This January 1954 issue of Whisper tells readers about a stripper named Lola Dewitt Stewart who bit a cop, covers a gala Harlem dance, and exposes the voodoo rites of Haitian virgin priestesses. The issue also contains a profile of Christine Jorgensen, the most famous transsexual of her day. Jorgensen—whose name is misspelled "Jorgenson" by Whisper editors—had been born George Jorgensen and had lived unhappily as a male for twenty-five years. After a stint in the Army, he learned about the possibility of becoming more feminine, started by taking hormones, and later travelled to Copenhagen, Denmark to have his male sex organs removed. At the time, Denmark used castration on sexual criminals, which is why the procedure was legal there.

Jorgensen, now female in appearance, returned to the U.S. and New York’s Daily News broke her story with one of the most famous headlines in tabloid history: Ex-G.I. Becomes Blonde Beauty. Jorgensen parlayed the recognition into a show business career, establishing a blueprint for later transgenders like Coccinelle. Jorgensen finished the last of her reassignment surgeries in the mid-1950s and, now sexually female, continued in show business for many years. She danced in Las Vegas, appeared on The Dick Cavett Show, was voted “Miss Neutral Zone” by American soldiers serving in Korea, and had high-profile romances. Later in her life she reflected that she was proud to have been part of the sexual revolution. “We may not have started it,” she said of herself and other transgenders, “but we gave it a good swift kick in the pants.”

We just finished watching L’ultimo giorno di lavoro di una prositituta, and it’s pretty much exactly what the title says—the last day in the job of a prostitute. Lovely Dagmar, played by Diana Kjær, is a hooker in Copenhagen and has decided to quit the rackets and escape to Stockholm. We follow her during her last day as she sees various clients, co-workers, friends and relatives, and also gets slapped around by her pimp. This movie is really bad—it’s poorly acted, poorly produced, and poorly written. In parts, it’s unintentionally funny, but the deliberate attempts at comedy fall flat. Stereotypes abound: you get a couple of Japanese guys with bowl cuts who say “Ah so,” and know karate, a Russian diplomat who’s always drunk on vodka, a mustachioed Italian guy who air-conducts classical music, and a hippie who’s trying to be a rock star and needs money to get his girlfriend an abortion. While we didn’t enjoy the movie, it’s worth noting that the radiant Anne Grete Nissen appears in a minor role, and we absolutely love the rare Italian poster you see above. L’ultimo giorno di lavoro di una prositituta, aka Dagmars Heta Trosor, aka Dagmar’s Hot Pants, Inc., premiered in Italy today in 1971.

We have no idea what’s going on in this 1950 issue of the West German magazine Das Ronke because German is not one of our languages. What are major stars doing paired with various automobile brands? Nein idea. Are they ads? Possibly. We’ve seen American stars used in foreign ads before. But ads imply legitimacy, so why are there naked women in the magazine? We ask because you would think, especially in 1950, no Hollywood actress would wish to be associated with a smut publication, especially one that has broken the magical pubic hair rule that at the time defined obscenity. It’s all destined to remain a mystery to us until we find ourselves a German somewhere. We’ll try the nearest pub and get back to you on this later. 

In the old noirs criminal gangs are sometimes the Mafia, sometimes the Mob, and still other times the Syndicate. In this one the gang is the Combination, hence the title The Big Combo. While the film isn’t a big budget noir, it makes up in inventiveness what it lacks for dollars. Example: one thug who wears a hearing aid is about to be rubbed out. He begs for his life, and one of his executioners says, “I’ll do you a favor—you won’t hear the bullets.” He then snatches out the thug’s hearing aid and we see a silent close-up of muzzle flashes. The film is filled with visual treats like that, and as a bonus it has first-rate acting, with the lead Cornel Wilde even pulling off a crying scene. For real. He turns on the waterworks with no help from the make-up department and it’s an exceedingly rare feat for male actors during the 1950s.

Another characteristic of The Big Combo is its sexual undercurrents. One character is a stripper and during a backstage scene we get a surprising flash of her bikini-clad bottom. Meanwhile, Lee Van Cleef and Earl Holliman play two hired thugs who we’re supposed to suspect are gay. We’ve seen the great documentary The Celluloid Closet about the many gay characters hidden in old films, so we’re familiar with the hints screenwriters like to drop. In this case the relationship between Van Cleef and Holliman is clearer than usual, which makes us wonder if it was an accident or a deliberate attempt to push the envelope when Holliman utters the line, “I’m sick of swallowing sausage.” Shortly thereafter the two are dispatched via hand grenade, so unfortunately we don’t get to know any more about these two great characters.

The Asphalt Jungle is half a century old, but remains one of the best procedural heist films ever made. The men who commit the robbery at the center of this movie come from all walks of life—some are perennial losers, others are opportunists, and others are just having a hard time and need a way out. All of them long for better lives. All of them desperately need the money to get there. These footmen, facilitators, and financial backers plan every aspect of a lucrative heist, but the caper begins falling apart almost immediately, due to back luck, mistrust, and greed.

Sterling Hayden, who we’ve mentioned before, is incendiary in the lead, exuding extreme menace but with a hint of recognizable humanity behind the eyes. One of his best moments comes in a brief but exquisitely choreographed shooting involving a thrown valise.

All of this takes place under the sure hand of director John Huston, working from a 1949 book by William Riley Burnett. Burnett was a bit of a legend himself. He was a prolific crime novelist who wrote the source material for Little Caesar, Scarface, and High Sierra, and whose screenplays include This Gun for Hire, I Died a Thousand Times, and Nobody Lives Forever.

Put Burnett, Huston and Hayden together (not to mention James Whitmore, Jean Hagen, Sam Jaffe, and a young Marilyn Monroe in a small role as a rich man's plaything) and you get exactly what you’d expect—a genre classic that transcends its boundaries and becomes instead a piece of high art.

The film was a major hit that wowed audiences worldwide. At top you see the Italian promo art, and below that we have both the hardback and paperback cover art. The Asphalt Jungle opened as Giungla di asfalto in Italy today in 1951.

It’s come to our attention that, in advance of the big Copenhagen summit on CO2, city officials placed tens of thousands of flyers in hotels, bars, and other establishments urging visitors to avoid a different type of emissions altogether—namely the sticky kind associated with patronizing the city’s many sex workers. We can just picture the bureaucrats patting each other on the backs after coming up with this idea. But the prostitutes are cunningly offering discounted rates to any customer who presents a flyer to them. Not only does this make the suits look like amateurs for being so easily outmaneuvered—in effect, it turns the flyers into coupons. We aren’t scientists, but that sounds like true sustainability at work. Now the question is: Can we somehow put the sex workers in charge of the summit? They’d put together an emissions deal that leaves everyone satisfied.     

We shared the American art for Agente 077: Missione Bloody Mary in our post on James Bond imitators. The original Italian version of the film premiered today in 1965, and for an idea how it stacks up to a Bond picture, just consider the secret agent’s name: Dick Malloy. See? No zing. No pizzazz. In our overactive imaginations we kept hearing people he introduced himself to respond, “I’m sorry, you want to me dick your what?” But that didn’t happen in the movie. Not even once. This one may leave you shaken, but it definitely won’t leave you stirred.

In a twist right out of a Mario Puzo novel, a Guatemalan lawyer killed in a shooting Sunday reappeared on a posthumous videotape yesterday claiming the person who ordered his killing is Guatemala’s president, Alvaro Colóm. On the video, Rodrigo Rosenberg claims he ran afoul of important government officials after representing businessman Khalil Musa, who was slain in March along with his daughter. Rosenberg says Musa was killed for refusing to help launder drug money at Guatemala's Rural Development Bank, which is mostly government owned.

President Colóm dismissed the accusation, saying, “First of all, I am not a murderer. Second, I am not a drug trafficker, and everything he says there is totally senseless.” Colóm has reportedly asked the UN and FBI to investigate Rosenberg’s killing, but the country has been thrown into a state of unrest, with many calling for the president to step aside until the issue is resolved.

It’s just the latest blow for Guatemala, which has suffered a CIA-backed coup, numerous corrupt governments, and the recent rise of powerful drug cartels. As yet President Colóm has shown no intention to step aside, but Rosenberg’s accusations—factual or not—are extraordinarily damaging. Speaking of himself in the past tense, Rosenberg says: “I was a 47 year old Guatemalan, with four beautiful children, with the best brother one could ask of life, with wonderful friends, and with an overwhelming desire to live in my country.”

Spies with numerical identities proliferated like mad during the ’60s, as studios tried and failed to compete with Sean Connery’s ultracool 007. But even if most of the resulting films were bad, some of the promo art was striking. Here are fifteen great posters featuring various numbered and lettered pretenders to Bond's throne.