How to Make a Monster

This is another solid entry in the teenage monster genre, starring the durable Robert H. Harris, one of the finest character actors of his era, familiar to fans of the Alfred Hitchcock Presents series,.

Like the other entries in this cycle, including Teenage Werewolf and especially Teenage Frankenstein, this entire cycle might have been renamed "Make Room For Daddy," although "Daddy" in this case is a terrible authority figure whose only goal is to control his children, dominate them, and ultimately destroy them.

The entire cycle is a deconstruction of the myth of a paternal authority that dominates the social sciences of the day (parodied in Stephen Sondheim's "Gee, Officer Krupke" from West Side Story and in teen rebellion films, especially the Nicholas Ray-James Dean film, "Rebel without a Cause"), but also familiar in the idealized Daddy roles in numerous sitcoms of the era, especially, of course, Father Knows Best.

This series might have punningly be called Father Knows Beast. The entire cycle is a brilliant deconstruction of paternalistic authority. This is not to say it doesn't work on its own narrative level, though much of the plot is hokum. Still it's well done combining horror and detective genres quite well, and excellently directed as well.

Though generally consigned to the teen and drive-in genre, few films of the 1950s more seriously challenged the myth of parental authority as well as the films in this cycle did.

I just finished watching the "Cult Classics" DVD release, which included the color footage mentioned in the other comment. Besides many familiar (and unfamiliar) monster heads, the film is a virtual who's who of American International Studio players from the 50's. One can almost suspect the movie was made to keep the contact players busy between films. If only Michael Landon had appeared as the Teenage Werewolf, I would have given it another couple points in the ratings. One also has to give the studio credit as the studio itself becomes the "back lot" for the film. And certainly, the plot of killing off studio executives must have appealed to all the writers, actors and production staff making the film.

How to Make a Monster is an American International Pictures film about and set on the lot of American International Pictures. The premise is that the studio has been sold, and the new owners are going to make some major changes, including canning in-house employee Pete Dumond (Robert H. Harris), a noted master of horror make-up. It then becomes a relatively simple revenge flick, with a nice, slightly sci-fi twist in the method of revenge.

The idea behind this film is very clever. It also provided an effective means of saving money on the production, since not many sets had to be built or dressed, and even when that was necessary, AIP was able to use materials on hand from other films, such as the gallery of masks, in a way that makes this a self-referential treat for horror fans. The idea is good enough that especially in our modern era of film industry cannibalization, it's surprising that it hasn't been used far more often.

Aside from the admirable tightness of the script and the evergreen attraction of revenge films, How to Make a Monster works as well as it does because of the performances. Harris is a fairly subtle psycho, and extremely effective as an anti-hero. Especially in contemporary times, his situation--getting laid off after a company takeover--will find him many sympathizers, but it's also that he plays the role with such a mellow, likable, grandfatherly charm, and a self-righteousness rooted in his expertise and pride in a job well done. As others have noted, there are subtexts in the film of (homo)sexual predation, which give an added air of creepiness to Harris. His unwitting targets on that end, Tony Mantell (Gary Conway) and Larry Drake (Gary Clarke), are played with an appropriate wide-eyed and willing innocence.

If there's a flaw in How to Make a Monster it's that nothing about it--except maybe the very final scene--is particularly atmospheric or suspenseful, but oddly, it really doesn't matter, because it's a good story told well enough that it keeps you engaged for its length. I still haven't quite figured out why a few American International Pictures, including this one, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein (1957) and War of the Colossal Beast (1958), have the final scenes in color (I know it was a gimmick, but I don't really get the attraction of it as a gimmick), but it doesn't disrupt the flow of the film and it's nice seeing the gallery of masks in color.

American International Pictures, that famed home of countless delightful B flicks, takes self-referential aim at its own filmography with this knowing script (by the legendary producer Herman Cohen and his frequent collaborator Aben Kandel). It can work as a follow-up to the two A.I.P. "Teenage Werewolf" and "Teenage Frankenstein" classics, with two young actors, Gary Conway (the actual Teenage Frankenstein) and Gary Clarke ('The Virginian'), working on the studios' final monster movie. You see, the new regime at the studio have decreed that the current monster movie cycle is over, and they want to concentrate on upbeat diversions like musicals.

This doesn't sit well with veteran makeup effects designer Pete Dumond; unsung character actor Robert H. Harris ("Valley of the Dolls"), in a rare case of top billing, plays the unstable Dumond. He can't abide the thought of his career possibly being over, so he takes revenge on the new executives, using a new formula in his makeup to make Tony and Larry (Conway and Clarke) very suggestible. Once they are all made up, they make for handy murderers. Dumond and his weak-willed longtime assistant Rivero (Paul Brinegar, "High Plains Drifter") must then dodge frequent questioning by some very determined police.

The landscape is dotted with a variety of familiar character actors - Harris, Brinegar, Malcolm Atterbury ("The Birds"), Morris Ankrum ("Earth vs. the Flying Saucers"), Paul Maxwell ("Aliens"), Thomas Browne Henry ("Beginning of the End"), and Robert Shayne ('Adventures of Superman'), as well as the various creations of real-life monster maker of the era, Paul Blaisdell. These creations also figure into a final sequence that is filmed in color in order for us to properly appreciate them. John Ashley (the later "Blood Island" film series) does a brief musical number.

Overall, the movie offers quite a bit of fun. It is capably directed by Herbert L. Strock, who'd done "I Was a Teenage Frankenstein", as well as other flicks like "Gog", "Blood of Dracula", and "The Crawling Hand". It will have the most resonance for "monster kids" of all decades, but particularly those who originally got to see these efforts in theaters. No, it doesn't sport a lot in the way of atmosphere, suspense, or major scares, but it's pretty hard to resist, just the same.

Seven out of 10.

Movie audiences attracted by the sensationalistic advertising proclaiming, "See the ghastly ghouls in flaming colour!", doubtlessly expected that the film HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER was actually a colour movie and were surprised and disappointed to discover that the film was essentially a black and white feature with the final 8 minutes shot in colour (Leonard Maltin in his movie guide review states it is the final 18 minutes but this is probably a typographic error).

By the late 1950's, Britain's Hammer Films was producing, to great critical acclaim and financial success, a series of well-crafted horror movies which boasted that they were filmed in colour. These pioneering efforts marked the beginning of the end for the relatively inexpensive black and white programmers which had been the mainstay for the success of film companies like American International Pictures. Probably in an effort to tap into this ready-made market for colour movies, it was determined that small portions of a film would be economically shot in colour so it could be extensively promoted in the film's publicity (another consideration was to also utilize colour sequences for effect). With his next project, HORRORS OF THE BLACK MUSEUM, producer Herman Cohen would present his own answer to the Hammer movies by filming it in England and in colour.

For those interested, the colour footage begins after Pete Dummond and his captive guests, Tony and Larry, along with Pete's accomplice, Rivero, enter his house and Dummond lights some candles in his living-room/macabre shrine. Unfortunately the prints made available to television and home video omit the colour and are struck in black and white and there has been no real outcry from horror fandom or any of the genre magazines to effect a restoration of the colour footage. Perhaps someday soon this longstanding negligence on the part of the film's distributors will be rectified.

The script for HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER is credited to Herman Cohen and Kenneth Langtry. Kenneth Langtry is a pseudonym for a writer actually named Aben Kandel (he also employed the pen-name Ralph Thornton), who collaborated with producer Herman Cohen on a number of film projects including I WAS A TEENAGE WEREWOLF, BLOOD OF DRACULA, I WAS A TEENAGE FRANKENSTEIN, HORRORS OF THE BLACK MUSEUM, THE HEADLESS GHOST, KONGA and THE BLACK ZOO.

Kandel's script for HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER is a reworking of much of the same plot elements found in his TEENAGE WEREWOLF and FRANKENSTEIN films, but the villain of this piece not only employs those under his control to commit murder, he also participates in some of the mayhem himself. Perhaps sensing that the late 1950's audiences were becoming too sophisticated for outright monsters in horror films, author Kandel decided to weave a story utilizing this theme and present the movie audience with a much more realistic menace, the psychotic mastermind/killer (Cohen and Kandel would carry this concept to its logical extreme the following year in HORRORS OF THE BLACK MUSEUM, a horror film without a monster in sight).

The efforts behind HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER would be much diminished without the presence of character actor Robert H. Harris. His skilled interpretation of the deranged makeup artist Pete Dummond is a multi-faceted one eliciting a wide-range of qualities which at one moment engenders our respect as he encourages a young actor to give his utmost to his film role, our sympathy in the wake of the overbearing new studio executives and their pragmatism and crassness toward horror films and his art, and our dread as he tells his two guests in his monster museum that he wants to include their "heads" in his collection. His scenes where he brow-beats his weak-willed assistant, Rivero, over his incompetency and cowardice are an absolute delight. Harris portrays his villain in a quietly menacing fashion making his characterization all the more sinister and his subtle and controlled performance is a memorable one.

One wishes that Michael Landon could have been recruited to reprise his teenage werewolf role, his participation would have certainly added more stature and authenticity to the proceedings. Since the story supposedly occurs at American International studios, instead of utilizing an actor to portray the director of "Frankenstein Meets Werewolf," it's a pity AIP standby Roger Corman wasn't approached to fill the role and it seems only fitting that James H. Nicholson and Samuel Z. Arkoff (the actual founders of American International) should have somehow been worked into the storyline. All these additions would have given HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER a more auto-biographical and self-parody tone.

HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER is an engaging and fascinating oddity from American International Pictures of the 1950's and marks an interesting phase in the chronology of Herman Cohen productions for this movie company.