July 30, 2009

The Posters of Frankenstein : La Mansion de Dracula



Todos juntos! All Together!

Though not as slick as the fully painted and highly atmospheric American original, this vibrant Spanish poster for Universal’s House of Dracula (1945) renders its floating head portraits in simple line art and primary colors, to great effect.

Counting down the assembled monsters, that’s Glenn Strange as El Monstruo, John Carradine as the mustachioed Dracula, Lon Chaney’s Wolf Man, Onslow Stevens as the very loco doctor, and Jane Adams as the sympathetic nurse, listed among the horrors by virtue of being — Oooo scary! — hunchbacked.


July 27, 2009

The Covers of Frankenstein : Belgian Pocket Book, 1946


I first saw this cover on the excellent picture blog, The Sweetest Psychopath, and I went digging for information. Turns out this is a French-language pocketbook published by Le Scribe of Brussels in 1946.

Note the author’s name, given as Ann Mary Shelley. The confusion persists on the book’s title page, where Mary is identified as May W. Shelley. The translator’s name is given as Henry Langon, assuming they got that one right. The cover artist escapes misidentification, he is not credited.

The fine, stark, two-color illustration is well composed, with a stonework arch mirroring The Monster’s curved back. As often happens, the iconography is inspired by movie themes instead of the book’s actual content, here with stormy skies, a castle in silhouette behind the title, and The Monster with neck bolts and a box head with forehead scar.


July 24, 2009

Comics... GOOOD!



Perfect pop culture bliss: Frankenstein reading comics!

Glenn Strange and comic Ole Olsen ham it up for Universal’s publicity department. That’s Batman No. 23, with a cover showing Batman literally checkmating The Joker, done in the Bob Kane house style by George Roussos. The comic, cover dated June-July 1944, hit the stands in April, which coincides perfectly with Glenn Strange’s two-week gig on House of Frankenstein. Olsen, of the comedy duo Olsen and Johnson, was busy shooting Ghost Catchers on an adjacent set.

Worth noting: Strange was paid a measly $500 for two weeks of work on the film. You couldn’t buy a copy of Batman No. 23 with that kind of cash today.


A year later, reclining in the makeup chair, Glenn Strange enjoys Chester Gould’s Dick Tracy. Look closely at the comic, there’s Flattop, the bizarre hitman character based on real-life killer ‘Pretty Boy Floyd’. Strange must have felt a certain kinship with the cranially-challenged character.

In another photo from the same Fall of ’45 session, Strange is reading Milton Caniff’s Terry and the Pirates while makeup man Jack Pierce finishes up. The mud-splattered makeup was used when The Monster first appears in House of Dracula, stuck in dried-up quicksand.


Related:
The Monster: Glenn Strange


July 23, 2009

The Monster : Glenn Strange



Glenn Strange is a contemplative Monster in this striking portrait, which recently appeared in a Heritage auction.

Glenn Strange (1899-1973) first came to Hollywood in 1930 as a singing cowboy with The Arizona Wranglers. With rugged good looks and the strapping six-five frame that earned him the nickname “Pee Wee”, Strange was immediately cast in horse operas, embarking on a career that would span 40 years and over 300 films, almost all of them westerns.

Sporting names like Slim, Bull, Bat, Bart, Blackie, Tex or Stu-Bum, Strange’s characters operated both sides of the law, equally reliable in lynch mobs or a sheriff’s posse. He was just as likely to appear as a dirty low-down rustler or some poker-faced gunman as he was a stalwart Marshal, a steadfast stagecoach driver, or an easygoing harmonica-playing cowhand. A standout part was that of the murderous Butch Cavendish, The Lone Ranger’s nemesis, which he repeated in movies and on TV between 1949 and 1955.

In the Fifties, when westerns were a television staple, Strange worked all the classic series from Hopalong Cassidy and Gene Autry to The Rifleman, Cheyenne, and Rawhide, eventually earning a regular spot, starting in 1961, on Gunsmoke, quietly polishing shot glasses through 210 episodes as the rock steady, mustachioed bartender, Sam.

For all the interchangeable cowpokes he portrayed, Strange fairly shined in his rare appearances outside the western genre. He showed great flair for comedy as a memorable Hillbilly character, Devil Dan Winfield, in the otherwise minor Abbott and Costello vehicle Comin’ Round the Mountain (1951). In fantasy films, Strange first appeared, briefly and uncredited, as one of Ming’s minions in a 1936 Flash Gordon serial. In 1942’s The Mad Monster, a Poverty Row B-movie devised to cash in on the runaway success of Universal’s The Wolf Man (1941), Strange’s size served the part of Petro, a hulking, simple-minded handyman who turns into a hairy, fanged monster. In 1944, Strange played a hulking orderly in the bizarre acromegaly horror film The Monster Maker, and he was back in heavy makeup — created by Jack Pierce, freelancing after being dumped by Universal — as Atlas, a hairy giant whose brains get switched with Huntz Hall’s in Master Minds, a 1949 Bowery Boys comedy.

Glenn Strange’s most famous and enduringly popular role, no doubt, was playing the last of Universal’s Frankenstein Monsters. By 1944, the Monster had become a stock character, trotted out with Dracula and The Wolf Man in kitchen sink monster rallies. In House of Frankenstein (1944) and House of Dracula (1945), the monsters, with attendant hunchbacks and mad doctors, were displayed and quickly dispatched in what amounts to individual vignettes, with little or no interaction. Strange’s Frankenstein, after spending most of the show strapped to a slab, was activated in time for a short, climactic walkabout and a quick, catastrophic end.

Without a lot of screen time and very little to do besides glowering at torch-bearing villagers, Strange’s contributions might have been a footnote to Frankenstein film history if not for an unlikely third film, the brilliant Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948). With a stellar cast that included Chaney as The Wolf Man and Bela Lugosi as Dracula, Strange’s Monster was a central character, interacting with the principals and chasing The Boys in a wild, genuinely funny romp that became one of the most influential movie comedies ever made.

Strange would go on to promote the film with a number of personal appearances wearing an over-the-head mask made for him by Don Post, eventually appearing again with Abbott and Costello, with The Creature from the Black Lagoon thrown in for good measure, in a 1954 episode of The Colgate Comedy Hour on TV. The affable actor even participated in one of fan-filmmaker Don Glut’s 16mm epics, the Frankenstein’s Fury episode of Adventures of The Spirit, in 1963.

The Frankenstein makeup worked very well with Strange’s craggy deadpan. With a boxy head, big shoulders and his trademark windup-toy thread, Glenn Strange gave the Frankenstein Monster its definitive pop culture profile. It was Glenn Strange’s features that would be sampled for a best-selling Frankenstein rubber mask, and his face that was repeatedly used on toy packaging. Significantly, perhaps inevitably, when Boris Karloff died in 1969, most newspaper obits were illustrated with a photo of Glenn Strange in Frankenstein makeup.


An excerpt from The Bowery Boys’ Master Minds
A look at Glenn Strange's career in westerns.
     

July 18, 2009

Do Not See It!

A stark, deco caricature of The Monster captures Karloff gaunt and raccoon-eyed in this newspaper ad from 1931.

Yet again, an artist used the test makeup photo, which seems to have really gotten around, as his source material. This is possibly a one-of job, drawn by a local artist specifically for this ad and never used again.

Notice the "friendly" are-you-chicken warning, “If you have a weak heart… do not see it. If you like a real thrill… SEE IT.

The Capitol Theater in Grand Island, Nebraska, opened in 1927 under the auspices of local business legend S.N.Wolbach, with the financial participation of Universal boss Carl Laemmle. The house was designed for live vaudeville as well as moving pictures, complete with a mighty Wurlitzer organ, by Chicago’s John Eberson, a theater architect famous for his atmospheric, Moorish Revival designs.

The Capitol stood for sixty years until it was razed for — you guessed it — a parking lot.


Image source: Scenes from the Morgue: Retro-Pulp Movie Ads

Theater information: Cinema Treasures.



July 15, 2009

Universal Tour Frankenstein





Wearing a ratty suit, built-up boots and Don Post mask, a Universal tour employee channels Glenn Strange and greets visitors as a friendly Frankenstein’s Monster.
The picture appears in a 1968 edition of the Inside Universal Studios souvenir and guide book. The same image was reprinted in the 1970 brochure with an added caption, “You see the most interesting people at Universal Studios!
Big thanks to Karswell of the ever awesome The Horrors of It All blog for sharing this dandy piece of Frankenstein memorabilia from his personal collection.

July 11, 2009

The Spirit of Ed Wood Blogathon: Dracula vs. Frankenstein


This post is part of the Spirit of Ed Wood Blogathon hosted by Greg of Cinema Styles.
Click through for links to all the participating blogs.


“She used to have fantasies about being a freak…
Two heads, an eye missing, elongated spine.
Anything that was grotesque turned her on.”

Produced by the Independent International team of Samuel Sherman and Al Adamson, Frankenstein vs. Dracula, released in 1971, began its convoluted road to drive-in immortality as an exploitation piece called, alternately, The Blood Seekers and Blood Freaks.

The script, by William Pugsley and Sam Sherman, reads like a sleazed-up AIP Bikini Beach picture. Judith, a nightclub singer, goes from Vegas to Venice Beach to look for her missing kid sister. Her quest is complicated by a hardnosed police detective and a three-man biker gang led by the glowering Rico. She’s rescued from a freaky acid trip by Mike, a simpatico beach bum who falls in with her and solves the mystery.

As it turns out, Judith’s sister was the victim of a mad scientist working out of The Creature Emporium, a beachside amusement park spookhouse. At night, Dr. Duryea sends his deranged assistant out to axe the heads off hippie beach girls. The heads are reattached to new bodies and displayed in upright glass coffins. Somehow, a new type of blood serum would be distilled from these experiments allowing the scientist to escape his wheelchair, the deranged assistant to recover his wits, and even make a dwarf grow taller.

Playing Judith, chanteuse Regina Carrol opens the film with her cabaret act. She starred in several of director-husband Adamson’s drive-in classics, notably as ‘The Psych-Out Girl’ in Satan’s Sadists (1969). Anthony Eisley, who would accumulate credits in B-movies and TV dramas, plays the easy-going Mike. As head biker Rico, Russ Tamblyn, one-time star of West Side Story (1961), was on a career decline, playing juvies and junkies in increasingly small pictures. His fortunes turned around in 1990 when he was cast as Dr. Jacoby in David Lynch’s Twin Peaks. The part of Sgt. Martin, the detective, was shopped around to Paul Lukas, Francis Lederer and Broderick Crawford before falling to Jim Davis, a cowboy actor who would go on to fame as the Senior Ewing in TV’s Dallas. The part was meant as an authority figure but, with terse dialog and brusque manners, the character comes off as an insensitive jerk.


In the manner of Ed Wood’s casting of faded film stars like Bela Lugosi or Lyle Talbot, Sherman and Adamson recruited a trio of Hollywood veterans as the Emporium villains.

Director Adamson got a lot of mileage out of the elderly J.Carrol Naish, in a prop wheelchair, perpetually lecturing anyone within range, though hampered by enormous, clicking dentures. Naish had a long and distinguished career behind him, beginning in Vaudeville, through theater, films and television, with two Oscar nominations along the way.

Forties horror icon Lon Chaney, Jr., bloated and in obvious bad shape, hams it up as the mute, axe-happy Groton, reverting when necessary to his trademark Lennie, complete with puppy dog. Angelo Rossitto, whose credits included the silent While The City Sleeps (1929) with Chaney Sr., and the notorious Freaks (1932), played Grazbo, the carnival barker and doorman to the funhouse.

Naish and Chaney had previously worked together in Universal’s House of Frankenstein in 1945, with Naish’s hunchback and Chaney’s Wolfman forming a love triangle with gypsy girl Elena Verdugo. Dracula vs. Frankenstein would be the last hurrah for both men. Though they appear together in a few scenes, most of their work was shot separately, their interaction created through editing. Likewise, Rossitto, though he participates in a climactic free-for-all, is never actually in the same frame with Naish or Chaney.


“You must understand... You are not trapped, but rather you will be spiritually released by what will occur in the next few minutes.”


The absurd climax has Rossitto falling through a trapdoor face-first onto Groton’s axe. Chaney is shot off a roof by the police inspector, and Naish, racing his wheelchair, accidentally decapitates himself when he trips up and flies headfirst into the funhouse guillotine.

Principal photography wrapped in 1969, but Sherman and Adamson were not satisfied with the results and the film was temporarily shelved. Something had to be done to make The Blood Seekers a better box-office bet. Solution: Throw Dracula and the Frankenstein Monster into the picture, and then you’ve got something.


Adamson cast his accountant, the 7 foot, 4 inch John Bloom as the popcorn-head Frankenstein Monster. Bloom would go on to play The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant (1971) and assorted hulks with names like Bruno, Munger, Jimbo and Rhino. He was the Behemoth Alien who wrestled William Shatner in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991).

For Dracula, Sherman wanted John Carradine, a terrific idea, but Adamson preferred his stockbroker, Robert Engel. Berated by critics as a rank amateur, Engle actually pulls off a decent, if stiff Disco Dracula sporting a short afro, a snazzy Van Dyke and Marcel Marceau whiteface. His monotone delivery is made menacing with a booming echo chamber effect, but his evil cackle needs work. If there was anything truly embarrassing for Engel here, it was allowing Forry Ackerman to pick his screen name: Zandor Vorkov.


Now shooting in 1970 as Blood of Frankenstein, the Dracula/Frankenstein material would essentially bookend the original film, with a new scene dropped in roughly halfway through where the Frankenstein Monster attacks a lover’s lane couple, ripping the door clean off their car and carrying off the girl after being shot by policemen.

Naish was hired back to interact with Vorkov’s Dracula, who has dug up the Frankenstein Monster for revival. A lab scene uses some of the now slightly tattered sparking equipment originally created by Kenneth Strickfadden for the 1931 Frankenstein.

Vorkov is saddled with a lot of expository dialog, mostly superfluous, meant to tie the new title monsters to the existing storyline. Among other things, we learn that Duryea is really the last of the Frankensteins, hot for revenge against the scientists who conspired against him. Conveniently, considering the budget, only one of them is still alive. Famous Monsters editor Forrest J. Ackerman cameos as Dr. Beaumont, seen driving his car when Dracula suddenly pops up in the passenger seat and hypno-orders him to get out, whereupon he’s bear-hugged to death by the towering Monster. Ackerman is also billed as a “technical consultant” for the film, though his name is misspelled in the opening credits.

In the new climax, Dracula drives around in his Cadillac hearse, electrocutes The Monster with his power ring, then gets impaled on a wall and turns into a skeleton. But Sherman and Adamson were still not satisfied, and a yet another ending was concocted, one that would pit Dracula and the Frankenstein Monster against each other. Tacking the new, ultimate climax onto the film, however, would require some major tweaking as Eisley was no longer available for reshoots.

With Dracula and the Frankenstein Monster surviving the Emporium bloodbath, Judith and Mike — with director Adamson doubling for Eisley — make a run for it. What happens next makes you jump out of your seat, laugh out loud, and will drop your jaw to floor, all at the same time. As the couple flees, Vorkov’s Dracula points his funky cyclops ring and shoots a beam that nukes Mike to Kingdom Come. In one startling swoop, the good guy hero is reduced to a pile of burning bones.


“All those who would meddle in the destinies of Frankenstein and Dracula will see an inferno bloodbath the likes of which has not swept the Earth before.”


The movie now shifts to an entirely new set, a decrepit house, apparently Dracula’s hideout. Vorkov’s makeup is startlingly different now, eye sockets painted black and a mouthful of fangs (Naish’s dentures, perhaps). In another switcheroo, Shelly Weiss takes over for John Bloom as the soufflé head Monster. Though two men shared the same part, they are credited separately in the titles, Bloom as The Monster, and Weiss as The Creature.


Judith is roped to a chair but The Monster, suddenly moonstruck over the helpless blonde, objects when the vampire tries to bite her. A shoving match ensues and the action tumbles outside where Dracula and Frankenstein go at it in shady woodlands. The sequence is so dark that you can hardly make out anything, the monsters appearing in stark black silhouette. Dracula proceeds to dismantle The Monster like The Black Knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, ripping off one arm, then the other, and finally stopping the relentless Monster by unscrewing its head. Then the sun comes out and Dracula is caught outside, aging, mummifying, and collapsing into something that looks like a pile of grass clippings. Judith breaks her bonds and walks off, The End. For real, this time.

Dracula vs. Frankenstein tries very hard to be groovy. It has bikers with nazi armbands, pothead hippies in ponchos, surfers, and a beatnik hangout with graffitied walls that read “Sock It To Me” and “Society Sucks!”. The good-looking front and end titles by Bob Lebar are done as an animated montage using what appear to be colored photocopies. Music cues are well chosen, with a spooky slide whistle effect when the goings get strange. The film pauses for a love song that plays to footage of crashing waves and seagulls, and Carrol’s acid trip is a silly standout, with hallucinatory, quick-cut inserts of her tossing and turning, hanging upside down from a spider web and running in the surf.


“Nobody but nobody knows anything about the subconscious,
Miss Fontaine... Not even ourselves.”


The dialog has that dreamy, wrongheaded Ed Wood quality to it. Witness the samples sprinkled throughout this review. Flubs abound. Carrol’s brassy nightclub number presumably plays to a packed house with cutaway shots of applauding patrons to prove it, but a wide angle view shows her performing in a vast and completely empty auditorium. Naish, who refers to Chaney as Grogan and Groton, is seen in extended closeups, his good eye scanning the lines as he reads from a cue card. Naish’s character, Dr. Duryea, is called “DOO-ray” and “Du-REE-ay”, and Jim Davis’ cop is referred to as sergeant and lieutenant. In the process of patching, tweaking and hammering the film into some sort of shape, characters are introduced, then drop off the face of the earth, never to be seen again. Carrol’s Judith doesn’t appear overly distraught when she finally finds her sister in zombie mode with her head stapled onto another body.

Many will look upon Dracula vs. Frankenstein as dreck, and yes, it’s pretty bad, but this is one of those films where the outlandish sum is greater than its kooky parts. The old actors, the demented script, the hilarious hippies and bikers, the flood of clichés, the laissez-faire pace, it all keeps you watching, and somehow it gels into a perfect chunk of schlock, to be thoroughly enjoyed when you're in the right mood.


“They want to see an illusion. They do not realize that the reality itself is the grandest illusion of all… And that human blood is the essence from which future illusions may be created.”


The Spirit of Ed Wood lives in Dracula vs. Frankenstein.


Video of the second ending to the film, with Dracula driving his Cadillac hearse.

The original trailer for Dracula vs. Frankenstein.


July 8, 2009

The Posters of Frankenstein :
Vampire Girl vs. Frankenstein Girl, Alternate Poster



Frankenstein Girl is featured, at last, on this new, variant poster for the notoriously gore-festive Vampire Girl vs. Frankenstein Girl.

The film will be shown, with director Yoshihiro Nishimura in attendance, at the Fantasia Film Festival in Montreal. The festival opens July 9. Full program is now online.


July 6, 2009

The Spirit of Ed Wood Blogathon

Beginning today and running all week, Cinema Styles is celebrating the 50th anniversary of Plan 9 From Outer Space with a brilliant blogathon dedicated not only to Ed Wood but any and all filmmakers who have created something that is, somehow, more than the sum of its tacky parts. The Spirit of Ed Wood Blogathon celebrates the so-bad-it’s-good school of movies, the low-budget but big-hearted classics, and some of the classiest schlock ever made.

I’ll be posting my own Frankenstein-flavored contribution later this week. I am also posting Ed Wood related images on Monster Crazy. First ones are up already.

Be sure to check Cinema Styles every day (just click the badge up there on the right-hand menu) for a continuously updated list of links to participating blogs.

I'll bet my badge that we haven't seen the last of those weirdies.


July 2, 2009

Frankenstein's Mixed-Up Mexican Lobby Cards


Here are two Mexican lobby cards, both from 1958, found on the always entertaining Monster Movie Music, a daily blog stop for me. Hosts Eegah! and Tabonga! — two names certainly deserving their exclamation marks — post music clips and screen caps, accompanied by brief and respectfully wacky commentary, to some of the best schlocky horror and discount science fiction movies ever committed to celluloid.

What’s interesting in these ads are the Karloff Frankenstein faces prominently displayed, even though the character as pictured doesn’t actually appear in these films.

Karloff does headline El castillo di Frankenstein, a dubbed version of Frankenstein 1970, but he plays the elderly scientist who builds an atomic Monster, seen in heavy bandages. The greenish Frankenstein face at left is a much younger Karloff in burn makeup from Bride of Frankenstein (1935).

The second card, from La hija di Frankenstein (Frankenstein’s Daughter) must have been even more baffling for moviegoers…

For starters, Boris Karloff had nothing to do with this one, but there he is, upper left, in his Son of Frankenstein (1939) getup. Then there’s the bizarre image of the movie’s Monster, also used on American posters, which is just as misleading. The bandaged head is somewhat similar — with added neck bolts — to that of the film’s creature, but the rest, from the neck down, is all wrong. The Monster in this movie is, in fact, the “daughter” of the title, seen wearing a rubber suit, and not the bare-chested muscle man depicted here. The ad writer only compounds the confusion with a line suggesting that the title character is the scientist: “Perverse and bloodthirsty, her cruelty surpasses that of her own father!

Mind you, the filmmakers themselves were confused about this one. The script called for The Monster to be assembled from female body parts, but that seemingly important detail was not communicated to the makeup man who delivered tough-guy actor Harry Wilson to the set in a gruesome split-faced mask. The mistake was fixed on the spot, quick and dirty, with a padded bra and smeared lipstick.

Today’s movie posters certainly aren’t anywhere nearer to truth in advertising, but these lobby cards hail from a time when the ballyhoo was as bold as circus advertising and somehow — and perhaps only in retrospect —charming. The unapologetic use of the Karloff images attests to their power as a Frankenstein label, and unmistakable shorthand symbols for horror films.


Related:
Frankenstein’s Daughter Reviewed
Frankenstein 1970