Here's some eye candy 2 go w/ your burgers...
She's enough 2 make me "salute" ;)
U want my "Hot Dog?" LOL!
Yummy!! I would luv 4 my "meat" 2 go w/ your "buns!"
She really luvs the 4th!
God Bless America!
I Luv the 4th of July!
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Sylvia Kristel, the world's most famous porn star....
Here's history lesson 4 u pervs.
Ever wonder what happened to "The Original Emmanuelle?"
Here's the original link 2 the tale.
Read on & learn alittle something, something...
+++++
Amsterdam [The Guardian]- I meet Sylvia Kristel – always "Emmanuelle", even after all these years – at a bar in Amsterdam. She is there when I arrive, wearing glasses, a scarf around her neck, sitting quietly at a table reading a newspaper. Am I disappointed that she isn't, instead, enthroned on a wicker chair wearing nothing beyond a string of pearls and, most peculiarly, knee-length socks teamed with ankle boots? No. That would be embarrassing. I introduce myself.
She is 55 now, pretty, with lovely skin. "It's genetic. The creams I use are not expensive. Nivea is just as good. Why waste a fortune?" She lives, it turns out, above the bar, in a small rented flat where she paints ( "my last picture was a huge canvas filled with blue roses"), watches American soaps (her favourite is As The World Turns) and cooks on a Monday. "I make a big pot of pasta with vegetables and I stretch it out for the week." We order coffee. We are here, ostensibly, to talk about her autobiography, Undressing Emmanuelle, which takes in everything from her weird childhood through to Emmanuelle and then those cocaine-fuelled, drunken years living with Ian McShane in Hollywood.
I say that the thing I most want to know about Ian is this: did he ever try to sell you any antiques? He did not, she says. "But that programme, Lovejoy, was very successful, no?" They haven't kept in touch. "He's not the kind of man to call and check how you are." There was a lot of anger in him, she says. "His agent once told him that if he were three inches taller he'd have as glittering a career as Sean Connery. That frustrated him. He did not get the parts he deserved." She's not had a great deal of luck with men, as sublime beauties rarely do, and as I should know.
Anyway, even though the title of her autobiography is what it is – hey, a girl has to make a living! – I figure she must be pretty bored of Emmanuelle by now. Christ, it was 33 years ago. What's left to say? But that's never stopped me before and, alas, doesn't stop me now. I tell her I saw Emmanuelle at the Golders Green Odeon when it first came out, which was 1974, which means I must have been 13. It was on as a double bill with the film Percy's Progress which had, as its tagline, "size doesn't count!" even though it so does, but you don't know that at 13, do you?
Both were X-rated so we must have bunked in via the small window in the ladies at the back. (This stunt may still work but a word of warning: the Golders Green Odeon is now an old people's home. Better to know than not.) I say that Emmanuelle was the first erotic film – or erotic anything – my friends and I had ever experienced and it blew us away. We'd never seen it before; had no idea there was even more than one way of doing it. We left so worked up that if we'd brushed up against anything – anything, even a lamppost – we'd have probably all gone off like fire hydrants. Sylvia, is this too much information? She says: "It astonishes me, this interest. When will it come to an end?" Do you mind? "Not really." She can be quite listless. She may be more bored than she makes out but, hey, the girl's got a book to sell!
OK, I say, what do you think it is about Emmanuelle that means people just can't put it down? She thinks it was all about great timing. She says that due to changes in censorship regulations at the time, it was the first sex film to appear in "normal" cinemas rather than to the raincoat brigade in some seedy dive. "In a lot of countries the light went on, and that contributed very much to the success." I say I think it might be something else, too. I tell her I re-watched it for the first time since I was 13 just before coming here today, and what struck me most was not only its gauche innocence – dodgy moustaches; atrocious dubbing; all those wonderfully ad-hoc shagathons ("pass the sugar, and let's have a shag while we're about it") – but also her wonderful freshness and purity. I don't think the film would have got anywhere, I add, if the star had been some regular old porn hand with big tits.
I think, Sylvia, that Sylvia Kristel made that film. She thinks there maybe something in this, yes. She re-watched it a year or so ago because Channel 4 were making a documentary about it. And? "I thought it was charming. Very innocent, like you say. I was struck by how young I looked at the time but I thought I was so adult, that I knew it all and I was going to conquer the world. Amazing. Where did this come from?" She has a son, Arthur, now in his thirties. Has he seen it? "He fell asleep. He thought it very boring." Your mother? "She saw the film when it came on television. She said: 'If they are showing it on television it can't be that bad.' And then she saw it and said: 'Is that all?' I said: 'Mother, have you been imagining the worst for 20 years?' "
Although popularly thought to be French, Sylvia is, in fact, Dutch. She was born in Utrecht where her parents owned and ran The Commerce Hotel, Station Square. Sylvia and her sister, Marianne, were brought up in Room 21, unless the hotel was full, in which case they were shifted, often in the middle of the night, to Room 22, "which was no more than a cubby hole". She says she often used to think: "What if my mother rents room 22. Where will we go then?" Her parents were alcoholics, pretty much. She once counted how many glasses of beer her father, John, put away in a day, and stopped at 40. Her father had been the Dutch clay pigeon shooting champion but, a stubborn man, refused to wear ear protectors and went deaf. When not manning the hotel, he would disappear to the attic to whittle chess figurines. Her mother, Pete, meanwhile, was an emotionally cool woman always at the sherry. Pete? "She comes from the countryside where there is this habit of naming children after a relative, whether it is a man or a woman."
Sylvia had no idea that drink wasn't a feature of everybody's life; that alcohol wasn't like food or water. It was only when she went to boarding school for a spell at 11 that she realised this wasn't so. "On my first night I could not sleep so I asked Sister Assassia for a cognac." I bet that went down well. "She said: 'You must be joking. Three Hail Mary's and a Pater will send you to sleep just as well.' It was the first time I had ever been refused. At the hotel, when I couldn't sleep, I would always serve myself a cognac." She was even practically suckled on booze. " Before I was weaned my mother got me to sleep by putting a cognac-soaked cloth wrapped around a lump of sugar to my lips." Sylvia would eventually have her own drink problems, needless to say.Possibly, the defining moment of her childhood came when she was 16 and something quite staggering happened: her father returned to the hotel one day with a woman in tow whom he introduced as his next wife. He then, quite literally, ejected Pete (Pete!) and the children from the hotel. "It was as if we were staff and he had dismissed us." They moved to a small flat. Her mother went out to work. Sylvia did return to the hotel once but the new wife refused to let her in. I think, in many ways, she has possibly yet to recover from this.
I wonder when she realised she was beautiful. She doesn't know, she says. Then again, she was always looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother thought her horribly vain, as did her grandmother, who would cover the mirrors with newspaper. And what was your grandmother's name? Roger? Dave? " No! Marie!" She thinks she probably had some idea at 17, when a man rushed up to her in the street and said: 'Thank you. Just looking at you has made me happy.'" If you could somehow be reborn, I ask, would you choose to come back as beautiful or not beautiful? Both can dictate a life, after all. Which would you pick? She thinks for a while then says: "I would now rather be very healthy and strong as a horse but it is nice to be attractive." In recent years, her health has not been so good. She's had run-ins with cancer twice (throat, lung). The radiation treatment scorched her neck – hence the scarf – and as for the chemotherapy: "It sends you into the menopause immediately and you put on weight – fast, wow! I've gained 20 pounds easily. I have to go up four flights of stairs to my flat and it is like carrying two suitcases! I am not going to be cast any more for my body, I am sure." She says this matter-of-factly, without any self-pity. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? It sometimes feels as if she simply doesn't have enough energy left to muster up any feelings at all.
When she left school she became a secretary, a waitress, then posed for a photographer in Utrecht and became a model. She won two beauty titles: first Miss TV Holland, then Miss TV Europe. She writes in the book that when she was crowned Miss TV Europe – by Katie Boyle, at a ceremony in London – her first thought was: "I want my father to see me, to see this exquisite bird he let escape." That is quite sad, I think. I put it to her that maybe she's been looking for her father in her relationships with men ever since. A cliché, I know, but it doesn't mean it might not be true. After all, her first proper boyfriend, Hugo Claus (father of Arthur) was a Dutch writer who was 24 years her senior. She says: "Was I looking for a father? Maybe in my subconscious I was, but Hugo was not a father figure, he was a great lover. He was older, that is true, but he was very boyish and athletic and did karate every day."Hugo encouraged her to become an actress, and to audition for Emmanuelle. In the book, she describes the audition like this: "I am wearing a lingerie-type dress with delicate shoulder straps; it reaches half way down my thighs. I sit down and smile. I am 20 years old with all the nerve of that age, all the desire to conquer. I take advantage of a boring question about my education to roll my shoulder slowly forward until one strap falls, then the other. I carry on talking. The slightly cold air stiffens my breasts. My apparent relaxation gives the impression that my body is still dressed, although it is right here, in front of them, exposed, naked. The panel is bowled over; some of them even have the tips of their tongues hanging out..." I say that I once did that for a job and you know what? Didn't get anywhere. Thrown out the door, I was. Not a single tongue hung out. She laughs. But such courage, Sylvia! Yes, and you know what? "It was weird, because I am actually quite prudish."
She imagined that Emmanuelle would never be passed by the censors, would never get released, but thought that as it was going to be filmed in Thailand she and Hugo might as well get a free holiday out of it. She says that when it first opened in Paris and she saw the huge queue outside the La Triumph cinema on the Champs-Élysées she was absolutely staggered. Further, it carried on "playing in that same cinema for 13 years". She became a big star. Huge! It was champagne and entourages and Mercedes cars... Did it go to her head? You bet. Her biggest mistake was leaving Hugo for Ian McShane, whom she'd met on the set of The Fifth Musketeer. " That's the dumbest thing I ever did," she says. He offered to take her to Hollywood and she was keen. "I thought Hollywood was waiting for me. It was not." The movies she made there were lacklustre "and I had to fight to keep my clothes on". Her relationship with Ian was volatile. They fought and threw things a lot. They drank and did cocaine.
But, alas, the house still wasn't safe. In 1986 she married Philippe Blot, a dreamer who believed himself to be Orson Welles. He persuaded her to finance his films. One film was so bad it only played for six days and was described by a critic as "the worst film ever made". He left her utterly broke and she had the bailiffs after her for years. "A-list stars now make zillions but my biggest fee was like $300,000... If I had been more prudent and hadn't been partying so much, I guess it would have lasted a bit longer – but what really did me in was Philippe." How does she survive now? She sells a few pictures, she says. And the book may sell well. I ask if she ever feels lonely. "Well, sometimes I think it would be nice..." she says, before drifting off. She then says she has her painting and her soaps and her big pot of pasta and Arthur, who visits regularly. It's not so bad. It's been some life, though, I say. It has, she says. We part on the street outside the bar. I watch her walk away and think how weary she looks, even from the back. That's what I think she is: weary. And that's what I've probably been trying to put my finger on all along.
Emmanuelle first appeared as the nom de plume of Marayat Rollet-Andriane, a French-Asian writer born in 1930s Bangkok. Her 1957 book The Joys of a Woman detailed the sexual exploits of Emmanuelle, the bored housewife of a French diplomat. Rollet-Andriane's book caused a sensation in France and it was banned by De Gaulle's government. Emmanuelle's screen debut came in 1969 with the Italian film Io, Emmanuelle starring Erika Blanc. The film was a flop and its director, Cesare Canevari, would later plumb new depths with the Nazi-exploitation classic Gestapo's Last Orgy. Sylvia Kristel made the role her own with the 1973 release of Emmanuelle, directed by the French former interior designer, Just Jaeckin. De Gaulle's prudery long forgotten, the film played to packed houses in Paris.
Emmanuelle was also an international hit and has played to an estimated global audience of 300 million. Kristel says the true figure, if videos are taken into account, is closer to 650 million. In France and the US the film was uncut, but British censors balked at scenes of masturbation and explicit sex. In the end, the scene in which Emmanuelle is raped as part of her "sexual education" was the only one to get the chop. In France, posters advertising the film showed Emmanuelle sitting topless in a wicker chair, fingering a string of pearls. The caption read: "At last – a film that won't make you feel bad about feeling good". Emmanuelle's US marketers took a different tack. A trailer screamed: " Twelve million Frenchmen stood in line for it!"In a scene where Emmanuelle climbs on top of her husband during a sex scene, a group of Japanese feminists at a Parisian cinema reportedly rose to their feet and applauded. Western feminists were less impressed.
Kristel sold her interest in Emmanuelle for $150,000, missing out on a share of the film's $26m domestic gross. She was paid just $6,000 for her starring role but negotiated a $100,000 contract for the sequel, Emmanuelle 2. Kristel's last outing as Emmanuelle in Goodbye, Emmanuelle (1977) was only the beginning of the franchise, which has to date spawned more than 60 (mostly unlicensed) spin-offs. They include Emmanuelle Goes Japanese, Emmanuelle: A Hard Look and, out this year, The Inconfessable Orgies of Emmanuelle.The 1978 spoof Carry on Emmannuelle (note the double "*") starred Kenneth Williams as the French ambassador to London. Having lost his libido after landing on a church spire during a parachute jump, his sex-starved wife, Emmannuelle Prevert, seduces a string of VIPs. Scandal ensues (but not hilarity). The Indonesian actress Laura Gemser starred in Emanuelle Nera (Black Emanuelle), an Italian spin-off that itself spawned 10 more films, including Emanuelle in Hell and Emanuelle vs the Cannibals.
+++++++
What a history.
U c, u can learn alittle history on this blog.
Ever wonder what happened to "The Original Emmanuelle?"
Here's the original link 2 the tale.
Read on & learn alittle something, something...
+++++
Sylvia Kristel, the world's most famous porn star?
Amsterdam [The Guardian]- I meet Sylvia Kristel – always "Emmanuelle", even after all these years – at a bar in Amsterdam. She is there when I arrive, wearing glasses, a scarf around her neck, sitting quietly at a table reading a newspaper. Am I disappointed that she isn't, instead, enthroned on a wicker chair wearing nothing beyond a string of pearls and, most peculiarly, knee-length socks teamed with ankle boots? No. That would be embarrassing. I introduce myself.
She is 55 now, pretty, with lovely skin. "It's genetic. The creams I use are not expensive. Nivea is just as good. Why waste a fortune?" She lives, it turns out, above the bar, in a small rented flat where she paints ( "my last picture was a huge canvas filled with blue roses"), watches American soaps (her favourite is As The World Turns) and cooks on a Monday. "I make a big pot of pasta with vegetables and I stretch it out for the week." We order coffee. We are here, ostensibly, to talk about her autobiography, Undressing Emmanuelle, which takes in everything from her weird childhood through to Emmanuelle and then those cocaine-fuelled, drunken years living with Ian McShane in Hollywood.
I say that the thing I most want to know about Ian is this: did he ever try to sell you any antiques? He did not, she says. "But that programme, Lovejoy, was very successful, no?" They haven't kept in touch. "He's not the kind of man to call and check how you are." There was a lot of anger in him, she says. "His agent once told him that if he were three inches taller he'd have as glittering a career as Sean Connery. That frustrated him. He did not get the parts he deserved." She's not had a great deal of luck with men, as sublime beauties rarely do, and as I should know.
Anyway, even though the title of her autobiography is what it is – hey, a girl has to make a living! – I figure she must be pretty bored of Emmanuelle by now. Christ, it was 33 years ago. What's left to say? But that's never stopped me before and, alas, doesn't stop me now. I tell her I saw Emmanuelle at the Golders Green Odeon when it first came out, which was 1974, which means I must have been 13. It was on as a double bill with the film Percy's Progress which had, as its tagline, "size doesn't count!" even though it so does, but you don't know that at 13, do you?
Both were X-rated so we must have bunked in via the small window in the ladies at the back. (This stunt may still work but a word of warning: the Golders Green Odeon is now an old people's home. Better to know than not.) I say that Emmanuelle was the first erotic film – or erotic anything – my friends and I had ever experienced and it blew us away. We'd never seen it before; had no idea there was even more than one way of doing it. We left so worked up that if we'd brushed up against anything – anything, even a lamppost – we'd have probably all gone off like fire hydrants. Sylvia, is this too much information? She says: "It astonishes me, this interest. When will it come to an end?" Do you mind? "Not really." She can be quite listless. She may be more bored than she makes out but, hey, the girl's got a book to sell!
OK, I say, what do you think it is about Emmanuelle that means people just can't put it down? She thinks it was all about great timing. She says that due to changes in censorship regulations at the time, it was the first sex film to appear in "normal" cinemas rather than to the raincoat brigade in some seedy dive. "In a lot of countries the light went on, and that contributed very much to the success." I say I think it might be something else, too. I tell her I re-watched it for the first time since I was 13 just before coming here today, and what struck me most was not only its gauche innocence – dodgy moustaches; atrocious dubbing; all those wonderfully ad-hoc shagathons ("pass the sugar, and let's have a shag while we're about it") – but also her wonderful freshness and purity. I don't think the film would have got anywhere, I add, if the star had been some regular old porn hand with big tits.
I think, Sylvia, that Sylvia Kristel made that film. She thinks there maybe something in this, yes. She re-watched it a year or so ago because Channel 4 were making a documentary about it. And? "I thought it was charming. Very innocent, like you say. I was struck by how young I looked at the time but I thought I was so adult, that I knew it all and I was going to conquer the world. Amazing. Where did this come from?" She has a son, Arthur, now in his thirties. Has he seen it? "He fell asleep. He thought it very boring." Your mother? "She saw the film when it came on television. She said: 'If they are showing it on television it can't be that bad.' And then she saw it and said: 'Is that all?' I said: 'Mother, have you been imagining the worst for 20 years?' "
Although popularly thought to be French, Sylvia is, in fact, Dutch. She was born in Utrecht where her parents owned and ran The Commerce Hotel, Station Square. Sylvia and her sister, Marianne, were brought up in Room 21, unless the hotel was full, in which case they were shifted, often in the middle of the night, to Room 22, "which was no more than a cubby hole". She says she often used to think: "What if my mother rents room 22. Where will we go then?" Her parents were alcoholics, pretty much. She once counted how many glasses of beer her father, John, put away in a day, and stopped at 40. Her father had been the Dutch clay pigeon shooting champion but, a stubborn man, refused to wear ear protectors and went deaf. When not manning the hotel, he would disappear to the attic to whittle chess figurines. Her mother, Pete, meanwhile, was an emotionally cool woman always at the sherry. Pete? "She comes from the countryside where there is this habit of naming children after a relative, whether it is a man or a woman."
Sylvia had no idea that drink wasn't a feature of everybody's life; that alcohol wasn't like food or water. It was only when she went to boarding school for a spell at 11 that she realised this wasn't so. "On my first night I could not sleep so I asked Sister Assassia for a cognac." I bet that went down well. "She said: 'You must be joking. Three Hail Mary's and a Pater will send you to sleep just as well.' It was the first time I had ever been refused. At the hotel, when I couldn't sleep, I would always serve myself a cognac." She was even practically suckled on booze. " Before I was weaned my mother got me to sleep by putting a cognac-soaked cloth wrapped around a lump of sugar to my lips." Sylvia would eventually have her own drink problems, needless to say.Possibly, the defining moment of her childhood came when she was 16 and something quite staggering happened: her father returned to the hotel one day with a woman in tow whom he introduced as his next wife. He then, quite literally, ejected Pete (Pete!) and the children from the hotel. "It was as if we were staff and he had dismissed us." They moved to a small flat. Her mother went out to work. Sylvia did return to the hotel once but the new wife refused to let her in. I think, in many ways, she has possibly yet to recover from this.
I wonder when she realised she was beautiful. She doesn't know, she says. Then again, she was always looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother thought her horribly vain, as did her grandmother, who would cover the mirrors with newspaper. And what was your grandmother's name? Roger? Dave? " No! Marie!" She thinks she probably had some idea at 17, when a man rushed up to her in the street and said: 'Thank you. Just looking at you has made me happy.'" If you could somehow be reborn, I ask, would you choose to come back as beautiful or not beautiful? Both can dictate a life, after all. Which would you pick? She thinks for a while then says: "I would now rather be very healthy and strong as a horse but it is nice to be attractive." In recent years, her health has not been so good. She's had run-ins with cancer twice (throat, lung). The radiation treatment scorched her neck – hence the scarf – and as for the chemotherapy: "It sends you into the menopause immediately and you put on weight – fast, wow! I've gained 20 pounds easily. I have to go up four flights of stairs to my flat and it is like carrying two suitcases! I am not going to be cast any more for my body, I am sure." She says this matter-of-factly, without any self-pity. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? It sometimes feels as if she simply doesn't have enough energy left to muster up any feelings at all.
When she left school she became a secretary, a waitress, then posed for a photographer in Utrecht and became a model. She won two beauty titles: first Miss TV Holland, then Miss TV Europe. She writes in the book that when she was crowned Miss TV Europe – by Katie Boyle, at a ceremony in London – her first thought was: "I want my father to see me, to see this exquisite bird he let escape." That is quite sad, I think. I put it to her that maybe she's been looking for her father in her relationships with men ever since. A cliché, I know, but it doesn't mean it might not be true. After all, her first proper boyfriend, Hugo Claus (father of Arthur) was a Dutch writer who was 24 years her senior. She says: "Was I looking for a father? Maybe in my subconscious I was, but Hugo was not a father figure, he was a great lover. He was older, that is true, but he was very boyish and athletic and did karate every day."Hugo encouraged her to become an actress, and to audition for Emmanuelle. In the book, she describes the audition like this: "I am wearing a lingerie-type dress with delicate shoulder straps; it reaches half way down my thighs. I sit down and smile. I am 20 years old with all the nerve of that age, all the desire to conquer. I take advantage of a boring question about my education to roll my shoulder slowly forward until one strap falls, then the other. I carry on talking. The slightly cold air stiffens my breasts. My apparent relaxation gives the impression that my body is still dressed, although it is right here, in front of them, exposed, naked. The panel is bowled over; some of them even have the tips of their tongues hanging out..." I say that I once did that for a job and you know what? Didn't get anywhere. Thrown out the door, I was. Not a single tongue hung out. She laughs. But such courage, Sylvia! Yes, and you know what? "It was weird, because I am actually quite prudish."
She imagined that Emmanuelle would never be passed by the censors, would never get released, but thought that as it was going to be filmed in Thailand she and Hugo might as well get a free holiday out of it. She says that when it first opened in Paris and she saw the huge queue outside the La Triumph cinema on the Champs-Élysées she was absolutely staggered. Further, it carried on "playing in that same cinema for 13 years". She became a big star. Huge! It was champagne and entourages and Mercedes cars... Did it go to her head? You bet. Her biggest mistake was leaving Hugo for Ian McShane, whom she'd met on the set of The Fifth Musketeer. " That's the dumbest thing I ever did," she says. He offered to take her to Hollywood and she was keen. "I thought Hollywood was waiting for me. It was not." The movies she made there were lacklustre "and I had to fight to keep my clothes on". Her relationship with Ian was volatile. They fought and threw things a lot. They drank and did cocaine.
But, alas, the house still wasn't safe. In 1986 she married Philippe Blot, a dreamer who believed himself to be Orson Welles. He persuaded her to finance his films. One film was so bad it only played for six days and was described by a critic as "the worst film ever made". He left her utterly broke and she had the bailiffs after her for years. "A-list stars now make zillions but my biggest fee was like $300,000... If I had been more prudent and hadn't been partying so much, I guess it would have lasted a bit longer – but what really did me in was Philippe." How does she survive now? She sells a few pictures, she says. And the book may sell well. I ask if she ever feels lonely. "Well, sometimes I think it would be nice..." she says, before drifting off. She then says she has her painting and her soaps and her big pot of pasta and Arthur, who visits regularly. It's not so bad. It's been some life, though, I say. It has, she says. We part on the street outside the bar. I watch her walk away and think how weary she looks, even from the back. That's what I think she is: weary. And that's what I've probably been trying to put my finger on all along.
Emmanuelle first appeared as the nom de plume of Marayat Rollet-Andriane, a French-Asian writer born in 1930s Bangkok. Her 1957 book The Joys of a Woman detailed the sexual exploits of Emmanuelle, the bored housewife of a French diplomat. Rollet-Andriane's book caused a sensation in France and it was banned by De Gaulle's government. Emmanuelle's screen debut came in 1969 with the Italian film Io, Emmanuelle starring Erika Blanc. The film was a flop and its director, Cesare Canevari, would later plumb new depths with the Nazi-exploitation classic Gestapo's Last Orgy. Sylvia Kristel made the role her own with the 1973 release of Emmanuelle, directed by the French former interior designer, Just Jaeckin. De Gaulle's prudery long forgotten, the film played to packed houses in Paris.
Emmanuelle was also an international hit and has played to an estimated global audience of 300 million. Kristel says the true figure, if videos are taken into account, is closer to 650 million. In France and the US the film was uncut, but British censors balked at scenes of masturbation and explicit sex. In the end, the scene in which Emmanuelle is raped as part of her "sexual education" was the only one to get the chop. In France, posters advertising the film showed Emmanuelle sitting topless in a wicker chair, fingering a string of pearls. The caption read: "At last – a film that won't make you feel bad about feeling good". Emmanuelle's US marketers took a different tack. A trailer screamed: " Twelve million Frenchmen stood in line for it!"In a scene where Emmanuelle climbs on top of her husband during a sex scene, a group of Japanese feminists at a Parisian cinema reportedly rose to their feet and applauded. Western feminists were less impressed.
Kristel sold her interest in Emmanuelle for $150,000, missing out on a share of the film's $26m domestic gross. She was paid just $6,000 for her starring role but negotiated a $100,000 contract for the sequel, Emmanuelle 2. Kristel's last outing as Emmanuelle in Goodbye, Emmanuelle (1977) was only the beginning of the franchise, which has to date spawned more than 60 (mostly unlicensed) spin-offs. They include Emmanuelle Goes Japanese, Emmanuelle: A Hard Look and, out this year, The Inconfessable Orgies of Emmanuelle.The 1978 spoof Carry on Emmannuelle (note the double "*") starred Kenneth Williams as the French ambassador to London. Having lost his libido after landing on a church spire during a parachute jump, his sex-starved wife, Emmannuelle Prevert, seduces a string of VIPs. Scandal ensues (but not hilarity). The Indonesian actress Laura Gemser starred in Emanuelle Nera (Black Emanuelle), an Italian spin-off that itself spawned 10 more films, including Emanuelle in Hell and Emanuelle vs the Cannibals.
+++++++
What a history.
Sylvia Kristel - In 1 of her flix
Sylvia Kristel - Then
Sylvia Kristel - Now
U c, u can learn alittle history on this blog.
Can Porn Go Public(ly Traded)?...
GOOD NEWS!!
It looks like my biz, strip clubs, will b a leading factor in the "mainstreaming" of strippers & gentlemens clubs & alittle respect.
About fuckin' time...
This is something that really got my attention.
The Strip Club Bizness is kickin' ass across the country, despite city councils all over tryin' 2 shut'em down.
Peep the article below...
+++++
Can Porn Go Public(ly Traded)?
Porn Valley- [english.ohmynews.com]- Porn isn't going away. While it has become a part of mainstream culture, adult entertainment remains on the public finance sidelines. The business is dominated by small owner-operated companies, obscuring financial details and stifling growth. To grow aggressively, the porn industry needs money, but the business has a long way to go before most companies are large enough even to consider IPOs.
Gentlemen's clubs have demonstrated the strongest performance, with double-digit revenue growth and triple-digit profit gains. Retailers, on the other hand, show flat sales growth while posting double-digit profit growth, and content companies, typically, have lagged. As smaller public companies, listed adult entertainment businesses are subject to wild movements based on small events. A mildly positive press release can send the stock price soaring, and one quarter of substandard revenue growth could send it back the other way. Unusually high P/E ratios result, especially in relation to fantastic (or fantastically dismal) year-over-year earnings changes. The average adult content company, for example, trades at more than 400 times earnings, despite showing revenue declines of more than 60 percent.
Meanwhile, gentlemen's clubs show fantastic earnings growth on average (almost 470 percent) and a sky-high P/E (91.72), but a low average market cap of $51 million means that they still are vulnerable to the whims of investors, especially large shareholders and insiders. Branded product and retail companies appear to be the most stable, mostly likely a result of the $222 million average market capitalization for the sector, which shows a bit more maturity. There is room for porn on public capital markets, but porn itself has to change first. A wave of industry consolidation would have to precede any meaningful adult industry IPO trend. According to Francis Koenig, President and CEO of adult-oriented private equity firm AdultVest, it will take time.
Koenig indicates that gentlemen's clubs have the most potential, because of limited market penetration and the fact that the largest national chains are still private. Following the clubs in Koenig's estimation are diversified adult entertainment companies, such as Adam & Eve (PHE) and Hustler (LFP), which have revenue streams ranging from films to novelty items and licensing deals. In addition to delivering income from multiple sources, diversification shows an operational maturity that would be helpful in public markets. The potential exists, and some companies have the right business models. The problem remains size.
While this has not stopped some adult entertainment companies from going and staying public, it does limit new entries to the stock exchanges. Going public is neither easy nor inexpensive, and the mechanics of listing on an exchange require the support of attorneys, investment bankers and accountants. It is easy for the price tag to reach millions of dollars, with hundreds of thousands of dollars in annual expenses to comply with stock exchange and Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) regulations.
But, there is another way.
Crawl 2 me, baby!!
Smaller businesses can go public via the Over-the-Counter (OTC) system, which has a more manageable regulatory structure and as a result lower compliance costs. The cost of going public OTC can be as low as US$100,000 up front, with recurring annual fees of tens of thousands of dollars. Payment processing company IBD is traded OTC, attracting capital from public investors without the rigor of formal stock exchanges. IBD is the smallest of the world's publicly traded adult entertainment companies, with US$6.9 million in annual revenues and a market capitalization of US$2.2 million. Given its size, OTC is the ideal venue, as IBD does not meet the revenue minimums of most stock exchanges.
Going public OTC is not without risk. The OTC environment attracts fewer investors, making it less liquid than the exchanges. A good quarter will send the stock price soaring, but disfavor with investors can lead to catastrophic declines. Be prepared for a few tough years at first. Over time, maturing operations, comfort with public capital markets and investor awareness are likely to offer a bit more stability.
Entering public capital markets can be exciting, lucrative and unnerving. Wealth is created and rescinded in minutes, and the pressure to perform is extraordinary. For the adult entertainment business, public capital is on the horizon. The ability to grow eventually will be limited by the availability of capital, and public markets are the only viable long-term solution. You may be able to go to the bank for millions, but you have to go to the public for billions. It will take some time for porn to go public. Consolidation must come first, creating a critical mass that makes the stock exchanges attainable. While OTC is an option, it will not draw the industry as a whole to public investors; the environment is not robust enough. A few big splashes will be necessary to trigger a trend, requiring big companies to go public on exchanges. After a few years of mergers, though, porn will enter the mainstream portfolio; the industry doesn't have a choice.
++++++
Strip Clubs r KICKIN' ASS, BABY!!!
Shake that ass, grrrrl!!
It looks like my biz, strip clubs, will b a leading factor in the "mainstreaming" of strippers & gentlemens clubs & alittle respect.
About fuckin' time...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)