Miss Bettie in three acts
Were I to rhapsodize of fair Bettie's voluptuous magnetism, I would not be saying anything not already widely appreciated. And such was her playful nature that her tasseled throne in the Burlesque Hall of Fame may have a whoopee cushion.
Through these invaluable documents of Miss Bettie's grace and hot-cha-cha resplendence -- as well as of the fine American institution of unapologetically lowbrow Burly-Q -- one sees her progression from one of several lotta-hipsworth beauties to pin-up preeminence.
Without the instinct aroused by these daring corruptions, I wouldn't be penning these appraisals, and you wouldn't be reading them.
(Warning: Although the MVD Shop's 3-DVD Bettie Page Collection advertises these films on its box, it does not contain them in their entireties, but only Bettie's scenes. Still, those're a buncha buncha buncha.)
Striporama
Having read that a university bluenose conclave will assemble an arts time-capsule, two runway buffs attend and argue for inclusion of beloved, blue ballyhoo. They screen footage of several acts -- a clever show-within-a-show device -- both dancer and baggy-pants comic ones. (The buffs are themselves naughty-emporium jokesters Mandy Kay and Jack Diamond.)
Curvy cavorters of fleshly appeal include Lily St. Cyr, Rosita Royce, Jeanne Carmen, and Georgia Southern. Kay, Diamond, and Charles Harris gag it up (is there a seltzer bottle in the house?) between shameless celebrations of seductiveness.
Bettie's limited exposure arrives in a dream sequence with comics Kay and Diamond -- her delicious Southern breathiness threatens to melt film stock -- and a bubble-bath moment that's simply too-too. (At those savory points, saucer-glimmed viewers will blink nary once.)
Impressed (knocked back is more like it) by the titillating novelties, the capsule-contrivers assent to add burly-q to the esteemed package. Generations hence were surely gratified.
Varietease
Production and direction here were by Irving Klaw, Movie Star News' Mr. Big and among Bettie's arch promoters. (Her numerous and infamous MSN snaps had enjoyed circulation via below-counter specialty shops and the good people of the U.S. Postal Service.) The Pin-Up King pulled off a decent job. He presented burly-q spectacles as had been lovingly lapped up by an army of on-the-town daddios with roving gazes.
Tuxedoed Master of Scandalous Ceremonies Dave Shields introduced the vixen proceeding: "And ladies and gentlemen, here she is now. Let's get together and meet that very delightful, that sultry siren of the Southland, the lovely Bettie Page!"
Bettie commenced a Dance of the Seven Veils that would make any burning-sands sultan drop his hunk o' mutton.
Arrayed in slips of gold finery, haram scanties, flowing, diaphanous veils -- and serving the delightful innocence/tempestuousness salmagundi that, to this day, commands an international admiring legion -- she did things with her undulatating hips (Twirly and Whirly) and ready-for-play? eyes that stirred into animation primordial desires no sophisticated evolution could refine or restrict.
Maddeningly, Bettie ultimately discarded only four of the seven veils. That brings to thought the show-biz adage 'Always leave them wanting more.'
Following acts were prefaced by Miss Page boom-ba-ba-booming across the spare stageboards, performers' names gracing the oversized placards she delicately bestowed on an easel.
Lily St. Cyr performed in four neck-wrenching sequences. Other lensed attractions -- of varying quality rankings -- included comedy skits, a can-can dance, and musical numbers.
Teaserama
Teaserama was released in 1955. Again Irving Klaw directed. Lorain, Ohio snoot suits sounded trumpets for censorship, and the filmic pulchritude parade was ruled obscene and condemned for destruction.
In the opening sequence, Bettie prances in a microscopic tutu. Her flirtatious movements, bouncing eyebrows, and limpid-pool baby blues were inspirations of both husbands' closed-door aspirations, and green-eyed wives' fulminations.
A brief interlude found comics Dave Starr and Joe E. Ross trading jokes so old, even their beards had beards. Starr modeled a battered brim and raccoon coat; Ross would later josh it up in TV land, on Bilko as Mess Sergeant Rupert Ritzik and as Car 54's Officer Gunther Toody.
(Throughout, as Bettie again hefted placards announcing other acts, public-domain music later used as the Davey and Goliath theme played.)
More knee-slappers, ballroom-dance exhibitions, and strippers -- including Chris La Chris and Tempest Storm -- ensued. Consider Teaserama to be a pasties-and-g-string-with-hackneyed-punchlines affair. Fun, indeed -- but decidedly not for the whole family.
Cheaplaffs-wag Starr again assumed spotlight. "Y'know, marriage is like a warm bath. When you get used to it, it's not so hot!"
Rimshot.
Bettie later sported black-and-white French maid regimentals. A picture of dainty courtliness, the shapely-gammed glamourpuss assisted bounteously-bosomed Tempest Storm in attiring herself.
Such was Bettie's impact on the male imagination of the time, that TV show The Honeymooners sort of referenced that bit. When Ralph Kramden hired a frumpish housekeeper, Ed Norton said he'd expected a maid like "that one that helped Lily St. Cyr" (The show's writers did err in stripper identification.)
Among sundry peek-a-boo phenomena, these three reels -- which surely unspooled to the randy acclimation of many-a smoker scotch artist -- illustrate blushingly exactly why Miss Bettie Page shimmies at the Burlesque Hall of Fame's bombshell apex.
Striporama trailer (1953)
Varietease trailer (1954)
Teaserama trailer (1955)
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