If You Had A Hard Time getting past our cover to actually open this issue, we understand. She's Bo Derek, of course, the knee-trembling-beautiful star of last fall's hit movie "10" and the wife of actor-director John Derek. At a time when it seems every other men's magazine has a section in which husbands at large can send in photos of their nude wives, we prefer to be a bit more selective. In our humble opinion, John's photographic portraits in Bo, on page 146, represent the apex of the genre. We think you'll agree. And if you're wondering if Bo looks as good in person as she does in pictures, take it from Contributing Editor Bruce Williamson, who interviewed John and Bo: "She's magnificent."
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478), March, 1980, Volume 27, Number 3. Published monthly by Playboy, Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611. Subscriptions: In the United States and its possessions, $39 for 36 issues, $28 for 24 issues, $16 for 12 issues. Canada, $24 for 12 issues, elsewhere, $31 for 12 issues. Allow 45 days for new subscriptions and renewals, change of address; Send both old and new addresses to Playboy, Post Office Box 2420, Boulder, Colorado 80302, and allow 45 days for change. Marketing: Ed Condon, Director/Direct Marketing; Michael J. Murphy, Circulation Promotion Director. Advertising: Henry W. Marks, Advertising Director; Harold Duchin, National Sales Manager; Mark Evens, Associate Advertising Manager; Richard Atkins, Fashion Advertising Manager, 747 Third Avenue, New York, New York 10017; Chicago, Russ Weller, Associate Advertising Manager, 919 North Michigan Avenue; Troy, Michigan, Jess Ballew, Manager, 3001 W. Big Beaver Road; Los Angeles, Stanley L. Perkins, Manager, 8721 Beverly Boulevard; San Francisco, Tom Jones, Manager, 417 Montgomery Street.
Quasi autobiography is the game afoot in a couple of major films, and Bob Fosse's flashy, phantasmagorical All That Jazz depicts his world as one of musical beds (for inside glimpses of both the film and Fosse, see the pictorial on page 174). Visually, the movie's a knockout, and I don't believe it can be entirely coincidental that the cinematographer Fosse chose to use was Giuseppe Rotunno, a longtime associate of Federico Fellini--though Rotunno did not shoot 8-1/2, the masterwork to which All That Jazz will most likely be compared. The difference between the two--which favors Fellini, as Fosse would be the first to acknowledge--happens to be the difference between being genuinely great and merely damned good. But Fosse's work is nevertheless risky, imaginative, wildly original, deeply personal and almost ruthlessly honest as a self-portrait of the artist as a not-so-young son of a bitch. Flouncing around backstage near the beginning of All That Jazz, a couple of chorus dancers at an audition sum up the film's attitude toward the famous director-choreographer under scrutiny. "Fuck him, he never picks me," one complains. To which her chum replies: "Honey, I did fuck him, and he never picks me, either."
Birnbaum's Second Travel Law states: The next-best thing to being born rich is to travel as though you were. And just between us non-Rockefellers, the very best way to accomplish that is to forget the old idea that traveling automatically requires checking into a conventional hotel or motel.
Random Rumors: Alice Cooper has become a collector of Richard Nixon memorabilia. He has Nixon's autograph mounted on his wall between the framed signatures of Bela Lugosi and Edgar Allan Poe. Now he's trying to buy those cypress trees used in the taxpayer-financed landscaping at San Clemente, to plant near the deep end of his swimming pool. Alice says that would make "a symbolic gesture to Nixon's terms in office." . . . . One of East Germany's most popular youth magazines alleges that many pop and rock songs from the West may contain hidden right-wing influences. In the Navy, by the Village People, was cited. It's not clear whether the problem is sex or the Armed Forces, but then, it's not all that clear to the Village People, either. . . . A representative of The Rolling Stones says discussions of a possible tour of mainland China have been held, but many important details have not been worked out. Will they be allowed to sing Satisfaction? Stay tuned. . . . Did you know that the most successful politician of punk lost his bid to become the next mayor of San Francisco? His name is (are you ready?) Jello Biafra and he is the lead singer of a group called The Dead Kennedys; he actually placed fourth in the mayoral primary. . . . The Bee Gees can forget Sioux Falls, South Dakota. A student-run radio station at a college there asked listeners to call in and vote on whether the group should break up or stay together. The vote was 371 and a half to three for breaking up. (A pregnant woman cast the half vote for her unborn child.) Is this the writing on the wall?
Anne Rice's first novel, Interview with the Vampire, will probably live forever, unless someone manages to put a wooden stake through its heart. The book is a lyrical, erotic, psychedelic portrait of the undead--quite probably the book that inspired the Count Drac revival. You should pick it up in paperback. Better that than Rice's second novel, The Feast of All Saints (Simon & Schuster), which chronicles the coming of age of a 15-year-old black in antebellum New Orleans. Marcel, a member of the gens de couleur libre (free men of color), is the privileged son of a white plantation owner and a black woman. He attends a private school, where he learns love from his teacher's mother. Rice's writing is lush, but the levels of frustrated passion in Feast are right out of a historical romance; in short, a kind of Tea and Sympathy Meets Roots. It's not our cup of blood.
The second season of The Shakespeare Plays gets off to a dazzling start with Twelfth Night over most PBS outlets on Wednesday, February 27, in prime time. Any viewer who has never experienced Shakespeare comedy at its zenith--romantic frivolity leavened with ribald low-jinks and delicious wit--should tune in just to see how the magic is done. Of course, there's no beating the English at this particular game. Although Alec McCowen handles the star turn as Malvolio, a self-important steward whose undoing is one of Shakespeare's cruelest practical jokes, that subplot has little to do with the main business of Twelfth Night. Mistaken identity, true love spurned and long-lost siblings are at center stage. It's all about Viola and Sebastian (Felicity Kendal and Michael Thomas), a look-alike sister and brother who are shipwrecked, separated and cast ashore in the kingdom of Illyria--where Viola puts on men's clothes for no good reason and poses as a servant to Duke Orsino (Clive Arrindell), who is hopelessly smitten by the beautiful, unattainable Olivia (Sinead Cusack). Director John Gorrie and his grand company emphasize the sexual innuendo of the piece, reminding us that Twelfth Night has a lot in common with those wicked farces of a later period, wherein boy meets girl and nobody knows which is which. Good for the broader laughs are Robert Hardy and Ronnie Stevens as Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek, making a hey-nonny-nonny with two of the greatest comic roles of all time. An occasional production of such caliber whets anticipation for a series committed to presenting all of the Bard's plays over a six-year period.
Idol Gossip: Warner Bros, has begun to put together personnel for the film of John Irving's best-selling novel, The World According to Garp (parts of which appeared in Playboy), and, at least so far, it's shaping up to be a pretty classy package. Although casting has yet to be announced, director George Roy Hill will produce and direct the flick and screenwriter Steve (Breaking Away) Tesich has been signed to pen the script. . . . After months of speculation by Hollywood gossips, Lorimar has chosen Jessica Lange to play the Lana Turner role in the remake of The Postman Always Rings Twice.Jack Nicholson, you recall, will appear in the John Garfield role. . . . Speaking of remakes, Laurence Olivier will play Neil Diamond's father in The Jazz Singer. The new version has been updated so that Neil will be able to sing more contemporary songs. . . . Roy Orbison will portray himself in a cameo role in United Artists' Roadie, which stars Meat Loaf. There's also some talk of a biopic of Orbison, with Martin Sheen a possible choice for the lead role. . . . Christopher Walken and Tom Berenger will star in the film of Frederick Forsyth's best-selling thriller The Dogs of War. . . . Al Pacino and producer Keith Barish have purchased the rights to the off-Broadway play Modigliani, by Dennis McIntyre. Pacino will play the artist in the film version, from a script by the playwright. . . . As you may have heard by now, Universal has dropped Jaws 3, People 0, a parody of the Jaws flicks by the National Lampoon people, based on an idea by Nat Lamp publisher Matty Simmons. Apparently, not only had Bo Derek been signed to appear in the flick but the studio had spent a goodly sum constructing mechanical sharks before dropping the project.
I've been dating a girl for several months. We finally got around to talking about what went on in our heads during sex, what we liked, and so forth. I mentioned that I sometimes fantasized during intercourse. She asked me if I had had erotic daydreams the first time we made love. I said yes, which was a mistake. She grants that fantasies are normal but thinks I must be pretty weird to drift off in the middle of a completely novel encounter, when I should be totally absorbed in my new partner. Am I strange?--K. R., Madison, Wisconsin.
<p>THE REPORT out of Florida streaked across the wires, was ripped off and read on radio and played big on the TV evening news. The Drug Enforcement Administration said in late 1978 that marijuana is a 48-billion-dollar-a-year industry in the United States. Marijuana, said the DEA, is the third biggest business in the U. S. General Motors is first, Exxon is second, pot is third-far ahead of Ford, Mobil Oil, Texaco and Standard Oil. Bigger than Gulf Oil, Chrysler and U. S. Steel combined.</p>
I first sketched a young, handsome Charles Mingus commanding his bull fiddle in Chicago clubs in the late Fifties. later, in the late Sixties and early Seventies. I did pen-and-ink sketches of him while he worked the New York clubs, constantly clad in his custom-made black-silk shirts. Mingus was a challenging and controversial man, a fine conductor, a brilliant composer and a musician of enormous stature. When he was struck by a fatal nerve disease in 1977, he could no longer use his hands to play the piano, so he used his voice to compose, instead. My final drawing is of Mingus confined to a wheelchair on the White House lawn during the Newport Jazz Festival, June 18, 1978. The entire gathering, which was headed by President Carter and included many of Mingus' fellow musicians, rose to extend him a standing ovation. Tears streamed from Mingus' sparkling, intelligent eyes as his wife, Susan, tenderly wiped them away. Charles died seven months later in Mexico at the age of 56.
In the boxes below, you'll find words, expressions or phrases that are artfully concealed in the letters. For instance, the title can be deciphered as "play on words." See how many of the rest you can puzzle out. Some are a little racy, so if you get 25 or more correct, you've got both a quick mind and a salacious one.
If fashion is essentially a matter of educating the eye, you'd better prepare for a crash course. In as short a time as we can remember, the color mood in men's sportswear has shifted from the somber shades of sand to the electric-light hues of a pinball game. Men, of course, have broken out the hot colors for such occasions as an informal cocktail party. And brights, too, have been used as accents (a bold expression of individuality around the neck sanitized under a three-piece suit). But suddenly, dressing in total color, with the boldest of palette mixings, has exploded on the scene. It may be a reaction to the bleak economy, as well as a spillover to the streets from the fun of the dance floor; but whatever the reason, top-to-toe color is a bright way to liven up your wardrobe.
A spritz in the face may still be good for a laugh, but hip barmen have rediscovered the effervescent pleasure of aiming a seltzer bottle at a more receptive target--a tall glass filled with one's favorite liquor, or even chocolate syrup, if you're into egg creams. No, you don't have to buy your bubbles in containers that have to be refilled by a manufacturer. There's a variety of glass and/or metal syphons on the market that operate on CO2 gas. All you do is slip a cartridge into a special holder and screw it onto the spritzer head. Instantaneously, you'll hear a welcome knnnuussh as the gas mingles with the water and you have a mixer that sparkles plenty. It's the cocktail hour. To the seltzer bottles, men. Charge!
"Mind Over Body: Medicine's Newest Approach"--Norman Cousins laughed himself well and physicians are finding that our mental state may, indeed, alter our physical one. A fascinating report--by David Black