aka the Knocking Boots edition, hrarf-hrarf. It’s been weeks since the last Marry, Shag or Cliff! For this edition we are revisiting some posts I made in 2006, regarding some of the cheesier celluloid adventures of decades gone by and the fabulous boots involved therein.
n.b. playing the game is not compulsory, it’s just an excuse to kick-start a general discussion of pop culture. So wotcha been watching lately? Wotcha looking forward to seeing soon?
Conan, Flash Gordon, or our Errol as The Seahawk?
Xena (related warrior-women post), Barbarella, or Uhura?
So – which character’s boots would live in your wardrobe, whose boots could could you pop under your bed for a night, and whose boots would you steal before heartlessly cliffing them? As usual, discussing alternate suggestions for the trilemma, mixing and matching, dissing casting decisions and general booted smut is encouraged. There are some bonus boot pics over the fold.
Now, this time I decided to spare you Sean Connery’s thigh boots from Zardoz without warning, but if you really must, here you go. (It’s not the boots that are actually the problem, it’s the rest of his outfit).
Here’s some bonus Xena screencaps:
I had to struggle with Flynn: I would have shown Robin Hood’s boots in the main shot if I could have found a better quality image, but I don’t have it in my heart to deprive you of the green tights entirely, and you might as well have a bonus Seahawk in-the-rigging shot as well.
To finish, some shots with no (gasp!) boots at all! But you just know that Tarzan would have had killer boots if he could have found some, and I have to (just must) include the Tarzan shots to make sense of the final cheesy publicity photo below. For those unaware, Olympic swimming champion Buster Crabbe played Tarzan in serials before his increasing girth meant that he had to move on to the more covered-up Flash Gordon, and then came the hit Tarzan movies with Olympic swimming champion Johnny Weismuller.
This final shot is of Crabbe and Weissmuller arm-wrestling, all Tarzanily bare-chested, and was part of a series of trading cards handed out at matinee cinema sessions in the UK.
How absofuckinglutely cheesetastic. You just don’t see publicity shots like that any more.
Categories: arts & entertainment
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Times change.
Once, as to loin cloths, you would have thought of Jeffrey Hunter, in less theological circumstances, Johnny Weissmuller.
As a creation yourself of culture, these days you think of Lex Barker.
Now, Lex Barker was a later Tarzan, a nice boy matinee idol of the ‘fifties who ended up being hitched to Lana Turner and her unfortunate daughter, to the misfortune of all concerned.
These days, the Golden Years of Hollywood are no longer about the wondrous fantasy world of Hollywood, but grainer stuff about what went on about the place behind all the closed doors and spin, which is why you’ll guess that there is a cultural impact on my reading of tigtog’s thread mediated by changing times, tv tastes and life experience.
The moral is, don’t trust appearances. A different info sheet in a different era and you’ll wonder how you could get your youthful assessments of “stars” as so totally in error as you did.
Shag Errol, marry Dale, cliff Conan. He can keep his boots for the trip down, they’re too fussy.
Rather liking Henry Cavill’s Superman boots. Will have to wait until June/July 2013 to see them in action though. Sigh.
Johnny Weismuller’s thighs are pretty much the finest things there ever was.
And you can’t make me choose among Uhura, Barbarella and Xena. I’m keeping them all.
I love me some boots. Love love love. Google ‘steampunk boots’ if you want to see some awesome boots.
Conan is totally going over the cliff, but I might keep Errol just for the clothes. As for Flash Gordon I prefer the 1980 version.
Is everyone else going “Flash! Ahahha he’ll save everyone of us!”
@Mindy Well, I am NOW! #earwormed 🙂
orlando, my mum called someone Errol Flynn if they fucked everything they touched. (As an aside, we called the same sort of people “passion fingers” in the army.) So, almost zero chance of not shagging Our Errol.
I’m imagining that as fubaring their tasks rather than otherwise, and rather enjoying the incongruity of the “passion fingers” nickname as a result. Am I right, or is it the more prosaic meaning?
I’m sorry, but in my world nobody’s boots will ever beat
(moderators, a little help, please?)
Because the hairy chest, 80s perm, froofy shirt and Kevin Kline is just a killer combo. Though Errol certainly makes a damn good attempt.
I am ashamed to say that I have never seen Barbarella, but the plastic fantastic hairdo makes me want to cliff her so I don’t have to look at it. I’d bang boots with Xena then release her into the wild for further adventures, and setup a sensible, adventuring household with Uhura with all the modcons. Like teleporters.
Aphie, if you left some embedding code then the blog software will have stripped it out. A page link is the best way for us to work our admin magic. However, I’m sure I know the picture you mean (to Google!).
Aphie, it must surely be one of these:
…
Yup.
Being raised on that video has done something irreversible to my psyche. Thigh high boots *drools*
I just shifted over to my laptop and couldn’t see the 3rd Kevin Kline image above, so just in case that’s happening to other people you can see it on IMDB at http://www.imdb.com/media/rm646878976/ch0054670
What is that thing in his belt?
I believe it is a significant parchment.
*may have that particular film memorised*
Tis. But not knowing what it is, it looks a mite dodgy.
Sorry, togtog @ 9, I was swapping between meanings a bit. A passion-fingers (or, for my mum, Errol Flynn) is someone who wrecks everything he touches, but I was also responding to orlando’s statement about shagging Our Errol.
Thanks David, I was mostly on the same page with you then. Is there anything that goes on in the military that doesn’t end up with a sex-related nickname?
This comment over at Whatever got me thinking:
Methinks Steven Moffat might be on the verge of Heroes syndrome with the Whoniverse. Please please please for him to get back on track. Don’t Fuck It Up, Moff.
Just saw this quote via Pavlov’s Cat on FB:
The latest Bond movies seem to have the opposite to a case of Heroes Syndrome: they’ve very accurately identified what keeps people coming back for more and they keep on packaging it slickly and satisfyingly. Pure escapist tosh, of course – but it’s not pretending to be anything more than that. Very much looking forward to Skyfall.
To me “passion fingers” sounds like a teatime treat. I’m thinking little bars of sponge with passionfruit icing, or some such.
I have heard good things about Skyfall. I am going to book the grandparents for Boxing Day and take MyNigel to Les Miserables. Even with Russell Crowe singing.
I don’t suppose Russell Crowe singing could be any worse than Clint Eastwood…
I have heard from early reviews that he isn’t too bad but that others are much better.
” Is there anything that goes on in the military that doesn’t end up with a sex-related nickname?”
Possibly, tigtog, but the only thing that springs to mind is getting drunk.
You know, I hope that’s the picture the media uses when, in the hopefully distant future, Connery passes away. Pretty please.