For seven years I had an apartment on Christopher St. and Bleecker in New York’s West Village just one and a half blocks from the historic Stonewall Inn, site of the first riots for gay rights and birthplace of the Gay Liberation Front. Although there was a pretty good drama (Stonewall) that came out 15-years ago, it’s great that a proper documentary finally got these stories on tape to set the record straight. I really look forward to seeing this film.
“It was the Rosa Parks moment,” says one man. June 28, 1969: NYC police raid a Greenwich Village Mafia-run gay bar, The Stonewall Inn. For the first time, patrons refuse to be led into paddy wagons, setting off a 3-day riot that launches the Gay Rights Movement.
Told by Stonewall patrons, reporters and the cop who led the raid, Stonewall Uprising recalls the bad old days when psychoanalysts equated homosexuality with mental illness and advised aversion therapy, and even lobotomies; public service announcements warned youngsters against predatory homosexuals; and police entrapment was rampant. At the height of this oppression, the cops raid Stonewall, triggering nights of pandemonium with tear gas, billy clubs and a small army of tactical police. The rest is history.
I’ve written here before about how I used to go fanatically out of my way to collect memorabilia related to the movie Candy, in particular items emblazoned with photos of the film’s titular heroine, who was played by the comely Ewa Aulin, a one-time Miss Teen Sweden. Candy, which I didn’t actually see until much later was a “holy grail” movie for me, but when I saw it, my opinion was not favorable. (Nothing could have lived up to my high expectations to begin with, but Candy really sucked. But this isn’t about Candy, you can read what I wrote about that film here).
Another 60s goddess who I have a ridiculous amount of photos, movie posters, picture sleeve records, sheet music and even fine art photographic prints of, is Marianne Faithfull. Of all of my pantheon of 60s goddesses (Ursula Andress, Paula Prentiss, Francoise Hardy, Racquel Welch, Jane Birkin, Sandie Shaw, Joni Mitchell, P.P. Arnold, Claudine Longet) I’d have to say that Faithfull is, by quite a wide margin, my #1 favorite. Quite simply, there was no female anywhere on the planet as cool and as sexy as she was during the 60s. She was born with one of the most classically beautiful faces of all time and she just had that look which embodied the era as no other woman’s look or style could. A goddess, she was and still is.
A film titled Girl on a Motorcycle, alternatively known as Naked Under Leather, was made in 1968 to capitalize on Faithfull’s libertine reputation, acquired as the result of her having only a fur rug wrapped around her otherwise naked body during a drug bust at Keith Richard’s home the year before. In the film, Faithfull famously wears a black-leather catsuit with fur lining. Meow.
There’s not a whole lot of dialogue and even less plot in Girl on a Motorcycle. In a nutshell, Faithfull plays a young woman bored in her marriage who decides to escape, riding through the European on a motorcycle to meet her lover (Alain Delon). The audience hears her thoughts and existential musings. There are some spicy sex scenes with Delon that earned the tame-by-today’s-standards film, an X rating. It’s a little hard to follow and doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but who cares? That’s not why you’re watching it anyway.
What we basically have in Girl on a Motorcycle is one of the quintessential Swinging 60s time capsule relics of psychedelic sexploitation. Is it a “good movie”? No. Is it a feast for the eyes. YES, indeed it is, and not just because of the gorgeous Ms. Faithfull, either. The European scenery is also brilliantly captured by director Jack Cardiff, a well-respected cinematographer who also shot classic films like The African Queen, The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus (Not to mention Rambo: First Blood II). There’s also the psychedelic jazz score from Les Reed to recommend the film.
In summation: Girl on a Motorcycle, it’s 90 minutes of great shot after shot of one of the hottest women ever born riding a motorcycle in a leather catsuit or else having that same catsuit removed by a Frenchman’s teeth. With great music and some solarized psychedelic stuff thrown in for good measure (and to foil censors). The end.
This is the trailer for Girl on a Motorcycle. Picture this going on for about 90 minutes and… you’ll get the idea:
Here’s a page with lots of photos and scans of the many, many different movie posters that were made for this film. I have owned many of these myself. Note, in particular, the Czech and Japanese ones mid-way down the page. This is the kind of thing that I set up Ebay alerts for. (Cinebeats)
When I posted here in March about Zak Smith’s blog, Playing D&D with Pornstars, it was a merely a popular blog, but now it’s a Internet video series called I Hit It With My Axe, with a couple dozen episodes released so far. In the below clip you will witness Sasha Grey, Kimberly Kane, Mandy Morbid, Satine Phoenix and others, including Smith himself, participating in the favorite hobby of geeks everywhere. (Er, maybe their second favorite pastime, I guess, but this sort of incorporates both interests, doesn’t it?)
See all episodes of I Hit It With My Axe (The Escapist)
As some of you reading this might recall, in the old Disinformation TV series, I devoted the next to last episode entirely to the topic of the potential for harm that easily available Internet porn, in particular the extreme variant called “gonzo porn,” might have in store for an entire generation of (mostly) young males. The piece left the question open ended, but it was clear that neither I, nor most of the people I interviewed (including porn actresses and producers) had any hope that much good would come of adolescent males spending their free time having images of violent sex seared onto their eyeballs at the point of orgasm. And besides that, what were they learning about human sexuality at the hands of twisted psychopaths like Max Hardcore and Rob Black? That their girlfriends would like them to invite 10 of their friends over for a session of tender love-making or perhaps that shoving a girl’s head in the toilet during sex was a suave move?
Well, the verdict is starting to come in that we’re—literally—raising a generation of… wankers. An entire generation has had their sexual fantasies hijacked by this stuff. This quite good 2007 BBC documentary Teens Hooked on Porn, is a disturbing look at what’s happening to Internet porn addicted kids. The pimple-faced young men portrayed in this documentary, sad to say, are going to have no idea what to do with a real girl when they have the chance. And frankly, what girl would want anything to do with them?
As you watch this, imagine their lives at 25, 40 and well beyond. It ain’t a pretty thought…
I am a 45 y/o karaoke singer from the Sacramento area looking for a woman to go out and sing some songs with. i would like to try working on some duets because that would be fun.
if you are a woman between the ages of 37 and 47 and are interested in calling me after viewing the video you can call me at…
I’ve got to give this dude credit for “breakin’ new ground in karaoke” and risking extreme ridicule back at the warehouse. He’s either a hopeless romantic or just plain hopeless. I admire his balls….and erect nipples.
He’s an electric cowboy and he’s damn good at what he does, workin’ that forklift all day, liftin’ piles of toilet paper, 96 cases of tea, water, eggs, chips and milk and stuff, droppin’ huge pallets all day long, and he’s lookin’ to be Marvin Gaye to your Tammi Terrell. He’s got no criminal record, none at all, you can check it out, just a DUI back when he was a kid in his 20s and he’s lookin’ for someone, some rock and roll chick, to sing with, a simple duet, some rock, maybe some alternative, blues, r&b…but no country cause he’s had bad experiences with country girls. Those country girls don’t understand his feminine side.
Although it screams of rip-off in flashing letters each the size of a New York brownstone, James Cameron’s Avatar is being re-released with eight additional minutes. Eight measly minutes? Shouldn’t there be some kind of ten year rule before “Director’s Cuts” get to pick our pockets again? And then I saw these two words “Na’vi Sex.” From MTV:
“You mean the alien kink scene?” [Cameron] joked. “It’s been restored, every last frame of it. Seriously,” he said, adding that the scene in question won’t break any records — it lasts all of about 20 seconds. “I would say, just so that we correctly manage people’s expectations,” he explained carefully, “it does not change our rating at all. I would call it more of an alien foreplay scene. It’s not like they’re ripping their clothes off and going at it.”
This languid and dreamy, heavily phase-shifted late period mid-tempo disco masterpiece was released on the storied Casablanca Records label in 1979 by one Dennis Parker, better known as ill-fated porn and soap opera actor Wade Nichols. I guess the below clip is a fairly recent discovery which offers not only an oddly affecting melodramatic performance from Parker, er Nichols but also a gorgeous look at late 70’s mid-town Manhattan.
The girl in a cage is one of the most mysterioso slices of vintage exotica I’ve encountered. This jungle Barbarella has penetrated my consciousness like a switchblade made of pink flesh. And man, what a groovy soundtrack.
Nothing like a good banning to warm an old gay punk’s heart—especially in the internet age. Looks like Australia’s classification of Toronto-based filmmaker Bruce LaBruce’s latest bit of hardcore underground gay gore, L.A. Zombie as pornography has prevented it from being screened at the Melbourne Film Festival. According to Melbourne talk-radio station 3AW, LaBruce couldn’t be happier:
‘‘My first thought was ‘Eureka!’… I’ll never understand how censors don’t see that the more they try to suppress a film, the more people will want to see it. It gives me a profile I didn’t have yesterday.’’
Virtually all of LaBruce’s films—from the skinhead-fetishizing No Skin off My Ass from 1991 through to the political-porno-zombie flick Otto; or Up With Dead People—have managed to shock and scandalize straights and gays alike with their violence and satirical stereotyping. It’s good to know there are some areas in the Western world that aren’t immune.
Andrés Duque’s great Blabbeando blog has provided great coverage, including some enlightened sport-star involvement in the issue and the segment below featuring baby-dyke blogstar Cumbio. In a report for Buenos Aires TV magazine Vertigo, homegirl and her camera crew walk right up to participants in an anti-gay marriage demonstration and starts engaging them, taking in a bunch of the usual insulting arguments against equality. But in a startling scene that you couldn’t imagine in a similar segment here in the US, she’s actually embraced and kissed by some of the maternal types among the evangelicals who insist on the old cliché that “it’s the sin, not the sinner.” Cumbio comes out of it a little annoyed, but notes later that they “didn’t treat [her] badly.”
Kinda refreshing, eh?
Bonus clip after the jump: Federacion Argentina LGBT’s simple and powerful ad for marriage equality…
label in 1979 by one 
, better known as ill-fated porn and soap opera actor 
