Word: parlor
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...loot of the title is stolen money. Two homosexual pals, not immune to heterosexual byplay, have robbed a bank adjacent to a funeral parlor. One of the young men (James Hunter) works at the funeral parlor, and the mother of the other (Kenneth Cranham) has just died. The duo plan to skedaddle with the loot while the funeral is going on. At the same time, the dead mother's cynically efficient nurse (Carole Shelley), a sevenfold murderess of previous husbands, is precipitously wooing the bereaved widower. Into this den of agitated vipers steps Truscott (George Rose) of Scotland Yard...
...Harlan or Letcher to hear the chuckles and knee-slapping guffaws about that peculiar-talking outlander with the sissy haircut. Doesn't Bobby know that the ancestors of those deprived mountaineers left the crags of Wales and the glens of Scotland while his forebears were still sharing the parlor peatfire with the pigs? Their English may hark back to Elizabeth I, as do their music and customs, and they may live on poke salad and fatback, but in some ways they are better off than the rest...
Even on your first trip to a skin flick parlor, what first strikes you is not the bare bosom on the screen, but the people in the audience. There are about fifty lean men, sitting bolt-upright and silent, and scattered evenly throughout the theatre. Un-written skin flick code says no one may sit within three seats of anyone else, even on crowded weekends...
...this time, Ian, a nondescript clerk, had met Myra, 18, a typist who soon began moonlighting for Ian as a sadist's apprentice. When their parlor perversities and homemade dirty photographs began to pall, there was very little left to do but to test De Sade's theory: "Murder is a hobby and a supreme pleasure." A young corpse a year, with frequent visits to the graves on the moors, kept Ian and Myra reasonably serene but leaves Williams feverishly laying out plot and explication like a row of tombstones.* He points, he nudges, he oohs...
...companies keep the results secret, and players have no way of knowing how long the odds are. But they are trying all kinds of gambits to make them shorter. Newspapers carry personal ads seeking matches, with an offer to split the prize. John Racanelli, owner of a Chicago pizza parlor, is typical; he spent $8 advertising in two papers for the other half of his $2,500 Dino Dollar card. "Everybody who called had the same coupon I did," says Racanelli. "I never won anything...