Take a look at a high res photo of the model, along with its colorful packaging…

(Images courtesy Sideshow Toys)

1933 B&W 70mins

Criterion

There’s not much to be said about the film that hasn’t already been said. This adaptation of Wells ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU is one of the absolute pinnacles in the classic horror genre. One of the most notable things about this film is how much its tone contrasts with that of the Universal horror movies of the same era. This film is far darker in its subject matter (vivisection, rape, bestiality) and has an overt air of sexuality that Universal films tended to stay away from. But enough about that, on to the disc itself.

The transfer itself really does stand with the best that Criterion has done. Anyone expecting a transfer clean of all dirt and scratches is setting themselves up for disappointment (and I can’t imagine why anyone would want this film in that “clean” of a version, regardless). But this is the most pristine I’ve ever seen. It is superior to every other home video release by a wide margin. I doubt the film has looked this good since its original theatrical run. Although, my guess is that this is about the best format for the film. I wonder if a lot of these older films that have been restored will hold up when we get up to bigger formats in the future. My guess is most of them won’t hold at a 3K or 4K resolution. But this is absolutely gorgeous.

What really struck me was the re-mastered mono track for the audio. It is some of the clearest I’ve heard from the era. So many times with movies from the 30s and 40s it sounds like the actors are speaking through two tin cans connected by a string. Here, the voices and effects are clear and ever present. Even though he’s almost unrecognizable behind all the hair, Bela Lugosi’s unmistakable accent comes across strong when he asks, “Are we not men?” Brilliant.

The extras are always a place where Criterion shines, and this is no exception. It’s important to remember that the film is from 1933, so making-of documentaries and behind-the-scenes footage aren’t to be expected. That means that Criterion had to create extra content with what is available here and now. The most notable of the extras is the discussion of the movie between director John Landis (AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON), Rick Baker (Rick Baker), and Bob Burns (horror collector/historian/super fan). We’ve had the pleasure of working with all three of these gentleman extensively and the thing that makes me happiest to see them here isn’t the status of their celebrity, it’s that all three of them are super fans. Talk for 15 minutes to any one of them and you’ll realize that part of what makes them so good in their respective disciplines is that they know their history. This isn’t just some celebs chatting about something that ends up being a testament to how brilliant they are. These three genuinely discuss the film, disagreeing on several points, and really get to the heart of why it has endured. It is really worth taking the time to watch (more than once).

The second extra that really adds to the disc is the commentary by Greg Mank. Again, we’ve had the pleasure of working with Greg on several occasions. This guy is one of the most knowledgeable horror historians on planet earth. The things he knows would make your head explode. When I heard that Criterion was doing this, his was the first name that popped into my head (partially because he was our first call when doing issue 253 on LOST SOULS) because there really is no one better for the gig. He’s fun. He’s conversational. And you’re going to gain an absolute wealth of knowledge and insight from listening to what he has to say.

There’s also an interview with Richard Stanley, the man who was supposed to direct the Marlon Brando/Val Kilmer version of Moreau. But, he was let go before production began (lucky him). He’s very frank about how he wanted to make the film, why he didn’t, and just what a disaster the filmed version turned out to be. He even has some great stories about sneaking back onto the set just to see if it was as bad as the actors were telling him. But I think what I enjoyed most was his discussion of why Moreau is such a hard piece to adapt and what it would take to do it justice.

The last piece is an interview with the founding members of the band DEVO. It turns out that a lot of what they did was based off of the film and the book. Honestly, if you’re not a fan of the band it’s not a very engaging piece.

The bottom line is that this is the definitive version of LOST SOULS. It incorporates not only the best, but also some missing and rare, footage, making it the most complete version. It looks and sounds gorgeous and has an absolutely fantastic wealth of extras that will appeal to even the most educated horror aficionado. The film is a classic and has earned that moniker well. This edition finally allows it to shine and let the world see why it has remained as prominent as it has.

Begin your journey to the Island here!

 To comment on the film classic White Zombie is a task that daunts me. This minor classic, with its wealth of haunting imagery, has been commented on, criticized and analyzed by so many people, that I wonder what I can add.

 Not that I haven’t thought about the film. Stills from it ran in Famous Monsters of Filmland, the magazine that taught me respect for old horror films; those stills fed my imagination in those pre-cable, pre-home video days. As a kid, I was forever making my own mental movies out of photos seen in FM. White Zombie was no exception, but unlike other old horror films I wondered about and dreamed of, White Zombie did not disappoint my older self when I finally got to see it.

 I first saw White Zombie in my twenties. My best friend and I were celebrating Halloween, and part of that celebration included screening at his apartment the public library’s 16mm film print of the movie. Despite the print’s splices, scratches, and soft sound, this screening of White Zombie planted indelible memories in my mind, strengthened further by seeing Roan’s 2008 DVD release.

 White Zombie is the story of Madeline Short (Madge Bellamy) and Neil Parker (John Harron), two young people engaged to be married, who are traveling in Haiti. Their host and friend Charles Beaumont (Robert W. Frazer) covets Madeline for himself. Beaumont seeks the assistance of the notorious — and rather too-melodramatically named — mill owner Murder Legendre (Bela Lugosi), who uses zombies to work his plantation. Legendre gives Beaumont a small container of a certain drug. Madeline seemingly dies from inhaling the drug and is entombed in a crypt. She is later removed from the crypt by Legendre and his zombie slaves. The empty grave is discovered by the devastated Neil, who enlists his friend Dr. Bruner to rescue Madeline from Legendre’s grasp.

  An independent production released in the summer of 1932, White Zombie was the first zombie film ever made. Unlike Universal’s horror hits Dracula, Frankenstein (both 1931) and Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932), it was not adapted from a literary source, though it drew some of its lore from journalist Wm. S. Seabrooks’ 1929 book The Magic Island, the first book in English to describe Haitian voodoo practices. White Zombie may have drawn some elements from a play produced in New York and Chicago in February 1932, Zombie. (The writer, Kenneth S. Webb thought so — he sued White Zombie‘s producers, Victor and Edward Halperin for infringement–but lost.)

 White Zombie certainly displays influences from the horror films of Universal. Borrowing sets from Dracula and Frankenstein (among others), the film also stars Dracula‘s Bela Lugosi. Also like Dracula, White Zombie features a creepy carriage ride early in the film. (In this sequence the hero and heroine encounter Lugosi leading his zombies in a way that led me to think of a much later film — Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, with its famous image of Death leading a knight and his friends.) The central character of Lugosi’s Murder Legendre certainly looks like a Universal baddie — the makeup was designed and applied by Universal’s makeup maven, Jack Pierce.

 In turn, White Zombie influenced other films, defining the cinematic “rules” that more or less characterized movie depictions of zombies until George Romero’s 1968 influential independent Night of the Living Dead was released. It also uses sound better than was common at the time, using music to create mood, an uncommon practice in the early years of talking pictures, and often startles the viewer with the use of the piercing cry of a vulture.

 Like most independent productions of the time, the budget for White Zombie was small, and it shows in the casting choices. Excepting Lugosi, most of the players were silent film stars who careers had faded, and their performances are broad. Some major bloopers were left in, suggesting few takes being shot in the 11-day production. For example, one zombie, who is interestingly wearing an Iron Cross and a leg brace (suggesting a fallen WWI soldier), is clearly alive: his breath shows in the cold night air. (Hey, aren’t these guys supposed to be in tropical Haiti and dead?) Another blooper is a shot of what is clearly a falcon being called a vulture. Finally, near the end, a comic blooper occurs when Lugosi’s butler is tossed into a whirlpool by the zombies: actor Brandon Hurst holds his nose just as he’s being tossed into the water!

 Although the film is sometimes stagy, there is more camera movement than in Dracula, and one long scene in Dr. Bruner’s study is done with no cuts, though the camera moves around; Hitchcock would likely have appreciated this experiment in technique.

  The eyes and hands of characters get a lot of closeup time in the film. Frequently we see the close, disembodied eyes of Murder Legendre superimposed over the zombies as he influences them from afar — reminiscent of the hypnotic powers of Dracula — and his hands often clench together in a magical gesture when he makes the zombies carry out his will. (The first shot we see of Lugosi is his hand entering the frame.) We also see in closeup Madeline holding hands with Neil at their abortive wedding ceremony. This Expressionist-like use of visual syndoche substitutes the eyes for one’s will and the hands for one’s actions.

 One scene in particular is Expressionistic: the scene in a nightclub where Neil broods over the loss of Madeline. We see no other patrons, just their shadows on the wall behind him. The eerie shadows emphasize how alone and powerless the character is.

 It’s no surprise that the film feels like a silent film at times. With its Expressionist touches, and the use of past-it silent film actors like Bellamy and Harron (whose mannerisms and flat line readings are ill-suited to sound film), White Zombie seemed somewhat old-fashioned even when it was new. But it compensates for this with a consistently somber mood, startling use of sound effects like the vulture’s screams and the sound of the creaking mill that grinds up one of the zombies, and effective use of camera movement.

 For a broadly acted, old-fashioned-even-then melodrama, there are some interesting ambiguities. The film suggests that some zombies are reanimated dead (one is shot several times with no ill effect.) But the hero’s missionary friend Dr. Bruner, the “Van Helsing” of the story, says that the zombies are not; the heroine, zombified by a potion given her by Legendre, turns out in the end to be made into a zombie only temporarily.

 There is moral ambiguity as well, some of it presented through old-fashioned costume choices: the thoroughly evil Legendre, the not-entirely-rotten Charles Beaumont, and the good Dr. Bruner are all seen at some point in the film wearing black hats and overcoats, suggesting that evil deeds tempt every one. More interestingly, the “good” Dr. Bruner attempts to murder the evil Murder by hiding and stabbing him from behind–clearly a morally ambiguous act even in a tale of this type.

 The Roan restoration features commentary by Gary Don Rhodes, a noted film historian and author of White Zombie: A Critical Look at the Film and a History of Its Production. Rhodes says in the commentary that he does not believe that the word “white” in the title refers only to the virginal state of the unambiguously good character of Madeline Short — as opposed to, say, “scarlet” — and is not meant to denote race. This is somewhat difficult to accept, given the White Zombie film poster has this text: SHE WAS NOT ALIVE… NOR DEAD… Just a WHITE ZOMBIE Performing his every desire! This strongly hints at the dehumanizing practice of “white slavery, ” a now-outmoded term referring to “enforced prostitution,” according to Merriam-Webster’s. Although someone of any race could be forced into prostitution, “white” was used to distinguish the practice from the legal enslavement of black people. Also, given that zombies were then defined only as black Haitian victims of voodoo (or properly, “voudon”) and race-conscious titles like White Savage were being made by Hollywood as late as the mid-forties, it becomes impossible to think White Zombie doesn’t play on multiple meanings of the word “white.”

 White Zombie is neither a classic of the stature of the Universal Gothic horrors of the 1930s, nor a dragging potboiler with ham-fisted acting, these being two extremes of critical opinion of this once-forgotten movie. It resides in film history somewhere in the middle, being an atmospheric, influential film with a fine performance by Bela Lugosi. Every horror fan and cinephile should see this film… preferably with the lights out.

______________________________

Copyright 2010 Max Cheney.

Primary Source:
Rhodes, Gary Don. Audio Commentary. White Zombie. DVD. Roan Group Archival Entertainment, 1999.

This look at the 1932 film WHITE ZOMBIE I originally wrote for the website Classic-Horror.com in Feb. 2010. It is presented slightly modified form with added photo and art illustration.

Welcome to “An Alternate History for Classic Film Monsters,” a wonderful series of previously unpublished screenplays from the Universal Monsters era. Curated by Philip J. Riley (Count Dracula Society Award winner and inductee into the Universal Horror Hall of Fame), this collection of newly dug up scripts offers any devoted monster fan who’s “seen ‘em all” a special opportunity indeed of seeing some classic chiller movies that might have been.

Published in the same style as Riley’s earlier screenplays of the ‘30s thriller greats put out by MagicImage, these BearManor Media volumes include a James Whale-R.C. Sherriff script for Dracula’s Daughter; the famously unfilmed project Cagliostro, the Karloff-starrer that eventually morphed into The Mummy; and a pre-Lugosi draft for Dracula, when Lon Chaney Sr. was slated to fill the Count’s cloak. Once I discovered these fabulous works of horror movie history were available, I did what any responsible chiller movie collector would do…I got ‘em all!

In time, I’ll enjoy sharing my thoughts about each script, but let’s start with the project that never saw the light of day (or that of the full moon) in any manner:

The Wolf Man vs. Dracula was crafted first as a vehicle that would see Chaney, Jr., playing the (Dual? Triple?) roles of Lawrence Talbot/The Wolf Man and Count Dracula. As Talbot’s face would too much resemble the vampire’s (despite the stylish mustache he donned to play the Son of Dracula), studio suits changed course and pursued the return of Lugosi to his most iconic role. The first draft screenplay assignment was given to Bernard Schubert, who had already penned (with Guy Endore) the London After Midnight remake Mark of the Vampire.

Color makeup tests were reportedly completed for both Chaney and the sixtysomething Lugosi, apparently with only still photographs of Chaney in full wolf gear remaining in existence. Confidence in the project quickly dimmed, however, and the entire film was shelved, with Schubert moving on to write The Mummy’s Ghost.

The curious fan may now be wondering: Does the script for The Wolf Man vs. Dracula contain the material that would have given rise to a classic?

The action of the story begins in Transylvania (which would be constituted, as reported by Schubert, by the Vasaria sets from the film’s intended prequel) as Dr. Ziska (a small role that seems tailor-made for a Karloff cameo) and a collection of reporters and cameramen converge on the spot where lies the corpse of Talbot…miraculously preserved after apparently being dead for years. The body in Talbot’s embrace is written as “the skeleton of a woman, to judge from the few remaining tatters of clothing left on the bones.” A puzzling element, to be sure—since The Wolf Man “died” in FMTWM “embracing” only the Lugosi monster. (Gee, what was Bela wearing under the black suit and elevator boots?) But, since the Uni monster movies never fussed that much about continuity, neither should we!

The answers as to how and why Talbot’s body avoided the usual stages of decomposition come in one of those moments that’ll bring a smile to any fan’s face, in a monologue delivered by a nameless official. The passage glows with the sort of scientific balderdash only possible inside the cosmos of the early Universal Horror classics. Emphasis mine:

OFFICIAL

The photo reveals a very unusual condition. The bullet from the pistol followed this course. In plain unscientific language, the resistance of the tissues through which it passed regarded its action bringing it to a complete stop at the pericardium or membranous sac in which the heart is suspended. It penetrated neither the membrane nor the heart itself, but lodged against it – as you see. It is Doctor Ziska’s theory—mind you, I said theory—that possibly the pressure of the bullet against the heart could have caused it to cease beating—and might thus have induced a condition of suspended animation.

If you’re not grinning a mile wide right now, much of the charm of this era has sadly escaped your notice, and I recommend an immediate marathon viewing of the Karloff-Lugosi-Chaney monster classics and their many sequels, which demanded this kind of laugh-out-loud lunacy to keep the creatures coming back into action time and time again.

Talbot is, of course, revived by Dr. Ziska, only to launch into one of his patented rages of ingratitude, warning all they should have left him good and dead, and how sorry they’ll all be when the next full moon rolls around. Which just happens to be…that night!

Post-rampage, Talbot asks the help of Anatole, a hangman, to put him to death once and for all. By horrific coincidence, Anatole’s daughter Yvonne is being courted by none other than Count Dracula. The reasoning behind Dracula’s return to un-death is never explained here, but clearly he’s decided a more mannerly approach to be in order when it comes to seeking a new vampire bride.

When Talbot and Dracula meet, they’re fast enemies, with Talbot falling just as quickly in love with Yvonne. While Talbot is unable to convince Anatole that his curse is a legitimate affliction, the beautiful young woman takes pity on her handsome new friend, and an inspired scheme is hatched between them to keep Yvonne out of Dracula’s arms.

The rest? Oh no, no spoilers here. You’ll have to read it to find out. I will say that, unfortunately, the film’s climax doesn’t quite deliver on its title—it’d be more accurate (if far less marketable) to call it Lawrence Talbot vs. The Giant Dracula Bat—but the script’s closing line brilliantly brings the Wolf Man saga to another very tentative close.

My own feelings about the script—which is, after all, simply a first draft—are that any film ultimately shot from this story would have safely fallen into that satisfying if less-than-stellar realm of the many sequels to the original Uni greats. With polish and tweaks here and there, I can picture The Wolf Man vs. Dracula fitting very snugly into the cycle of films that included such mid-range eerie entertainments like Ghost of Frankenstein, Son of Dracula, and most closely, the film it was originally designed to follow, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man. The script contains enough fresh elements to set it apart, while it also shoehorns in enough of the boilerplate scenes fans expect in their classic monster mash-ups. As you read Schubert’s material, you can sense the structure of these stories leaning closer and closer to the crazy-funhouse (if completely unscary) entries like House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula, without quite “getting there.” The script is a terrific missing link of sorts, with much to recommend it and much to take pleasure in interpreting and second-guessing–if you enjoy putting yourself in the mind of a producer.

You can definitely hear Chaney, Jr., in the Talbot role as written—it’s got all of the classic “I just want to die!” lines that both endeared him to viewers only to eventually transform him into perhaps the most charmingly whiny of all the great movie monsters.

The Dracula role, however, presents itself as somewhat more problematic. While the screenplay was written anticipating first Chaney, Jr., playing both parts, and subsequently Bela Lugosi’s return to the role of the Count, the part actually read to me as more suited to the regal and somewhat more cold-blooded John Carradine interpretation. Fun, too, are the effects-shot descriptions that prefigure the animated man-to-bat transformations that enlivened Carradine’s future appearances in the series.

Schubert’s script is mostly workmanlike in describing the onscreen action. While it may lack the poetry of, say, The Bride of Frankenstein script credited to William Hurlbut and John L. Balderston (but also involving the talents of many other uncredited writers such as R.C. Sherriff, Robert Florey, Philip MacDonald, and others), the text is visually descriptive enough that the reader can easily play out the scenes in his or her mind. Because the script was written in an era before the penning of camera instructions became a no-no for screenwriters (eventually seen rightly as more within the domain of the director to decide), the reader will benefit from the wealth of camera moves provided to help guide the mind’s eye.

What makes the script interesting (and unusual for the time) is just how lively the camera is meant to be. I would imagine that in future drafts, and certainly by the time the film reached production, the “shooting through” of the camera all over the place in the vein of a Scorsese picture would likely have been severely tamped down. 

Devotees of the Universal Horror classics should run, not walk, to pick up these literary treasures. At the moment, I can’t decide whether to next pick up the script for Cagliostro or the Whale stab at Dracula’s Daughter. Until somebody, somewhere, somehow discovers an intact print of London After Midnight, fans can’t ask for much better than to possess these unproduced scripts that plant fresh images of your favorite scare stars into your imagination.

Ghouly Irv and MovieFrightFare will be back soon! Our programming took a brief hiatus while renovations went on in and around the Ghouly One’s crypt…

George D. Allen produces the MovieFrightFare videos starring “Ghouly” Irv Slifkin, as well as writing artices for and producing videos for the Movies Unlimited blog MovieFanFare.

Talk about this post and others at the Famous Monsters of Filmland Forum!

Got it? Ok, good. Just stay with me here.

Now let’s also pretend that you’re a fan of horror films like those that featured, I don’t know, the monsters I mentioned above.

Wow, you’re really good at this game!

Now that you’re all good and hyped up, prepare yourself for an additional dose of excitement if you also happen to be a fan of comic books. Sometime in September, Monsterverse will be releasing a comic anthology entitled Tales from the Grave. Bela Lugosi (do I really need to tell you who he is? I mean, seriously) will be taking on hosting duties for the horror romp.

Kerry Gammill (Superman, Power Man and Iron Fist) and Kez Wilson (Scarlett, Power of the Atom) will be serving as publishers and editors as well as contributing artwork. The book’s cover will also feature a portrait of Lugosi by artist Basil Gogos, who also did cover art for a magazine called Famous Monsters of Filmland. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.

Excited yet? Good, because Gammill was kind enough to answer some questions about the upcoming book.

FM: OK, so what can you tell me about the anthology itself?

KG: Bela Lugosi’s Tales from the Grave will be the first title from my new company, Monsterverse Entertainment. It will be a full color 48 page quarterly comic with several stories each issue. We want the feel to be fairly close to the classic horror comics of the past. It will features lots of monsters and classic horror elements but with a fresh and contemporary edge to it too. The first issue will be out in September 2010 and will be available at most comics stores.

FM: How did the experience of working on Tales from the Grave differ from some of the other pieces you’ve worked on?

KG: I worked in super-hero comics for many years and drew mainly characters like Superman and Spider-Man, etc. I liked doing those but my main passion in life has always been monster movies. I grew up during the time that the classic horror movies of the ’30s and ’40s were first released to television and there was a sort of monster boom in the country. Of course I read Famous Monsters which was great because, in those days, it was the only way you found out that there were other monster nuts out there just like you. By the time I got into comics professionally in the early ’80s, there weren’t many horror comics around anymore. Super-heroes had pretty much taken over, so I rarely got to mix my love of horror with my art career. Eventually I left comics and went to work as a concept artist for a special effects studio. Now that was a cool job! I drew lots of creatures and aliens and things and just had a blast. I left that for a job at an ad agency and have felt sort of out of place ever since, like I left my real calling. With Monsterverse I’ll be able to do the kind of comics I always wanted to do, but never got the chance.

FM: Can you give any specific details about some of the featured stories?

KG: We have variety of stories in the works for the first few issues. We have a cool zombie story written and drawn by Rob Brown (Bane of the Werewolf). It’s the voodoo-style zombie, not the Romero type, and Rob has done a beautifully stylish job with the art. James Farr and Chris Moreno did a rather thought-provoking story about revenge and black magic that shows what happens when you don’t get your spells just right. We also have a ghost story set in the Old West, a vampire story in outer space (by Mike Hoffman), a humorous story inspired by Lugosi’s Ed Wood period (done in a sort of Robot Chicken claymation style), a masked Mexican wrestler vs monsters story by Jack Herman and Neil Vokes and lots more including a Frankenstein-type mad scientist story written and drawn by yours truly. My partners Kez Wilson and Sam Park will also be involved in creating stories.

FM: I understand that Bela Lugosi’s likeness will be acting as the host for the anthology. Why was Lugosi chosen for this role?

KG: I’m a huge Bela Lugosi fan and we were very interested in doing something that would appeal to other fans of classic horror films, who may not have bought a horror comic in years, as well as to current horror fans and comic book readers. Of all the great horror movie stars, Lugosi probably has the most sinister and eerie persona. He has an almost otherworldly ambience. From his dark, mysterious looks to his strange accent, there’s something rather hypnotic about him. Having him act as the host of a horror comic just seemed like the perfect fit. I’ve known Bela Lugosi Jr. for several years and when I approached him about licensing his father’s name and image for the comic, he was very open to it and excited about the idea of a quality horror product that would present Bela Lugosi to a new audience in a creative new way.

Once we had secured the rights to use Lugosi, our goal became to do the coolest and best horror comic possible. Our enthusiasm began spilling over to others and we were able to tap into some major talent in comics and movies who are Lugosi fans and were interested in being involved. Director John Landis (American Werewolf in London) has committed to writing stories for us and a couple more very big movie names are hoping to find time to contribute. Make-up genius Rick Baker gave us a very strange and disturbing image he created in a 3-D computer program for use as a future cover. It inspired a story that will appear in the same issue. Hot horror writer Steve Niles is scheduled to do a story in the near future and comic artist (recently turned director) John Cassaday will be doing a story and a cover illustration for us. Other big talents who will be popping up, if only to provide single page illustrations, include Bruce Timm, Mike Mignola and Brian Denham.

The cover of issue #1 will be a portrait of Lugosi by the legendary Basil Gogos. I’m one of Basil’s biggest fans and was the author of the book on his art published a few years ago. It’s a dream come true to have his art on our first cover.

We are also utilizing Lugosi in other ways in the comic. We will be presenting a series of stories we call “Lost Lugosi Films”. Lugosi will star in some strange stories done as if they were old Monogram movies that were too horrifying to release. Martin Powell and Terry Beatty did the first installment with Bela as a taxidermist obsessed with a beautiful actress. You know that’s not going to end well. We will also be doing a series of stories based on Bela’s character in White Zombie showing how he came to become the zombie master and how he turned each of his enemies into zombies. And most exciting of all, we will be doing a serialized adaptation of Dracula with Bela Lugosi portraying Stoker’s original version of the character.

FM: How did Basil Gogos feel about the project?

KG: Gogos is very supportive of the project and as a favor to Bela Jr. and me, said we could use one of his Lugosi paintings. It is not a new piece, it’s from the collection of Rob Zombie who commissioned Basil to do it several years ago. It appears in the Gogos art book but has never been on a cover before. Basil got permission from Rob for us to use it. Hopefully in the future we can get Basil to do an original piece for us.

Thanks to Kerry Gammill for all the info!

For more details about Tales from the Grave visit Monsterverse.

In the history of the modern American cinema, there are but few legacies of makeup artists.  While the legendary Burman and Dawn names each include three generations of makeup artists, there is but one lasting family that features four working generations: the Westmores of Hollywood.  With ties to virtually every studio in the annals cinema, the Westmores have created classic makeups in top contemporary film and TV shows back to the earliest years of silent film.

George Westmore, the patriarch of the Westmore clan at the turn of the century, worked as a wigmaker in his native England — where he was born in 1879 — and gave birth to sons Mont (born in 1902), twins Perc and Ern (born in 1904), Wally (born in 1906), and a daughter, Dorothy (born in 1907).  The young family traveled to the U.S. to seek better opportunities and maintained a wig-making and beauty salon business which floated amongst various cities, settling in Cleveland in 1914.  George taught his elder sons the art of wig-making and hairdressing, leading to their move to California three years later.  Upon his arrival in Los Angeles in 1917, George worked at the swank Maison Cesare, a hairdressing salon that catered to the general public, making wigs and hairpieces.   Sensing that his future rested in the nascent motion picture business, George started the first makeup department in movie history when he talked his way into a $25 per week job at the Selig Studio that same year.  George eventually became Billie Burke’s personal makeup artist, created Mary Pickford’s legendary hair curls, then began making up her friend Douglas Fairbanks, all the while maintaining his chores at Mason Cesare.

Without a doubt, the Westmore family fortunes turned in 1920 when Perc, who was helping his father at the salon with janitorial duties, was startled by a customer who burst through the door, demanding to see George.  It seemed the man, an actor, had shaved off half of his moustache accidentally and was due on the set of a big movie.  Perc convinced the man that he could fix the problem, telling him the celebrity that he was a wigmaker as skilled as his father.  Ninety minutes later, an astonished Adolphe Menjou couldn’t determine which side was Perc’s ventilated moustache piece and which was his real hair.  Menjou left the salon for the set of The Three Musketeers, and another Westmore vaulted into the motion-picture business.

On the heels of his “discovery,” Perc Westmore established the second Westmore-run makeup department with his brother Ern at First National Pictures (later absorbed by Warner Bros.) in 1923.  Supervising the makeup concepts for countless stars of the era, Perc remained the studio’s makeup department head until he left in 1950 to manage the House of Westmore beauty salon which he opened with his brothers in 1935.  Among his many significant contributions to the field was the invention of the hairlace wig.  Eventually, all of the Westmore brothers were significant figures in movie makeup. Mont was Rudolph Valentino’s makeup artist and worked for David O. Selznick on films such as Gone with the Wind before his untimely death in 1940 before his 38th birthday.  Youngest brother Frank worked for Cecil B. DeMille and Ern was a staple of RKO pictures. What happened was that after Ern and Perc had jointly opened the first makeup department at First National which became Warner Bros, Perc remained at the latter while Ern left to open a makeup department at RKO.  Then, Ern was one of the first special effects makeup artists and in 1931 won the Academy Cup for best makeup for his work on Cimarron starring Richard Dix and Irene Dunne. It was the first Academy recognition of a makeup artist and took 33 years before it officially happened again with Bill Tuttle and The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao.  In addition to these accomplishments, the other brothers would create some of the screen’s most memorable movie monsters of all time.

In the early years, movies had curious monsters. We had amazing European contributions such as The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, starring Conrad Veidt and Der Golem starring Paul Wegener with stateside triumphs including John Barrymore as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  From Europe also came Nosferatu with Max Schreck as a vampire and MGM had numerous monsters with actors such as Lon Chaney and makeup genius from silent films’ Cecil Holland at the studio.  He created many memorable characters such as Fu Manchu with Boris Karloff before handing the studio reins of makeup over to Jack Dawn.  Of course, at Universal Studios, Jack Pierce created the most timeless of monsters in such 1930s and 1940s films as Frankenstein, The Mummy, and The Wolf Man.

On Perc’s recommendation, Wally Westmore became head of the new makeup department at Paramount Pictures in 1926 — he was only 20 years old at the time.  Through his career there, reputedly among the most stable of his brothers, Wally created makeups for Bing Crosby, W.C. Fields, and many Cecil B. DeMille movies.  One of his more celebrated early achievements was the Mr. Hyde makeup for Frederic March in 1932.  Paramount’s version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde called for March to hideously transform into his evil incarnation, an effect achieved in-camera without time-lapse photography through the use of special red filters and re-colored makeup.  Using his father’s ventilated wig technology, Wally fashioned a bushy wig for March and added special protuberant teeth from a wax mold.  He built up March’s face in a Neanderthal style, using soft clay on his nose, cheeks, jaw and ears.  The combination of makeup and performance garnered March the Academy Award for best actor, still to this day an unprecedented feat for a horror film.

In 1933, Wally worked on another landmark monster film with Island of Lost Souls, starring Charles Laughton who would make his mark six years later with another Westmore makeup.  In Lost Souls, however, he played Dr. Moreau, creator of part-man part-beast things, which challenged Wally to develop another hybrid group of characters.  Among those in the film was a notable Bela Lugosi, just two years removed from Dracula, wearing Wally’s complex hair work as a self-proclaimed “thing”.  For certain, Lost Souls remains a haunting early sound horror film to this day.

At the end of the decade, one project would stand at the forefront of the Westmore legacy legacy.  1939 itself was undoubtedly a landmark year for makeup, with the ingenious characters that Jack Dawn developed for The Wizard of Oz and Jack Pierce’s striking creations in Son of Frankenstein.  Not to be outdone, RKO was planning a lavish re-make of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, though decidedly without the makeup and acting talents of Lon Chaney.  The film was to star Charles Laughton, with overall makeup supervision by the studio’s department head, Mel Berns.

According to his widow, Francine Berns, Mel Berns joined RKO Pictures in 1929 supervising over 30 hairdressers and makeup men on films like King Kong. He and Perc were buddies.  They were both honored in the 1950s at the old Palladium in Hollywood at a dinner where they received plaques as being pioneers in makeup. To execute the Quasimodo makeup on Hunchback, Berns recommended Perc who was brought in to RKO at the unheard of sum of $10,000 to create Laughton’s makeup design.  With the advent of George Bau’s new foam rubber formula, a lightweight facial makeup and hump were designed for Laughton after the actor rejected 12 of Perc’s early designs.  The final concept, with a copper nose-bridge and eyelid to actuate Quasimodo’s fallen eye, was the crowning achievement of Perc’s career.

Bud Westmore, the second youngest of the makeup artist brothers to Frank, was born in 1918.  After toiling in the makeup trenches for year s – often going uncredited in the 1930s, he finally broke through in some major 1940s films. Then, when Jack Pierce’s methods became considered passé, Bud, still in his 20s, was promoted to head of the makeup department at Universal Studios where he remained for 25 years.  Bud presided over every Universal film of the period, working on some classic monster pictures.

The first of those was Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein.  For that film, a sequel to the Universal classics of the early 1930s through mid-1940s, Bud had to recreate the famous characters of Count Dracula, the Frankenstein Monster, and The Wolf Man.

The big difference was where Jack Pierce created the characters with hand-laid materials, going on one step at a time, Bud used prefabricated foam rubber appliances.  So, while Bela Lugosi as Dracula was created much the same with basic greasepaint, Glenn Strange as Frankenstein was created with rubber pieces.  Glenn had played the role twice for Jack Pierce, in House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula, but when Bud was tasked with recreating the famous hulking character, he had his top foam latex makeup artist, Jack Kevan, do the job.  Kevan made a rubber head piece for Strange and used other techniques that too modern for old guard artists like Pierce.  Many could not tell the difference, but aficionados can see that the Abbott and Costello Strange monster is just different enough from the Pierce monster to discern between the two.

To create the famous Wolf Man makeup, again on Lon Chaney Jr. as it had been during Pierce’s films including The Wolf Man, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, and House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula, again Westmore needed to streamline the process.  So, he enlisted Emile LaVigne, a veteran of Jack Dawn’s team at MGM from films including Wizard of Oz where he had co-created the Tin Man on Jack Haley.  In lieu of Jack Pierce’s hand-laid yak hair to create the famous Wolf Man, LaVigne used rubber pieces like Kevan did with the Frankenstein Monster.  This not only made the process more comfortable for Chaney, Jr, it drastically reduced the application time of the makeup.  Again, Chaney’s appearance is altered from the Pierce version in the new visage that Bud had LaVigne create.  Needless to say, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein became an all-time classic and put Bud firmly on the makeup map for the rest of his career.

In the 1950s, Bud Westmore’s department expanded and he was given some big projects.  In 1953, he created Abbott and Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, with old pro Boris Karloff as the titular characters.  By this time, Karloff was in his 60s, so cutting down on the makeup process was a must.  Again, Bud brought in Kevan to do the makeup.  Now with his own style coming through many of his makeups, Kevan’s familiar look permeated his Mr. Hyde.  As in earlier Hyde projects such as that of his older brother Wally, this Hyde required a transformation which Kevan created step-by-step with dissolves.   In most of the

Hyde scenes, however, Karloff is wearing mask-like pieces.  At this time, Bud also was able to goof on the Universal mummies with Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy.

But it was a project that came to the studio in 1953 that presented Bud with his biggest challenge.  The Creature from the Black Lagoon was a huge project which required a full head-to-toe Gill –Man suit and mask that would be worn by two actors – Ben Chapman for the land scenes at Universal in Los Angeles, and Ricou Browning for the water scenes to be shot in Florida.  For this daunting task, Westmore had Kevan by his side to break down and organize the suit but brought in key others to do the job.  Artist Milicent Patrickdesigned the creature while Chris Mueller sculpted his key features.  Kevan had a busy sizeable lab running at Universal with artists like Tom Case and Bob Dawn – Jack’s son – presiding over the molds and fabrication.  In fact, it was Bob himself who suited up Ben Chapman on a daily basis.  Though Bud’s name is the only one to appear in the credits, his astute assemblage of these key artists made the Gill-Man one of Universal’s most unforgettable monster characters of all time!

If the 1950s weren’t already busy enough with various science fiction and monster projects, many of which Kevan ran for Bud, a 1957 project was perhaps their most challenging yet.  Man of a Thousand Faces was a Lon Chaney biopic which required the recreation of some of Chaney’s most famous screen characters.

Bud knew that to provide accurate likenesses of the famous Chaney makeups – many of which Chaney created himself with secretive techniques – would be an impossibility.  Thus, he enlisted Kevan to “reinvent” the makeups and capture their spirit in lieu of a literal translation of them.  Adding to their problem was the casting of James Cagney, who while a fine actor, had a small round face unlike Chaney’s original features.  Thus, though Kevan created a clown, Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Phantom of the Opera, these makeups failed to approximate those of Chaney’s originals, though providing a touching homage to the grandfather of movie monster artists.

Bud worked through the 1960s on Universal’s films and increasingly popular TV projects, but he was let go after 25 years at the studio and passed away in just a year later in 1973.  He was just 55 years old.  His final film as an artist was doing makeup on the cult sci-fi classic Soylent Green.

Marvin G. Westmore is a six-time Emmy-nominated makeup artist with a history of over 45 years in consumer makeup and in the motion picture andtelevision industry.  Marvin, Mont Westmore’s middle son whose older brother Mont, Jr. was a longtime makeup artist and whose younger brother Michael won numerous Emmys and an Oscar, eventually got into the business on his own terms.  “I didn’t get into the business through nepotism,” he said of his early years of struggle.  “Eventually, my older brother Mont – who was also a full-fledged makeup artist – put a makeup case in my hand and sent me to Universal.”

Marvin ended up working over six years at CBS and moved to 20th Century Fox, where among many projects, he did makeup on the 1960s children’s classic, Doctor Doolittle.  Stints at Paramount and Universal followed before Marvin ultimately went freelance.  “That’s when I felt that I was able to grow the most,” Marv stated.

Among his numerous freelance makeup challenges was working as the department head of the 1982 science-fiction classic, Blade Runner.  As the producers and director Ridley Scott were looking for unprecedented makeup concepts, Marvin was an ideal department head.  “Every makeup I do is something that hadn’t been done before,” he said of his methodology.  “Blade Runner had everything from beauty to blood and guts gore, character, old age, and a snake woman.  I had a crew of up to forty, but the size didn’t make any difference since I had a really good quality of people.  I picked a couple of key makeup and hair people on those big sets to be assistant department heads, and I did all of the principal characters.”

For his efforts on Blade Runner, which included only two weeks of prep in Marvin’s Beverly Hills salon followed by over three months on sets, Marvin received a British Academy of Film and Television nomination for best makeup of 1982.  Among the many innovations on Blade Runner was the variety of makeup approaches used, such as Marvin’s decision to airbrush Daryl Hannah’s eye makeup onscreen for her climactic scenes.

Marvin is also the founder and CEO of the Westmore Academy of Cosmetic Arts right here in Burbank California across from NBC Television.  With his Westmore Academy, Marvin Westmore and all of his students have a rich family legacy on which to draw.  Due to Marvin’s experiences, every conceivable aspect of makeup is instilled in all students who attend the Academy.

In addition to his lengthy career in TV and film, starting as John Chambers’ apprentice in the early 1960s, Michael Westmore served as makeup department head of Star Trek for the franchise’s films and TV shows from 1987 to 2005.  He was nominated for a Best Makeup Academy Award for Star Trek: First Contact in 1996 as well as for The Clan of the Cave Bear in 1986 and 2010 in 1984. He won the Best Makeup Oscar in 1985 for Mask.

But it was a 1980 film that possibly produced his greatest work, even though it came before the time when makeup was regularly awarded by the Academy.  Raging Bull was director Martin Scorsese’s epic boxing biopic of real-life middleweight Jake LaMotta.  A bruiser from the Bronx, LaMotta was known to be as tough outside the ring as he was in it, where he became middleweight champion in the 1950s after a decade’s struggle.  Brought in to create the makeups and effects was Michael Westmore, coming off nearly two decades in the business at that point, including a sleeper boxing film of the late 1970s called Rocky.

For the new film, Westmore created various likenesses for LaMotta, played by Robert DeNiro in an Oscar-winning performance.  In the story, the character goes from the 20-something Jake in his fighting prime, to the 40-something retired Jake 60 who is pounds overweight.  DeNiro wore different foam rubber noses that Westmore fabricated for the various life stages.  For the boxing sequences, Westmore also made eyelids for the extreme cuts and bruises that LaMotta endured.

For closeups of LaMotta’s nose breaking, Westmore made a nose rigged with a teeter-totter sitting over the bridge of DeNiro’s nose.  Westmore said, “It had a wax nostril on one side.  So, when you actually put the glove into the nose, it crushed the wax nostril which hit the teeter-totter which went across the bridge of the nose and pushed it down.  It was made to actually look like it broke on camera.”  Westmore rigged other effects such as eyebags hooked up to hypodermic needles with tubes under the skin to simulate blood coming out of LaMotta’s face when he’s received a punch to the head.  On camera, with Scorsese’s slow-motion preferences and Michael Chapman’s black-and-white cinematography, these makeups and effects were of the highest caliber of realism.

Of his time on Raging Bull, Michael Westmore said, “When I finished Raging Bull, I literally said to myself, ‘I probably will never do another movie like this the rest of my life.’  I’m really glad and happy I’ve had my one shot on a film like this.”  According to many film critics’ circles, Raging Bull was considered the best film of the 1980s.

The Westmore name, now with over 90 years in the business, is surely one of the proudest and most successful in the world of movie makeup and monsters.  Clearly, with new Westmores always entering the business, now representing the fourth and soon fifth generations of the family name to do so, The Westmores of Hollywood will be well-known for a many years to come.  Only one accolade remained for the family – a Star on Hollywood Boulevard’s Walk of Fame.  It finally came to pass on October 3, 2008 with Marvin and Michael present, representing their entire family, including that legendary patriarch George, and his amazing sons and grandchildren.  The star simply notes: “THE WESTMORES.”

I would make the acquaintance of a number of other intriguing individuals on this same board, including one who went under the name Moetown. Though I was completely ignorant of the fact at first, this was Joe Moe of Hollywood, Forrest J Ackerman’s caretaker. His online demeanor was as warm and supportive as his personal one, as I’d eventually discover.

Over the ensuing years of posting on Scarlet Street, I found that the board regulars made a habit of attending the Monster Bash convention in Pittsburgh. The thought of leaving my old Kentucky home was still unfathomable, but in early 2006 I found myself strongly urged to make my way north for the event. Never having taken a trip anywhere for any reason, the thought was of course daunting — but I did it. Soon enough I was in Pennsylvania, at my first convention, and loving every minute of it. Chilly Billy Cardille was sitting right by the door. He was the biggest celebrity I’d seen up to that point!

The Scarlet Street staff and Forry in a pre-dinner pose. I am third from left, Richard Valley second from right.

Joining the Scarlet team at their table, I was soon ushered along to meet Forry Ackerman. The walk to him was filled with wonderful anticipation. A circle that had begun with The Horror Hall of Fame was now closing, in a way. Upon entering the room the first thing I heard was Zacherley’s unmistakable laughter. Over to the side was Basil Gogos with prints of many of his tre-monstrous works. Just across from him was Forry.

And my heart sank. He looked to be 1,000 years old, bearing no resemblance to the suave, slightly obese gentleman I’d seen on television. I’d read the updates Joe Moe posted on Scarlet Street concerning 89-year-old Forry’s health,  making me aware he’d been going through some rough times-but I didn’t expect this. He spoke and moved very slowly.

An awestruck Earl Roesel looks on as Forry Ackerman and Zacherley converse.

I was quickly invited by Joe to sit down next to Forry. I produced a pocket tape recorder to capture this moment for posterity. Figuring that everyone asked about Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, I proceeded to question FJA about L. Ron Hubbard and Kenneth Anger. He related a number of anecdotes, including a few nasty-sounding ones in relation to a falling-out he’d recently had with Anger. I rejoiced in the thought that no one, ever, had been privy to these fabulous secrets.

Little did I know then that these same tidbits, along with scores of others, were all very well rehearsed inside Forry’s clockwork mind. I’d hear them trotted out again and again to various people over the course of my association with the Ackermonster. At the time though, I felt like a neophyte receiving arcane knowledge from an elder wizard.

I can’t help but be reminded of something Forry would later tell me about his first meeting with Bela Lugosi. FJA played an audio recording of the aging actor in his prime with the following results.

“Bela was a little deaf but he smiled as he heard himself speaking those words that he’d once spoken many years ago in his youth. He excused himself temporarily and went into his kitchen and beyond it; he came back wearing his famous Dracula cape. He put himself into the role of Dracula, putting the whammy on my wife. She pretended to be frightened of him. Then he put the whammy on our Japanese houseguest, who likewise acted afraid of him. It is a wonderful memory in my mind.

My wife and I began to feel sorry for Bela. With no wife, he seemed to be a fragile old man with no friends.”

This is truly sad news. Forry’s collection is about the most extensive story in the history of monsters and sci-fi. Forry took pride in opening his home to fans and showing the people what sci-fi is all about. His collection belongs in a museum, but if you’re a fan and you have a hunk of extra cash, here’s your chance to own some authentic one-of-a-kind Forry Ackerman horror memorabilia. Read the press release below for the full details and extensive coverage on items up for auction.

FORRY ACKERMAN ESTATE TO HIGHLIGHT MONSTROUS PROFILES IN HISTORY SPRING AUCTION

Bela Lugosi’s Dracula Ring, Cape, Costume From The Raven; Bram Stoker / Lugosi Signed First Edition Dracula Book; Fritz Lang’s Monocle from Metropolis Among The Most Important Collection Of Horror-Related Items Ever Available For Auction

Calabasas, CA, February 4, 2009 – Forry Ackerman’s massive horror and Sci-Fi collection, highlighted by Bela Lugosi’s Dracula ring and cape, along with Lugosi’s costume from The Raven; a signed, first edition of Brom Stoker’s Dracula signed by Stoker and Lugosi among others, and Fritz Lang’s monocle from Metropolis are among the first confirmed items available at Profiles in History’s 36th auction of Hollywood memorabilia, taking place the last week of April, 2009. This will be the most important sale of horror-related items ever assembled and available for auction. Worldwide bids can be placed either in person, via mail, phone, fax or live on the internet via Live Auctioneers.com

“The Bela Lugosi Dracula ring, the cape he wore from the 30′s stage performances of Dracula and the robe he wore in The Raven are the most significant Universal horror items to ever come to public auction,” said Joe Maddalena, President and CEO of Profiles in History.
Forrest J Ackerman (Please note: There is NO period after the “J”) who recently passed away, was an American collector of science fiction books and movie memorabilia and a science fiction fan. Ackerman, known as “Forry” or “The Ackermonster” or “4e” or “4SJ” or “Forjak” was influential in the formation, organization, and spread of science fiction fandom in its early years, and served as a key figure in the wider cultural perception of science fiction as a literary, art and film genre. Ackerman is also remembered as the editor-writer of the magazine Famous Monsters of Filmland, as well as for being an occasional author, actor, producer (Vampirella), and literary agent.

Ackerman was noted for having amassed an extremely large and complete collection of science fiction, fantasy and horror film memorabilia, which was, until 2002, maintained in a remarkable home/museum known as the 18-room “Ackermansion” in the Los Feliz district of Los Angeles, filled with 300,000 books and pieces of movie memorabilia. He was credited with nurturing and even inspiring the careers of several early contemporaries like Ray Bradbury, Ray Harryhausen, Charles Beaumont, Marion Zimmer Bradley and L. Ron Hubbard. He was Ed Wood’s “illiterary” agent and represented over 200 authors of science fiction and fantasy.

Through his magazine, Famous Monsters of Filmland (1958-1983), Ackerman introduced the history of the science fiction, fantasy and horror film genres to a generation of young readers. At a time when most movie-related publications glorified the stars in front of the camera, “Uncle Forry”, as he was referred to by many of his fans, promoted the behind-the-scenes artists involved in the magic of movies. In this way Ackerman provided inspiration to many who would later become successful artists, including Peter Jackson, Steven Spielberg, Tim Burton, Stephen King, Penn & Teller, Billy Bob Thornton, Gene Simmons (of the band Kiss), Rick Baker, George Lucas, Danny Elfman, Frank Darabont, John Landis and countless other writers, directors, artists and craftsmen.

A life-long fan of science fiction “B-movies”, Ackerman had cameos in over 210 films, including bit parts in many monster movies including The Howling, Innocent Blood, Return of the Living Dead Part II, Amazon Women on the Moon, as well as an appearance in Michael Jackson’s Thriller video.

Details of Highlighted items along with estimated sale prices:

·       Dracula ring worn by Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula.  It’s the single most important Lugosi / Dracula screen worn piece to EVER come to auction. ($20,000-$30,000).
·       Bela Lugosi’s robe from The Raven is the most important 1930′s horror costume to EVER come to auction. ($15,000-$20,000)
·       A cape made for Bela Lugosi in 1932 and used many times for his stage portrayal of Dracula.  Lugosi then wore the costume in Plan 9 from Outer Space. ($15,000-$20,000).
·       A first edition of the book, Dracula signed by Bram Stoker and inscribed by Bela Lugosi to Forry Ackerman (also signed by a host of other Dracula-related personalities).  ($6,000-8,000).
·       Fritz Lang’s monocle, which he wore when he directed Metropolis. This was given to Forry by Lang: ($3,000-$5,000)

Pictures of the highlighted items are provided below courtesy of Profiles in History.

This would not be the last montage played out over the two nights of screenings celebrating the return of Famous Monsters of Filmland. Before each film a collection of memories played out for Janet Ann Gallow, Carla Laemmle and Jane Adams. Each montage was followed by a Q and A with each of the lovely ladies conducted by host Tom Tangen -with the exception of Jane Adams who unfortunately could not make the screening of House of Dracula due to ill health. However, she prepared a written statement for Tom Tangen to read to the audience.

When Tom was finished reading the letter, he called Robert up on stage to speak on behalf of Jane. As an intimate friend of Jane, there was no one more qualified to answer for her. A few moments later Phil Kim also took the stage and the two answered questions about the return of Famous Monsters and the direction they wish to take the company. When they were finished Robert asked the camera man to turn the camera towards the audience and asked for everyone to please show their love and appreciation for Jane. The crowd erupted into cheers and claps, some yelled “We love you Jane,” while others shouted “House of Dracula!” and “Brute Man!” The scene was enough to wet the eyes, but above that it displayed how deeply these people, these actors, sons and daughters affected each and every one of our lives.

I asked myself, where would we be without these films? As in great literature or the best music, we are all shaped by these shadows on screen, these glimpses into madness. I view them as cautionary tales that teach compassion above a reaction based on fear of the unknown. As the crowd cheered at the opening of each of the four films, I listened and smiled, because I too have been cheering on the monsters and mad scientists for most of my life and it is always comforting to know one is truly not alone.

Saturday’s features were Son of Frankenstein and Ghost of Frankenstein followed on Sunday by Dracula and House of Dracula. The American Cinematheque worked beautifully with Famous Monsters and projected pristine 35mm prints for each of the four features. I cannot give enough praise for the professionalism and understanding displayed by The American Cinematheque. The presentation of these movies on 35mm is awe inspiring and surpasses anything a DVD or Blu-ray can conjure. As a true monster fan if you ever get the chance to view them in a theatre on film, I highly recommend you do so.

Joe Dante was on hand Sunday night to introduce Dracula and House of Dracula. It is always nice to see that no matter how successful a person may become once a monster fan, always a monster fan. Joe gave a true fans introduction, spoken with his words but from our hearts. That is the connection of Monster Kids. Bela Lugosi Jr.also attended the Sunday night screening and accompanied the ever wonderful and lovely Carla Laemmle on stage for the Q and A.

For a fan who has been fortunate enough to have become a part of the new Famous Monsters of Filmland, these screenings at the Egyptian Theatre were overwhelming, exhausting, and rewarding beyond words. To have the benefit of not only listening to these icons speak about their personal experiences but to also have the chance to share time with them personally is something I will never forget.

As for those of you who were not fortunate enough to make the screenings don’t worry. The event was such a success that there are already talks of another FM event at The Egyptian Theatre. As for those of you that did attend, we at Famous Monsters can’t begin to thank you enough. You are all the backbone of Famous Monsters of Filmland. Forry would be proud.

I’d like to thank Robert Aragon for his exhausting efforts that made this screening possible. As well as host Tom Tangen, a truly gentle soul that I am glad I got to share time with over the Monsterpalooza weekend. To Phil Kim for always being there to put up with the management part none of us could deal with. To the Famous Monsters Staff, my partners in booth working, box moving and my instructors of proper clothes folding, I’d have been lost without all of you. To Sara, Carla, Jane, Janet and Bela for allowing all of us to share in the light of their past and the joys of their present. And lastly to Lee Christian for supplying all the photos for this article.

With the recent passing of Forry Ackerman I felt compelled to relay some of my thoughts about a man I’d only met a handful of times-but through mutual friends and his contributions to the horror fan community felt I’d known him my whole life. A man whom if not for his passion and love for classic horror films and stories I would not be sitting here, on my laptop, writing for Famous Monsters of Filmland. To even be able to say I am a part of his creation is overwhelming and often I feel undeserving of such an honor.

Here was a man who allowed strangers into his home to view and enjoy a collection he cherished for decades. Unfortunately the world is full of dishonest and jealous individuals and some of these said fans stole from Forry limiting the amount of people he allowed into his home. And now Forry is gone, another loss in a community that can’t afford to dwindle much more.

Horror has given way to splatter, shock, exaggeration and filth. Reflecting the current state of our society everything is cheap and easy. With trash like the Saw pictures and countless others the terror of the golden age of horror, the 1920’s to mid 60’s, have long since faded into distant memory, or in many cases onto dusty DVD shelves.

I don’t want to seem negative or even disillusioned about the current state of horror films, but I can’t help but cringe every time I’m searching for stories of interest to post on the site. I avoid 99% of the crap that is out there, and the rest, well I make do with what is given to me. Call this creative snobbery, but I, like many other silent voices loathe what’s happened to the monster community.

There are, however, many individuals, like Phil Kim, Robert Aragon and Bob Burns, etc who keep the essence of the classics alive and well. Like Forry, they believed in the pathos fused deep into the souls of the world of Gods and Monsters.

Vincent Price, Boris Karloff, Bella Lugosi, Peter Lorre and Lon Chaney have been replaced by the immature trash of Jason Voorhees, Freddie Kruger, Leatherface and Pinhead, who created the present dismemberment of true terror and, like the Monster Dr. Frankenstein created, have replaced perfection with parts from the dead, and unimaginative.

So I sit at an impasse. The damage has been done, and continues to roll off the cutting room floors and into the theatres and home entertainment centers of our lives. We cannot return to the age of brilliance, no more than we can close shop and give up on the horror genre. What we can do is remind ourselves to keep the classics alive. Show them to our children before they are corrupted by the blood and guts of modern movies, television and video games. Teach them who Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi were, let them feel the magic of a black and white monster closing in on them in the middle of the night on a school night. Let them live the terror and awe of perfection, then let them decide, like all of us have, what the true essence of horror is.