One good swing deserves another, and since we screened Tarzana, sesso selvaggio, we thought we'd check out another Italian female Tarzan movie, 1968's Luana la figlia della foresta vergine. Basically, a man who disappeared into the African jungle many years ago is sought by the daughter he left back in civilization. The father had taken a second wife who bore him a second daughter. Unbeknownst to the first daughter, her father and his new wife died, and the second daughter grew up in the jungle alone, befriended by birds, primates, and an assortment of big cats. So the first daughter leads a jungle expedition and ends up stumbling upon a half sister that spends her time swinging on vines from water hole to water hole.

Describing the premise of this movie was probably more trouble than it was worth. All we really needed to say is that it's a film that features hot French actress actress Evi Mirandi and hot Vietnamese actress Mey Chen, aka Mei Chen Chalais, who has no lines at all but looks great running around in a loincloth. She also knows the jungle well enough to avoid the carnivorous flowers, something that—crucially—can't be said of others. The rest is unimportant. The poster art above is interesting, we think. It's signed, illegibly, and nobody has yet determined who the artist was. Someone in Italy needs to work that out. We'll just wait here trying to decide whether Luana la figlia della foresta vergine was actually any good. It premiered today in 1968.

Shuna and the Lost Tribe and Shuna White Queen of the Jungle were written by British author John King, aka Ernest L. McKeag, and reached bookstores via Harborough Publishing in 1951. Shuna is exactly what she seems to be—the archetypal Western literary fantasy of a naturalistic and uncorrupted white woman maintaining semi-sexual thralldom over black hordes who look on with wonder but never, ever get to touch. She's also a virtual copy, right down to the form-fitting leopardskin tunic, of the character Sheena, who appeared in the 1930s, and was part of a wave of lost world literature, comics, and movies that came after the runaway success of Edgar Rice Burroughs' 1912 novel Tarzan of the Apes. We're a little surprised King was able to basically steal Sheena's name. He seems to have gotten away with it, though—we found no mention in the historical record of legal trouble. Maybe it's like the whole Britney Spears vs. Britney Rears thing. The name is close, but juuust different enough to avoid a lawsuit. Anyway, the cover art is really the thing to focus on here. We love these. They're two of the most striking efforts we've seen from the incomparable Reginald Heade, and a reminder we need to feature him more. 

If you've never seen one, this is what an AP wire photo looked like back in 1966. The text at the bottom gives newspaper editors the identity of the subject and some basic facts. No identity needed here—this is Ursula Andress, and the photo is the one widely used when newspapers reported that her husband John Derek was filing for divorce in Tijuana, Mexico. This made us smile because the basic idea here was to show that Derek was out of his mind. Perhaps, however he had already established a pattern of moving on to younger, equally beautiful women. He was first married to Pati Behrs, but divorced her when he met nineteen-year-old Andress. She was thirty when they divorced and he moved on to twenty-three-year-old Linda Evans. And Evans was thirty-two when Derek tossed her over for sixteen-year-old Mary Collins, who you know better as Bo Derek. Andress, Evans, and Collins could have been sisters, and in fact they looked quite a bit like John Derek too (see below). But in Bo he had found not just another doppleganger, but an ingénue willing to star in the poorly made sexually oriented films he liked to direct. These included Fantasies (when Bo was sixteen), the almost competent Bolero, Ghosts Can't Do It, and Tarzan, the Ape Man. Bo and John John Derek stayed together until John died, a span of twenty-two years, so it seems wife number four cured him of his habit of trading for younger models. Just an interesting Hollywood factoid to enliven your Monday.

Cover of the French tele-novel Jungle Film, with Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan demonstrating to an acquaintance how his new anti-perspirant keeps him dry and odor-free even in the fierce jungle heat.

When we came across this promo shot of a very brown Gordon Scott we had to post it because we remembered him fondly from an especially amusing episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000. Here you see Scott as Tarzan, which was a role he took after Lex Barker moved on to greener pastures. Scott was the twelfth actor to inhabit film’s most famous loincloth, by which time it probably needed a good scrubbing. After six of the jungle adventures, he went on—still impressively bronzed, though wearing slightly more costuming—to headline numerous Italian sword & sandal epics. He also starred in the groovy spy movie Danger!! Death Ray, aka Il raggio infernale, which is the film MST3K skewered. Got ninety spare minutes? Check it out here. Scott was a true b-movie heavyweight.

This is one of the most beautiful posters we’ve ever seen. Based on the fiction of Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan the Ape Man was the first offering in a film and television franchise that has been sixty-plus years running. It has taken forms as diverse as Bo Derek’s teasingly awful 1981 softcore remake, Jock Mahoney’s 1962 potboiler Tarzan Goes to India, and Casper Van Diem’s 1998 career-killer Tarzan and the Lost City. None of these would have been possible without the original Tarzan, and that film worked for one reason—Romanian-born hunk Johnny Weissmuller. He was not an actor trying to fit the role of a superman, but a superman trying to fit the role of an actor. He was a six foot three inch Olympic swimmer who won 67 world and 52 national titles, and whose physicality radiated from the movie screen. Men wanted to be him, and women wanted to ride his vine. Tarzan the Ape Man premiered in the U.S. today in 1934.