Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478), October 1990, Volume 37, Number 10. Published Monthly by Playboy, 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611. Subscriptions: $26 for 12 issues, U.S. Canada, $39 for 12 issues. All other Foreign, $39 U.S. currency only. For new and renewal orders and change of address, send to Playboy subscriptions, P.O. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. Please allow 6–8 weeks for processing. For change of address, send new and old addresses and allow 45 days for change. Postmaster: Send form 3579 to Playboy, P.O. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. Advertising: New York: 747 Third Avenue, New York 10017; Chicago: 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago 60611; West Coast: Perkins, Fox & Perkins, 3205 Ocean Park Boulevard, Suite 100, Santa Monica, California 90405.
They used to make fun of him. Comedian Franklyn Ajaye called him The Walrus of Love. But only legends earn that kind of recognition and Barry White (backed by his Love Unlimited Orchestra) is a legendary crooner. In the Seventies, his "Never, Never Gonna Give Ya Up," "I'm Gonna Love You Just a Little More, Baby" and "Love's Theme" were monster hits. And now, as the title of his current A&M album says, "The Man Is Back." Marking the occasion, Contributing Editor Walter Lowe, Jr., talked with White after his opening night at Chicago's Regal Theater.
Another stylish and stunning movie from the Coen brothers, Miller's Crossing (Fox) will open the New York Film Festival this year. Like Blood Simple, the 1984 sleeper that made their reputations, this film has what it takes to succeed. Director Joel Coen co-authored the trenchant screenplay with his brother Ethan, who doubles as producer. This is a gangland drama of the old school, set in 1929 in a nameless city under Mob rule. Albert Finney plays Leo, the reigning political boss; Gabriel Byrne is his henchman Tom. These guys are at war with each other because they both want the same woman (movie newcomer Marcia Gay Harden as a memorable trollop named Verna) and are simultaneously at odds with a powerful hood named Johnny Caspar (Jon Polito). The plot has the energy of a cyclone, sweeping its characters into a whirlwind of sex, treachery and intrigue. Despite his forceful company, John Turturro (see September's Off Camera) steals scenes wholesale as an unprincipled bookie named Bernie, who thickens a plot already crowded with double-dealers. Miller's Crossing is a new, improved film noir, with the tone and texture of the grand shoot-'em-ups they used to make when Cagney was a kid. [rating]4 bunnies[/rating]
Handsome new Hollywood he-man Jeff Fahey, 34, was last seen as Theresa Russell's amorous colleague in Impulse. He will next go head to head with Clint Eastwood in White Hunter, Black Heart—Clint thinly disguised as the late John Huston; Jeff as the brainy writer of a movie much like The African Queen. He has spent years shedding his image as the swarthy bad guy of such flicks as Silverado and Psycho III. "I was usually the heavy," says Fahey, "and in Hollywood, they sort of pigeonhole you. The rent has to be paid in the beginning, so you go with it." At 20, he was a commercial fisherman on Cape Cod. Before that, he'd spent three years seeing the world, hitchhiking mostly, inspired by Jack Kerouac's On the Road to rove and "piss from the back of a flat-bed truck." During a year in Israel, "I worked on a kibbutz and on a construction job because I was broke. Now I get paid to explore," says the ex-hitcher, "and I don't have to use my thumb."
Dizziest Video of the Month:The Merrie Monarch Hula Festival, 1987: Miss Aloha Hula Competition;Best Video Groundbreaker:Tips, Tricks and Problem Solvers for the Hand-weaver;Best Vidgift for Nancy Reagan:Interpreting the Natal Chart;Kinkiest-Sounding Sports Video:Essential Strokes—The Basic Game;Favorite Video Duos:Clowns and Children;Second-Favorite Video Duo:Frogs and Toads;Best Oh, No! Video:ABBA Again;Best It's-a-Living Video:Traction Today;Best Thrill-a-Minute Video:The Squat.
Video-Catalog Tip of the Month: Besides boasting high-quality tapes ("The vast majority of our video masters are taken directly from film") and a massive library ("nearly 900 titles of obscure horror, science fiction and other related genres"), the Sinister Cinema video catalog is, if nothing else, a fun read. And the library is formidable: standard horror (Bela Lugosi, Lon Chaney, Jr.); Fifties s-f (Attack of the Giant Leeches); sword-and-sandal epics (Hercules in the Haunted World); "Trailers of Terror" (classic previews of coming attractions); "Drive-in double features"—with snack-bar intermission promos (floating heads hawking popcorn and Coke); juvenile schlock (Hot Rod Girl, Teenage Wolfpack)—even the original Ralph Byrd Dick Tracy serials of the Thirties and Forties. Give the Sinister folks a call at 415-359-3292, or write to them at Sinister Cinema, P.O. Box 777, Pacifica, California 94044.
Sloe-eyed Lee Grant copped an Oscar for acting in 1975's Shampoo and directed the 1986 Oscar-winning documentary Down and Out in America. She's currently engaged in both disciplines, co-starring with Meryl Streep and Albert Brooks in Defending Your Life and directing a "Capraesque comedy" starring William Petersen. Not surprisingly, Grant doesn't just watch videos—she studies them. "Ingmar Bergman has a big influence on me," she says. "And when the material is right, Michael Cimino and Francis Ford Coppola create a certain virility, a tremendous vigor and power." For acting inspiration, Grant checks out Kate Hepburn in Sylvia Scarlett, Greta Garbo in Camille, James Spader in sex, lies, and videotape, Joan Cusack in Working Girl and Henry Fonda in The Grapes of Wrath. She also admits to a sneaking fondness for her own Valley of the Dolls gig. "I got to sing—badly—and play a bed scene wearing a bra. I loved playing a character who'd clearly, um, gotten her skirts dirty. Know what I mean?" Yep.
British singer/writer/instrumeutalist Lloyd Cole, formerly of Lloyd Cole & the Commotions, recently debuted his first solo LP. Cole, a mainstream star in Europe but a cult figure here, doesn't necessarily want to keep it that way: "I'd much rather be Billy Idol than some cult artist." That seemed reason enough to ask him to review Idol's new "Charmed Life."
Stop the Presses Department: When we locate a new band with the right stuff, we like to clue you in immediately. A group in Indianapolis called Sex Sells Magazines is, not surprisingly, our pick of the month.
When 25,000 booksellers, publishers, authors, agents and critics—all crazed with gambling fever—converged on Las Vegas for the annual American Booksellers Association convention, the book they really needed was The Caesars Palace Book of Sports Betting Strategies (St. Martin's), by Bert Randolph Sugar. But, like most of the other books presented at the meeting, it won't be available in stores until later this year.
One day last fall, a compatriot of mine was apprehended for lighting a cigarette in the press box of a college football stadium. It was a vivid reminder—for me, at least—that the lifestyle police never close a case and always get their man.
The memory lingers on, years after the fact: I am driving in a modest neighborhood in Manoa Valley on the island of Oahu. There is a rainbow in the distance, as there often is in Hawaii. It is a Friday afternoon, and I am supposed to pick up my two sons, Jim and Brendan, ages eight and five, for my legal and assigned weekend's visitation with them.
There are twenty-five women in this room and fifty face lifts," said Patti. We were at a barbecue in Malibu, on a gigantic deck overlooking the ocean. There were a bunch of women there eating nothing. The men were happily tucking into ribs and potato salad. Some of them looked good, but some had big pot bellies. I don't know what goes on in a man's darkest, deepest soul, but even the fat fellows looked enormously, richly pleased with themselves.
Recently, I read an article on tantric sex by Charles and Caroline Muir. It described a breathing technique that supposedly enhances orgasm. They suggest: "To increase the length and power of your orgasm, start to inhale (as slowly as possible) about halfway into its peak. The building-up feeling of climax will continue for as long as you can sustain the inhalation. When you begin to release the breath, do it with as much sound as possible. Really sing out.... The volume of your sound influences the volume, the depth, of your orgasm. But you want to stay in control of the sound and not use it up too fast; the orgasm will last as long as you continue to vocalize it in your exhalation. With practice, both men and women can learn to keep the orgasm going for more than one complete breath, up to four or six, possibly more." Have you ever heard of such a thing?—C. B., Los Angeles, California.
"How many 'cathedrals' of old-growth trees are needed to have a spiritual experience? When can we get on with growing trees and cutting trees?"—Shepard Tucker, spokesman for Louisiana-Pacific Pulp Mill, in response to environmentalists who view ancient redwood forests with a respect bordering on reverence
Did you know that Little Red Ridinghood condones the use of alcohol because its heroine gives her grandmother a bottle of wine? That belief left Lynn McPeak, interim curriculum director for the Empire, California, school district, with no choice but to put 400 copies of the story under lock and key, away from Impressionable young children.
Scene one: Mary and Bill have recently been introduced. They arrange to go to dinner and a movie together. He picks her up in his car, they dine, see a film and he takes her back home. She hasn't had a particularly good time with Bill and wants to return to her apartment by herself, but Bill has a long drive back to his place. He asks if he can go in and have some coffee. Mary thinks this is a reasonable request and agrees. As soon as they enter her apartment, he overpowers her, rips off her clothes, has sex with her and leaves.
On a wall of Columbia University's student-health-service building is a bright-red warning poster: Date Rape is violence. Not a difference f opinion. This is but one sign that college campuses, long thought of as hotbeds of sexuality, are now considered hotbeds of date rape.
It used to be argued by weird village priests that sex destroyed brain cells. As a result, generations of Catholic boys grew up fearing that they would blow an exam if they masturbated. That theory never had a shred of scientific foundation and has been discarded. But a modified version of it seems plausible in light of current data. Recent experience suggests that thinking about other people's sex lives kills portions of the brain.
In the political thriller "Three Days of the Condor," Robert Redford plays a CIA operative whose job is to read everything. He reads books from around the world in virtually every language. He is nearly killed because his reading leads him to a CIA within the CIA that is planning an invasion of the Middle East.
Don't let the lush curls and tempting curves fool you. Marisa Paré is no soft touch. She plays Lace—one of the warrior cast that kicks contestants' butts on the hit TV show American Gladiators. After she gunned down yet another foe in the Assault event, in which the Gladiators fire an air cannon at hapless victims, host Mike Adamle asked Marisa how she kept track of her wins. She batted her eyelashes and said, "I make notches on my lipstick case." This is not a woman to take lightly. Think of Lace as the latest in a long line of pop hellcats: Alexis Carrington with blazing speed, Breathless Mahoney with biceps. And think of Marisa Paré as something more—an actress with the physical skills to play Lace to the hilt, plus the wit to enjoy herself while using Gladiators as a springboard to more challenging roles. "The show is a great way to blow off steam," she says. "It's fun, zany theatrics, but the physical stuff is real." She has the bruises to prove it. In a year of gladiating, she has torn ligaments in her right hand, strained a rotator cuff and suffered two concussions. Calling the show "an interesting interpretation of physical power," Marisa says she likes running and gunning as Lace but wants to show off her subtler talents. Her voice and potent presence have talent scouts hoping she'll resume her work as a singer and actress. Her nascent careers on screen and in music—she has guest-starred on Mike Hammer and fronted an L.A. band, Ivy League and the Climbers—were derailed by a 1986 marriage to actor Michael Paré, who didn't want another careerist in the house. "His ideas were really archaic," says Marisa of her ex, who gained film fame as Eddie in Eddie and the Cruisers. "He wanted a piece of flesh who stayed home." Marisa worked as an interior designer—she did Bruce Willis' Malibu home in "neo-Santa Fe" style—until she and Michael divorced last year. Now Gladiators has brought a slew of new offers. A Los Angeles music executive wants her to record a few songs. She has done a few broadcasting gigs on TV—more may be in the offing. "I've been lucky," says Marisa. "Gladiators has opened a lot of doors for me." You'll be hearing more from her as she races through one of those doors—if she can avoid another Gladiatorial concussion.
Just about everything in this fell and winter's fashion scene is down to earth except the prices. Colors are the shades of early autumn—warm browns and rich golds. The cut of suits, sports coats, pants and outerwear is informal, with sloping shoulders and loose double- and triple-pleated pants. Double-breasted suits and single-button sports jackets are the way to go, especially if you're tall. Try one with a denim, spread-collar shirt for a casual country-squire look. When the weather starts to get brisk, the next best thing to a woman's arms wrapped around your neck is a scarf in luxurious cashmere, silk or lamb's wool. Paisley and floral prints are particularly stylish this fall, as are scarves designed with hand-tied fringe. But if you're after the real thing, overcoats in plush fabrics have a built-in bonus—not only are they warm but women can't keep their hands off them. Longer leather car coats and wool stadium coats look sharp over tweedy sports jackets and mock-turtle-neck sweaters. Quilted suedes have booted the black-leather motorcycle jacket out of town. And soft polished-leather and suede ankle boots are shoo-in styles to check out. For information on what's happening under your Adam's apple, see our tie Style Meter on page 22. To top it all off, the classic fedora and newsboy cap are back, as noted in Playboy on the Scene on page 181—and, yes, the fedora is available in colors besides Dick Tracy yellow.
Last day of the salmon season, Old Windell gave a knife to Larry Olseth and put him on the butcher line next to me. "Be nice to him, Agnes," Windell said. The salmon dropped every three and a half seconds from the stainless-steel header and crowded through the open gate as if still alive. They plopped onto the belt headless, one to a slot. We kept up pretty well. Uma-san and Saka-san, the Japanese butchers, slit the bellies, throats and bloodlines. I separated the egg sacs from the guts and dropped them down the metal chute to the egg house. The sacs toppled into the flow like lopped-off pairs of orange fingers and dissappeared around the first bend in the rickety converted rain gutter. Windell winked at me.
This is for serious car lovers. In the first of a series of quarterly insider automotive reports, we'll look under the hood of the auto industry, bringing you up to speed on the latest introductions, the newest developments and the fastest-breaking trends. We'll drive the hottest new cars and tell you what to look for in showrooms packed with new ideas. At no other time in its history has the car business tried so hard to be on the fast track. On your mark, get set....
When brittany york was three years old, her mother threw her into a pool. "Sink or swim," Miss October says now, laughing. She swam. In fact, the free-style and butterfly strokes she developed in rigorous daily training sessions might have won her a spot on the Olympic team in Hong Kong, where she grew up. Might have—if she hadn't broken her leg skiing in Switzerland. Around that time, young Brittany's attention turned to boys. She was 14 years old, living in a Hong Kong high-rise with her English parents, her two brothers and the family's Chinese maid. Here's what Brittany did: "My parents went to bed at ten o'clock, and I was out the door at ten-thirty." Using her own money—earned baby-sitting, giving swimming lessons and modeling—she'd taxi to the local hot spots to dance the night away with her friends. "In Hong Kong, kids go out in groups. You don't go out with just one guy, the way you would on a date in America. There were certain night clubs we all went to, so I could go out alone and know where to find my friends." But wasn't she just a little ... young? "I've always done things earlier than most people my age," she says simply. Only 25 years old now, this world-traveling beauty with world-class looks has already seen more of the globe than most people dream of. There were the annual pilgrimages to London and the English countryside when she was growing up. There were tours of Europe, trips to Kenya and Brazil and three world cruises before she was old enough to vote. When she could, she voted with her feet—leaving her subtropical homeland for a distant shore. Sink or swim, she bought a one-way ticket to California and enrolled at the University of San Diego. "My idea of the United States came from seeing California in the movies," she says. "White-sand beaches. People surfing and playing volleyball and drinking margaritas in outdoor cafés." A computer-science major who speaks fluent French—and English with a charming British accent—Brittany has now parked her traveling shoes in Los Angeles. "This is the place for me," she says contentedly. "In America, people can get whatever they want."
This is about Hartwell, who is nothing like me. I have sometimes told stories about people, men and sometimes a woman, who were like me, weak or strong in some way that I am, or they shared my taste for classical music or fine coffee, but Hartwell was not like me in any way. I'm just going to tell his story, a story about a man I knew, a man not like me, just some other man.
If you were excited at the prospect of seeing senior Andre Ware, last year's Heisman Trophy winner, lead his Houston Cougars team to the national championship, forget it. And forget Illinois' Jeff George, Florida's Emmitt Smith, Alabama's Keith McCants and USC's Junior Seay and Mark Carrier. They all took a page from Barry Sanders' book, the one that says, If you've got the talent, don't be a cluck and play for nothing. You can be an instant millionaire by declaring yourself eligible for the pro draft.
The son of actors Donald Sutherland and Shirley Douglas, Kiefer Sutherland is one of Hollywood's brightest and most versatile talents. Only 23, he has been featured in 14 films in the past three years. This year, he shared top billing with Dennis Hopper in "Flashback," teamed with Emily Lloyd in "Chicago Joe and the Showgirl" and starred in "Flatliners" and "Young Guns II." Sutherland has a daughter, two, and a stepdaughter, 13, but he and his wife separated earlier this year and he is now involved with "Flatliners" co-star Julia Roberts. Paul Engleman interviewed Sutherland in Beverly Hills. "My tape recorder chose that afternoon to go on the blink," Engleman remembers. "Neither Kiefer nor I is mechanically inclined, but we diagnosed a recalcitrant Pause button, which Kiefer repaired—by biting it off. As far as I can tell, it may have been the only pause he's taken in his career so far."
Each year, as Playboy prepares its October issue, there's a charge in the air—fashion editors launch their fall-wardrobe forecasts, sports editors and researchers crunch football data, graphic artists begin giving our pages that golden autumn feel. And over in the Photo Department, a debate is under way. "Traditionally, October is the month we present a back-to-school Girls of ... pictorial," says Managing Photo Editor Jeff Cohen. "And every year, the question is the same: Which conference should we select?" The choice is never easy: Cohen is always looking for something special. This year, he found it in the Big West. Made up of ten schools—seven in California, one each in Nevada, New Mexico and Utah—the Big West offers a few pluses not often found in your typical N.C.A.A. conference: small towns, beaches within Frisbee-tossing distance of ivory towers, backdrops ranging from desert to Sierras—and, of course, women ripened by constant sunshine. As usual, Contributing Photographer David Chan did the seek-and-shoot honors for us—a 12-week trek that covered nearly half a million square miles (they aren't kidding when they call the Big West big). Chan came back with the accompanying portfolio—guaranteed to take the chill out of the fall air in your territory. In keeping with the spirit of academic achievement, we give him an A-plus. We think you'll agree.
As we pointed out in our July Style page, Hollywood film makers are once again inspiring fashion trends. This year's silver-screen spin-off is the hat. Dick Tracy, who is seldom without his trusty yellow lid in the film, added the fashion fuel needed for the look to take off big time. Tracy's hat, the fedora, is worn with a pointed crown and the brim folded down in the front and up in the back. The more casual slouch, or outback, hat has a wider brim that's turned down all the way around. The slouch often sports interesting braided-leather or feather detailing, while the fedora has a contrasting grosgrain band. In casual headgear, look for newsboy-style caps in wool plaids and tweeds.