Archive for sex

Film Directors with Everything Off: La Bruce

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , on January 29, 2013 by dcairns


Bruce Robinson goes porno in KLEINHOFF HOTEL.

“I’ve never seen it. It was basically high-class pornography. A Baader Meinhoff terrorist on the run — me — checks into a hotel to kill himself. Meanwhile, for whatever reason, this beautiful French woman in the next room is watching this man through a crack in the adjoining door, and she decides that she wants to fuck him. [Italian accent] ‘Try and get an erection, Bruce.’ I’m like, ‘Fuck off! Get an erection, with fifty people standing here?’ One lunchtime one of the prop men comes up to me with a box that looks like it contains duelling pistols, and there are all these fake dicks in there and he wants me to strap one on. I thought, ‘Christ almighty! I’ve been to drama school! No!’ It was a very rude film. Lots of ridiculous sex scenes that were the most unusual things I’ve ever done.”

From Smoking in Bed, Conversations with Bruce Robinson, edited by Alistair Owen.


Yeah, the film really isn’t very good. Robinson already had his writing career up and running, though, so this was virtually his swan song to acting.

On to nobler things, such as Universal horror limericks! We’ve been chronicling the adventures of the SON OF FRANKENSTEIN in rhyming form over at Limerwrecks, and my contributions are here and here , while I sing the praises of Joseph H Lewis’s THE BIG COMBO here , here, and especially right here (continuing the oral theme from above).

Claudia Cardinale’s Sex Tombola

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , on November 24, 2012 by dcairns

Antonio Pietrangeli’s IL MAGNIFICO CORNUTO is a marital comedy that plays kind of like a sixties Italian EYES WIDE SHUT — it’s all about fidelity, there’s an exchange of fantasies/affairs, the complacent male is thrown into a whirlpool of angst, there are scenes in a hotel and a big country house… Ugo Tognazzi (you remember the child-catcher in BARBARELLA who takes off his big fur coat to reveal an even bigger, furrier chest?) cheats on his impossibly gorgeous wife, Claudia Cardinale, and is tormented, not by conventional guilt, but by impotent fantasies of her cheating back.

The climactic, is I may use the word, fantasy, is a prolonged and luminously atmospheric striptease, with Cardinale stripping away her seven or so veils according to the results of an erotic tombola. Yes.

Strong Coffee

Posted in FILM, literature with tags , , , on November 20, 2012 by dcairns

More from Lenore: brace yourselves for this one! From Miss Coffee’s days working for producer Harry Garson and movie star Clara Kimball Young.

About the fan mail. Letters which were friendly and admiring went to Clara. Those which asked for a signed photograph went to Garson’s secretary. But there remained another category which went into a special file, alphabetically arranged according to the name of the town and state on the postmark. No envelopes belonging to these letters were ever thrown away, for if two came from the same town or the same person, then both were sent to be investigated by the police of that town. These were the obscene letters. Not plain pornography which, in these permissive days, is as easy to say as photography; the contents of these would be shocking even today. They were never shown to Clara but went from me into that special file. I don’t think the public realizes the things to which stars are subjected. So I’m going to copy, from memory, one of the least offensive—and one that I had to show Clara, for while the opening and closing paragraphs were clear, the centre one puzzled me. The letter began by a young man explaining in great detail how he took two sisters to bed and, lying between them, ravaged first one and then the other. The girls were completely inexperienced and he described their reactions with great gusto. The older on—and I imagine both were under age—was frightened but excited. The younger one cried out in pain and genuine shock; but, after a while he said, ‘came back for more’.

Then came the centre paragraph which contained a series of numbers and measurements. I should have known what they were, but I didn’t, and decided to ask Clara. The concluding paragraph needed no explanation. I’ve never forgotten the words. ‘You should have seen the bed the next morning. It looked like the Japanese flag.’

Clara was in her dressing-room and I apologized for asking her to look at this letter, explaining my reason. ‘It’s just this middle paragraph,’ I said; but as she read the letter through, her face filled with disgust. ‘Do I get many of these?’

‘No,’ I lied, ‘not nearly so many as the nice ones. But I thought it seemed odd to introduce mathematics into this subject.’

Clara hesitated, then said, ‘Well, you see, inches play a part in this sort of thing, and he’s bragging about how splendidly he is equipped.’ A light dawned on me. ‘You mean he’s giving the measurements of what hospitals call his “private parts”?’ Clara nodded. ‘But why?’ Clara thought for a moment. ‘You remember the saying that if the nose of Cleopatra had been a quarter of an inch longer, the history of the world would have been changed?’

‘Yes, but I don’t see…’ I paused as I saw Clara’s amused eyes as she said, ‘Well, applied to a different part of the body, that applies to men, as well.’

‘You mean there’s a difference in size between men?’

Clara leaned over and gave my hand a pat. ‘My dear Lenore, a man’s whole lifetime of happiness can depend on one inch more or one inch less. The poor creatures!’

She looked down at the letter again. ‘I don’t think you should be asked to read these—‘

I said, ‘No, if I’m going to stay in this business, and I certainly intend to, I must take the rough with the smooth. Actually, I’ve got so I can almost smell them through the envelope. I open one, take a quick look, and if I’m right, back it goes into the envelope and into the file.’ Then Aunt Eva came in and it was time for Clara to dress, and I went about my business.

Crikey. It isn’t Hollywood that’s corrupt and decadent — it’s the public!


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