Amazing Stories was launched in 1926 and was the first publication devoted solely to sci-fi. These issues span January to December 1941. Most of the pieces (those that prominently feature figures) are by the excellent J. Allen St. John. Leo Morey painted February, Stockton Mulford painted July, Robert Fuqua painted September and November, and Rod Ruth painted December. We have a hundred and thirty-three fully scanned issues of this magazine, which is pretty cool, though we’ll probably never have time to read them. But we’ll certainly share more down the line. 

Above is a colorful Japanese poster for the monster epic Mosura tai Gojira, aka Mothra vs. Godzilla. It was originally released in 1964, but we’re guessing from the big “93” at the bottom of the art that this piece was made for a nineties re-release, though we can’t find any info on that. For many Godzilla fans this is their favorite entry in the series. We tend to agree. But is it even appropriate to talk about best when referring to Godzilla movies? No matter what, it’s still just a guy in a rubber suit. Like satire, you either enjoy it or you don’t. It isn’t a matter of intelligence, but of temperament (which in this case can definitely be made more amenable to rubber suit chaos by psychoactive compounds, if you’re inclined). Anyway, maybe give this one a try. 

Update: We recived an email from Dekk, who informs us that this is a poster for a competely separate Godzilla/Mothra movie that was made in the 1990s, which helps clear up our confusion about the 93 on the art. It was actually entitled Gojira vs. Mosura, aka Godzilla and Mothra: The Battle for Earth. Thanks Dekk for straightening us out on that.

Somehow, the fact that this original Star Wars promo photo is filled with pinholes and dings adds to its charm, since it mirrors the condition of Luke Skywalker’s landspeeder. There are some who would say the franchise drowned in cynicism, that it collapsed under the weight of fast food tie-ins, and fuzzy toys, and ill-considered digital revisionism. Those people would be right. Like this photo, and like Skywalker’s landspeeder, the original Star Wars had some scratches and dings, but cinematic believability derives from a well-known viewer psychology aptly described as willing suspension of disbelief. The key word is willing. You can’t bludgeon people into acceptance, no matter how slick the fx are. People willingly believe because the story and characters work. And in Star Wars, the simple story of a boy rising from his dusty roots to battle impossibly powerful galactic foes—and yet win—worked on every level. It still works. That’s why people who loved it as kids still watch it today as adults. Anyway, we’re just going to go ahead and call this photo one of the coolest artifacts we’ve ever found. 

Promo shot of American actors Leslie Nielsen and Anne Francis from the 1956 sci-fi film Forbidden Planet. Nielsen died yesterday at age eighty-four. 

Original poster for Gojira tai Hedorâ, known in the West as Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster. It premiered in Tokyo today in 1971. 

We were excited, to say the least, when we found this Imai model of Thunderbird 3 complete with a miniature Alan Tracy, because we remember first seeing this show in syndication during the nineties and it was one of the coolest, if craziest, ideas in television history. If any concept ever pushed willing suspension of disbelief to its limits, it was this one, and we… Sorry, what’s that? You don’t know what we’re talking about? Surely you jest. Thunderbirds was this great British sci-fi television show conceived by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, and the entire cast was comprised of marionettes that, well… Actually we can’t possibly do it justice with words. Let’s just say if you’ve seen Team America: World Police, you’ve seen Thunderbirds. But if that still doesn’t get the concept across, you can check out the opening credit sequence in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and GO! 

We recently stumbled upon across a full-sized version of a promo still of Tawny Kitaen we posted last year from her fantastically cheesy 1984 adventure The Perils of Gwendoline in the Land of the Yik Yak. These new images come from a website that seems to be missing in action now, so we can’t link to it, but thanks guys, wherever you are. For those who haven’t seen this movie, we aren’t going to sully our reputations by describing it as good. But it does have a certain, how shall we say, je ne sais quoi, an intangible wonderfulness that derives mainly from watching Tawny Kitaen transform from buttoned-up schoolmarm to mostly-naked warrior vixen. Also, it helps to be young, desperately horny virgins when you watch it. Actually, maybe that’s the only reason we liked it. In any case, this Raiders-style thriller about a woman chasing a mythical butterfly in the exotic wilds of China, ably directed by Emmanuelle auteur Just Jaeckin, is erotica at its most highbrow. Gwendoline is now considered a cult classic. Virgins and non-virgins alike should give it a whirl. 

Promo photo of William Shatner on the set of the seminal television series Star Trek, 1967. 

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow seems to have been a career killer for director and writer Kerry Conran, but we just watched it last night and there’s little doubt other directors who have committed far worse transgressions are still working in Hollywood. And truth is, this isn’t a bad movie. Except for the actors, it’s almost entirely digital, but unlike many other CG productions there is some actual warmth here, thanks to stars Gwyneth Paltrow and Jude Law. The film is a take on the old sci-fi serials like Commando Cody, and old comics like Captain Midnight. It takes place in an alternative 1939 populated by zeppelins, fighter planes, and glowing, vacuum-tubed gadgets. Plotwise, you have giant marauding robots of unknown origin raiding New York City to kidnap scientists and steal items of value. Jude Law, as Sky Captain, is called upon to find out why it’s happening. His adventures with Paltrow—as ace reporter Polly Perkins—take him from Manhattan to Nepal in search of the person they believe to be orchestrating the attacks—the mysterious Dr. Totenkopf (played by Sir Laurence Olivier in archival footage). Sky Captain isn’t perfect, but it’s quite likeable once you accept the preposterous physics of its action sequences. We’d actually have preferred less action and more exploration of its nifty art deco universe, but we’re old school—we’re the types who like movies with 98 minutes of dialogue followed by two gunshots and a credit sequence. But we recommend checking this one out anyway. You could do much worse with your time. Above you see the nice French promo poster. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow premiered in France at the Gérardmer Fantasticarts Film Festival as Capitaine Sky et le monde de demain today in 2005. 

Could this be the greatest poster ever? Were drugs involved? This little beauty was made for the Christmas 1956 West German premier of This Island Earth, and it gives the film’s famous Metaluna Mutant—one of moviedom’s greatest monsters—the starring role it amply deserves. The “science” part of this sci-fi epic involved iterociters, voltarators, astroscopes, and lots of other made-up devices. The fiction part involved the usual Earthly takeover plot, headquartered on an alien planet where the weather outside was truly frightful. But in our humble opinion the movie is all about the monster. True, the creature had its flaws. It moved kind of slowly. It had claws like a lobster where hands would have been so much more useful. Oh, and it didn’t have a skull. Which is all well and good, as long as you’re adept at ducking, which, alas, it wasn’t. But flawed or not, this monster, and this film, are what mid-century sci-fi was all about. Glory, glory Metaluna!