In an attempt to emulate the things I saw in the movies, I managed to hurt or embarass myself more than once...
FM often stated that Lon Chaney made "blind eye" contact lenses from the membrane of boiled eggs. Getting the membrane out of the egg was easy. But it stung like hell when I put it in my eye. And it disappeared beneath the lid whenever I blinked.
I decided to make myself up as the murderer from DOCTOR X. Not having read Dick Smith's makeup guide, I covered my entire face and head with flour and water dough. It didn't work quite as expected, and the bulk of it dripped off my face onto the rug. But the stuff in my hair stayed for days, and all week (during school, of course) I was picking large chunks of dried dough off my scalp.
I made a Tabanga out of a cardboard appliance box, drew on the scowling face, added a mop-head for hair, and poked about two dozen holes for the tree branchs. I only took three steps before the whole thing tumbled over and I severely skewered myself in the stomach with the sharp end of a broken branch.
Being the early '70s, I had a head of long, unkept, bird's-nest-messy, hippy hair. When I finally decided to style it, I took my cue from BRIDES OF DRACULA and chose to give myself David Peel's poofy-do (no pun intended). And after carefully wrapping my mother's curlers in my hair, and spraying the whole thing with about two cans of hairspray, my sister and her venomously gossippy best friend walked into my room. By the time I sat down to dinner, everybody in town had heard that I secretly dressed up like a girl!
Probably the only smart thing I ever copied from a horror film was when I trained myself to do the Creature's underwater backstroke. It impresses girls.
FM often stated that Lon Chaney made "blind eye" contact lenses from the membrane of boiled eggs. Getting the membrane out of the egg was easy. But it stung like hell when I put it in my eye. And it disappeared beneath the lid whenever I blinked.
I decided to make myself up as the murderer from DOCTOR X. Not having read Dick Smith's makeup guide, I covered my entire face and head with flour and water dough. It didn't work quite as expected, and the bulk of it dripped off my face onto the rug. But the stuff in my hair stayed for days, and all week (during school, of course) I was picking large chunks of dried dough off my scalp.
I made a Tabanga out of a cardboard appliance box, drew on the scowling face, added a mop-head for hair, and poked about two dozen holes for the tree branchs. I only took three steps before the whole thing tumbled over and I severely skewered myself in the stomach with the sharp end of a broken branch.
Being the early '70s, I had a head of long, unkept, bird's-nest-messy, hippy hair. When I finally decided to style it, I took my cue from BRIDES OF DRACULA and chose to give myself David Peel's poofy-do (no pun intended). And after carefully wrapping my mother's curlers in my hair, and spraying the whole thing with about two cans of hairspray, my sister and her venomously gossippy best friend walked into my room. By the time I sat down to dinner, everybody in town had heard that I secretly dressed up like a girl!
Probably the only smart thing I ever copied from a horror film was when I trained myself to do the Creature's underwater backstroke. It impresses girls.
