You can be obnoxious and arrogant, rebellious and weird, or just plain cool. But in today's world, pal, you have to have attitude. Even veteran Contributing Editor Lawrence Grobel was impressed by his discussions with actor Christian Slater for the Playboy Interview. Slater has been in rehab and has appeared in 19 movies. He has dropped ecstasy--and dropped out of school. He's had run-ins with the law and with beautiful co-stars. The worst part: He's only 25. But that doesn't stop him from trashing directors or boasting about his next flick, Interview With the Vampire. Filmmaker Quentin Tarantino knows about violence, whether he's directing his new smash, Pulp Fiction, or witnessing a transvestite connect with the wrong end of a bat. Read the 20 Questions conducted by West Coast scribe Margy Rochlin. Musicians Liz Phair and Courtney Love are raunchy, outspoken performers reshaping rock and roll's macho image with acidic lyrics and ironic innuendo. As Associate Editor Christopher Napolitano relates in Rock Girls, they're part of a new distaff invasion that takes a spiked heel to your eardrum. Does Phair's real-life behavior support her artistic licentiousness? Read If You Like Liz Phair, by Shane Du Bow. Du Bow is a former Playboy intern • but that wasn't his first stint as an apprentice. He was also once Phair's college squeeze.
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478), November 1994, Volume 41, Number 11. 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.
Any Romantic comedy that moves from Pittsburgh to Venice, Rome and the Amalfi coast gets a plus for all that upscale scenery--especially when shot by master cinematographer Sven Nykvist. Only You (TriStar) is a pleasant, light travelog starring Marisa Tomei as Faith, a young teacher about to get married but dogged by doubt. Faith just can't forget that the man of her dreams is supposed to be named Damon Bradley--according to a Gypsy fortune-teller and a Ouija board that spelled it out for her when she was 11. When Damon's name pops up during a phone call, she pursues the elusive dreamboat to Italy, taking along her wisecracking sister-in-law (Bonnie Hunt). She's too fixed on Damon to settle for a Boston shoe salesman abroad (Robert Downey Jr.), though he is clearly Mr. Right. Far superior vintage comedies, including Roman Holiday and Summertime, are the role models for Only You. But Tomei and Downey add flip contemporary flavor to make this every bit as young at heart and wholesome as its forebears. [rating]2-1/2 bunnies[/rating]
We caught up with ferocious Freddy as Wes Craven's New Nightmare opened nationwide, marking the tenth anniversary of the now-classic horror series. How does the classically trained Robert Englund feel about being the top ghoul for an entire generation? At 45, he declares: "I'm honored to be compared with such people as Boris Karloff, Lon Chaney and Vincent Price. Since Nightmare, my fans have changed--now punk-rock and heavy-metal people want my autograph. Some guys even ask me to sign their girlfriends' cleavage, which I do." What's more, he gets to travel a lot to science fiction and horror film festivals, where Freddy is a big draw. "In Europe," says Englund, "I wind up on panels with Stanley Kubrick."
Talk about behind-the-scenes peeks. The newest installment of Playboy's Wet & Wild series gives you an exclusive look into The Locker Room, where ten Playmates prove that hitting the showers can indeed be a beautiful thing. To order, call 800-423-9494.
The latest modern classic to hit disc: Rob Reiner's hilarious 1984 mockumentary, This is Spinal Tap, has arrived in stores in a fancy Criterion Collection package from Voyager. Michael McKean, Christopher Guest and Harry Shearer join Reiner on the commentary tracks, and extras include Tap music videos and production stills. ... Also from Voyager: The World's Greatest Animation, a two-disc CAV set including the ten Academy Award-winning animated shorts from the past decade--plus five more nominees. Includes the Claymation "documentary" Creature Comforts, wherein zoo inhabitants muse on their lives. It's a hoot. Or a roar. Or a--oh, never mind. You probably blew that one in the Oscar pool, anyway.
Back in 1966, lusty lingo such as "screw you" and "hump the hostess" in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? didn't fall on deaf ears. Liz and Dick's on-screen squabbling inspired the Motion Picture Association of America to create a brand-new alphabet--ranging from G to X--and the film industry has been letter-ridden ever since. At home, MPAA president Jack Valenti shelves the rating game for good old-fashioned viewing on the ten-foot screen in his den. "A Man for All Seasons is my all-time favorite," he says, reciting a list that includes Shane, Paths of Glory, Patton and, surprisingly, the perennially profane Richard Pryor. "Pryor is a genius, beyond merely good," raves the codemaster general. "He's un-Xeroxable!" Speaking of which, does any X-rated fare earn Valenti's seal of approval? "Midnight Cowboy is a great film," he says. You were expecting Debbie Does Dallas?
Just in case you missed them on TV, Live Home Video has unleashed Nightmare Bay and The River of No Return, two 90-minute episodes ($14.98 each) that helped launch the jiggly series Baywatch. The double bill stars regulars David Hasselhoff and playboy's own Erika Eleniak as two of L.A.'s most rad lifeguards. ... Did you know that the New York subway system was actually completed on time and within budget? These and other factoids highlight Subway: The Empire Beneath New York's Streets, A&E's history of the Big Apple's underground--from original one-track charmer to today's 238-mile hellhole ($19.95). ... Also from A&E comes a special addition to the Biography series. Hillary Rodham Clinton: Changing the Rules follows you-know-who's rise to the you-know-what House, despite continuing eruptions from God-knows-which bimbo. Features interviews with first-lady-faithful Betsey Wright and actress-turned-f.o.b. Mary Steenburgen.
Last Chants Department: And you thought only the monks were making a mint chanting? Did you get Rhino Records' Chantmania? Recorded by the Benzedrine Monks, it's an EP of chanted versions of R.E.M.'sLosing My Religion as well as Do Ya Think I'm Sexy, (Theme from) The Monkees and Smells Like Teen Spirit. Smells a lot like Weird Al to us.
Tim O'Brien is one of our most eloquent chroniclers of Vietnam. In his novel Going After Cacciato, which won a National Book Award, and in books such as If I Die in a Combat Zone and The Things They Carried, he has conjured up war imagery that burns. His powerful novel In the Lake of the Woods (Houghton Mifflin/Seymour Lawrence) follows the war home.
Do you worry about your weight? Most people do. In our culture, flab isn't just considered ugly, it's widely believed to be a sign of some shameful character flaw. Doctors, though they mean well, contribute to fat anxiety by bombarding us with grim warnings that obesity leads to heart disease, cancer and early death. The upshot is that dieting is big business. Americans spend an estimated $40 billion every year on weight-loss books, products and services.
If you ranked the secret fears of men, you would find common anxieties among us. We are not fond of dying prematurely, for example. Or of losing custody of our children in divorce court. Or of being rejected sexually by our significant others.
There is a disquieting trend underway in our society. It started in the Seventies and culminated yesterday when I received in the mail three unsolicited books on men--each bashing, each belittling, each full of smirking and fingerpointing.
I enjoy fellatio as much as the next guy. Luckily, my girlfriend is very good at it and enjoys it also. The hitch is that I'm able to climax only through intercourse. I have never come from fellatio. If it feels so good, why can't I finish?--C. J., Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
Once again, the myth of the evil male perpetrator and the innocent female victim in domestic violence is being broadcast and written about as gospel. The discussion is national; the rage and sorrow are palpable. Only when we come to terms with the fact that ending domestic violence should be the responsibility of both men and women, however, will we put a stop to this nightmare.
Jill Darby, a flight attendant on a personal trip, was standing in Denver's Stapleton International Airport when a man approached and asked if he could search her purse and luggage. She refused because she did not believe the man was a law enforcement officer.
Since 1990, arrests for possession of LSD have tripled nationwide. Most of those busted have been Deadheads', aging hippies and college kids who follow the Grateful Dead from concert to concert in Volkswagen buses. Roughly 500 Grateful Dead fans are serving terms for LSD violations in federal prisons, and up to 2000 more are serving terms in state prisons. One University of New Hampshire police officer created his own drug-courier profile: He targeted and stopped cars with Grateful Dead bumper stickers.
Ninety minutes into the congressional hearing about how Ticketmaster had been able to keep America's most popular rock band off the road last summer, and nothing had been resolved. Pearl Jam bassist Jeff Ament seized the mike. "They told us we were going to be here, like, an hour," he said, annoyed at the hostile questions from a Republican congressman. "Actually, I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." Without waiting for permission, he rose from the witness table and headed out to seek relief.
Has America developed a gladiator class of black athletes who are superbly suited for sports but not much else? Have these muscular men been culled from a subject class in the manner of ancient Rome, to be handsomely rewarded while those who cannot make the grade are kept in misery? Are these men good for nothing but their short span of mock war called sport?
Christian Slater is breathing hard. It's 90 degrees on a smog-alert afternoon at the Racquet Center in Studio City, where Slater is playing paddle tennis for the very first time. After two games he's winded and hangs his head between his knees. Slater is only 25 years old, but he's learning that youth doesn't necessarily conquer everything--at least not when air pollution, nicotine, caffeine and lack of exercise are involved.
Welcome to St.-Tropez, where the days can be hot but the nights are cooled by Mediterranean breezes that help make this French town one of the most romantic spots on earth. It just got hotter, cooler and even more romantic, thanks to a visit from Pamela Anderson, a friend of ours who steamed up the lenses of photographer Stephen Wayda more than the weather ever could. Pamela, Playboy's Miss February 1990, told us then that "this is the start of something big." All she has done since is appear as Lisa the Tool Time Girl on Home Improvement, America's number one TV show, and co-star as C.J. Parker on Baywatch, the TV show with more than a billion viewers worldwide each week. There's also a Mike Hammer movie-of-the-week on CBS (Pamela plays Hammer's sexy assistant). Not bad for the daughter of a furnace repairman and a waitress from tiny Comox, British Columbia. But even while she juggled movie offers, Pamela couldn't resist a trip to St.-Tropez--our fifth get-together with her. "I've never had a bad experience with Playboy," she says. Posing nude is like modeling swim-suits, she adds, except that you don't have to worry how the suit looks. In St.-Tropez, she had nothing at all to worry about. We made the arrangements; all Pamela had to do was show up, show off and enjoy herself. Now she says, "It's my favorite place in the world. I want to move there."
The Best Part of learning to snowboard is that you don't have to pull blindside 360s or catch big-ass rail to look cool. That's because cool, in this sport, starts with the clothing. To prove it, we recruited four members of Manhattan's work force--a doorman, a cabbie, a bicycle messenger and a street vendor--to model some of this season's hottest styles. None of these guys has ever been close to the slopes (their idea of a winter sport is tuning in to the Knicks with a brew and some pretzels), but dressed in the essential gear, they look as though they could shred with the best of them. Designed with the same oversize, hip-hop look as skateboard clothing, these snowboard jackets, pullovers and pants are built for comfort, with plenty of reinforcement in the elbows, knees and backsides. To get street mileage out of your snowboard clothes, go with blue-collar-workwear jackets and shirts, and outerwear made of Polarfleece. Five-pocket jeans-style pants and overalls made of synthetic fabrics such as Cordura nylon will keep you warm and dry on the bottom. Hats are a must on top. And for the latest in hardware, check out the boards shown here and in Artists on Board, this month's On the Scene on page 177.
Liz Phair Hits the stage at 9:45 and strides toward the mike with a world-weary grin born of months of fawning reviews and crowds of drooling PIB (people in black). Her debut CD, Exile in Guyville, made many critics' lists of 1993's best albums and this live tour, she says, is to prove she's not just a studio wonder. She wears a clingy white turtleneck and a pleated short skirt. Her legs are bare. She looks like a good girl and sings like a bad one, the physical incarnation of a voice that has seduced thousands with lyrical threats to take the listener doggy style. Even at her most macho, she is no inflated, crotch-grabbing braggart like Mick Jagger or Madonna. She's more like a graduate student moonlighting as a phone sex operator. The roles that she plays--the jilted lover, the temptress, the scornful ex--never slip into parody. It's as if she were speaking aloud the thoughts of someone you might find at three in the morning down at the end of the bar--admittedly a safe bar, on a campus.
The go-go's were gone pretty quickly. Will this crop of female talent be around to shape the sound of tomorrow? Here's a list of women whose music may endure long enough for them to be Grammy grannies:
I Hate Los Angeles," growls 23-year-old Donna Perry, who at this moment seems less like a mild-mannered Miss November than a blonde, supercharged Mario Andretti as she careens among the freeway lanes in her sporty red Mitsubishi 3000GT. Leaving the city behind, she is headed home to the San Fernando Valley for a golfing expedition--miniature golf, that is. We head for the Arroyo Seco course for a friendly round and a nostalgic return to her roots. "I loved it here," she recalls as we whisk past her childhood home and three of her former schools. "It is more family oriented--like where I live now. I love families." Sure enough, a clan of her own is on the horizon. "People say I got married too young," Donna says of her merger a year and a half ago with Mike, a guitarist in a band called Bad Seed. "But I want to have kids before I'm 26. My folks are senior citizens. You get along better with your kids if you're younger when you have them." We arrive at the course and Donna strides toward the first hole, her hair tied into a swinging ponytail. Dressed in a gray T-shirt and jeans shorts, she guides me from green to green, revealing the secrets and difficulties of each hole. "Here's the wishing well," she whispers, as if this one has special meaning. She lines up the ball carefully, gives it a good whack and then--wait a minute--the ball rolls through the well and past the hole and comes right back to her. "That's strange," Donna says, tapping the ball, and this time coming closer to her mark. "The next hole is the anthill. It's a hard one." She's not kidding; it takes her ten tries to complete the hole.
Scott showed little aptitude for the law and even less for public speaking, but neither handicap prevented him from pursuing a career as a defense attorney. Finally, the day came for him to argue his first capital murder case and he asked a colleague in his firm to attend the trial.
It is five minutes before noon on December 11, 1985. Hugh Scrutton, 38 years old and single, opens the back door of his computer rental store in Sacramento and steps out into a bright day, where his death waits just a few feet away m a crumpled paper bag. Sunlight glints off the chrome of cars and pickups parked in the big asphalt lot that opens to the west. A 15-mile-per-hour wind blows south off the eastern hip of California's Coastal Range and rattles the bag. Scrutton steps past it, then turns.
Talk about ironic. As Russia struggles to jump-start its economy, some of the first products the country is exporting to the U.S. are items that were designed during the Cold War to bomb us into oblivion. Think of it as their capitalist wake-up call. The same Soviet defense contractors who were living high on the politburo payroll now sell armaments piecemeal in an effort to stay in business. And, of course, Americans are snapping up the stuff faster than you can say perestroika. Tank, submarine and MiG clocks with 14- to 25-jewel movements and Lucite bases have become popular desk accessories. There are also vases sculpted from the lenses of spy satellites. Urban voyeurs can pick up a pair of superstrength binoculars originally designed for Russian border guards (they weigh about 40 pounds and come with miscellaneous lenses and a steel shipping box). But the ultimate in Soviet chic has to be the MiG ejector-seat chair pictured on page 126. Ideal for corporate commandos with big budgets, the 200-pound, $5000 chair comes equipped with seat belts--always useful during downsizing.
As we learned from his impressive 1992 directorial debut, "Reservoir Dogs," Quentin Tarantino has a gift for creating human-scale thugs. What's spellbinding about his gun-waving sharpies is that their conversations have an everyday ring, as do their frequent screwups. The fun couple in "True Romance," which was directed by Tony Scott from a script by Tarantino, seem to make nothing but wrong moves. Tarantino 's latest movie, the award-winning "Pulp Fiction"--which he wrote, directed and acted in--is a quirky, blood-spattered ensemble film populated by earnest-talking sociopaths.
The next time someone tells you that domestic automakers have lost their spirit, offer this photo of the Viper GTS. Dodge's 400-horsepower coupe symbolizes the excitement that's currently driving Detroit. In fact, 1994 is the payoff year for a domestic revival that has been in the works since 1989. Today's car companies, both here and in Europe, are leaner. Styling, production and manufacturing have been fully integrated, so new models are designed better, built better and ready for market faster. The value of the yen has risen steadily compared with the dollar, forcing price increases that protect profitability but chip away at Japan's market share. As new-car prices rise, the nature of ownership is changing. Leasing is becoming more common. A Lexus LS 400 sedan that cost $35,000 in 1989, for example, now retails for $51,200. But despite the price increase, a new LS 400 can be leased for less today than it could in 1989. Not surprisingly, more than half of all luxury cars are leased, thanks to low interest rates. There's a lot more happening for model year 1995, and we've been on the road noting trends, previewing new wheels and talking with industry executives. Here's what we've learned. General Motors' product program is finally firing on all cylinders. Improved Chevrolet Lumina sedans will challenge Ford Tauruses. Chevy has also launched a new Monte Carlo coupe with an aerodynamic shape designed specifically for NASCAR racing. Although a dramatic-looking Pontiac Sunfire convertible prototype toured the auto-show circuit earlier this year, insiders admit the production version, due this fall, won't be nearly as impressive. Buick's Riviera coupe and Olds-mobile's Aurora sedan share the same modern platform with a unit body that's as rigid as the one on an E-class Mercedes-Benz. The result: new levels of silence and smoothness. The Riviera (which, to our taste, has too soft a suspension) comes in a choice of two V6s, including a 225-hp supercharged version. The more stiffly suspended front-wheel-drive Aurora sport sedan retails for only $31,370. That's about $18,000 cheaper than a comparable Japanese model, even if you buy the Aurora with a four-liter, 250-hp Northstar V8 engine and luxury options such as a custom-designed Bose sound system.
Put 1994 down on the books as the year that the sexes finally achieved equality on-screen: Men and women now share the right to let it all hang out. Moviegoers have become accustomed to the sight of unclad female bodies, but only a few audacious filmmakers have ventured to debrief their male stars. Oh, there were earlier hints of a change--last year Harvey Keitel, Jaye Davidson and Sylvester Stallone (in The Piano, The Crying Game and Demolition Man, respectively) bared what were once known as their privates. But in 1994 full exposure for actors as well as actresses became a genuine trend. Bruce Willis' frontal nudity in Color of Night was the talk of the Cannes Film Festival (as were his underwater exploits with an equally nude Jane March). One might expect a flash of flesh in a film called Naked in New York, and Eric Stoltz, featured in its dream sequence, obliges. So does James Woods, playing a drunken rancher who strips to the buff in Curse of the Starving Class. The same may be said (text concluded on page 146) for the daring actors in Sirens and Desperate Remedies, erotic features from Australia and New Zealand. As usual, the Motion Picture Association of America's ratings mavens fell off the bandwagon. Although they tolerated the scene from Six Degrees of Separation in which a male hustler cavorts in the nude, the MPAA raters balked at a shot from the movie's trailer: Michelangelo's naked Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. By the time an embarrassed MPAA backed off from its attempt to censor one of the world's artistic treasures, the trailer had already been re-edited.
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 22, 30, 124-127, 130-131 and 177, check the listings below to find the stores nearest you.
Several years aġo Shane Du Bow worked as an intern in our Chieaġo office. It wasn't the first time he had toiled in the presence of ġreatness. Turns out he used to date Liz Phair. When her first CD came out and we really listened to the words, the idea of a relationship with Phair raised more questions than the sonġs answered. So we tracked Du Bow down and made him ġo ive us the scoop.
Guys want their boards to look as cool as they ride," says Gregg DiLeo of Division 23. For that reason, several snowboard companies are turning to the art world in search of graphic images that reflect the sport's counterculture style. DiLeo, for example, commissioned Jeff Tremaine to complete the funky man-and-fishbowl painting on the 156 board (below) after he spotted the artist's work in a gallery. Some companies feature cartoon characters such as Fat Albert on their boards. And others pay big bucks for images by well-known illustrators--including H.R. Giger, whose work has appeared on the big screen (he designed the creature in Alien) and is now on the slopes in the form of Pyramid's 163 G series freeride board.