What's Christmas without candid conversation? Remember standing in line for hours to tell Santa Claus your heart's desire, to confess a few sins and misdemeanors, all the while waiting for the goods to be delivered? The wait is over.
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478), December 1993, Volume 40, Number 12, 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 addresses and allow 45 days for change. Postmaster: Send form 3579 to Playboy, P.O. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. Advertising: New York: 730 Fifth Avenue, New York 10019; Chicago: 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago 60611; West Coast: 9242 Beverly Boulevard, Beverly Hills, CA 90210; 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.
Gloves off Department: Michael Jackson's glove from the 1984 Victory tour went on the auction block this past summer and was expected to fetch $30,000. But there were no bidders. Has the king of pop peaked?
Unrequtted love is a trendy theme in current movies, most brilliantly achieved in The Remains of the Day (Columbia). This Merchant-Ivory production, directed by James Ivory from a screenplay by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, is based on Kazuo Ishiguro's novel, which raises inbred English reserve to an art form. It's the story of a butler (Anthony Hopkins) and a housekeeper (Emma Thompson) in the years before World War Two, when both are employed at the stately manse of an English lord (James Fox) with a soft spot for German fascism—and in the postwar years, when a liberal American millionaire (Christopher Reeve) buys the place. Hopkins is of the born-to-serve breed, a man who in any era would never offend his lord and master by having a political opinion of his own. Nor would he allow himself to express any emotion about Thompson, the feisty co-worker who obviously loves him but feels stonewalled by his uptight competence. With minimal narration against a sumptuous rendering of an aristocratic lifestyle, Hopkins and Thompson deliver understated performances of solid gold—a lesson in how to say a lot with as little as a gesture or a sidelong glance. Remains of the Day ranks as another finely cut jewel in the Merchant-Ivory crown. [rating]4 bunnies[/rating]
First, his American debut as one of The Mambo Kings made Spain's Antonio Banderas a name over here. Next, the 33-year-old veteran of Spanish cinema's splashy new wave got an unexpected career boost from Madonna while appearing as himself in her Truth or Dare. "Is this man beautiful or what?" she burbled. "There has to be something wrong with him. No one is that perfect." In enthusiastic accented English, busy Banderas laughs off Madonna's tribute: "That was a joke, but also a free advertisement. I was better known after that, yes. If a woman thinks you are sexy, good, I kiss her. But I'm a happily married man."
We asked for it, we got it: Terry Gilliam's brilliantly made, commercially bust sf fantasy Brazil (1984), starring Jonathan Pryce, is now available on three CAV discs from Voyager's Criterion Collection. Not only has the film been letter-boxed and remastered, but Gilliam recut the picture for this release, adding commentary about the process on the secondary audio tracks.... Another director taking a second shot on disc is Martin Scorsese, whose much-maligned New York, New York gets a snazzy once-over courtesy of MGM/UA. Scorsese personally oversaw the new digital transfer of his 1977 De Niro-Minnelli musical love story, which includes extra footage (such as the upbeat ending), interviews and commentary.
Anglophiles weary of the same old Fawlty Towers reruns can now tune in to The New Statesman, a three-tape collection from BFS. The veddy British (and veddy funny) series follows parliamentarian Alan B'Stard, "a randy Tory top nob" with a penchant for dumb blondes, bribes and unscrupulous schemes. Stars Rik (The Young Ones) Mayall.... The legend of Leonard Bernstein lives on—on video. Deutsche Grammophon and Polygram have captured the 1992 London staging of the maestro's hit 1944 musical On the Town on both tape and laser, with performances by Broadway and opera stars. Also, Sony Classical, in association with the Smithsonian Institution and the Leonard Bernstein Society, has released 25 of Bernstein's memorable Young People's Concerts, the landmark music-education TV specials broadcast from 1958 to 1972.... Sportscaster Mary Albert has again gone to the tape. The Albert Achievement Awards (CBS/Fox and NBC Sports Video) is a compendium of marvelous Marv's wisecracking sports bloopers that leaves virtually no spectator sport untouched—even national-anthem singers are game—and is timed with the release of his new book, I'd Love to, But I Have a Game: 27 Years Without a Life. ... Air guitarists take note: From ESP Video Publishing comes Hot Guitarist Video Magazine, an at-home crash course in guitar featuring interviews, performances and actual lessons from the experts. Recent "issues" include tips from Al DiMeola and Santana's Neal Schon, a vid tribute to Stevie Ray Vaughan and "Guitar Art" by Dweezil Zappa. Those who march to a different beat needn't worry: There's also Hot Drummer Video Magazine (800-874-7354).
Here's a decent proposal: Now you can come up and see Mae West any time. MCA/Universal premieres seven comedies starring the vamp's vamp, as scandalous and sassy as ever—or at least as much as Thirties censors allowed.
"I prefer dramas to comedies," says actor Morgan Freeman, whose directorial debut, the South African Bopha!, fits the bill. "My favorite videos are anything by Akira Kurasawa, especially Ran, The Seven Samurai and Throne of Blood." Freeman's other tape tips include Prospero's Books ("one of the most lush, sensuous movies I've ever seen") and The Crying Game. "Now, there's a great story," he says. "It's gutsy and it's told well—from the ground up—with interesting plot twists that keep surprising you." To say the least.
I'm in love with Ella Fitzgerald. This state of mind has existed for some time, despite the 34-year difference in our ages. In fact, the more I listen to her, the greater my surprise to find anybody who isn't completely under her spell.
In the march 1993 Playboy Interview, Anne Rice commented: "I always felt that any book that's going to be really good is about everything you know or everything that's on your mind." The book she was writing when she made the observation, Lasher (Knopf), fits that description. It is a heady intellectual mix of history, mythology, philosophy, science, religion, sex, New Orleans lore and psychic phenomena—all swirling through a powerful, primitive story. This irresistible novel interweaves themes from almost all of her other works, including The Vampire Chronicles, at the same time as it plunges us back into the world of the Mayfair witches, whom she introduced in The Witching Hour.
A time bomb is ticking and President Clinton had better do something about it. I am referring to an antisecular war of violence and religious fanaticism throughout the world, fueled by the vipers' nest of terrorist-training centers and arms depots left over from the war in Afghanistan. The outposts along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border are home to people we once called freedom fighters who are now soldiers in a wider war."
I have an unusual fetish. I get aroused to the point of orgasm by giving money to women. Not hookers—I need to know the woman for at least three months. A woman can be completely clothed—all she has to say is "Give me your money" and I'm in heaven. What started out as a minor problem has turned into a fullblown addiction. I'll pay a woman to wash her car, do her laundry, anything, as long as the result is money in her pocket. Please help me. In eight months I have given away more than three grand.—M. D., Anaheim, California.
"In what is called peacetime, pornography is made from rape in film studios, on sets, in private bedrooms, in basements, in alleys, in prison cells and in brothels. It should be no surprise to find it being made in a 'rape theater' in a Serbian-run concentration camp for Muslims and Croatians in Bosnia-Herzegovina."
Almost all of my friends have been tested. One girl refuses to be tested because of one stupid relationship, one mistake she made a few years ago. I met a guy and had the test just so we could give up condoms. I didn't really have any worry until they had the blood in the vial. Then I went through a week of dread. And then I fucked my brains out.
For three hours every weekday afternoon, the voice of Rush Limbaugh, like an ion-charged electrical storm, rains bombast on America. He is our new weather, and there is no relief in sight: At last count more than 600 radio transmitters were flooding the airwaves with Limbaugh. No broadcast persona has so dominated public discourse since Walter Winchell—and Winchell had only 15 minutes per week, not 15 hours. If that weren't enough, something called the Rush Room has been instituted across the country, a place where workmen and housewives and everyday Joes gather to absorb Limbaugh over lunch. More than 15 million people listen to him each week as he rails against everything from rap music to feminism to the president's hair. A voice that pervasive should come with its own environmental-impact statement.
Today, when one asks island residents about Marlon Brando in Tahiti, where he has owned his private atoll of Tetiaroa for the past quarter of a century, the responses fall into two categories: pained silence or "Marlon? It is tragique. Such a good man, such dreams he had—" Not only has the tiny tropical isle been shaken by the May 16, 1990, killing of Dag Drollet, son of another distinguished family, but the events since the night Brando's son shot his sister's boyfriend have also somehow brought the actor and his complexities into sharp focus. Brando and his vision of a paradise in Tahiti were once taken at face value. Now, the man and his dream are called into question, their authenticities eroded by anger, sorrow and dismay.
Come and listen to a story about a pretty young girl. Loved the movies and TV and thought she'd give that life a whirl. One day she was in our magazine, now she's a star on the Hollywood scene. Swimsuits, semiautomatic weapons. Those are the props Miss July 1989 sports in her movie roles. But when Erika Eleniak hits the screen, nobody pays much attention to the surroundings. Audiences are too busy eyeing Erika, 24, who first dazzled our readers as Playboy's cover girl in April 1989. Three months later she was our Playmate of the Month, launching a career that was headed directly toward Hollywood. Soon after her Playmate splash, Erika landed the role of lifeguard Shauni McLain on NBC's Baywatch. That role led to her feature film debut in Under Siege, in which she played Steven Seagal's mate, gunning down a battleship full of bad guys without once smearing her makeup. Today, our favorite starlet's star is on the rise. She'll play Elly May in the all-star Beverly Hillbillies movie, and she now appears on producers' wish lists whenever a casting call comes around. A real-life fairy tale? Sure, but it wasn't as easy as it sounds. The story of Erika's ascent features sweat and tears as well as limousines and champagne. It would make a good movie: troubled teen gets her act, head and heart together, conquers demons and doubters, turns the film biz on its ear and lives perfectly ever after. A good movie, that is, if you were to land the right actress for the lead role. She would have to be beautiful and ideally proportioned. She would need guts and drive to survive the troubles of the first reel. In fact, she would have to be Erika.
She was a pretty, dark-haired thing with big black eyes, the daughter of his friend Gus, and he had watched her grow up on the beaches of East Islip. From the porch of the cottage he rented each summer, Harry could see her fly along the water's edge, doing cartwheels, leaping over dunes, practicing ballet steps from The Nutcracker. She giggled and fought with her friends and tried on makeup, and when she got older, she worked at the farm stand. Then she went off to one of the good schools. But she came back for the summers. And when she had matured into a young woman, Harry got the feeling she was interested in him. Grace was 19—well-built, with long legs, sizable breasts and a playful-looking rump—when this notion of his took hold. She had the good schools in her voice, too, which was a weakness of Harry's and, as far as he was concerned, put her over the top.
Welcome to the dance club underground, where tonight's undercurrent features five women sweating and caressing to a Euro–cyber–hip-hop backbeat. Welcome to the all-out feminist fire of Fem 2 Fem, Los Angeles rockers who wear their sexual preferences on their handcuffed sleeves. No, it's not the sweet sort of gay femininity that k.d. lang sings about. This is "lipstick lesbian" chic with soft-sell sex and a hard-core message. In the controversial video for their hit song Switch, these women chant "It's erotic, it's taboo, switch to the beat that's right for you." The message is clear: Lesbian rock is out of the closet. So deal with it.
Nearly everyone loves to gossip or brag about who's sleeping with whom or who just had a hot night. Many of us have some idea of what our friends' sex lives are like—how often they have sex, with how many partners, whether or not it's enjoyable. But we have almost no idea what they are like in bed. What do they try? What do they avoid? What do they think about? What do they feel?
In the summer of 1992 Hurricane Andrew obliterated southern Dade County, Florida. The extent of the damage surprised everyone, and several days of chaos and looting passed before President Bush sent troops to restore order.
At first, I wasn't sure about posing nude. It's a pretty personal move," says Miss December. As a jet-setting professional model, Arlene Baxter—just "Baxter" to friends, though her dad calls her Motormouth—has been personal with cameras all over the world, draping her 5′11″ frame in next to nothing for swimsuit and lingerie ads. That's what makes "the Baxter bod" renowned in modeling circles from Tokyo to Milan to Paris. But this Playmate pictorial was something new. Even Baxter hesitated before making her move. "I finally decided that if people wanted to see my body, they could just check it out. When I dropped my robe, it was like saying, 'Here it is. Take a look, enjoy it.'"
The furniture salesman cornered the couple on the showroom floor and was giving them a pitch about the living-room set they'd been looking at. "And one more thing," he said. "You put down only a $20 deposit, then you don't pay another cent for six months."
Let's face it: In these economic times, we all need a competitive edge in the marketplace. Money is tight. Jobs are scarce. Many contractors are bidding for the same jobs. Today's sharpest entrepreneurs must pioneer new ways of ingratiating themselves, worming their way into the elite and flattering the powers that be. They study and master the ancient disciplines and traditions of sycophancy, fawnery, truckling, bootlicking, groveling, back scratching, apple polishing, brownnosing and sucking up. Forget the art of the deal. Today it's the art of the kneel.
Emerging technologies have much to do with the ascent of obsequiousness in America. A generation ago, when there were only three major networks, Ed McMahon pretty much handled the role of designated national ass kisser all by himself, with occasional pinch-hitting help from veteran fanny fawner Sammy Davis Jr. But with the spectacular rise of cable television and the Fox Network, the number of job openings for gifted keister kissers has risen dramatically. Today, one entire cable network, MTV, is devoted exclusively to the worship of buttocks, while CNN carries conventional news coverage during the day, followed by a full slate of prime-time ass-kissing programs in the evening. PBS is blessed with perhaps the most cerebral ass kisser in the history of television, Bill Moyers, and TNT has become a sort of electronic retirement home for long-in-the-tooth ass kissers such as Gary Bender and Dick Vitale.
With country music topping the Billboard charts, it's no surprise that cowboy clothes are making a comeback. That doesn't mean you should rustle up a ten-gallon hat, spurs, chaps or a bolo tie. The trick to dressing Western is to think subtle (not like a rodeo clown). Combine just a few cowboy basics with everyday casuals—just as country singers Kix Brooks, Ronnie Dunn, Travis Tritt, Billy Dean and Billy Ray Cyrus have done on these five pages of fashion. Want to wear a traditional Western shirt, for example? Stay away from drugstore-cowboy styles. Opt instead for low-key looks such as Dalinger's suede shirt with sterling-silver snaps and a Western yoke, shown on page 152. Or pair a banded-collar shirt with a leather vest, such as the one in our Billy Ray Cyrus photo. The best-looking Western vests have details such as silver buttons or whipstitching that give them a rugged edge. The same goes for jackets. Distressed suede and leather styles are the top choices among sharp cowboys, particularly if the jackets have fringed sleeves or topstitching. Obviously, jeans are a must. According to Brooks and Dunn, "real cowboys wear only custom-tailored Wranglers, starched and pressed with a crease." For the rest of us cowboy wanna-bes, there are boot-cut classic five-pocket blue or black denim jeans and at least one pair of boots—for line dancing, of course.
Fischbein, a corporate lawyer who specialized in defending companies accused of toxic pollution, was one of those formerly nerdy guys who had come to think of himself as a buccaneer on the highways and byways of life, a swaggering condottiere always searching for strange adventures and new experiences. While at the barbershop one Wednesday morning for his weekly clip, Fischbein saw an ad in the back pages of a magazine that promised the latter and maybe the former, and he was hooked right away:
College Basketball is play for play and game for game the most exciting sport around, especially when March madness approaches. If the fine-tuning made by the NCAA rules committee this past off-season has the desired effect, disclaimers may have to be posted warning people with high blood pressure or weak hearts to stay away.
Funny thing about the Sex Stars of 1993: Most of them are female. Sure, the guys—Tom Cruise, Harrison Ford, Clint Eastwood—bring in the big box-office numbers, but they largely limit themselves to action outside the boudoir, leaving it to the femmes to send our hormones raging. A few years back, the actresses we heard about were mostly cool customers—pre-Fatal AttractionGlenn Close, Meryl Streep and the like. This year Madonna, Sharon Stone and Janet Jackson, Sex Stars extraordinaire, monopolized the airwaves and magazine covers and, in brazen defiance of those old rules about women's earning power being lower than men's, raked in the big bucks as well. Janet's Rolling Stone cover certainly emphasized her sexual image. At first glance, she (text concluded on page 182) looked like one of those many-limbed Indian goddesses, but the extra pair of hands—strategically covering her shapely breasts—turned out to belong to her longtime boyfriend, Rene Elizondo, who helped the hype along by telling interviewer David Ritz that Jackson's new album, janet, "is so hot it should have come with a condom."
Even before "Tonight Show" bandleader Branford Marsalis joined Jay Leno to tuck in America each night, the saxophonist had found a wide audience for his talents. The oldest of six musical offspring born to New Orleans pianist Ellis Marsalis, he played in bands led by his brother, trumpeter Wynton, as well as by Art Blakey and Herbie Hancock. In 1985 he joined Sting in a controversial move that earned him the temporary enmity of the outspoken Wynton. In addition to releasing 11 albums under his own name, Branford has hosted a pop-music program on VH-1 and jazz series on both the Bravo Channel and National Public Radio. He played a leading on-screen role in Spike Lee's 1988 film "School Daze."
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Melody and harmony have returned full force to R&B after years of rap-dominated charts. The present batch of talented melody makers includes Mary J. Blige, Toni Braxton, SWV and Tony Toni Tonè. Sweet soul music is in the air again. Also in the air is the mainstreaming of alternative music. From Stone Temple Pilots to Spin Doctors to Smashing Pumpkins, alternative has stepped into prime time. New albums from Nirvana and Pearl Jam showed no signs of sophomore slump. It has also been a year of strong individual effort. Janet Jackson is having the reviews and sales of her life. Wynonna has reached Reba McEntire country, and Buddy Guy is finally getting his propers. Even the Sleepless in Seattle soundtrack, with chestnuts from the likes of Jimmy Durante and Louis Armstrong, is soaring. Music is always being reborn.
You're shaved, shampooed, cut, colored, moisturized and protected from the sun. But that's just the surface of men's grooming. There are plenty of other things you can do to round out the picture. Take vitamins. Please. They're getting increasingly popular as people take a more holistic approach to their health. Most of the basic vitamin requirements (iron, calcium, vitamin C, etc.) come from the food you eat, but there are some lesser-known supplements that perform specific (and advantageous) functions. Ginkgo leaf, for example, is an herb that reputedly helps you feel younger and live longer. Electrolytes (which can be obtained from sea kelp) contain energy-boosting trace minerals that can get you through a midday slump or that last lap at the gym. Chromium picolinate, also known as a "fat burner," helps with glucose metabolism and weight management, as does fruit pectin. Parsley tablets improve digestion and control bad breath, while garlic is considered by many to be a natural antibiotic that helps keep your body running smoothly.
Playboy expands 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 equipment shown on pages 26, 28, 120–125, 149–153, 162–165, 224–225 and 237, check the listings below to find the stores nearest you.
From Ava Gardner to Mick Jagger, Helmut Newton has spent more than half a century photographing the world's most celebrated men and women—mostly women. Renowned as a chronicler of elegant eroticism, his black-and-white works have graced the pages of magazines such as Playboy and Vogue, as well as museums from London to Los Angeles. To celebrate his career, Newton has teamed up with Rolleiflex, maker of his favorite camera, to launch the Helmut Newton limited-edition Rollei 2.8 GX. A 6 × 6 format camera based on Rolleiflex' original 1929 design, it combines a twin-lens body with the exposure features of a modern automatic camera. Only 500 are available, and they will probably be sold in the time it takes to press the shutter.