CHAMPAGNE WISHES

And dreams of all that is good and wonderful.

Happy New Year! In honor of the yearly calendar turnover here you see four lovely 1977 shots of Swedish actress Anita Strindberg, one of the queens of ’70s European cinema, as well as of our website. We’ve watched Strindberg locked down in prison in Women in Cellblock 7, seen her redefine the meaning of untamed bush in The African Deal, get slithered on by Florinda Bolkan in Lizard in a Woman’s Skin, be mysteriously tormented in Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key, gush tears down her perfect cheekbones in Who Saw Her Die?, and get voodoo freaky in Tropic of Cancer. She made more than twenty films. We shall not be tiring of her soon.

These photos were published in a few places. We grabbed one of ours from the Italian magazine Playmen, and the other three from the Spanish mag Interviu. The text at top says merely “Anita’s toast,” as in to make a toast. There’s another we didn’t include that describes her as the Swedish Grace Kelly. Well, in our book she’s better than Kelly, because she’s wet and naked. We love how she starts with a Champagne glass, but by the end has transitioned to guzzling from the bottle. At that point she’s the other kind of toast. Well, the text suggests it, claiming she actually got drunk. We’d call that PR, but if she got loaded, good for her, because upending the bottle for the last dregs is exactly how we’ll do it tonight. Here’s to 2025.

Strindberg goes to Haiti and develops Cancro sores.


These two posters for Al tropico del cancro, aka Tropic of Cancer, were painted by Italian master Renato Casaro, and really demonstrate his artistic range, as they’re stylistically different from the other poster he painted for the film. We have plenty of Casaro in the website, so if you want to see more just click his keywords below, or if you’re pressed for time, you can see what we think is his best work here and here. He isn’t the only person we want to highlight today. The movie stars Anita Strindberg, yet another luminous actress to come out of Sweden, and she plays a wife who travels to Haiti and is soon caught up in tropical sensuality, hallucinogenic drugs, and voodoo. It’s unabashed exploitation ranging from the sexual to the cultural, and Strindberg is the main reason it’s watchable, as you see below. Al tropico del cancro premiered in Italy today in 1972.

Tropical storm Anita blows into Port-au-Prince.

Set in Haiti, the Italian thriller Al tropico del cancro follows the story of a doctor who invents a powerful hallucinogenic drug that interests various parties who believe it to be priceless. In addition to being a giallo, some people consider this film a classic of—what would you call it?—not blaxploitation, but that unofficial sub-genre of movies (which we also wrote about yesterday in assessing Emmanuelle IV) in which white women go to the tropics and jettison their inhibitions. Though the promise of Renato Casaro’s brilliant poster art undoubtedly draws many viewers to the film, star Anita Strindberg’s interracial coupling is a highly stylized hallucination or dream, ancillary to the plot. She gives it her theatrical best, though, gangbangy subtext and all. The scene was bold in 1972’s racial landscape—and still is today, which shows you how little progress we’ve made in half a century.

Strindberg is a favorite around Pulp Intl. She was one of our early femmes fatales—in fact the one that made us decide to feature the occasional frontal nude on the site. Otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to share this shot. Under a ridiculous crown of sculptural ’70s hair, she’s all high cheekbones, icy eyes, and a recurved mouth. Everything below her neck looks good too, although she sports a pair of early breast implants, but hey—her body her choice. Her nordic looks juxtapose nicely against Haiti’s tropical setting. She’s a gleaming alien there, which is important for the sense of disconnection her character feels as the various male cast members busy themselves trying to outsmart each other to acquire the drug formula.

Al tropico del cancro features awesome location shooting in Port-au-Prince, not only in the streets and estates, but in unlikely locales like a functioning abattoir where island beef production is depicted in full gore. Cows aren’t the only animals that fare poorly, so be forewarned. The movie eventually ends in foot chases and gunshots, as greed for the formula triggers a spate of violence. Reaching this climax isn’t the most gripping ride, but we’ve been on worse. We recommend the movie for fans of Strindberg, as well as for people interested in historic Port-au-Prince, much of which—the prized Cathédrale de Port-au-Prince, the capital building, the parliament, et al—was destroyed in a 2010 earthquake. Al tropico del cancro premiered in Italy today in 1972.

She wasn't really a blind woman—she only played one in the movies.

Last week we watched Meiko Kaji’s Kaidan nobori ryu, aka Blind Woman’s Curse, and were too busy being cute with our summary of the film to mention that the blind woman was played by Hiroko (Hoki) Tokuda, who is better known to many people as author Henry Miller’s last wife. When they met she was working as a lounge pianist in L.A. and Miller, who had established himself as one of the most important American writers ever, was living in Pacific Palisades.

Tokuda told the New York Times in 2011: “Henry started asking every week to meet me. I realized he just wanted a Japanese woman to add to his collection, and I would always ask myself, ‘Why me?’ Soon after we met, he started telling people he was going to marry me.” And marry her he did in September 1967. She was twenty-nine and Miller, who had been born in 1891, was on the verge of turning seventy-six.

By early 1970 Tokuda had left Miller and was back in Japan, where that year she filmed Blind Woman’s Curse. Miller died in 1980, and Tokuda is in Japan today, running a piano bar called Tropic of Cancer, after her ex-husband’s most famous book. She says her marriage with Miller was never consummated, which may or may not be true—Miller isn’t around to contradict her. She also says she only married him for a green card,

and has even joked about him being a bad kisser. “Terrible,” she describes it. “Wet.”

It strikes us as a bit cynical for her to pretend the marriage was an inconvenient mistake when she’s borrowing the name of his most famous book in order to brand her bar, but that’s just our opinion. In any case, being a pulp site, we just thought we should offer a little background info, since Tokuda was married to a guy who changed English language literature forever. The above photos both date from September 1967, when their love—if it ever existed—was new.

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HISTORY REWIND

The headlines that mattered yesteryear.

1937—Carothers Patents Nylon

Wallace H. Carothers, an American chemist, inventor and the leader of organic chemistry at DuPont Corporation, receives a patent for a silk substitute fabric called nylon. Carothers was a depressive who for years carried a cyanide capsule on a watch chain in case he wanted to commit suicide, but his genius helped produce other polymers such as neoprene and polyester. He eventually did take cyanide—not in pill form, but dissolved in lemon juice—resulting in his death in late 1937.

1933—Franklin Roosevelt Survives Assassination Attempt

In Miami, Florida, Giuseppe Zangara attempts to shoot President-elect Franklin D. Roosevelt, but is restrained by a crowd and, in the course of firing five wild shots, hits five people, including Chicago, Illinois Mayor Anton J. Cermak, who dies of his wounds three weeks later. Zangara is quickly tried and sentenced to eighty years in jail for attempted murder, but is later convicted of murder when Cermak dies. Zangara is sentenced to death and executed in Florida’s electric chair.

1929—Seven Men Shot Dead in Chicago

Seven people, six of them gangster rivals of Al Capone’s South Side gang, are machine gunned to death in Chicago, Illinois, in an event that would become known as the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. Because two of the shooters were dressed as police officers, it was initially thought that police might have been responsible, but an investigation soon proved the killings were gang related. The slaughter exceeded anything yet seen in the United States at that time.

1935—Jury Finds Hauptmann Guilty

A jury in Flemington, New Jersey finds Bruno Hauptmann guilty of the 1932 kidnapping and murder of the Lindbergh baby, the son of Charles Lindbergh. Hauptmann is sentenced to death and executed in 1936. For decades, his widow Anna fights to have his named cleared, claiming that Hauptmann did not commit the crime, and was instead a victim of prosecutorial misconduct, but her claims are ultimately dismissed in 1984 after the U.S. Supreme Court refuses to address the case.

Uncredited cover art for Day Keene’s 1952 novel Wake Up to Murder.
Another uncredited artist produces another beautiful digest cover. This time it's for Norman Bligh's Waterfront Hotel, from Quarter Books.
Above is more artwork from the prolific Alain Gourdon, better known as Aslan, for the 1955 Paul S. Nouvel novel Macadam Sérénade.
Uncredited art for Merle Miller's 1949 political drama The Sure Thing.

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