does not go unaddressed. Johnson's feelings for his inappropriate crush prompt him to act against his best interests. Whether he pays a price hangs less on his cunning than on chance. Or perhaps it hangs on someone else's cunning—that's where the best femmes fatales always come in. The Hot Spot premiered in the U.S. today in 1990.
The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
1950—The Great Brinks Robbery Occurs
In the U.S., eleven thieves steal more than $2 million from an armored car company's offices in Boston, Massachusetts. The skillful execution of the crime, with only a bare minimum of clues left at the scene, results in the robbery being billed as "the crime of the century." Despite this, all the members of the gang are later arrested.
1977—Gary Gilmore Is Executed
Convicted murderer Gary Gilmore is executed by a firing squad in Utah, ending a ten-year moratorium on Capital punishment in the United States. Gilmore's story is later turned into a 1979 novel entitled The Executioner's Song by Norman Mailer, and the book wins the Pulitzer Prize for literature.
1942—Carole Lombard Dies in Plane Crash
American actress Carole Lombard
, who was the highest paid star in Hollywood during the late 1930s, dies in the crash of TWA Flight 3, on which she was flying from Las Vegas to Los Angeles after headlining a war bond rally in support of America's military efforts. She was thirty-three years old.
1919—Luxemburg and Liebknecht Are Killed
Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht, two of the most prominent socialists in Germany, are tortured and murdered by the Freikorps. Freikorps was a term applied to various paramilitary organizations that sprang up around Germany as soldiers returned in defeat from World War I. Members of these groups would later become prominent members of the SS.
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