The blog of author Dennis Cooper

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_Black_Acrylic presents … Saucy! Adventures of British Sex Comedy Films in the 1970s


Peter Butterworth in Carry on Camping, 1969

The softcore sex comedy was one of the few surefire commercial bets for British cinema. Most were neither sexy nor funny.
Michael Brooke
https://www.bfi.org.uk/lists/10-great-erotic-british-films

 


Barbara Windsor in Carry On Camping, 1969

What do we mean by ‘British smut’? It was the 1960s and 70s when smut (“obscene or lascivious talk, writing or pictures”) in the form of softcore sex films increasingly dominated British cinemas – and dominated to such an extent that, throughout the financially tumultuous 1970s, the genre was one of the only surefire commercial prospects besides sitcom spin-offs. What’s more, they could be made for considerably less money.
Michael Brooke
https://www.bfi.org.uk/features/where-begin-british-smut


Robin Askwith and Linda Hayden in Confessions Of A Window Cleaner, 1974

A sexploitation film (or sex-exploitation film) is a class of independently produced, low-budget feature film that is generally associated with the 1960s and early 1970s, and that serves largely as a vehicle for the exhibition of non-explicit sexual situations and gratuitous nudity. The genre is a subgenre of exploitation films.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sexploitation_film

 


Carry On England, 1976

British sex comedy films became mainstream with the release in 1976 of Carry On England, starring Judy Geeson, Patrick Mower, and Diane Langton, in which an experimental mixed-sex anti-aircraft battery in wartime is enjoying making love not war. However, the arrival of the new Captain S. Melly brings an end to their cosy life and causes terror in the ranks.

In Carry On Emmannuelle, the beautiful Emmannuelle Prevert just cannot get her own husband into bed. A spoof of Emmanuelle, the film revolves around the eponymous heroine (Suzanne Danielle) and her unsuccessful attempts to make love to her husband, Emile (Kenneth Williams), a French ambassador. Emile grants Emmannuelle permission to sleep with anyone she likes, and her promiscuity turns her into a celebrity and a frequent talk show guest. Meanwhile, Theodore Valentine is besotted by her and wants them to get married. But Emmannuelle is obsessed with arousing her husband’s sexual desire at almost any cost. This was the last of the original Carry On films.

Producer/director Kenneth F. Rowles made a copycat cash-in with his The Ups and Downs of a Handyman. His next movie, Take an Easy Ride, purports to be a public information film warning of the dangers of hitchhiking but is actually a sexploitation film showing young girls being sexually assaulted and murdered (although Rowles says he had to add those scenes on request of the movie’s distributor).

Films like Dreams of Thirteen, The Younger the Better, Mrs. Stone’s Thing, and Come Play With Me played in Soho and elsewhere, but with the arrival of the Margaret Thatcher government in 1979 the Eady Levy was abolished in 1985, killing off the genre.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sex_comedy

 


Hattie Jacques and Kenneth Williams in Carry on Camping, 1969

Carry On Camping is a 1969 British comedy film, the 17th release in the series of 31 Carry On films (1958–1992). The film was the most popular movie at the UK box office in 1969.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carry_On_Camping

A disparate group of campers band together to rid themselves of hippies planning an all-night rave next to their site.

Although seemingly anarchic on the outside, the Carry On films were always inherently conservative on the inside. This is amply demonstrated by Carry On Camping, which was filmed in the winter of 1968, shortly after the ‘Summer of Love’ and at the height of world-wide student unrest. Blessed with one of the most amusing of the Carry On titles, it rather surprisingly also serves as a comment by the filmmakers on young people, the new ‘permissive society’ and youth culture in general.

The film begins with a cinema audience of predominantly middle-aged men watching a ‘naturist’ film, introducing nudity to the series in such a way as to get past the censors and still be certified for viewing by all ages. This is partly achieved by having Sid James guffawing over the risqué images, while his girlfriend (played by Joan Sims) averts her eyes in embarrassment. James and Sims are ridiculously old for their roles as a courting couple still trying to get to first base (he was fifty-five, she thirty-eight), as is Barbara Windsor as a naughty schoolgirl (she was thirty-one!).

The dramatic contrast between the enclosed, static and make-believe logic of these films and the radical changes going on in the real world climaxes with the arrival of the young hippies at the end. Only then do the desultory plot strands and disparate characters come together to repel the ravers in the rather rushed finale. When the hippies leave, the schoolgirls join them, as does Charlie Muggins (Charles Hawtrey), who has been literally and figuratively an outsider throughout the narrative.

Betty Marsden, as Terry Scott’s hectoring wife, frequently steals the show with her bizarre laugh, although inevitably the film will always be remembered as the one in which Barbara Windsor’s bikini top flies off while she is exercising.
Sergio Angelini
http://www.screenonline.org.uk/film/id/466118/index.html

 


Au Pair Girls, 1972

The “saucy” misadventures of four au pairs who arrive in London on the same day in the early 1970s. There’s a Swedish girl, a Danish, a German and a Chinese. The story contrives to get the clothes off all of them, involve them in some Carry On-type humour and couple them with various misfits from the British film and TV culture of the time, including Man About the House star Richard O’Sullivan, future Coronation Street rogue Johnny Briggs and horror film stalwart Ferdy Mayne (playing a sheik). There’s a pretty risqué amount of female nudity on display, for those who like that kind of thing (but obviously nothing hardcore).

Most of the film is pretty thin and inconsequential; the girls are stereotypes, and German Anita especially suffers from some kind of infantalising disorder – she’s a moron obsessed with colour TV who acts like a kind of uninhibited child & dresses to deliberately show her private parts; in another more serious film, she would be a psychiatric case. The most interesting section of the film involves the Swedish girl being taken to a club in London where some dodgy types are still trying to swing, being seduced by a middle-aged rocker, losing her virginity and realising that the scene is not for her. These sequences have some energy in them and point to a more intriguing film than we’ve ended up with, in which promiscuity and the dregs of the music business and upper classes live soulless and seedy lives (there’s a fine turn by John Standing as an impotent public school roué). The strangest of the stories has the Chinese girl (future cannibal film veteran Me Me Lay) getting off with her childish piano prodigy employer, falling mutually in love with and then leaving in the middle of the night for no good reason at all, except some orientalist notion that “Chinese birds are inscrutable, ain’t they?!” The film is pretty demeaning to its women characters and there’s a smattering of homophobia in the dialogue and one of the characterisations. The end is striking, as Mayne’s sheik for no earthly reason (except they have to end the film somehow) whisks all of the girls away to his Arab kingdom for what looks to all the world like a future in the white slave trade, which they are all delighted about.

Stuff and nonsense for the most part then, but directed with a fair amount of skill by veteran Val Guest, which puts it as a piece of film-making a notch above most of the 70s Brit sexploitation flicks.
jaibo
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0068235/reviews

 

Confessions of a Window Cleaner is a 1974 British sex comedy film, directed by Val Guest.

The optimistic and inept Timothy Lea is freshly employed by his brother-in-law Sid as a window cleaner. With Sid an impending father to be, he looks to Timmy to fully ‘satisfy’ his customers, little realising that Timmy’s accident prone ways often stretch to his sex life with his clients. Timmy bed hops from unsatisfied housewives to even a lesbian love tryst, all the while with his main eye on successful police officer, Elizabeth Radlett, who will have none of Timmy’s sexual advances. He proposes as a result, much to his family’s upset, unaware that Timmy’s usual run of luck will affect the outcome.

Confessions was a low-budget film, with a budget of £100,000, but not really an independent film. Producer Michael Klinger tried to secure funding from independent investors, but most of the funding actually came from Columbia Pictures, a fact telling for its period. The condition of the economy of the United Kingdom in the early 1970s had left part of the British film industry dependent on American funds. Being also released through Columbia, the film was the beneficiary of a marketing campaign. It was promoted through advertisements in television and tie-ins in bookstores.

Guest says “we saw an awful lot of people for” the lead including Dennis Waterman before casting Robin Askwith. “We needed the cheeky chappie, simply because It had to be gossamer light, walking the tightrope all the time not going over into anything “icky” you know.”

The interior of the Lea house was depicted as brightly lit and filled with eccentric items of doubtful use, such as a moose head and a gorilla suit. The characters are confined to the “cramped” space of every depicted room, again reminiscent of the sets of a sitcom. The confinement itself suggests claustrophobia, and Sian Barber suggests a connection to another low-budget genre of the time with cramped locations and gaudy scenery: the British horror film.

In criticising the original novels, sociologist Simon Frith had argued that the books derived their unflattering depiction of the British working class from stereotypes. In particular, the stereotypes which the middle class associates for “the great unwashed”. Making the series an expression of class discrimination. Sian Barber argues that the films inherited the same attitude towards the working class by embracing negative stereotypes of it. Sidney Noggett and his promiscuity, Rosie and her hair rollers, and the kleptomaniac tendencies of Mr. Lea all derive from these stereotypes. Yet, the films actually tone down the criminal tendencies of the Lea family. In the books, Timmy himself is a former prison convict, having been arrested for stealing the lead off a church roof. In the films Timmy has no such history, probably in an effort to make him more sympathetic to the audience. Production notes reveal that a sequel called Confessions from the Clink was considered by the production team, but the idea was abandoned by February, 1974.

Part of the humour of the film derives from a situation based on class stratification in the United Kingdom. The Leas are positioned at the bottom of the working class, barely above the criminal underclass, while the Radletts are upper middle class. The romance of Timmy and Elizabeth across the wide class divide serves to showcase both positions, and contrasts the two families. But the Leas are those depicted as ridiculous in the scenes relating to the aborted wedding, while the Radletts remain respectable.


Katya Wyeth in Confessions Of A Window Cleaner, 1974

While the premise of the film would be suitable for a pornographic film, the film focuses less on sexual intercourse and more on associated problems and anxieties. Timmy at first fails to perform, and the film deals with his embarrassment over his sexual inexperience and ineptitude. His sexual encounters are either awkward grappling attempts, or the result of Timmy being seduced and/or dominated by women. This anxiety over the male performance in a sexual relationship is one aspect of the film’s humour. Another is a reliance on more traditional elements of a comedy, such as slapstick and characters seen naked by accidental spectators. The sexual acts themselves are typically depicted as “confusing, difficult, and troublesome” throughout the film. A running gag seems to be that Timmy, a cleaner by profession, gets dirtied in several scenes involving sexuality. The implication is that sex itself is a “dirty” activity.

Like the horror films of the 1970s, the film is set in the familiar urban landscape of Great Britain. Its contemporary horror films had largely abandoned the costume drama format of their predecessors and the “careful class distinctions” associated with earlier eras in favor of a contemporary setting. For example, Virgin Witch (1971) and House of Whipcord (1974) are partly set in a modeling agency, Dracula A.D. 1972 (1972) and Frightmare (1974) in nightclubs, Dracula A.D. 1972 and House of Whipcord in house parties, Frightmare in a travelling funfair, and House of Mortal Sin (1975) in an antique shop. The reason for the update in setting was that it allowed for depictions of socially mobile characters, rootless or transient. Adding variety to the social interactions and locations. A variety also embraced in Confessions. For similar reasons, other genres had started depicting people whose work required them to constantly travel, such as a salesman in O Lucky Man! (1973) and a truck driver in Alfie Darling (1975). Confessions manages this by placing Timmy in the fringes of the working world, and interacting with clients of varying backgrounds and eccentricities.

There is a contrast in the film between the character of Timmy and the women with which he interacts. His mannerisms indicate nervousness, hesitancy, clumsiness, and insecurity. While they tend to have a self-confidence which he lacks, they are forceful and proactive sexual partners. Yet these confident women tend to be accessible. The ease with which their clothes are removed underline their availability to Timmy. All but Elizabeth, the “nice girl” whom he cannot really touch. Her clothes are not less revealing, her short skirts showcase her legs and seem to invite his touch. She consequently functions much as a temptress. Yet she does not allow him to touch her beyond a certain point, setting the boundaries in their relationship. It is Timmy’s desire for this unobtainable young woman which serves as an important story arc for the film.

Sue Harper and Justin Smith argue that the film can be seen as the initiation of a young man into a world of lustful women and adult sexual pleasure. The entire series of Confessions can be understood as a showcase for a simple notion, the notion that sexual freedom can be achieved by people of all classes and genders.

It has been called, “perhaps the best known and most successful British sex film” of the era, and was the top-grossing British film of 1974. In 1988 Guest said ” the cheques which come from Columbia even now are unbelievable on the series, because it was sold to Home Box Office, sold all through America… the others [sequels] made money but Confessions of is the block buster, it made so much money when it came out here that Columbia for the first time anyone could remember here had to pay Corporation Tax.”

As well as its sequels in the Confessions series it spawned another unrelated series of films which began with Adventures of a Taxi Driver (1976). The film made Robin Askwith a star in the UK. When the films were originally released they were regarded as very risqué and essentially soft core pornography, owing to the amount of nudity involved – generally female, with Robin Askwith being the only male shown naked. However the sex scenes themselves are more suggestive than explicit, being essentially played for laughs. Nonetheless, it was not until 1997 that Channel 5 became the first British terrestrial channel to show the entire series of Confessions films.

The film was a popular hit for the British sexploitation genre, while film critics reportedly loathed it and decried it as a “tawdry” and vulgar spectacle. Sian Barber points at this contradiction between the popular taste and the critics’ notions of quality, and concludes that it offers significant insights on actual “audience preferences”. Preferences shaped by “the tastes, values and frustrated desires of ordinary filmgoers”. The film was a box office hit. In a cited example of a cinema in the West End of London, the film was screened for nine weeks, with 29 performances per week, and earning over £30,000. In January 1975, the Eady Levy tax fund estimated that it had raised £200,000 from this film alone. By 1979, profits had exceeded £800,000.

Alexander Stuart, writing for the magazine Films and Filming. claimed that the films are a real confession, a confession that the British people cannot properly create films, erotic images, comedy, or anything related to love. The films were unfavourably compared to the Carry On series, which the critics found harmless in comparison. David Robinson, writing for The Times, claimed that the commercial success of the films was based on the sexual infantilism of the viewers.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Confessions_of_a_Window_Cleaner

The case against this movie hardly needs to be restated. Clunking, crass, monotonously unfunny, it’s the sort of film that gives sexism a bad name.

And yet, for those who grew up in England in the early 70s, Confessions of A Window Cleaner is horribly evocative. The endless shots of tacky, dismal streets; the unwelcoming, tawdry interiors; the overwhelming sense of an exhausted gene pool; yep, that’s what it was like. The film has some of the impact (though none of the accomplishment) of the photographs of Tony Ray-Jones, and promotes a similar melancholy.

Then there’s Robin Askwith, who despite the various old troupers is the best thing in the movie. Granted, he wasn’t everyone’s idea of a sex god, and here he’s at the mercy of a dire screenplay, but he gives it everything he’s got. Looking and acting younger than his years, and with a cocky animality that no amount of boxy denim can mask, he sums up one particular breed of 70s boy, spunky, clueless, candid, vital, uncrushable. He looks great in his nude scenes, taut and doggy – there are moments of real beauty which belong in a better film. His sheer physical presence makes this awful picture almost worth watching.
Pobedonostsev
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0071357/reviews


Judy Matheson in Confessions Of A Window Cleaner, 1974

A British made tasteless sex-addled comedy. The Brit humor doesn’t transfer to a foreign audience. This is the first of four installments in this series. Despite being garbage, the films were popular.

Tim Lea (Robin Aswith) is a leery-eyed, bumbling, dweeb teen apprentice window washer working for his slick mentoring brother-in-law Sid Noggett (Anthony Booth), who looks at an assortment of undressed women on the job. The lad faints while cleaning a shop window, where he witnesses the workers have sex and meets an attractive woman concerned about him. She turns out to be a female cop (Linda Hayden), who he dates. Meanwhile the cleaner advances from just eye-balling nude women to several sexual encounters.

The sniggering slapstick humor is on a low-level, as this mediocre comedy seems to hit its targeted audience during the dark ages of the Brit film industry.

Please note: This crappy film was the highest grossing film at the U.K. box office in 1974.
Dennis Schwartz
https://dennisschwartzreviews.com/confessionsofawindowcleaner/

 

Adventures of a Taxi Driver is a 1976 British sex comedy film directed by Stanley Long and starring Barry Evans, Judy Geeson and Adrienne Posta.

The movie was a huge box office success. It was the 19th most successful film at the British box office in 1976.

Monthly Film Bulletin said “A crass, lobotomised production, with no discernible style, humour or purpose. Stanley Long draws irritatingly smug performances from Barry Evans, Judy Geeson and, particularly, Adrienne Posta; and his view of women and sex is more objectionable than that of the most passionless, clinical, primitively shot stag movie.”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adventures_of_a_Taxi_Driver

 

What’s Up Nurse! is a 1977 British sex comedy film. It tells the story of the adventures of a young doctor in a hospital.

Monthly Film Bulletin wrote: “A dishearteningly unfunny sex comedy which discloses a painful package of unfailing bad taste (the most offensive sequence concerning a homosexual who believes he has given birth to a chimpanzee), stupefyingly dull sex scenes, and a collection of double entendres so ancient that they almost constitute some kind of intriguing pre-history of blue comedy.”

Léon Hunt describes the film along with Ford’s What’s Up Superdoc! (1978) as a “return to the Carry On films’ favourite setting to explore slap-and-tickle amidst the bedpans.”

Sarah Street wrote that Ford’s films Commuter Husbands (1972), Keep It Up, Jack (1973), The Sexplorer (1975) and What’s Up Nurse (1977) were “films with salacious titles designed to titillate dwindling audiences with their suggestion of breaking taboos.”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What%27s_Up_Nurse!

 

Come Play with Me is a 1977 British softcore pornographic film, starring Mary Millington and directed by George Harrison Marks. Its cast list contains many well-known British character actors who were not known for appearing in such films. The film is regarded by many as the most successful of the British sex comedies of the seventies. It ran continuously at the Moulin Cinema in Great Windmill Street, Soho, London for 201 weeks, from April 1977 to March 1981, which is listed in the Guinness Book Of World Records as the longest-running screening in Britain. A blue plaque on the former cinema’s site commemorates this.

Harrison Marks had written Come Play With Me’s script in 1970, not long after making The Nine Ages of Nakedness, but it was to remain on the shelf while in the ensuing years he was declared bankrupt, was the subject of an obscenity trial, and drank heavily. He made ends meet during this period by shooting short softcore sex films for the British 8 mm market, as well as hardcore, blue movie shorts for overseas.

In the mid-1970s Marks had begun selling explicit photo shoots to porn publisher David Sullivan’s top-shelf magazines, such as Latent Lesbian Fantasy featuring Cosey Fanni Tutti, which appeared in the first issue of Sullivan’s Ladybirds magazine in August 1976. Marks had, evidently, also sold Sullivan the rights to some of his 8 mm sex films; press adverts by Kelerfern (a Sullivan mail order company) carried Marks-directed sex shorts like Hole in One, Nymphomania, King Muff and Doctor Sex for sale around this period. In the 2005 documentary Oo-Err Missus, Sullivan remarks: “George was a great entertainer, he was a bit of a drunk really, but he was good fun … he said to me: ‘I’ve got this old script I’ve had for years’, I said: ‘give us a look George’ and within three weeks we were shooting it”.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Come_Play_with_Me_(1977_film)

 


Mary Millington 1945 – 1979

Mary Millington was an English model and pornographic actress. Her appearance in the short softcore film Sex is My Business led to her meeting magazine publisher David Sullivan, who promoted her widely as a model and featured her in the 1977 softcore comedy Come Play With Me, which ran for a record-breaking four years at the same cinema.

In her later years, she faced depression and pressure from frequent police raids on her sex shop. After a downward spiral of drug addiction, shoplifting and debt, she died at home of an overdose of medicine and vodka, aged 33.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Millington

 

Further reading: Simon Sheridan – Keeping the British End Up: Four Decades of Saucy Cinema (Reynolds & Hearn, 2001)
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4139087-keeping-the-british-end-up

Viewing: Saucy!: Secrets of the British Sex Comedy 2024 documentary

 

 

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p.s. Hey. This weekend the maestro of many mediums and info galore Ben _Black_Acrylic Robinson tours us through a wacky genre of British comedy that can be accumulated and tagged with the rubric Saucy! That exclamation point is important. I personally knew nothing about this realm until the post clued me in, but where do you stand exactly? Guarantee: wild fun, period charms, and enlightening information. Have at it, please, and thank you so much, Ben! ** _Black_Acrylic, And there you are ‘in person’. Thanks, Ben. Such a blast. I think ‘The Man …’ is a good place to start with her, yes. I’m naturally curious about ‘The Golden Glove’, and I will seek wherever it may be. I hope your Leeds-related sense of gloom proves to be unwarranted. Signed, the Near-Eternal Optimist. ** Billy, Hi, Billy! Thanks for the link. I like Tim Parks’ writing and brain, so naturally I’ll pore over that in a bit. Why Stead? Pure happenstance. I was thinking about her after not having read her in a long time. And I was simultaneously thinking I would like to do a book post that didn’t use the ‘Spotlight on …’ format. And I got the idea to try to write a high school-style book report. And those three things collided and … voila! Thanks. How are you? What’s going on? ** jay, Hey. Oh, I obviously don’t know what the general gay populous is into or rather not into, I guess. I think I’ve always hooked up with relative weirdos like me, so I’m thinking from the margins, I suspect. ** David Ehrenstein, Haha, nice, apt one. Van Dyke Parks looks to be consistently posting on instagram, so he seems to be fit. ** seb 🦠, Oh, hey. Sorry about the persnickety spam thing. Jun Togawa rules. I don’t think Amphetamine Sulphate does eBooks in my experience, and they’ve never mentioned any idea of doing one for ‘Flunker’, so I assume not? Thanks for wanting such a thing. ** Lucas, Hey. When we were shooting ‘Room Temperature’, the cast of the film were obsessed with ‘Succession’ and having group viewings at their AirBnb in their off hours, and they sure seemed excited about it. Very cool: the wordpress blog! Everyone, The mighty Lucas has set up a wordpress blog where he’ll be posting his new writings and other creative endeavours, and needless to say, I recommend you visit and bookmark it post-haste. Go here. Excellent!That cat does look kind of blind or awfully squinty. Thank you. Have fun at Phantasialand. And oh, course, unless you look at Taron and think, ‘I simply must ride that thing’, enjoy just looking at it. See you after and soon! ** Uday, My surveillance camera is well hidden. You’ll never find it, but have fun trying. Congrats on your grope-ability. That is no small thing. If I could, I would add a ‘grope’ emoji to the commenting possibilities so the blog could become a pick up place, but alas. Aw, I appreciate you too. And etc etc too. I hope your weekend is very weekend-like. ** Charalampos, That John Waters book is responsible for so many interesting people discovering so many interesting writers. Its nickname should be The Bible, and maybe it already is. Yes, I think ‘The Man …’ is a good starting place. No, I really don’t think about my past work until asked to. I don’t really see what the value would be in doing that. I’m not nostalgic at all. I see nostalgia as one of the big enemies of moving forward attentively and excitedly, if anything. I think I’m sort of romantic, but not about the past, I guess. Paris _> hi -> you. ** Måns BT, Hey. Gosh, I thought pretty everything about ‘The Beach Bum’ was disappointing. It just seemed like, after the success of ‘Spring Breakers’, he decided to try to go all the way and make a normal indie film and get even more success, and I’m very happy that he seems to have subsequently dropped that goal like a hot potato. Yeah, ‘Kids’ and ‘Ken Park’, the two Korine-penned Clark films, are by far his best for me. Some of the others have good things about them, but I still think Clark’s photos and collages are much better than his films. Wow, thank you for the fill-in about 60s Swedish films. That’s really interesting. I should try to make a post about them or something. I think my favorite Wong Kar Wai is ‘Fallen Angels’. Do you know that one? I feel like he kind of lost it after ‘Happy Together’, but that’s not a wildly popular opinion. Yesterday I had an amazing vegan dinner with really good friends, so that made the totality pretty good. Do you have weekend dreams that you hope to accomplish and perhaps did? xo, me. ** Steve, Everyone, Maybe I have your attention? Do I now have your attention? I hope so because here’s Steve: ‘I’ve dropped my new ep WHEN CONSUMERISM WAS FUN: Here. “Reign of the Elf” is a dose of nightmarish psychedelia, while the rest goes heavy on electric piano, marimba and vibraphone, using unusual scales.’ Nice weekend there. Uh, I’m plan-less so far, but something will come up. We’re between the two Olympics: the ‘classic’ one and the ‘para’ one, which I think starts in a day or so. The city is very deserted right now, very classically Paris in August empty. I actually really enjoyed having the Olympics around. So many perky people everywhere. It was really no hassle at all. ** Harper, Hi! Ah, cool. Compton-Burnett and Green are such dialogue geniuses, yeah. Super study-able. You were such a rebel! Yay! Me too. One time at my boys’ school we were assigned to do a book report on ‘Huckleberry Finn’, and my ‘book report’ was a big piece of cardboard scissored to look like a boy’s silhouette covered with a collage of magazine photos of boys I thought would be really good Huckleberry Finns. I only didn’t get an F because I was known at my school for being the weird creative kid, so let it slide. The Beach Boys doc isn’t really an apologia for Mike Love, but he’s prominent among the talking heads, and they let him say his peace. But it’s a fairly neutral doc in a good way. My impression is that Van Dyke Parks didn’t leave ‘Smile’, Brian Wilson just ended up having a nervous breakdown and shelving it, but not because of Parks’ lyrics. ** Dev, Wow. Or, you know, of course. A real cadaver. If schools have stopped using cadavers, what do they do? Do they, like, use robots or dummies with anatomically correct and authentically dead-like interiors? That might be a dumb question. When Halloween approaches, I make these big posts gathering what look to be the most interesting haunted houses that year, and I’ll specifically look for a N.O. one for you. I’ve been a vegetarian since I was 15. I was a hippie pacifist kid, so that was part of it. Plus I never really liked the taste and smell of meat and fish. And there was this boy who was a diehard vegetarian who I had a big crush on, and I’m pretty sure I joined the ranks hoping to impress him, but I didn’t. I ate at an amazing vegan restaurant last night that does vegan versions of French cuisine, and that’s a tough cuisine to successfully remove meat items from too. ** Thomas H, Hi to Seattle. And to you, of course. Thanks for listening to me jabber. I haven’t played video games in quite a while. I swore them off when we were making and editing the film because I had to really focus and concentrate on that, and I’m edging back towards my system. So I’m pretty behind right now. I don’t know the games of Kitty Horrorshow, but I will definitely go hunt for them today Sounds very yum. Thanks, pal! And you have a splendiferous weekend too! ** Darb7🐁, Wouldn’t shock me: his return. ‘Surf’s Up’ is one of their ultra-best, for sure. My first drafts are always shit nothing, gasps, or tangled sentences, so don’t sweat it. You can doctor them later. Well, I guess you could look worse than that caterpillar looks. Its emotion is pretty fetching. No, never wore a Mickey Mouse gas mask. I never even saw one, strangely. I don’t know … I was just think about book reports that schools made you write and wondered if they were more effective than I remembered them being, I guess. Thanks in advance if you spend some of your hard won cash on ‘Flunker’. I certainly remember your Halloween store job. How could I ever forget something as exciting to think about as that. But a car wash job sounds okay. Some places turn car washes into haunted car washes for Halloween. Maybe you can get hired by one of those. That drawing is really cool! What a face! And what hair! Everyone, the great Darby shares a new drawing, and it’s sight for the sorest eyes. See for yourselves. Lucas set up a wordpress site to host his art and writing. Maybe you could do that? ** Poecilia, Hi! ** Okay. You have been introduced to Ben’s entertaining shebang, so now you need merely go forth into it or go back into it if you already some spent time up there before you came down here. See you on Monday.

My Christina Stead Book Report

If all the rich people in the world divided up 
their money among themselves there 
wouldn’t be enough to go around. 
Christina Stead

 

1.

The Australian-born novelist Christina Stead is an author whose reputation perpetually hovers somewhere between apotheosis and oblivion. As a novelist, she was one of those unfortunates whom critics admire in the abstract but often find distasteful or harsh in reality. She never achieved a popular or even a real critical success; during her lifetime she complained, with justification, that each new novel was greeted with cries of disappointment by reviewers, who accused it of not measuring up to her earlier books—books that themselves had all too often met with indifference, incomprehension, or hostility.

In the American literary climate dominated for so many decades by the stylistic dogma of Hemingwayesque simplicity, Stead’s all-over-the-map excess was viewed with puzzlement if not active annoyance, and Stead herself, much as she desired at least a modicum of popular recognition and the financial rewards that accompany it, never even paid lip service to middle-highbrow tastes: “That brainless pamphlet of monosyllables!” she raged when her publishers suggested that she write more in the style of Steinbeck’s latest best seller. When she edited her work she might throw things away, but by throwing away she emphatically did not mean “what is called ‘paring to the bone.’” Her own style was distinctly unfashionable.

The Man Who Loved Children (1940)

It begins … ‘All the June Saturday afternoon Sam Pollit’s children were on the lookout for him as they skated round the dirt sidewalks and seamed old asphalt of R Street and Reservoir Road that bounded the deep-grassed acres of Tohoga House, their home. They were not usually allowed to run helter-skelter about the streets, but Sam was out late with the naturalists looking for lizards and salamanders round the Potomac bluffs, Henrietta, their mother, was in town, Bonnie, their youthful aunt and general servant, had her afternoon off, and they were being minded by Louisa, their half sister, eleven and a half years old, the eldest of their brood. Strict and anxious when their parents were at home, Louisa when left in sole command was benevolent, liking to hear their shouts from a distance while she lay on her belly, reading, at the top of the orchard, or ambled, woolgathering, about the house.

‘The sun dropped between reefs of cloud into the Virginia woods a rain frog rattled and the air grew damp. Mother coming home from the Wisconsin Avenue car, with parcels, was seen from various corners by the perspiring young ones, who rushed to meet her, chirring on their skates, and who convoyed her home, doing figures round her, weaving and blowing about her or holding to her skirt, and merry, in spite of her decorous irritations.’

 

2.

Keith Duncan, Professor of Politics at Adelaide University from 1950 to 1968, was a pioneering Australian social scientist. Despite starting out with high academic hopes, he would by now be forgotten had he not served as the basis for an unpleasant character in a novel by the writer Christina Stead. He had the misfortune to find himself portrayed by an immensely hostile and persuasive story teller. In 1925, he encountered the starry-eyed future novelist Christina Stead. Their ensuing toxic relationship looms large in the accounts of Stead’s life that have since been published, including the 1993 biography by Hazel Rowley. Stead was smitten with Duncan after she enrolled in one of his extramural classes in Sydney. In 1928, fancying herself in love, she followed him to London where her shy advances were met with coldness and disdain. The self-loathing which this produced was not easily forgotten. To exorcise the pain, Stead decided, when she settled down as a professional writer, to use Duncan as the model for a villainous character in one of her novels. In her 1944 tale For Love Alone he featured as a dyspeptic postgraduate student named Jonathan Crow. A ‘dim-witted, dim-faced, bobbing pedant’, Crow spurns the dreamy Stead-like Teresa Hawkins. Duncan’s callousness was now revealed for the entire reading public of the English-speaking world to contemplate. This was a writer’s revenge indeed.

For Love Alone (1944)

It begins … ‘In the part of the world Teresa came from, winter is in July, spring brides marry in September, and Christmas is consummated with roast beef, suckling pig, and brandy-laced plum pudding at 100 degrees in the shade, near the tall pine-tree loaded with gifts and tinsel as in the old country, and old carols have rung out all through the night.

‘This island continent lies in the water hemisphere. On the eastern coast, the neighbouring nation is Chile, though it is far, far east, Valparaiso being more than six thousand miles away in a straight line; her northern neighbours are those of the Timor Sea, the Yellow Sea; to the south is that cold, stormy sea full of earth-wide rollers, which stretches from there without land, south to the Pole.’

 

3.


Trailer: John Ford’s ‘They Were Expendable’


Trailer: Mervyn Leroy’s ‘Madame Curie’

In the late 1920s, Stead met the American broker Wilhelm Blech, who became her lifelong partner. They eventually married in 1952 when Blech was able to get a divorce. Blech was a Communist and Stead adopted his political views. In the early 1940s Stead worked in Hollywood as a screenwriter for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios, contributing to Madame Curie, directed by Mervyn Le Roy, and They Were Expendable, directed by John Ford and starring John Wayne and Robert Montgomery. Many of Hollywood’s writers were Communists, and they formed a community of sorts. Of all these Hollywood Communists, with their luxurious houses and lavish parties, one of the most colorful was Ruth McKenney, famous as the author of My Sister Eileen. McKenney and her husband Richard Bransten were eventually expelled from the Party; the story of their apostasy and downfall fascinated and horrified Stead, and they became the subjects of I’m Dying Laughing, probably her best book along with The Man Who Loved Children. I’m Dying Laughing was not published in Stead’s lifetime. She became overwhelmed with the drafts and revisions, which she lugged around with her for years, apparently incapable of pulling the book into shape.

I’m Dying Laughing (1986)

It begins … ‘The last cable was off, the green lane between ship and dock widened. Emily kept calling and waving to the three below, Ben, a press photographer, her brother Amold and his wife Berry. Amold was twenty- three, two years younger than herself; Berry was twenty-four. Arnold was a dark fleshy man, sensual, self-confident, he fooled around, had never finished high school. From Seattle he came to New York after her and she had helped him out for a while. He now was working on a relief project for the WPA and earning about a hundred dollars a month. Berry was a teacher, soon to have a child. She was a big, fair girl, bolder than Amold. She had already had a child by Amold, when they were going together, had gone to Ireland to some relatives to have it. Arnold had never seen it, but Emily regularly gave them money for it. It was a boy four years old and named Leonard.’

 

4.

 

5.

Hazel Rowley, author of Stead’s autobiography, notes that “Stead’s fiction, angrier, more relentless than ever, did not appeal to 1950’s war-scarred sensibilities, which celebrated femininity, family and hearth. From now on, her fiction offered neither moral integrity nor hope. Instead, it confronted readers with poverty, corruption and self-deception—things they preferred to forget.” Her late books include A Little Tea, A Little Chat (New York, 1948; London, 1981), Cotter’s England (published in America under the title Dark Places of the Heart— New York, 1966; London, 1967), The People With the Dogs (New York, 1952; London, 1981), The Puzzleheaded Girl (New York, 1967; London, 1968), and Miss Herbert (New York, 1976; London, 1979). None of them was exactly snapped up by publishers; London publishers were even less confident in her marketability than New York ones, and she generally had to shop her manuscripts around for many years.

 

6.

By the time her husband Bill died in 1966, Stead had herself become an object she had despised in her novels — a lonely, unloved woman. Unattractive, even ugly, in youth, she had cultivated the persona—in which, perhaps, only she believed—of a man’s woman. “I adore men,” she said. “While there is a man left on earth, I’ll never be a feminist.” She always flirted boldly with the attractive men around her. As long as Bill was in the background she had felt secure, but with him gone it became all too evident that she was not sought after by the male sex. The lack of romance in her life prompted her move to Australia, but once there she unsurprisingly found it difficult to make a place for herself within the family she had so decidedly rejected a half-century earlier. Nor had she any really good friends in the country.

The Little Hotel (1973)

It begins … ‘If you knew what happens in the hotel every day! Not a day passes but something happens. Yesterday afternoon a woman rang me up from Geneva and told me her daughter-in-law died. The woman stayed here twice. We became very friendly; though I always felt there was something she was keeping to herself. I never knew whether she was divorced, widowed or separated. The first time, she talked about her son Gerard. Later, Gerard married. There was something; for she used to telephone from Geneva, crying and saying she had to talk to a friend. I was looking for a friend too. I am always looking for one; for I never had one since I lost my girlhood friend Edith, who married a German exile and after the peace went to live in East Berlin with him. But I can’t say I felt really friendly with this woman in Geneva; I didn’t know enough about her. My girl friend Edith and I never had any secrets from each other; We lived in neighbouring streets. We would telephone each other as soon as we got up in the morning. On Saturdays we rushed through our household jobs to see each other; we rang up all day long and wrote letters to each other when we were separated by the holidays. Oh, I was so happy in those days. When you grow up and marry, there is a shadow over everything; you can never really be happy again, it seems to me. Besides, with the servants to manage, the menus to type out, the marketing to do, the guests to control and keep in good humour, the accounts, I haven’t the time to spend half an hour on the telephone, as I used to. I used to dread this telephone call from Geneva. Still, if a person needs me I must talk to her, mustn’t I? You never know. People live year after year in a hotel hke this. We have their police papers, we know their sicknesses and family troubles; people come to confide in you. They tell you things they would not tell their own parents and friends, not even their lawyers and doctors.’

 

7.

Christina Stead became one of the greatest writer’s Australia has produced and one of the great writers of the twentieth century. Her books, especially The Man Who Loved Children (1940), have attracted admirers throughout the English-speaking world and have been translated into many other languages. Through her long life she cared nothing for publicity or reviews.

In her long life, she only agreed to one filmed interview. This is it. Over two days at the home of Mary Lord in Melbourne, Christina Stead spoke frankly about her life and times, her work, her travel through post war Europe and America and the cultural scene in Australia.

What emerges is a unique portrait of one of Australia’s literary giants. Whilst there are written pieces about her; seeing her as she speaks, adds immeasurably to our understanding of her personality and attitudes. Her emphasis, wryness and quiet humour are revealed and her steely intelligence is always on show. Her only request was that the film not be screened until after her death.

Watch it on kanopy

 

8.

Thanks to the efforts of writers like Patrick White, the leading Australian novelist, Stead was welcomed to the Australian literary community rather than resented as “un-Australian,” as had been the case in the past. But she was old, imperious, and difficult: “She had strong views, strong prejudices, some of which she maintained in the teeth of all evidence,” said one acquaintance, and her friends secretly totted up the number of times in an evening she would begin a statement with “My dear, you’re wrong.” White thought her the greatest writer Australia had produced, but her arrogance infuriated him; her family tolerated her, but she hardly went out of her way to be pleasant. She died in 1983, striking out at her long-suffering family even in death by asking that her sisters not attend her funeral. She had few mourners, and no one returned to the crematorium the next day to claim her ashes.

Stead was a judgmental writer. Indeed if there is any dominant motivation for her writing it is rage. But she understood and accepted the unpalatable truths of human relations. “I can’t get over how cruel human beings, not are, but must be, to each other—for ever and ever, I suppose. It is a real inferno we are born into.”

* The above texts were extracted from ‘A real inferno: the Life of Christina Stead’, by Brooke Allen, Australian Authors @ middlemiss.org, Christina Stead @ Books and Writers, and ‘A Steadfast Revenge: Dr. Duncan and Mr. Crow’, by Stephen Holt.

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** Thomas Moronic, Mr. T! Hey, buddy! It’s going somewhat okay here to put a positive spin on it. Aw, thanks for listening to my visit to the Island. And of course thank you ever so much for the kind words about ‘Flunker’. I’m highly honored, and I do remember our smokey conversation. How about that? Writing going (well) is the main thing, you got it. I’d love to talk. Zoom? Or, if you’re heading over here, face to face. I think we’re past the heatwaves phase, and Paris is once again resplendent. So cool to see your type! Lots of love to you! ** Misanthrope, I keep waiting for a Katherine Hepburn wobble to destroy my teenage vocal likeness, but not yet. As far as I know. The Craw: As you’ll see, there are good reasons why he is no longer in the pop culture firmament. ** David Ehrenstein, Quite a concert there yesterday! ** Poecilia, I still bump into Mr. Decloitre, and I will spread your warm greeting in his direction. Wow, that’s a beautiful piece of art too. I’m bowing — while sitting in a desk chair, mind you, which is not easy. Thank you, thank you! Keep gifting the world.  Everyone, another beautiful artwork by the ultra-gifted Poecilia is luckily right here.** _Black_Acrylic, Haha, I wondered if you might have a remark about that escort. Oh, no re: Leeds. Is football/soccer like baseball in the sense that teams can make player trades whenever they want? That does sound a bit needed? ** Jack Skelley, You with a tear-splattered face, awww. I read your Interview interview yesterday. She was very fresh with you, or compared to how she was with me, I think. Nice read! Everyone, Mr. Jack Skelley has been interviewed for Interview about ‘Myth Lab’, etc. by the estimable Whitney Mallett, and it’s a fun tete-a-tete and highly recommended. Hereabouts. Soon can’t be soon enough. Moi. ** jay, The commenters are kind of like the choruses in Greek plays. Uniqueness is always the goal, am I wrong? Maybe I am. Yes, yes, ‘The Return’, I’ll try to de-block myself. ** Diesel Clementine, What a serious pleasure to get to see your art! All beautiful. I especially loved the second one too for some reason. The talent around here is off the charts. How can the blog be so lucky? It’s almost weird. Everyone, Diesel Clementine has shared a few pieces of their art with us, and they’re a true discovery, so do partake. Oil on pavement-sourced-plywood (snapped in half), Oil on the other half (unfinished), and Oil on unprimed linen. Thank you, thank you! ** Lucas, Hi. I wonder if their handles are their go-to handles on every site. Might explain the odd. The lights at Xmas here are revered for good reasons, I have to say. I know, I’m shocked I haven’t seen ‘The Return’ too. Everyone I know is shocked. Their mouths hang open and stuff. I’ve heard of ‘Veep’. I assume it’s about a … well, veep. Your weekend probably doesn’t need good vibes input, but I’m willing them to your weekend just in case. ** nat, Your description of your thoughts make me realise how mechanical and based in practicality my thoughts are at the moment. I’ve never played a Final Fantasy game, always have wanted to. They’re not very Nintendo friendly, and that’s my only system. Yeah, I mean, learn drawing, why not? I bet you’re already learned. ** Måns BT, Måns! I know, I know, about my insanity. Being the organised person I am, I will have to carefully plan for the time it will take me to watch it, and that may take me a bit. But, yes, I will gain sanity. I’ve heard quite a bit about it from friends because all of my friends — except Zac who hasn’t even seen the first two seasons — use ‘The Return’ as a constant reference point. I do like Harmony Korine. The only film of his I don’t like is ‘The Beach Bum’, which seems like a huge mistake by him. And the only Larry Clark films I like more than just vaguely are the ones Korine wrote. Sweden used to be known as the big purveyor of arty porn in the US, at least when I was quite young. ‘I Am Curious (Yellow)’ caused a huge sensation in the States during my teens. For instance. Yes, a great pleasure to be in your proximity. Excellent Friday! ** Dev, Congrats on the successful interview. Cadaver dissection … like a real one? Like a human real one? How was that? How dead was it? I mean, was it recently dead or was it stored in a freezer for years, or … ? Wow. Oh, you must do Halloween haunted houses. Soon enough the blog will start badgering you with haunted house things to get you in the mood. I’m primarily vegetarian, but I go vegan for periods, sometime long periods, sometimes short ones. Resisting cheese is hard for me. What is your dietary preference/decision? Apologies if you’ve said so before. ** Justin D, Thanks! Yeah, the nose guy was a highlight. My Thursday and my Wednesday were weirdly almost identical. That’s not good. I’m seeing pals and doing stuff today, so today will differ at least. Solar panels: you’re a good citizen. Did your playlist drown out the racket or at least score it interestingly? ** Nicholas, I’m down with the cigarette bumming grindr knockoff. I don’t use apps on my phone, but I might in that case. Copyright that fucker. Hm, I think there are a lot of songs I think are perfect. But … let me think. I remember thinking ‘I Don’t Wanna Go Down to the Basement’ by The Ramones was a perfect song. I remember thinking ‘My Feet Keep Dancing’ by Chic was a perfect song. I remember thinking ‘The True Wheel’ by Eno was a perfect song. I remember thinking ‘Brand New Love’ by Sebadoh was a perfect song. I could go on, but there are four. And your perfect song is …? ** Harper, Very rarely I see someone I know on those sites who I only then discover is escorting, but I never co-opt those. That would seem unfriendly. I do know some Webcam people. They make some solid bucks. Not bad. Your theory on why people objectify themselves for others makes utter sense, of course. Brian Wilson is a god, and ‘Smile’ is a god. That recent documentary about The Beach Boys wasn’t much as a documentary, but it does have some interesting new stuff and unseen footage and so on. ** Bill, I didn’t know Harpers Ferry was in West Virginia until I made that post and got curious. Give me the good and bad or so-so word about ‘Cuckoo’. I’m not tempted at the moment. ** Thomas H, Hi. Yeah, not an uninteresting lot this month. Enjoy Seattle, obviously. And I hope it ponies up some gay stuff for you. And do let me know what in the world that Reeves/Miéville thing is, yes, thank you! Stay safe and excited and all of that good stuff. ** Darby🫠, Because Halloween is a/the societal treasure trove. I would imagine the Olympics only drew in more pigeons than normal since the ground was probably more littered with food than usual. The Fuzzy Needle is a superlative name for a bookstore. Yeah, sure, ‘Fear and Loathing’ is big fun. I heard that John Doe book is worth a gander. Hot springs … you mean like where you can sit in the spring and luxuriate and stuff like that? Sure. They usually serve very healthy food, so no problem. My favorite is this place called Therme Valle in Switzerland. But I heard they’ve now overbuilt it and fucked it up. Animals … I don’t remember. Just the usual, I think. Never been to Spokane. Noted! ** Oscar 🌀, Goofy was always my favorite precisely because he freaked me out. Ha ha. When I was a kid, my parents would sometimes invite famous people over for dinner, and one time their guest was a famous fashion designer of the time, and when my mom opened the door to let him in, she said, ‘Hi, Mr. De La Renta’, and he said, ‘Please, no need for such formalities’, so my mom rephrased her greeting. I think you would need a whole lot of money to get with Onlyrichpeople, but maybe he’s kidding himself. Oh, gosh, I think I’d be scared to poll the blog about the favorite book of mine. Seems like that would be just like asking for trouble. May your Friday wave like your freak flag. ** Right. As an exercise, I pretended I was in high school and wrote, or, rather, stole, a book report on Christina Stead, and I think I would probably have gotten a D or maybe a D+, but what the hell. See you tomorrow.

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