The amazing poster above made for the 1943 western The Outlaw, a stinker of a movie that’s one of the earlier ones to prove that a film can be terrible yet still be a hit. In fact, it was one of the most financially successful westerns of the 1940s, but really, really bad, as we discussed in our write-up a few years ago. The poster is shocking. Look at Jane’s almost exposed boobs. Look at her clearly visible nipple. The movie was first slated to show in Japan in 1946 but censors wouldn’t allow it, so it didn’t actually didn’t premiere there until 1952, but still, 1952 strikes us as pretty early for a design this racy. But the date is confirmed, because it’s signed by an artist named Miya, and next to his or her name is “1952.” It’s a great piece. We have another, less envelope pushing poster, unsigned and probably by a different artist, below. The Outlaw originally premiered in Japan today in 1952.
We suspect what was outlawed was Howard Hughes' directorial career.
The Outlaw is reputed to be a terrible movie. Since it premiered today in 1943 we thought we’d give it a glance, and guess what? It’s terrible. Howard Hughes directed it when he still fancied himself a man with artistic talent, and the main takeaway is that the Dunning-Kruger Effect is more than just a theory. His adoration of Jane Russell radiates from each of her scenes, but in overall execution the movie flops in every area except infuriating the era’s movie censors. It’s accidentally funny, though.
Billy the Kid: “Doc, if you’re not already fixed up you can bunk with me tonight.”
Doc Holliday: “No thanks, Billy. I’ve got a girl. She and her aunt just moved in town. You got a girl, Billy?”
Billy the Kid: “Naw. I ain’t got nothin’. Except that horse.”
On the other hand, the film is also terribly unfunny. Wikipedia says it’s implied that Billy rapes Jane Russell’s character Rio McDonald in a barn. We’re here to tell you it may be implied visually and in the dialogue that drifts out of those obscuring shadows, but as a matter of plot it’s a dead certainty that’s what happens. And she’s his friend’s lady, the one discussed in the above dialogue exchange. Billy’s a truly terrible guy. But you know exactly what happens next, right? Rio falls in love with him. But he remains a dick:
Rio McDonald: “What are you waiting for? Go ahead.”
Billy the Kid: “Say that sounds real nice. I like to hear you ask for it. Beg some more.”
Rio McDonald: “What would you like me to say?”
Billy the Kid: “Well you might say please very sweetly.”
Rio McDonald: “Please.”
Billy the Kid: “Will you keep your eyes open?”
Rio McDonald: “Yes.”
Billy the Kid: “Will you look right at me while I do it?”
The music alone during that scene could drive you from the room. And what does Billy do to Rio after he’s had his way with her yet again? Ties her by her wrists and ankles and leaves her in the hot sun to roast to death. Holliday rescues her and opines that Billy must really be in love with her to do something so cruel. Um… okay. This is another great exchange:
Billy the Kid: “I think I’d rather have that cuckoo clock do the counting for me.”
Doc Holliday: “Yeah that’s good enough. It’s gonna strike in a minute.”
Billy the Kid: “Shall we pull on the last cuckoo?
We’re pretty sure Hughes was pulling on his cuckoo when he made this, but luckily he never directed again. Amazingly, even though the film is awful, everything associated with it is collectible, including the promo poster above, which if you wanted to buy would cost you $56,000. Not the original painting. An original print. At least that’s what one ambitious soul is asking for it. We suspect the separation between the quality of The Outlaw and the cost of its memorabilia is the largest of any film in American history. Watch it if you dare.
Austro–Hungarian film director Otto Preminger, who directed such eternal classics as Laura, Anatomy of a Murder, Carmen Jones, The Man with the Golden Arm, and Stalag 17, and for his efforts earned a star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame, dies in New York City, aged 80, from cancer and Alzheimer’s disease.
1998—James Earl Ray Dies
The convicted assassin of American civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr., petty criminal James Earl Ray, dies in prison of hepatitis aged 70, protesting his innocence as he had for decades. Members of the King family who supported Ray’s fight to clear his name believed the U.S. Government had been involved in Dr. King’s killing, but with Ray’s death such questions became moot.
1912—Pravda Is Founded
The newspaper Pravda, or Truth, known as the voice of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, begins publication in Saint Petersburg. It is one of the country’s leading newspapers until 1991, when it is closed down by decree of then-President Boris Yeltsin. A number of other Pravdas appear afterward, including an internet site and a tabloid.
1983—Hitler's Diaries Found
The German magazine Der Stern claims that Adolf Hitler’s diaries had been found in wreckage in East Germany. The magazine had paid 10 million German marks for the sixty small books, plus a volume about Rudolf Hess’s flight to the United Kingdom, covering the period from 1932 to 1945. But the diaries are subsequently revealed to be fakes written by Konrad Kujau, a notorious Stuttgart forger. Both he and Stern journalist Gerd Heidemann go to trial in 1985 and are each sentenced to 42 months in prison.
1918—The Red Baron Is Shot Down
German WWI fighter ace Manfred von Richthofen, better known as The Red Baron, sustains a fatal wound while flying over Vaux sur Somme in France. Von Richthofen, shot through the heart, manages a hasty emergency landing before dying in the cockpit of his plane. His last word, according to one witness, is “Kaputt.” The Red Baron was the most successful flying ace during the war, having shot down at least 80 enemy airplanes.
1964—Satellite Spreads Radioactivity
An American-made Transit satellite, which had been designed to track submarines, fails to reach orbit after launch and disperses its highly radioactive two pound plutonium power source over a wide area as it breaks up re-entering the atmosphere.
1939—Holiday Records Strange Fruit
American blues and jazz singer Billie Holiday records “Strange Fruit”, which is considered to be the first civil rights song. It began as a poem written by Abel Meeropol, which he later set to music and performed live with his wife Laura Duncan. The song became a Holiday standard immediately after she recorded it, and it remains one of the most highly regarded pieces of music in American history.
