Let's see. A dash of nootropic drugs. A splash of Energy Elickshure. Chase it with a Psuper Psyber Tonic. Gargle. Ah, there—feel the smart drinks kicking in? Are we brighter yet? Only one way to tell: Read the articles in this month's Playboy.
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478), July 1992, Volume 39, Number 7, Published monthly by Playboy, 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611. Subscriptions: $29.97 for 12 issues, U.S, Canada, $43.97 for 12 issues. All other foreign, $45 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 address 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; 8560 Sunset Boulevard. West Hollywood, CA 90069; Metropolitan Publishers Representatives, Inc.; Atlanta: 3017 Piedmont Road NE, Suite 100, Atlanta, GA 30305; Miami: 2500 South Dixie Highway, Miami, FL 33133; Tampa: 3016 Mason Place, Tampa, FL 33629.
It probably sounded great when the powers that be gave a green light to Housesitter (Universal). Team Goldie Hawn and Steve Martin in a high-concept comedy. He's a shy Boston architect stuck with a brand-new house that he built for the woman he loves (Dana Delany), who said no thanks. Goldie's a wacky waitress who spends one night with him, then impulsively decides to occupy the empty house and tell the world she's his wife. Of course, he shows up at the door and her lies begin to catch up with her. So she makes up new ones. How could a fella resist? Easy. Hawn, well past 40 and fighting a role that would challenge an actress half her age, works up a sweat to make a pathological liar likable. Martin has his problems, too, trying to pipe solid laughs into a very shaky foundation. [rating]2 bunnies[/rating]
He is best known so far for last year's stint as Furious Styles, the protective father in director John Singleton's Oscar-nominated Boyz n the Hood.Larry Fishburne, 30, has been on the move ever since. He has made his Broadway debut in August Wilson's Two Trains Running, a show he had already performed on stage in L.A., and is making waves in his first leading-man movie role in Deep Cover, as a plainclothes cop up to his ears in sex, drugs and danger.
Soap star Jean LeClerc, who plays the mysterious monk-turned-artist Jeremy Hunter on All My Children, has a video library as unpredictable as his daytime persona. His favorites: Jean Cocteau's classic Beauty and the Beast ("simply beautiful"); the Vincent Price chiller The Pit and the Pendulum; Peter Weir's Gallipoli (early Mel Gibson); and Kenneth Branagh's Henry V. The Canadian-born LeClerc says vid viewing is a must during escapes from New York. "I go to my farm outside Montreal—I have a huge TV there. It's all part of country living." What's the biggest surprise on the actor's vid shelf? A TV special of Elvis' final Vegas concert. "It's not exactly Shakespeare," says LeClerc, "but it's like a security blanket: Whenever I want it, it's there."
Fox Video's Go West collection of classic high-nooners ($14.98 each) includes Tyrone Power's 1939 stint as Jesse James; John Ford's 1946 My Darling Clementine, with Henry Fonda as Wyatt Earp; Duel in the Sun, the 1946 Selznick-Vidor romance starring Gregory Peck and Jennifer Jones; and, natch, five films headlined by Duke Wayne.... Buena Vista has begun rolling out its collection of The Very Best of the Ed Sullivan Show. The first two tapes ($19.99 each) are "Unforgettable Performances" (including the Beatles, Elvis and the Supremes) and "The Greatest Entertainers" (with Jackie Gleason, Topo Gigio and Burton and Andrews doing Camelot).... HBO's Goldwyn Collection has added five new remastered titles. Among them: Eddie Cantor's Whoopee! (1930), The Goldwyn Follies of 1938 (including a restored Balanchine ballet set to Gershwin's An American in Paris) and A Song Is Born (1948), a valentine to the big-band era, starring Danny Kaye.... M*A*S*H ran on the tube for 11 years and was nominated for 99 Emmys; now Columbia House is practically giving the series away—well, it's $4.95 for an intro volume and $19.95 for each subsequent three-episode tape. Call 800-638-2922.
Sex Lives on Porno Tape: Blending staged action and docu-style interviews (with naked subjects), this scorcher explores the minds and libidos of those who enjoy getting it on for the camera: America's adult-video stars. Great-looking couples, refreshingly original, very hot (VCA).
As readers of his previous travel books, such as The Old Patagonian Express, Sailing Through China or Riding the Iron Rooster, know, Paul Theroux weaves masterful adventure sagas out of his everyday encounters in exotic settings. In The Happy Isles of Oceania (Putnam's), he delights us again as he paddles from island to island in a canvas kayak and discovers marvelous scenery and outlandish customs.
My wife takes a long time to come—a real long time. I don't mind; on the contrary, I have good ejaculatory control and like extended lovemaking. But she'd like to come faster so that we could enjoy the occasional quickie. Can my wife learn to climax sooner?—J. J., Homer, Alaska.
Last summer, Washington, D.C.'s, puritanical Right covered their eyes and ears and took aim at a study of teenage sex proposed by the University of North Carolina and approved by the Public Health Service. The most prudish opposing voices, Representative William Dannemeyer (R–Cal.) and Gary Bauer (president of the Family Research Council), insisted that the survey's explicit queries would fray the moral fiber of our next generation.
"We can no more assume that every believer in abstinence invariably abstains from sex any more than we can assume that every condom user will have perfect condoms and be a perfect user. When one makes an unbiased comparison of promoting abstinence versus promoting condom use, the results are obvious. Vows of abstinence break far more easily than do condoms."
Operation Rescue is not listed in the phone book. Not in Wichita, where it blocked abortion clinics last summer, and not in Chicago, where it is active. Court injunctions and fines have made it prudent for the group to lay low. Now former members of Operation Rescue simply call themselves rescuers and their efforts a movement.
Sorry to report this, but Pat Buchanan, who was blown away by the indifference of Republican voters, will be back. The American economy is in permanent trouble and his America First appeals will surface once again, probably in 1996. The economy will remain troubled, and a conservative demagogue will always get some play by blaming our troubles on everyone but ourselves.
Hollywood insiders figured it had to be a joke. After all, cinematic superheroes had to be as muscled as Schwarzenegger, as square-jawed as Stallone, as sensitive as Costner. What was Warner Bros. thinking when it cast a five-foot-ten, 160-pound goofball as the Caped Crusader? To make matters worse, even before the 1989 release of "Batman," film critics and fans of the beloved comic book cast their votes: There was no way Michael Keaton could convincingly play the title role. First of all, he had never offed a bad guy in his movies; furthermore, he was just a comedian.
In the summer of 1991, Playboy commissioned Alex Haley to write a memoir about Malcolm X. Haley was the ideal candidate for the assignment. He had ghostwritten "The Autobiography of Malcolm X" and conducted Playboy's historic 1963 interview with him.
Once upon a windswept highway on a Southwestern patch of nowhere, a woman rode her steel stallion into the orange glow of the sun. Sound mythic? Romantic? Hollywood? As you feast your eyes on these and the following pages, know that the woman in question is Pamela Anderson—a Playboy Playmate of the Month, star of a Playboy video and now the hottest fixture in ABC's hit sitcom Home Improvement. Know that the beautiful Pamela is a student of myths and fairy tales (her bookshelf boasts several well-thumbed volumes, including Bulfinch's Mythology and Joseph Campbell's The Power of Myth), an incense-and-candles romantic and a member of Hollywood's inner circles. For a few days this spring, the former small-town girl from British Columbia traveled a desert strip of Route 66—soaking up rays and giving passing motorists a roadside attraction from the land of dreams.
Apparently, the Material Girl has a new recipe for success. Call it Madonna on the half shell: equal parts sun, surf and nudity, sprinkled with a dash of Botticelli à la Miami. We usually think of fantasies in the context of dimly lit bedrooms, but Madonna is about to change all that—again. If you haven't heard that Ms. Ciccone was making waves in Miami Beach by acting out her erotic dreams in the buff for a book shot by her favorite fashion photographer, Steven Meisel, you've either had your head in the sand or been stranded on a Soviet space station for the past ten months. Reports first trickled in from the tabloids before making it into the stuffier newsweeklies: Madonna and Meisel hit the beach with fashion-runway voguer Naomi Campbell; Madonna strikes a pose in public view, stripped down to stiletto heels, long gloves, panties and—huh?—a cottontail on her stern; the newly bronzed blonde then recruits rappers Vanilla Ice and Big Daddy Kane to join in her graphic tableaux. Meisel's pictures (according to "insider" gossip, which is almost certainly a well-timed leak designed to make headlines) gave pause to publisher Warner Books because the pictures, said the proverbial spokesperson, go "beyond erotica." We know that place well: It lies somewhere twixt the land of hype and the realm of flackery. And it sells. Remember when MTV, squirming over Madonna's video Justify My Love, banned it from the network? Madonna turned the video into a hit single. And now, with her latest antics, the bottle-fondling star of Truth or Dare is doing more for coffee-table books than Clarence Thomas did for Coca-Cola. Which should come as no surprise. This is the woman who grossed upwards of $24,000,000 last year, and more than $500,000,000 over the span of her career. She is, by her own admission, a studio singer and an energetic dancer—but her live shows set a new standard for concert spectaculars. She is not the world's most beautiful lady, nor the smartest, yet she has unsparingly applied her entrepreneurial acumen to become the world's most famous woman. With Meisel as her latest girl toy, she is yet again upping the ante for those who would follow, making other so-called sex stars look like Barbara Bush. The Miami Beach book project is just one part of the American crotch-grabbing champ's multimedia assault. Did you know that Madonna appears in two current movies, one (Shadows and Fog) by Woody Allen and one (A League of Their Own) about female hardballers? That she has been filming a third flick, a kinky thriller called Body of Evidence, co-starring Willem Dafoe, in which she plays a woman who so loves receiving and giving pain that she asks lovers to slap her and pours hot wax on naked men? And that she's working on a new album on which she reportedly takes another look at bondage and homosexuality? These are not new interests for Madonna. Her clothing or hair color can vary the way Malibu Barbie differs from Wedding Day Barbie—each incarnation achieving a certain plastic perfection—but her basic instincts remain tried and true. From her concert homilies that celebrate the oft unprintable to her sexual interpretation of religious iconography, the divine M seems intent on sharing precisely what turns her on. The marketing principle is simple: People will pay to see and hear in public the same stuff that they're doing, or want to do, in private. Madonna, though, brings earnestness to her bag of tricks. You get the sense that she's actually doing what she wants, not to shock us, but because it's fun. We shall see. The album, the book of fantasies and the S/M movie are tentatively scheduled for release within weeks of one another, all part of what the Madonna camp calls The Body of Evidence Project. For this year's climax, the queen of the dare is contemplating another tour. How she will outdo last year's performance—which included mimed masturbation and fellatio—is beyond us. But if these shots of a beautiful beach bum are the beginning of a trend, we can't wait for her next move.
MMMM! Oooh! Yes! Yes! Oh, God, yes! My mind, it feels so—I hate to gloat, but you ought to know, right off the bat—my mind feels so enhanced. Majorly enhanced. I feel great. I feel productive. I feel like an intellectual titan operating at the absolute peak of my cognitive and creative powers.
Amanda Hope settles back onto a large green duffel bag in the middle of a sidewalk in London's Chelsea district. It is not even eight A.M.—damp fog still hangs in the air, a milk delivery truck roars by—but Amanda is already going a mile a minute. "My life's a dadgum circus," says Miss July in her native Texan drawl—and there is some truth to that. Twelve hours earlier, Amanda had been in Germany, where she plays music for a living; at the moment, she sits outside a London photo studio, waiting patiently for it to open. By noon, she will be gloriously naked in front of Playboy cameras. All that is missing is the ringmaster.
There you were, celebrating your seventh wedding anniversary in a restaurant uptown. Your wife, who could not have looked better with her freshly cut hair and rose-petal complexion, had been describing her day at school, where she teaches Far East Asian history at one of the city's universities. Not yet 30 and already tenured, she has advanced remarkably fast. You, on the other hand, have lost momentum. You work for one of the big auction houses, an expert in the Chinese department, where you have been ensconced longer than you have been married. The job may appear glamourous, but the pay is a disgrace. You had intended to stay only long enough to learn your trade and develop a rapport with important collectors and dealers. By now you should have established a gallery of your own, you should have been flying to Hong Kong every three or four weeks to buy rare objects. Anniversaries remind you that time does not stand still, even if you do.
You won't find any cheeky "check me out" thongs in this collection of swimwear—these suits are built to perform. To prove just how tough and practical they are, we brought 1988 gold-medal winners Scott Fortune, Doug Partie and Eric Sato, plus three members of the U.S. national men's volleyball team, to the net in Mission Beach, California. Here and on the next four pages, these 1992 gold-medal hopefuls bump, set and spike their way into peak fashion form. The trunks they're wearing are the latest look: mid-thigh length with a gathered waist, pleated front and extra-wide legs for better movement. Most are made of a sturdy fabric called Supplex, which feels as soft as cotton yet dries more quickly. Colors are bright but not as jazzy as last year's neon. And prints have a cool retro appeal. Wear a pair with a loose tank top. Your serve.
He was, perfectly, himself. The chartered planes were fueled and ready to take the governor of New York to New Hampshire when, bruised and weary, citing his obligation to solve his state's fiscal crisis, the man many regarded as the last best hope of the Democratic Party said no. "I wish I could see it another way," he said. "This is not a comfortable analysis for me, to be honest with you—and I can make a case for about anything. I tried to make myself come out better on this. I just didn't succeed."
There's no mistaking July, the zenith of summer. Baseball takes its All-Star break. Heat waves penetrate the sand, turning beachgoers into Club MTV dancers. And you frequently fill your tall collins glass with an ice-cold mixed drink. But whether you choose vodka, gin, light rum or tequila—or even bourbon or dark rum—as your base, keep one mixing rule of thumb in mind: the better the spirit, the better the result. For a few extra dollars, the top-of-the-line brands will intensify the flavor of such summer sips as gin and tonic, rum and Coke and the assorted daiquiris, coladas and margaritas. For example, two ounces of a superpremium tequila, such as Cuervo 1800 or Sauza Conmemorativo, mixed with one and a half ounces of lime juice and a half ounce of triple sec and served in a glass liberally rimmed with coarse salt will result in a margarita legendaria.
Video Games have made more comebacks than the Terminator. They soared in 1980 and came crashing down like a dud Scud three years later because of a glut of boring choices. Now they're back, in a multibillion-dollar-a-year way, and the new generation of titles is anything but kid stuff. In fact, the 16-bit game systems (more powerful than the original eight-bit versions), as well as many computer games, bring you as close to arcade action as possible without the need for a bucketful of quarters. Thanks to expanded computing power, game programmers can now choose more colors, design amazingly intricate obstacles, add increased levels of difficulty and create screen images that look almost three-dimensional. The sound quality is better, too. Voices, crashes and crowd roars are much more realistically rendered.
Is the cost of keeping up your health insurance getting you down? Paying too much for too little coverage? Think our health-care system is going to hell? Is that what's ailing you, Bunky? Well, take heart. There are hidden benefits if you happen to receive medical care from one of the women on these and the following pages. It has been nearly a decade since we scoured the halls of medicine to find America's most lovely angels of mercy (Women in White, Playboy, November 1983), and one similarity between then and now is that we have found more gorgeous women than we have room to picture. We also discovered some changes in nursing. Back then, more nurses talked about stress and burnout than the women we interviewed this year, many of whom intend to pursue advanced degrees and open their own clinics or home-care services. Oh, yes, and this time we have not only nurses but a doctor. Say ahh. Take your medicine.
Nicole Kidman is equal parts wild red hair, long legs, beguiling smile and spontaneous combustion—nice stuff on its own, devastating when combined with her acting talents. Working on TV and in film since the age of 14, she was chosen as best actress in a poll of the Australian public when she was 17. Kidman first wowed American audiences as a seagoing survivor in "Dead Calm." She followed that as a brainy babe in "Days of Thunder," then played Dutch Schultz's moll in "Billy Bathgate. " Next up: "Far and Away," an 1800s period drama directed by Ron Howard in which Kidman plays an upper-class Irish immigrant finding her way in America and falling in love. Contributing Editor David Rensin spoke with Kidman in Los Angeles. Her husband, Tom Cruise, sat for a "20 Questions" interview in 1986, which she had read only the night before. "It was fascinating to read about a Tom I'd never known," she said.
An entire industry has developed to enhance the video-game experience. While some products are novelties (driver's gloves to prevent calluses, for example), others heighten the fun. Here are our top picks:
Had it been only 16 years? The last time I had sat in a pew at the New Hope Church, the entire town of Henning, Tennessee, turned out to honor its most celebrated citizen, who had just written a book called Roots. It seemed a lifetime ago, and now it was over. Along with those who knew and loved him best, I had returned to bury Alex Haley.
Playboy increases your purchasing power by providing a list of retailers and manufacturers you can contact for information on where to find this month's merchandise. To buy the apparel and accessories shown on pages 28, 106–111 and 169, check listings below to locate the store nearest you.
When it comes to home electronics, one thing rings true: Telephones keep getting smarter. Surely, Alexander Graham Bell is grinning in his grave over voice mail, and new technology has generally made phoning easier and more convenient. Cordless telephones, for example, now transmit digitally for improved reception over greater distances. Furthermore, the latest cellular models are small and light enough to fit in a suit pocket. AT&T's Video Telephone 2500 even sends audio and color motion video over standard telephone lines. It also features a privacy mode, which is handy when you've just gotten out of the shower and prefer to be heard—not seen.
"The Way to Spook City"—Our hero travels the barren wastes of alien-occupied middle America in search of his brother. His guide is gorgeous—but is she human?—A novella written for Playboy by Robert Silverberg