Public transportation gets Dors efficiently to her destination.
The 16th annual Venice Film Festival ended today in 1955, and one of its highlights occurred when British star Diana Dors was paddled out into the Canalazzo, or Grand Canal, in one of the city’s gondolas. Dors didn’t have a film in competition, which was probably all the more reason to try and steal the show. To that end she wore a fur bikini and posed for eager photographers. The swimsuit was a bit diapery in terms of fit, but Dors, as you see, still looked fine. Next stop: free publicity.
She's a lady in the front, and a plumber in the rear.
The Italian publisher Grandi Edizioni Internazionali was a great source of paperback art during its existence, employing talents like Benedetto Caroselli, Mario de Bernardinis, and Enzo Nistri for its covers. This one for Van Reynolds’ 1974 novel Un marito per Marta Roses is probably by Caroselli, but it’s actually unattributed. The translator is Luca Martinego, and as we discussed before, since most of the credited authors on Italian crime paperbacks were pseudonyms, that means the translators were usually the authors writing in Italian. Overseas publishers were convinced that their crime novels needed American-sounding authors to entice buyers, so translator credits were a sneaky way to make sure the real writers were credited. Strange but true. We’ll have more from Grandi Edizioni Internazionali, as always. And as a final note, we’re sure we don’t need to point out that American model/actress Vikki Dougan actually wore dresses like this in public, but in case we do, check here.
Computer scientists go back to drawing board after first self-aware robot is arrested for sexual harassment.
This rare promo poster is signed by Italian illustrator Giuliano Nistri, who we think only produced the background, considering it’s obviously a production image. The movie is Saturn 3, a sort of forgotten British sci-fi adventure from the early 1980s. How to describe it. A little bit Star Wars, a little bit Alien, and a little bit 2001: A Space Odyssey is probably how it was pitched to the studios. The actual result was a little more like b-movies such as Star Crash and BattleBeyond the Stars. But it starred Kirk Douglas, helped launch Harvey Keitel, and had Farrah Fawcett, seen here being brutally suspended by the movie’s deranged AI robot.
The immediate post-Star Wars period was a time when even well known performers had to look twice at cheeseball sci-fi scripts. No actor wanted to miss out on the next cultural phenomenon. That’s the only way to explain Douglas’s involvement. Sadly for him, Saturn 3 came up about 887 million miles short of achieving any lasting impact. Other than a convincingly scary robot, Douglas’s naked ass, and Fawcett wearing a series of negligees and other scanty items, it didn’t offer much of note. At least back then. But these days, the AI that copies its programmer’s worst traits seems plenty relevant. After its U.S. premiere in February 1980, Saturn 3 made a controlled burn into Italy today the same year.
The breezy Robert McGinnis (so say several online sources) cover art of a femme fatale sexily shedding a commander’s jacket belies the fact that Peter Baker’s 1967 novel Cruise is a deadly serious ensemble drama featuring seriously flawed characters that wear on the nerves from the moment they board. It’s only a rule of thumb that you must create a likeable character or two for your novel, but only the best writers can ignore it and succeed. Lolita, Gone Girl, and American Psycho might be examples. Baker is no Nabokov or Ellis, and when writers of lesser ability break rules of thumb they can break entire books. You won’t quite want the 33,500 ton cruise ship Queen Dee to sink, but you’ll wish a few people tumbled overboard.
Baker is actually a better writer than many. And his characters aren’t accidentally intolerable—there was a plan: Highsmithesque portraiture of upper class discontent and relational disfunction. His most palatable creations are Pamela Westcott and her son Richard, thirty-eight and eighteen respectively, widow and naïf, both seeking something they can’t quite define among more resolute and worldly passengers, on a Mediterranean pleasure voyage from Southampton to Beirut and back. Pamela hooks up with Chief Officer David Welch (who’s so terrible that for pleasure he brutally beats a hippie stowaway), while Richard has, first, a gay flirtation with an American theater student, then a crush on a French beauty named Simone, then a fling with a rich older lady.
Most of the action is aboard ship, but some of it happens in the ports of call—Southampton, Villefranche-sur-Mer, Athens, Izmir, Beirut, Rhodes, Naples—in that order. That would have been a scintillating real-life cruise at the time, but as a piece of fiction, the selfish, mean, and entitled passengers give the book the feel of a seagoing season of The White Lotus sans humor. Yet after a slow and taxing start, a funny thing happens on the way across the Med—the story starts to click, but only in pieces. By the end we were invested in learning how it all would turn out because the characters of Pamela, Richard, and his crush John grew on us.
We’d wager that Cruise is probably too ponderous for most readers. About one third of its omniscient interior musings could have been jettisoned. Patience is often rewarded in fiction. But time is precious. For those not impressed by its story the book may still have value—and that would be as travelogue. It’s enjoyably detailed on that score. If you’ve visited any of Queen Dee‘s stops you’ll be fascinated by Baker’s depiction of them from a lifetime ago. Maybe that isn’t the strongest endorsement for a novel, but it’s something. Baker is a good writer without an innate sense of conciseness, nor an editor cruel enough to do the job for him. But we’re glad to have gone on the trip.
Above: an alternate poster for the Italian lost world adventure Le Amazzoni – Donne d’amore e di guerra, known in English as Battle of the Amazons. The warrior on this and the previous poster reminds us of Raquel Welch, but she wasn’t in the movie. Instead it featured Lucretia Love, Paolo Tedesco, and Solvi Stubing, which is nothing to complain about. What is worth complaint is that we can’t find out who painted the poster. But we’ll keep digging. Meanwhile you can check out the first poster here, and a fun Japanese poster here. Le Amazzoni – Donne d’amore e di guerra premiered in Italy today in 1973.
This beautiful poster was made for the Japanese run of the Italian movie O.K. Nerone, known in Japan as O.K. ネロ, and in English as O.K. Nero. Plotwise, two madcap Yanks sort of project themselves back to the time of the Roman emperor Nero. Incidentally, historians say he probably didn’t fiddle while Rome burned. The movie sounds interesting, and with Silvana Pampanini and burlesque dancer Jackie Frost in the cast it was tempting, but it’s listed as a comedy, and vintage Italian comedies are usually excruciating, so we didn’t watch it. But we love the art and decided to share it. It’s uncredited, and unseen online before today. O.K. Nerone premiered in Italy in 1951 and in Japan today in 1954.
Above is another piece from Italian artist Benedetto Caroselli, who we’ll never run out of work from. He must have painted hundreds of covers. This one is for Lionel Cayle’s …E tuttu morirono!, which translates as “and they all died,” published by Grandi Edizioni Internazionali for its collection I Gialli dell’Ossessione. We’ve shown you other examples from the series. This one utilizes a circle motif that was common for the company, and was used on both this line and its later collection I Super Gialli dell’Ossessione, with the colors of the circles varying. While Caroselli was GEI’s go-to artist, other illustrators were tapped from time to time. But these and those below are all by Caroselli.
I want this to be good, you two. So take one more look over here to remind yourselves what you're fighting about.
Last time we read a novel by the globetrotting Ed Lacy, we said afterward we’d travel anywhere with him. In 1961’s The Freeloaders, for which you see a beautiful but uncredited cover above, he once again conducts readers to an exotic place—the Côte d’Azur, in the company of a small clan of Americans trying to survive without work visas in and around Nice.
Freelance writer Al Cane, the most recent addition to the group, has occasional gigs and makes enough money to live. Ex-boxer/ex-cop/ex-advertising man/constant enigma Charley Martins has savings that keep him in a nice seafront apartment. But painter Gil Fletcher and inveterate schemer Ed Jones struggle daily. The women within the group are diverse. Charley’s girlfriend Pascale is young, beautiful, and precocious; Gil’s partner Simone is opportunistic and fickle; Ed’s girlfriend Daniele is industrious and kind.
Eventually, Gil, desperate to stay in Nice and in need of money for he and Daniele, cooks up a foolproof robbery scheme. But to quote Mickey Rourke in Body Heat, “Any time you try a decent crime, you got fifty ways you’re gonna fuck up. If you think of twenty-five of them, then you’re a genius.” Gil is no genius. The rest of the story deals with the aftermath of the crime on the Nice guys, the unraveling of the mystery of who the mysterious Charley really is, and Al’s growing lust toward Pascale.
As with other Lacy novels, the flavor is as important as the plot, and he dishes up the South of France (with sides of Italy) in satisfying fashion. There are always a few nits to pick with him. Any time you write a novel there are at least fifty ways to fuck up. Lacy is no genius, but he always entertains. That’s travail numéro un.
Looks like we're dead meat. You know what I want my gravestone to say? “Just like always it was my stupid brother's fault.”
Author Max Brand, née Frederick Faust, was incredibly prolific for a guy who died early. He produced numerous stories and around a hundred fifty novels, including the source material for film and television’s Dr. Kildare, and the 1956 western Brothers on the Trail, which you see here with Robert Stanley cover art. Brand was killed in 1944 at age fifty-one while working as a war correspondent in Italy, but he left quite a literary legacy.
People get topless, bottomless, legless, headless—anything goes.
This fun Italian poster, which is uncredited, was created for the monster movie Spiaggia di sangue, which was originally filmed in the U.S. and released as Blood Beach in 1980, before reaching Italy today in 1981. We riffed on it many years ago because it’s nothing more than a left coast remix of Jaws on a frayed shoestring budget, not really deserving of a proper review, in our opinion. The producers were even sued by the Jaws franchise for using a catchphrase—Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water you can’t get to it—just a little too similar to that for the previous year’s Jaws 2—Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water. We said last time that you never really see the monster. Actually, you do, briefly, at the end, in all its papier mâché glory. Total. Letdown. Don’t visit Blood Beach. Instead, look at the lobby cards below and call it a day.
Governor of Louisiana Huey Long, one of the few truly leftist politicians in American history, is shot by Carl Austin Weiss in Baton Rouge. Long dies after two days in the hospital.
1956—Elvis Shakes Up Ed Sullivan
Elvis Presley appears on The Ed Sullivan Show for the first time, performing his hit song “Don’t Be Cruel.” Ironically, a car accident prevented Sullivan from being present that night, and the show was guest-hosted by British actor Charles Laughton.
1966—Star Trek Airs for First Time
Star Trek, an American television series set in the twenty-third century and promoting socialist utopian ideals, premieres on NBC. The series is cancelled after three seasons without much fanfare, but in syndication becomes one of the most beloved television shows of all time.
1974—Ford Pardons Nixon
U.S. President Gerald Ford pardons former President Richard Nixon for any crimes Nixon may have committed while in office, which coincidentally happen to include all those associated with the Watergate scandal.
1978—Giorgi Markov Assassinated
Bulgarian dissident Giorgi Markov is assassinated in a scene right out of a spy novel. As he’s waiting at a bus stop near Waterloo Bridge in London, he’s jabbed in the calf with an umbrella. The man holding the umbrella apologizes and walks away, but he is in reality a Bulgarian hired killer who has just injected a ricin pellet into Markov, who develops a high fever and dies three days later.