Image source: Rattlingdjs, with big thanks to David Rattigan.
March 8, 2013
Dance Hall Frankenstein
A musician is glimpsed wearing a classic over-the-head Don Post
Frankenstein mask in a wild New Year’s Eve party scene — everyone else in party
hats under flying confetti and a soap bubble machine working overtime — in
Ealing Studios’ Dance Hall, in 1950.
Directed by Charles Crichton, the film chronicles the lives
and loves of young working-class women in postwar London, set to big band music
against the adolescent drama of a dance competition. The cast includes British
Bombshell Diana Dors in an early, showy role, and Petula Clark, a former child
star once known as “Britain’s Shirley Temple”, here in her breakthrough
performance as a young adult lead, clinching the deal with her first romantic
screen kiss. Clark would go from British popularity to European success as a
multi-lingual entertainer and, eventually, worldwide super-stardom as a British
Invasion Diva with a string of pop chart hits starting with Downtown in 1964.
Back to Frankenstein Monster’s surprise appearance, there’s
a direct connection to be noted: Eunice Gayson, who has a supporting role in Dance
Hall, would go on to play opposite Peter
Cushing in Hammer’s The Revenge of Frankenstein in 1958. Gayson is perhaps best remembered as the
first Bond Girl, playing James Bond’s girlfriend in Dr. No (1962) and From Russia With Love (1963).
The Monster mask used here is the absolute keystone of
Monster collectibles, created under license from Universal Pictures in 1948 by
the Don Post studios of California, purveyors of generic Halloween masks —
pirates, witches, cowboys and indians —
sold in joke shops and novelty counters across America. In an era before
there was any official monster merchandising, it was the first commercially
available Frankenstein mask. “This Frankenstein mask is so real,” Post Studio promotions read, “it
immediately runs anyone into a monster… Just pull it over your head as you
would a bathing cap, and watch what happens.”
It would prove immediately and phenomenally successful, with Post claiming that
“seventy percent of all masks sold today are Frankenstein’s Monster
Masks.”
Soon, men in Don Post Frankenstein masks popped up in
touring “Spook Shows”, or worked sidewalks and theater lobbies, ballyhooing new
monster movies. The mask would be featured on TV, notably worn by Rosemary
Clooney’s backup singers in a 1957 episode of her variety show, when Boris
Karloff guest-starred. That same year, the Shock Theatre package of Universal’s horror films syndicated to TV
stations saw the emergence of horror hosts, with Don Post Frankensteins putting
in guest appearances. In 1958, publisher James Warren donned a tuxedo and a Don
Post Frankenstein mask, and posed with a blonde model for the cover of the
first issue of Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine. It was a defining moment, with the Don Post mask in attendance: The Shock package had ignited Monster Mania, and FMOF became its herald.
Cheaply made and inexpensive, packaged in distinctive green
boxes, untold thousands of the Don Post Frankenstein masks were sold for
Halloween parties or one-time gags, then thrown away. The thin rubber tore
easily and nothing short of museum-grade storage would keep the flimsy masks
from disintegrating over time. Today, only a couple of the original 1948 model
are known to exist, commanding stratospheric prices.
Back in 1950, way over there in England, the Don Post
Frankenstein mask made what is likely its first-ever feature-film cameo. It was
just a throwaway gag, the musical Monster seen as fun and, as such, a harbinger of things to come.
Image source: Rattlingdjs, with big thanks to David Rattigan.
Image source: Rattlingdjs, with big thanks to David Rattigan.
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Labels: Don Post, Pop Culture
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4 comments:
Fascinating background -- thanks!
You may want to give a tip of the hat to rattlingdjs on Flickr, too, as he provided the screencap. Just realized you may have assumed it was my own; I just pointed you in the right direction.
Thanks, David.
Fantastic! I like pictures of folks in the masks almost more than I like pictures of them in the makeup. There's just something so suave and Halloween about a monster head over menswear, that collage of face and body.
Interestingg read
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