I have been wanting to write about Tura Satana’s passing, and have not been able to find the right words. And then I got royally pissed last night when she was left out of the “In Memorium” package during the Oscars. It was an insulting oversight, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the blogosphere.
True, Tura and Faster Pussycat, Kill Kill! were never even remotely considered Oscar material. But both the actress and the film (which are nearly inseparable, since Tura is Faster Pussycat) have done far more to shape pop culture than the handful of play-by-the-rules ass-kissing Hollywood insiders who were deemed worthy of mention.
Fuck them all – you’re a goddess, Tura, and you always will be.
Like most of you, I was shocked when I heard of her passing, particularly because she has always seemed so lively and full of energy.
I was not close to Tura; I made a point to chat with her every year at Exotic World, but I’m not sure she could tell me apart from the sundry other platinum-haired crimson-lipped tattooed girls who would swarm her at such events.
But even if she didn’t remember your name, Tura never showed it. She would greet you with the same warm, engaging smile that you would expect to be reserved for an old, dear friend.
Tura always struck me as someone who truly valued and appreciated her fans; she always made time for them, and was always
Upon hearing the news of her death, I immediately burst into tears. This one hit hard, mostly because Tura was young (72) and seemed so vibrant.
It served as a sharp and painful reminder that the precious few living legends of burlesque that are still living will not be around forever.
I have many more thoughts on the new generation of burlesque forming lasting bonds and relationships with living legends – complex thoughts that I have yet to organize.
But in the meantime, I wanted to say to Tura:
Thank you for all you’ve shared in your time with us. Even if the Oscars forgot you, us burlesque broads sure as hell never will.