The term immersive cinema might feel like an invention of the modern world. After all, swift and drastic technological changes have given way to theatrical formats like 3D and 4DX.
Taking technology out of the equation, we have full-on immersive experiences like Secret Cinema. Audiences can literally walk into a recreation of hit TV shows like Stranger Things or iconic moves like Back To The Future (1985). For me, Secret Cinema remains at the apex of immersive cinema as it brings the film (or TV show) to the real world.
However, the origins of immersive cinema go back further than you might think, all the way back to the 1930s. The pioneering efforts of prolific B-Movie director William Castle would leave a lasting impression on the industry. While his movies would never win an Academy Award, his innovative gimmicks (briefly) captured audiences’ attention.
Working his way up from a stage assistant to making iconic horror films such as The House of Haunted Hill (1959) and 13 Ghosts (1960). The life of William Castle belongs on the big screen, or at the very least, a limited series.
A Natural Born Showman
Born in New York City mere months after the start of the First World War, William Schloss (German for Castle) had a difficult start in life. An orphan by age 11, Castle’s love of horror, suspense, and all things show business had already taken hold.
A couple of years later, a trip to see a play starring an unknown Hungarian actor changed Castle’s life forever. The play in question was Dracula, and the actor was, of course, Bela Lugosi. Castle saw the play multiple times, and each performance fuelled his imagination. Eventually, Castle meets Lugosi, who is so taken with him that Castle is soon offered a job with the production.
A Phone Call With A Titan of Cinema
Proving that Castle’s famous bravado and showmanship was something he was born with, his first theater production was home to his debut gimmick. In his autobiography, Step Right Up! I’m Gonna Scare The Pants Off America, Castle tells the fascinating tale of a phone call with legendary filmmaker and actor Orson Welles.
Long story short, Welles was using the Stony Creek Theatre to work on a film adaptation of the play Too Much Johnson. The troubled project was set to combine live musical performances with filmed elements. Castle acquired Welles’ phone number in a bid to secure the lease on the theater. This is exactly what happened, and Castle was able to mount his first production.
A decade later, Castle would collaborate with Welles again (as an associate producer) on his film The Lady from Shanghai (1947).
Setting The Stage For The First Gimmick
Hiring German actress Ellen Schwanneke, Castle’s debut hit an immediate snag. Seeing that the theater guild rules didn’t permit a German-speaking performer to take an English-language role. Castle had to get creative.
In this situation, most producers would likely recast. Castle went a drastically different route, and he lied his pants off. Castle told the authorities that Schwanneke was cast in his play Das ist nicht für Kinder (Not For Children). It didn’t exist, so he then frantically wrote the play in a few days.
However, things escalated when Schwanneke was invited to perform at an event in Munich. Castle saw this as an opportunity to promote the play, and his first gimmick was born. He released a fake telegram that rejected the offer, with Schwanneke now heralded as “the girl who said no to Hitler.”
Never one to do anything in half measures, Castle drew swastikas outside the theater to cause more outrage. While the tactics were questionable, the gimmick worked, and the play was a hit.
Prolific B-Movie Director
Setting his sights on the talkies, Castle went to work for the rapidly growing movie studio Columbia Pictures. Starting in smaller roles, he quickly made an impression and directed his first feature film, The Chance of a Lifetime (1943). This started a long run at Columbia (and other studios), with Castle making a name for himself by delivering movies on time and under budget.
Castle spent more than a decade churning out thrillers, crime stories, and just about everything apart from horror. That all changed in 1958 with his self-financed picture, Macabre (1958). Even though Castle was a seasoned filmmaker, a lot was riding on his horror debut being a success. Meanwhile, Televisions were growing in popularity, and Castle knew he’d need more than a spooky movie to entice audiences.
The Legendary Gimmicks
Utilizing a marketing method Castle called ‘Barnstorming,’ Macabre was going on the road with Castle and company, marketing the film state-to-state. Offering audience members a (fake) $1000 life insurance policy certificate in case they were scared to death during the screening. Castle took things up a notch and hired actors to play medical staff who were ‘on hand’ to help.
Inspired by the showmanship of the likes of P.T. Barnum (as played by Hugh Jackman in The Greatest Showman), Castle saw Cinema as something to be experienced. The hype surrounding Macabre was astonishing, and the gimmick worked a treat as the film made more than $5 million. There wasn’t really much in the way of physical media, so most films would enjoy long theatrical runs.
Here’s a selection of some of the wild ideas Castle brought to life for his movies;
- “Emergo” House on Haunted Hill (1959) Castle rigged theaters with a pulley system that allowed a plastic skeleton to float above the audience. During the film’s climax, viewers got a fright as the skeleton “emerged” from the screen into the room.
- “Percepto” The Tingler (1959): In this fun horror film about a parasite that attaches itself to humans and can only be killed by screaming. Castle wired selected seats with electric buzzers. So, during critical scenes, these seats would vibrate, giving viewers a real (mild) electric shock.
- “Illusion-O” 13 Ghosts (1960): Castle’s take on 3D involved handing out special “ghost viewers” (colored glasses) that allowed audiences to “see” the ghosts on screen by filtering out certain images.
- “Punishment Poll” Mr. Sardonicus (1961): At the end, Castle pretends to give the audience the power to decide the villain’s fate by raising a paddle. Thumbs-up to live, thumbs-down to die. In reality, Castle only filmed one ending, ensuring the villain’s gruesome demise no matter the outcome.
Failed Attempts to Imitate Castle
Unlike legendary director Alfred Hitchcock, who once sought Castle’s advice for promoting Psycho, other filmmakers attempted to copy Castle’s formula. Various studios all tried to cash in on the gimmick trend with increasingly strange and often ill-advised ideas.
As difficult as it might be to accept, these terrible ideas all 100% happened;
- Smell-O-Vision Scent of Mystery (1960): One of the most notorious failures in cinema history. Smell-O-Vision involved releasing scents into the theater at set moments in the film. However, the (costly) system malfunctioned frequently—delayed smells, mismatched scents, and audiences being more confused than impressed. The film was re-released under a new title, Holiday in Spain, minus the smells.
- Sensurround Earthquake (1974): While not a total failure, Sensurround was an early attempt at using sound to physically impact the audience. Employing deep bass frequencies to create effective rumbling effects. While the effect was impressive, it caused structural damage in some theaters and was too expensive to maintain.
- 3D Overload: While 3D technology had been around for years, filmmakers in the 1960s and 1970s tried to bring it back with varying success.
The quality of 3D films was often poor, and audiences grew weary of the glasses, deeming it a passing fad. 3D would have an early 00s resurgence, with horror movies once again leading the charge.
He Nearly Directed A Horror Classic
Prior to its publication in 1967, William Castle purchased the film rights to Ira Levin’s book, Rosemary’s Baby. Initially, Castle hoped to go mainstream and direct the film himself.
Despite his best efforts, it wasn’t to be, as his B-movie portfolio unfairly presented him as unsuitable for an A-list project. On the positive side, Castle did produce Rosemary’s Baby (plus a cameo), and it kept his hopes of moving up in Hollywood alive.
In a cruel twist of fate, Castle was struck down with kidney failure shortly after Rosemary’s Baby (1968) was released. As a result, Castle didn’t get to go to the big leagues, and he returned to the world of B-Movies.
The Decline and End of Gimmick Films
By the late 1960s, the novelty of gimmicks began to wear off. Audiences had grown accustomed to Castle’s bag of tricks. Many of the subsequent gimmick films that followed were critically panned and box office flops.
In addition to improved technology, there was a broader shift in audience taste. Films became more focused on narrative complexity, character development, and stylistic experimentation. Audiences began to demand more mature and engaging movies. The era of flashy stunts and carnival-esque film promotion slowly faded into obscurity.
The (Sort Of) William Castle Biopic
The life of William Castle is fascinating and long overdue for fully-fledged biopic treatment. However, Gremlins (1984) director Joe Dante made a sorely underrated film called Matinee (1993). John Goodman stars as a William Castle-type character named Laurence Woosley. A charismatic filmmaker deploying gimmicks and fast-talk to sell tickets to his new horror picture.
Matinee is a charming little film, and well worth seeking out if you’ve not seen it. For now, it’s the closest we have to a biopic. Well, that and a fantastic in-depth documentary, Spine Tingler! The William Castle Story (2007), it’s a thrilling watch.
Technology Takes The Baton
Although gimmick movies ultimately died out, their legacy lives on in modern cinema. Today, we see echoes of Castle’s showmanship in interactive theater experiences, 4D cinemas, and marketing stunts for blockbuster films.
The first time I experienced 4DX, I learned something about myself. Early into the proceedings, it became clear that I didn’t enjoy being violently shaken while watching a movie. For me, the movie will always be enough as it is. Be that as it may, I’m more in favor of Castle’s antics than watching a film on a rollercoaster.
Regardless of my lack of enjoyment of the 4DX format, plenty of people regularly enjoy it. To its credit, the technology has improved vastly in a short time.
Wrapping Up
The era of gimmick cinema was undeniably a fascinating chapter in movie history, brief as it was. It remains a testament to the creativity and audacity of filmmakers who pushed the boundaries of cinema as an event, not just a story.
It may have taken TV a few decades, but Castle was right. TV has entrenched itself on the theatrical side of the industry. In many ways, the modern reaction to the rise of streaming is with 4DX, 3D, or IMAX, something that offers a different experience. Today, getting audiences to buy a ticket might take more than a mild electric shock or a faux insurance policy.
Castle’s showmanship and films stand as a unique moment when a filmmaker truly sought to turn going to the movies into an unforgettable event. To put it another way, Castle is one of many eccentric, larger-than-life characters that made the golden era of Hollywood the treasure it was.
