The Tri-Star Pictures Pegasus, galloping towards my living room, is for me today the very image of childhood—such is the persistence of production logos in the mind. (Speaking of, I am certain I don’t need to tell you that Fred Dekker’s The Monster Squad is coming out on DVD February 19th, courtesy of Olive Films.)
In what is perhaps the least-anticipated crossover since DEVO and Jermaine Jackson’s “Let Me Tickle Your Fancy,” this week Bombast has lazily partnered with Video World to salute the art of the logo, the bumper, the ident, what have you. With Video World having handled the VHS end of things, I shall be looking at personal favorites from the cine-mah. And what better place to start than with the gold standard?
Universal’s logo has had many lovely iterations. I am thinking particularly of the plexiglass globe of 1936 to 1947 created by art department head Alexander Golitzen, who also designed a number of Douglas Sirk’s pictures. But there is a special place in my heart for this, the logo that first appeared in 1963, without fanfare and wearing the cosmos like a silken wrap, and which was retired after 1990’s Bird on a Wire—although it later popped up in front of both Drag Me to Hell and Inglorious Basterds by fellow aficionados Sam Raimi and Quentin Tarantino. Were I inclined towards psychoanalysis, I would say my affinity has something to do with long, unoccupied summer afternoons spent among the faded cabinet of curiosities at the Cincinnati Natural History Museum, or possibly with Donald Siegel.
Another logo that ranks (ha, ha) among the immortals. Striking the J. Arthur Rank Organization gong—in fact a piece of flimsy paper-mache—is one Ken Richmond, a strapping, 6’5” London-born heavyweight wrestler who was a bronze medalist at the 1952 Olympics in Helsinki, and who collected a one-time £100 fee for a gig that gained him immortality. (Well, not really; he died in 2006). The above was seen before most, if not all of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s Archers’ productions, whose own ident was nothing to sneeze at, as well as before Hammer time. Most of the UK production logos skew towards royal pomp, and though that isn’t really my bag, I will fess to a fondness for the genteel, slightly come-hither nodding portrait of Gainsborough Pictures.
I should like to have a nice ‘60s-vintage TohoScope logo here, but YouTube is surprisingly unhelpful on this matter. Nevertheless, from the above you can get a fairly good idea of why, when I die, I should like nothing better than to find myself slowly drifting out towards the Toho logo, and eternity. On a not-at-all-unrelated note, if any fan should like to anonymously purchase me this California Sunburst chandelier, “inspired by” the stage design of Tony Duqette, I would graciously accept.
Mascot, which specialized in B-Westerns, was one of several minor studios eventually folded together as Republic Pictures. That’s certainly of interest to film historians, but what’s most interesting for our purposes is its idents’ shameless appropriation of both the MGM jungle cat and the Universal globe themes. (Among the other studios eventually bundled together into Republic, Majestic boasted a logo that makes one really feel the poverty of Poverty Row, while Invincible, for whom Albert Speer was evidently a freelance designer, must at least be credited with healthy self-esteem.)
Logos themed to the movies they’re introducing are a nice piece of curtain-raising fun, especially when encountered from within an era when many filmmakers striving after the ever-elusive zephyr of realism seem inclined to dispense altogether with the gimcrack showmanship of opening titles. Walter Hill’s Bullet to the Head kicks off with a good’un, and I have always enjoyed the hijacked MGM ident from the top of Polanski’s The Fearless Vampire Killers. No small ego, Cecil B. DeMille was particularly prone to plunking his John Hancock over the Paramountain and, whatever arrogance was implicit in such displays of clout, I can see no reason why Paramount shouldn’t have permanently adopted this, with the brooding Sinai introducing DeMille’s Ten Commandments.
This, taken from the opening of 1970′s Chisum, is a charming relic from the studio-firesale-to-corporations era. (See also: “Paramount: A Gulf + Western Company,” Universal with the MCA/ Edward Muhl stamp, and Coca-Cola logo Columbia.) On the subject of the Kinney conglomerate, I will defer to Wikipedia: “Kinney Parking Company was a New Jersey owned by Manny Kimmel, Sigmund Dornbusch, and an American Mafia figure, Abner Zwillman. Prior to its public listing in 1960, it merged with a funeral home company, Riverside, and then expanded into car-rentals, office cleaning firms and construction companies.” And in 1969, they bought Warner Bros.
Speaking of which, do you guys think that “Five Corporations” song off End Hits is about the “Big Five” studios? It’s gotta be, rite?
Nick Pinkerton is a regular contributor to The Village Voice film section, Sight & Sound magazine, and sundry other publications. He lives in Brooklyn, NY. Follow Nick on Twitter @NickPinkerton.