Forty Years and counting and the old Rabbit can still pull 'em out of the hat. We have quite the renegade gift pack this month. First, we give you Barrymore for your money--a pictorial of daring Hollywood darling Drew Barrymore. Once E.T.'s scene stealer, now maverick actress, Barrymore is street legal, excited about her new flick Boys On the Side and out to show that at last she's comfortable--and very sexy--in the skin she's in. Ellen von Unwerth shot the marvelous photos.
Playboy, (ISSN 0032-1478). January 1995, volume 42, number 1, 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: 880 North Lake shore drive, Chicago 60611; West Coast: 9242 Beverly Boulevard, Beverly Hills, CA 90210; One Sansome street, suite 1900. San Franciso. CA 94104; Detroit: 2000 Town Center, suite 1900. Southfield, MI 48075; Zimmerman & Associates: 2221 Peachtree Road NE, suite 10, Atlanta, GA 30309.
The Timely Topic of sexual harassment has made David Mamet's Oleanna a major theatrical event in more than 50 countries. Transferred from stage to screen (as a Samuel Goldwyn release), writer-director Mamet's controversial epic is sure to broaden its reputation as a subject for debate that heats up the battle of the sexes. Mamet's stylish, staccato dialogue seems more than a bit mannered on film, and his central conflict is actually a lopsidedly loaded case--between a resolute female college student (Debra Eisenstadt) and a professor (William Macy) who has given her a failing grade. In the course of destroying his peace of mind as well as his professional life, she charges him with everything from arrogance to sexual harassment, assault and attempted rape. In fact, the professor is mostly just a pedantic bore--innocent, but an irresistible target for an angry young woman who carries her political agenda to the point of psychosis. Two fairly unattractive characters locked in mostly mental (but mortal) combat can be irritating as hell. To Mamet's credit, he makes their drummed-up cat-and-mouse game look more like a heavyweight match seen from a ringside seat. [rating]3 bunnies[/rating]
Gil Bellows, 27, a New Yorker by choice, sat musing about success over a drink and a cigarette at a Greenwich Village den called Cowgirl Hall of Fame Barbeque. First, he's glad that Brad Pitt is such a hot commodity. "Pitt was supposed to have the part I played in The Shawshank Redemption. But he had a scheduling conflict, so I flew to Los Angeles for a screen test. Thank God, that's how lots of new people emerge--when someone else has a full plate." Bellows' plate has been filling fast since the industry buzz began about his Shawshank role as a doomed young inmate behind bars with Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman. He had barely a week's breathing space before shooting Love and a 45 (see last month's review of Bellows as a charismatic outlaw), after which he won the romantic lead opposite Sarah Jessica Parker in the forthcoming Miami Rhapsody, an all-star, highbrow comedy.
No history of music would be complete without a nod to the coolest cornetist of the Jazz Age. Bix: Ain't None of Them Play Like Him Yet (Playboy Jazz) tracks the career of Leon "Bix" Beiderbecke, whose impressionistic genius, singular style and penchant for bootleg gin made him an emblem of the Roaring Twenties. The two-hour bio includes rare clips of Bix, Louis Armstrong, Hoagy Carmichael and Artie Shaw. Call 800-423-9494.
Siskel and Ebert be damned. Anything that's two thumbs down for them is two thumbs up for Jay Leno, who mixes cars and camp in his video viewing. "I enjoy all bad car and biker movies," he says. "Grand Prix is probably the best car-racing movie ever made. You just have to skip the story line and go straight to the cars. Or Billy Jack and Born Losers. They look like they didn't even have the money to rent real Harleys--there are just these little Japanese Hondas." How does Jay spot a good bad flick? Easy. He just checks out the packaging. "The video box should have a picture of the star in a stupid action pose. Then in the four corners there should be a car blowing up, a machine gun, somebody dancing and another car going over a cliff." As for turkeys in other genres, Leno picks Plan 9 From Outer Space and what he calls "the greatest bad video of all time": The Oscar. "Some people think Valley of the Dolls is the worst, but that's just boring. With this one, you just yell and scream through the whole thing. It's so stupid."
The latest tube-to-tape transfers are a cross-genre bunch. Now rerunning: Little House on the Prairie 20th Anniversary Collection (Time-Life), the original Little Rascals (12 volumes, Cabin Fever), Colombo and The Rockford Files (MCA/Universal), The Best of Ernie Kovacs (five tapes, White Star) and Luke and Laura Volume Two: The--greatest Love of All and Susan Lucci's All About Erica (ABC).... With Maria Serrao: Everyone Can Exercise (Brentwood Home Video), you get a full-throttle workout--warm-up, abs, lower back, weights, full-body and cool-down--all courtesy of the shapely and buff beauty Serrao. The catch? She's been confined to a wheelchair since the age of five. Inspiring.... Who said theater is dead? Timed with the movie-house rerelease of My Fair Lady (1964), CBS Video offers a deluxe set of collectibles that includes a letterbox edition of the film, a making-of featurette, souvenir 70mm film frames and sketches by Lady's Oscar-winning costume designer, Cecil Beaton. Meanwhile, Fox Video is celebrating 50 years of Broadway's most famous music men with The Rodgers & Hammerstein Golden Anniversary Collection, a definitive home library that includes South Pacific, State Fair, The Sound of Music, The King and I, Carousel and Oklahoma! Special bonus: Each movie comes shrink-wrapped with its digitally remastered soundtrack on cassette.
He's a goofball, a numskull, a schlemiel--and a cult hero in France. For the first time, Jerry Lewis has permitted his big-screen oeuvre to hit the sell-through collector's market. Now available from Video Treasures ($14.98 each):
Twice, apparently, was not enough. New from MGM/UA is That's Entertainment! III, the latest installment of the studio's cinema scrapbook. The three-disc, CAV gift set ($125) includes eight minutes of footage cut from TE III's theatrical release (hoofing, not humping--these are the good old days, remember), interviews, still photos, posters and the original soundtrack on CD. That's exhaustive.... Is Voyager's Criterion Collection release of Silence of the Lambs worth the wait? You bet. Included in the delectably eerie package: commentary on the audio track by director Jonathan Demme, stars Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins and real-life FBI agent John Douglas; six deleted scenes; and an assortment of storyboards and stills. It's topped off by FBI dossiers on actual homicides. Sleep well.
If you're looking for a sensuous, intimate gift this holiday season, you will want to buy Boudoir Art: The Celebration of Life (Schiffer), by Clifford Catania. These coy images of women in lingerie, elegantly drawn by Louis Icart and others, are the ultimate in keyhole-peeking. If you're in the mood for something more exotic, there is a stylish new edition of that 2000-year-old bedroom classic, the Kama Sutra (Dorling Kindersley). This inspirational how-to is filled with instructional photographs and a new interpretation by Anne Hooper, the sex therapist who also wrote the best-selling Ultimate Sex Book.
In 1965 researchers at the University of Florida used the school's football team as guinea pigs to test a special beverage they had developed to combat dehydration and enhance athletic performance. The players liked the stuff, which was christened Gatorade after the university's mascot, and claimed it enabled them to play much harder in the last stages of tough games. After the Gators defeated Georgia Tech 27-12 in the 1967 Orange Bowl, the losing coach solemnly declared to a reporter from Sports Illustrated: "We didn't have Gatorade. That made the difference."
The time has come for a New Year's quiz. If you pass, you get to keep your job. If you fail, you may not be able to make a living for yourself or your family. Sure, those are high stakes, but take the quiz anyway, sexual harassment breath. This is 1995, and things ain't what they used to be.
I hate scientific studies. When they're not wrong, they're telling us something obvious. Somebody will spend ten trillion dollars and sacrifice one skillion cats to prove that women want chocolate when they're premenstrual.
My boyfriend and I were lounging in our underwear when we started fooling around. He likes to watch me touch myself. So, in between his licking my nipples and performing oral sex on me, I was happy to oblige. After I was really worked up and had had at least one orgasm, he put me on the floor on my knees. He was pinching my nipples and I was massaging my clitoris. I had a tremendous orgasm, after which I passed out for a few seconds. Is this unusual?--L. W., Kenosha, Wisconsin.
The lies are everywhere. In New York City one of a series of subway ads sponsored by the Catholic League warns: "Want to know a dirty little secret? Condoms don't save lives." Focus on the Family, a conservative religious group, takes out full-page ads with a boldfaced headline: In Defense of a Little Virginity. The text of the ad is crammed with "statistics": "The University of Texas Medical Branch recently found that condoms are only 69 percent effective in preventing the transmission of the human immunodeficiency virus in heterosexual couples. Dr. Susan Weller of UTMB conducted a meta-analysis of 11 independent HIV transmission studies. Her conclusion: "When it comes to the sexual transmission of HIV, the only real prevention is not to have sex with someone who has or might have HIV."
Everywhere you look today there are missing nipples. It seems there is a campaign afoot (or is it abreast?) to rid America's women of nipples--at least in representation, if not in fact. In the name of decency, photographs are retouched to make chests as plain and uniform as white bread. Normal, God-given nipples are airbrushed out of sight and out of mind, Scitexed into never-never land, lest they offend an increasingly nipple-fearing populace.
What happens when concern about date rape reaches Madison Avenue? Charles Hall, a creative director formerly of BBDO in New York City, took on the complicated issue after a friend had a firsthand experience with mixed signals and unwanted sex. With the help of three art directors, Hall devised a public service ad campaign that explores the line between fashion and force. The result is a provocative assault on blame-the-victim mentality. Shown here are print ads, a script for a television spot and a series of stick-on warnings (some of which have begun to show up in New York). We suspect that real rapists aren't swayed by public service ads. And nothing about the ads gives a clue as to when these moments signal a yes to passionate sex between consenting adults. For that, you have to ask your partner.
It was like a scene from a movie: Two private jets wait side by side on the tarmac at Burbank Airport. Two identical black limousines pull up within minutes of each other. Each one parks by a different plane. A tall, muscular man with a ponytail, wearing a red-and-black leather jacket, gets out of one limo, while a shorter, equally muscular man in a colorful silk shirt gets out of the other. But these men have more in common than private planes and limos. They are two of Hollywood's biggest names: Steven Seagal is flying to Montana, Jean-Claude Van Damme is on his way to San Diego to appear at a comic-book convention. And while the competition between the two is fierce--Seagal has even bad-mouthed Van Damme on TV--there's no confrontation between the two on this hot afternoon. In fact, neither acknowledges the other's presence. They simply get into their respective jets and fly their separate ways.
Billy Gayner, a 36-year-old oil company engineer in Dallas, gazed at the woman sleeping by his side. He had met her just a few weeks earlier, at a church camp, of all places, and here she was curled up once again in his bed. Aggressive and determined, she had taken all the steps to get there, which was just what he needed after his wife left. It was great, except for one problem.
Who is the real Drew Barrymore? You may know her as one of Hollywood's sexiest young actresses, the one who put the sizzle in her latest film, Boys On the Side, and wielded a six-shooter in last year's feminist Western, Bad Girls. Or maybe you recall her star turn in The Amy Fisher Story--the version that beat all others in the ratings because only Drew had the sweet-tart stuff that might make you identify with Joey Buttafuoco. Fright-film fans know her as the engine of sexual obsession in Poison Ivy and Doppelgänger. ("A psycho bitch from hell," raved Joe Bob Briggs.) Spielberg fans know her as the little girl in E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial; theater historians know of her acting ancestors, particularly her grandfather, John Barrymore. In spite of (or perhaps because of) her pedigree, she doesn't talk much about her past. "After I became famous through E.T., my life got really weird. One day I was a little girl, and the next I was being mobbed by people who wanted me to sign my autograph or pose for pictures, or who just wanted to touch me," she has said. "I was this seven-year-old who was supposed to be going on a mature 29." Now 19, Drew has had to grow up fast. But after fighting off the temptations of celeb life, she once again put her talent to work, and began showing some of the same magnetism grandpa John had. You may be looking at the film female of the Nineties.
Convinced at one time that he would have to go through life with a slight weight on his heart, Workman had now found what appeared to be peace. He had rented a cabin in his favorite area in the world, a place where thick woods ran suddenly into sand and it was take your pick on whether to call it the beach or the woods. People who went there liked a little of each. Even in the dark days of his first marriage, Workman could feel his spirits start to lift when he rounded an intersection ten miles from this area and made first contact with the summer freshness. One fear of his was that the ghosts of his first marriage would return to haunt him if he spent the summer in the same area. What actually happened is they paid no attention to him and let him go about his business. In fact, to his surprise, the whole complex tangle of his first life had simply slipped off his shoulders like a huge overcoat.
We've always considered Danny Glover to be an actor with whom we'd enjoy hanging out. Like many of the characters he has portrayed, most notably detective Roger Murtaugh in the Lethal Weapon series, Glover comes across as a likable guy. In fact, the actor is a lot like these cashmere sweaters--relaxed, elegant and versatile. In his next film, Operation Dumbo Drop, Glover plays a Green Beret who is charged with escorting an elephant through wartorn Vietnam. It's no wonder that he is taking a holiday break in luxurious cashmere.
Teena Renee Brandon's mystery was over the moment her body was discovered, facedown on a bed in a farmhouse in Humboldt, Nebraska. It was early in the morning on December 31, 1993, and lying dead with Teena were two others. Each of the three had been shot twice, execution style, with a .38 revolver. "Through and through" is how the coroner would classify their wounds, meaning the bullets had entered the victims' heads from one side and exited the other. In addition, Teena had been stabbed in the liver and her skull had been crushed. She was 21.
If melissa holliday's personal drive were manifested in physical form, it would be a 90-car freight train roaring down the Continental Divide behind her Denver home. She doesn't just dream about a career in showbiz; she's willing it into existence. As a kid, she pursued her goal in the best Judy Garland-Mickey Rooney, let's-put-on-a-show tradition, competing in every beauty contest she could find, playing stage roles in everything from Annie to something called Capricious Pearls and doing commercials for radio. When she got older, she signed on for entertainment duty at conventions and car shows, in which capacity she even performed before Lee Iacocca. Since then the pace has, if anything, increased. We had a heck of a time pinning down Miss January for an interview, what with backcountry photo sessions for Playboy sandwiched between trips to Los Angeles to audition for a role in a gangster movie and to cut a demo tape of country songs. From there it was on to New York to present the tape to music executives who may sign her to her first record contract. If you saw vapor trails in the skies over the Midwest this past fall, it was probably Melissa. Stealing a reprieve at her parents' modest ranch home in suburban Denver, she savors a rare relaxed moment and a cup of coffee. "It's been so hectic lately that I sometimes long for peace and quiet," she laments. "But I have wanted to be an entertainer for as long as I can remember. I started singing when I was old enough to talk." When she's not singing, she's coming up with new songs. "I get up in the middle of the night when I can't sleep, and songs are just running through my head. My music is my career, my fun, my escape." Her secondary escape is to the Rocky Mountains, which loom behind her house. "I like to be out in nature, and I love animals. They don't lie to you. They don't argue with you." Melissa pointedly avoids making that claim about herself. "I'm hardheaded," she admits. Just call it a defense mechanism against the slings and arrows of the outrageous music industry, which has already promised her more than it has delivered. "I was brought up to defend myself and to stand up for what I believe. If I see something I don't think is right, I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut." Her dreams for when she hits it big include a ranch in Arizona or Aspen where she can have a corral full of horses and a family, too. She knows that her ideal rancher is out there, and she knows how she'll find him: it will be by the music, of course. "Music has a lot of magic to it. You can fall in love with someone just by listening to a song. Love is strange that way."
In a scene from Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, the crew of the Starship Enterprise has journeyed back three centuries to the 1980s. Scotty borrows a computer from an engineer and begins speaking to it, but the computer doesn't respond. The 20th century engineer, who probably thinks his 23rd century counterpart has had one scotch too many, offers him the keyboard. "Oh, a keyboard," notes Scotty. "How quaint!"
Baseball is in the toilet. My favorite hometown NFL star signed with a team at the other end of the country and then tore up his knee. Hockey season was frozen by a lockout, and even when they are playing, you can't see the puck on TV. And we'll never have a clear-cut college football champ because the NCAA can't agree on a playoff format. Thank God for college basketball.
Tom Snyder is back. Yes, sir! The veteran broadcaster, best known for hosting NBC's "Tomorrow" show from 1973 to 1982, has brought his unique conversational style, idiosyncratic observations and singular hairstyle to CBS, where his "Late, Late Show With Tom Snyder" debuted in December, after "The Late Show With David Letterman." Letterman's company, Worldwide Pants, is producing. Until Letterman beckoned, the 58-year-old Snyder was comfortably ensconced at cable's CNBC, doing one hour of talk a night, largely free from worries about ratings and pushy network executives. Before that he spent six years doing a national radio show for ABC. Many thought that CBS would bring in a younger person to counter NBC's Conan O'Brien. But the strength of Letterman's insistence persuaded Snyder to give it a try. Contributing Editor David Rensin met with Snyder at the CNBC studios as his stint on cable wound down. Says Rensin, "During our talk, Tom let slip that he hates Q&As and that great stories are the stuff of compelling conversation. Even if he wasn't trying to tell me something, I knew better than not to take my cue from the master."
Sometimes you can almost feel the heat of Justice Clarence Thomas' petulance. Last spring, for instance, when he performed the marriage of Rush Limbaugh. For the record--and for gossip columns around the country--the event (which took place at Thomas' Virginia home) offered a glimpse into Thomas' private, tradition-saluting side. For the zeitgeist, it was a sharp single-finger salute to anyone left of the far right.
The concept of a clamp for paper currency carried on one's person dates back to the mid-1800s. Early versions were crudely fashioned out of wire, but it didn't take jewelers long to turn the money clip into gold and silver status symbols. Clips lost favor in the Sixties (too frivolous, perhaps?), but now that accessories for men--from lapel pins to ear studs--are back, it's only natural that money clips would enjoy a renaissance, too. The latest ones include stainless-steel styles decorated with vintage-looking postage stamps, such as the Babe Ruth clip below, sterling-silver abstract shapes and even original cigar bands. Remember: When picking up a check, peeling bills from a handsome clip beats fumbling through a dilapidated wallet every time.
Keller's Karma--It's not Keller's fault when a hit takes out the wrong man, but he has to hustle overtime to put things right. Another story in the prize-winning series by suspense grand master Lawrence Block