Ballyhoo: Sensational or clamorous advertising; to advertise by sensational methods; to publicize exaggeratedly.
Introduction
In Hollywood history, William Castle is known as the “Master of Gimmicks” or the “King of Ballyhoo.” One might argue about the quality of his films, but during the 1950s and 60s, he had no equal when it came to generating publicity for the movies he produced.
Castle first gained work as a director of “B” pictures for Columbia Pictures. Then in 1955, Castle saw the French thriller Diabolique and was impressed by how well it did at the box office. Realizing the potential for similarly themed horror films, Castle decided to strike out on his own to cash in on the trend.
He mortgaged his house to raise $90,000 and made a low-budget film called Macabre (1958). Castle didn’t expect the film to be a blockbuster, thus he still worried about its chances among the more high-profile pictures the other studios were churning out. Castle knew his film was missing a key ingredient.
An Unusual Insurance Policy
Then it came to him. Awake in bed one night, he remembered some of the comments he overheard from teenagers who had just seen Diabolique. Specifically, one girl claimed the movie had nearly “scared her to death.” William Castle suddenly had an epiphany. He decided to insure every movie patron from dying from fright during screenings of his new movie. He flew to England to meet with representatives of Lloyds of London to draw up an insurance policy.
There, he found several insurance executives who lacked a sense of humor. They stated plainly that it would be impossible to provide insurance coverage for every single person in the world. Castle tried to explain that the whole idea was just a publicity stunt and he didn’t expect anyone to die.
Instead, Lloyds of London offered a policy of $25,000 to insure against an estimated 25 individuals dropping dead at $1K apiece. Castle protested that he didn’t have that much money in the budget. $5,000 seemed to be all the producer could afford. Eventually, the policy was written to cover a mere five (un)lucky souls.
A Frightening Success
Castle took this and ran with it, promoting Macabre with a sense of glee. Lots of people showed up just to see what the insurance policy was all about. At several theaters, Castle stationed ambulances and fake nurses outside to further attract attention.
At one show, he even had a hearse drive up with a coffin. Inside was Castle himself. The idea was for several men to unload the coffin and then place it on the sidewalk. Then, Castle would open the lid and jump out to frighten moviegoers standing in line.
Unfortunately, the latch stuck, and Castle panicked. He banged his fists and head against the inside of the lid until he accidentally knocked himself out. When he came to, he was lying on the sidewalk with the crowd already seated inside the theater. His assistants claimed they thought it was all part of the act. Castle later joked he was the only one who came close to collecting on his own policy.
As a result of these gimmicks, Macabre did exceptionally well at the box office. With a $90,000 investment, the picture grossed over $5 million. Castle’s career in ballyhoo was off to a flying start.
Don’t Stay At This Bed And Breakfast
Castle’s next picture in 1959 was House on Haunted Hill. In it, Vincent Price plays an eccentric millionaire who offers six people $10,000 if they can survive the night in a haunted house. When Castle pitched the idea to Price, he described all the scenes of murder, ghosts, and dripping blood the film would contain. “How charming…” was the veteran actor’s response.
There’s an extremely effective scene in the picture when one heroine bends down along a wall to look for a hidden passage. When the camera pans to follow her as she stands up, a horrid-looking old lady is standing over her.
The effect delivers quite a jolt as the young girl screams and the camera cuts to a wide shot. The old hag doesn’t just then “walk” out of the frame… she “glides” across the set in a very unnatural motion. The whole effect is very surreal and scared countless kids who saw the film at Saturday matinees.
Another highlight of the film is when a “skeleton” rises out of a vat of boiling acid to wreak revenge. Castle knew this opened the door for another gimmick. He had a series of black boxes built high up in several of the theaters where the film was shown. When the skeleton made its screen appearance, the box would open. A skeleton “model” would then float on a wire high above the heads of the audience as it made its way to the projection booth.
EMERGO
Castle even had a name for this ingenious effect. He called it EMERGO. Of course, even he admitted the gag didn’t frighten anyone. But kids still flocked to the film just to try and shoot down the floating skeleton using slingshots and items from the concession stand. Many resourceful youngsters succeeded in their mission. Pity the poor theater ushers who had to clean up the mess after each show.
Castle was at home in Los Angeles one Saturday morning awaiting the opening weekend returns for House on Haunted Hill. That’s when he received a phone call from the Director of Publicity for the Golden Gate Theater in San Franciso. He insisted that Castle fly up there immediately. When Castle arrived later that night, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The movie had been sold out for the entire weekend. And the line of kids waiting to see it was six blocks long.
Another “Shocker”
Castle had a huge hit on his hands. And he immediately began work on another “gimmick” classic. It was called The Tingler (1959) and also featured Vincent Price. “The Tingler” was a creature that looked like a cross between a giant silverfish and a lobster. It supposedly attached itself to a person’s spine when they were frightened out of their wits.
To make it go away, a victim had to “scream for their life.” Price plays a scientist who succeeds in capturing a live “Tingler.” Which of course, then gets loose and escapes.
In an inspired bit of sheer genius, the escaped “Tingler” makes its way into a crowded movie theater. (You know what’s coming…). Price follows the creature into the theater, and turns out the lights. The screen goes completely black in the film as well.
“The Tingler” Is Loose
Price then gets on the house address system to tell the movie patrons that “The Tingler” is loose among them. And that the only way to save themselves is to scream for their lives as loud as they can. Various voices on-screen scream things like:
“Here! Here! It’s over here! I can feel The Tingler! AAAHHH!!!!”
But that wasn’t even the best part. Castle had theaters throughout the country wired with joy-buzzers. During this sequence, the projectionist would throw a switch, and the audience would have their behinds “buzzed” by “The Tingler” which lurked beneath their seat.
PERCEPTO: A Pain In The…
With the lights off. In a crowded theater full of screaming kids – one can only imagine the mayhem. Castle’s name for this particular gimmick? PERCEPTO. He estimated that during its theatrical run, over 20 million rear ends received “The Tingler” treatment.
In Philadelphia, a truck driver who watched the film became so enraged after being buzzed, that he ripped his seat from the floor and threw it at the screen. No less than five theater ushers had to subdue him. In Boston, a projectionist decided to test PERCEPTO the week before the film’s opening. The only problem was the movie showing at the time was The Nun’s Story (1959) starring Audrey Hepburn.
Some of the elderly ladies at that particular screening were not amused.
More Gimmicks
Regardless, “The Tingler” solidified Castle’s reputation as a one-of-a-kind movie showman. Castle now had a fan club with 250,000 members. However, he was beginning to feel the pressure to top himself. His next two films also featured gimmicks: In 13 Ghosts (1960), audience members had to wear special cardboard glasses whose tinting allowed them to see the “ghosts” in the picture. It was called ILLUSION-O.
Then, for Mr. Sardonicus (1961), two separate endings were shot. Near the end of the picture, Castle came on the screen and asked the audience to vote whether the main character in the film should live or die. This gimmick was called “The Punishment Poll.” The projectionist would respond by loading the appropriate final reel. Supposedly, no audience ever voted to spare the poor man’s life.
A Fright Break
But Castle wasn’t done yet. His next film was Homicidal (1961). The gimmick Castle came up with for this one was called “The Fright Break.” At the film’s climax, a clock would appear on the screen. And the voice of William Castle himself came on to somberly tell the audience:
“This is the Fright Break! Do you hear that sound? The sound of a heartbeat?…This heart is going to beat for another 65 seconds to allow anyone to leave this theater who is too frightened to see the end of the picture…It’s now or never! Five! Four! You’re a brave audience! Two! One!”
Castle discovered the hard way he needed to print different colored admissions for each show to keep “repeat viewers” from asking for refunds using old tickets.
The Coward’s Corner
To further dissuade people, he also created “The Coward’s Corner.” A trail of yellow feet would guide would-be-cowards to the lobby, where a nurse was stationed with a blood pressure machine. A yellow light would bathe the booth, which featured a recorded message:
“These cowards are too frightened to see the end of Homicidal. Watch them shiver in the Coward’s Corner!”
By Castle’s estimate, less than one percent of viewers ended up enduring this humiliation to get their money back.
Trying To Go “Straight”
By 1964, Castle was growing tired of his reputation. He yearned to have a higher standing among his peers in the Hollywood community. He hired Robert Bloch, the author of Psycho (1960) to write a less gimmicky screenplay. The film was called Strait-Jacket (1964) and featured none other than Joan Crawford as an ax-wielding psychopath.
Crawford even went on tour to help promote the film. But despite his promise with financial backers to advertise the film in a “classy” manner, Castle couldn’t help himself. He had cardboard axes covered in fake blood made up so he could personally hand them out to members of the audience.
Rosemary’s Baby
After that, Castle had an incredible stroke of luck. Someone gave him an advanced copy of a book that had yet to be published. It was called Rosemary’s Baby (1968) and told the story of a pregnant woman in New York City who slowly begins to realize she’s been impregnated with the spawn of Satan.
After reading it, Castle knew it would be a blockbuster and quickly snatched up the movie rights before anyone else could make an offer. Paramount approached him to make a deal, but Castle insisted on producing and directing the film himself.
After some tense conversations, the studio agreed, but on one condition. They asked Castle to first meet with their own choice of director. If Castle felt he was the best man for the job after the meeting, then the directing job could remain his. Amazingly, they also told him his salary would remain the same regardless of his decision.
The director’s name was Roman Polanski. At first, Castle hated him. But after an extended conversation, he realized that Polanski had the talent to make a better picture than he ever could. Castle agreed to step aside and confine himself to producing duties.
The Making Of A Classic
William Castle may have regretted that decision after the production began. Polanski proved to be the ultimate perfectionist. Castle was amazed when he took an entire day just to get the opening shot. Polanski then spent nearly a week filming the movie’s limited exterior night scenes in New York City. Castle was used to shooting entire pictures in the same amount of time. But he couldn’t argue with the results. Looking at the dailies, he knew that a superior film was in the making.
Castle’s biggest fight with Polanski came during the film’s climax. Castle insisted that the audience would demand to see Rosemary’s baby. Polanski argued the film would be more unnerving if Junior never made an appearance. After seeing the final result, Castle had to admit that the director was right. Years later he would gleefully laugh at all the television write-ups that claimed the ending had been censored, when in fact, the shot had never been there, to begin with.
Castle himself makes a cameo in the movie. He’s the gentleman waiting to use the phone booth while Rosemary frantically tries to call her doctor for help.
A Scary Hit
Rosemary’s Baby proved to be one of the biggest hits of the late 1960s. And the accolades that William Castle had craved for so long began to roll in: An Academy Award for Ruth Gordon as Best Supporting Actress; an Academy Award Nomination for Roman Polanski for Best Screenplay; a Golden Globe Award; a nomination for William Castle as Producer of the Year from the Producer’s Guild; and a Photoplay Award for Castle as well. Ironically, the biggest hit of Castle’s career was also the only film he didn’t direct.
However, in the wake of the success of Rosemary’s Baby, other less pleasant things began to roll in for Castle as well. This was In the form of hate mail addressed to him personally. These excerpts were typical:
“You have unleashed evil on the world and will not live long enough to reap your rewards.”
“…you will slowly rot during a long and painful illness which you have brought upon yourself.”
“Rosemary’s Baby is filth, and you will die as a result.”
Castle was getting approximately 50 letters like this PER DAY. Almost all were unsigned.
Health Issues
William Castle wasn’t laughing when a few weeks later, he became seriously ill and had to be hospitalized. He turned out to have both kidney stones and a severe urinary tract infection. As Castle lay in bed in agony, he couldn’t help but think about some of the letters he had received.
He fell into a deep depression. His stamina remained weak for many months while the entire experience greatly unnerved him. During this time he gave several interviews in which he stated that he felt “cursed” by Rosemary’s Baby.
William Castle would only make a handful of less-than-noteworthy films after that. However, the auteur did do cameos in films like Day of the Locust and Shampoo, both released in 1975. He also wrote a book about his experiences in Hollywood entitled: “Step Right Up! I’m Gonna Scare the Pants Off America.“
Legacy
William Castle passed away in 1977. Vincent Price offered the following thoughts upon the death of the King of Ballyhoo:
“Castle’s films don’t date, they just become more fun as the years go by…He was a wonder to work with, outrageously witty, and wise to what the public wanted. He relished “scaring the pants off America.” And they’re still looking for them”
