bride of frankenstein
Serendipitously, I came across this picture by chance during an archive search on another topic. It reached out from its now completely alien era, with that glass plate clarity of an anonymous bustling street, and candid faces caught in a stylised moment. It was too evocative to resist.
The National Archives original of this picture (which is linked to the big one above if you'd like glorious diorama full-size) was simply titled 'Bride of Frankenstein, 12/7/35'. Fortunately, I recognised that ancient, now very extinct, streetscape in the background. So naturally, I delved..
I think I was most moved by the kindness and innocence on these peoples' faces. It's pre-war and a time that's still pretty much pre-mass production, so really not that much removed from the Victorians' civility and propriety. The reduction of human dignity and march to barbarism is decades away. Here, society is still bonded by trust, dignity, and respect.
This was my grandparents' era, so the social connection with how these people thought and lived is perfectly familiar from my own growing up. In those decades to come, the younger ones here will be sporting crazy-pattern polyester pant suits or powder blue safari shorts with long socks, while mentoring spotty, greasy haired teens with sustaining morality like, "you can always bend down and pick up nothing", or "if you want to interest a boy, walk away. But look back."
Anyway, returning to the pic, why was this footpath so busy on July 12, 1935? Is it typical of downtown Sydney in those days? From stories I was told, probably. But what's going on here is a bit special, and without any more info than the date and title to go on, it took some deduction to figure out.
It's winter of course, and Dateandtime.com says it was a Sunday. The shadows are an overcast afternoon, the streetscape puts us in George Street's cinema strip, and we're all in our literally Sunday best. There's a poster on the rear wall advertising Bride of Frankenstein, and according to IMDB, 1935's the year it was released. So the trail's hotting up.
Weeks after I first found this pic, again by chance I came across its mate, or perhaps just one of a long lost series, as it was obviously taken very shortly after the first. In the new one, a car has drawn up to the kerb, and most of the crowd are looking at it. On closer inspection, it seems perhaps what we have is some very early PR hype.
The grand limo is beribboned in wedding car style, it's just arrived at a cinema screening the newly released 'Bride of Frankenstein', and there's a crowd gathered on the pavement outside. Clouseau, what do you think's going on?
~~
Clicking on the image of the "Monster's Mate" above will give you a look at how that 1935 scene outside appears in 2007. It may disappoint.
I'm uncertain of this cinema's original name, as it's had many incarnations over the years. It's now just a shell for a complex of snack shops, bars, and a language school, but in the early 80s I used to know it as Maxys, when the auditorium had been converted to a roller rink. I'd go with friends after work on Thursdays for the gay roller disco night. IMMENSE clean fun! [Hm, - 1980s, gay, disco, and roller, in one para. Do I rock?] It still had the original opulent decoration then, of which there's just a sad remnant left in the foyer of the present McDonalds franchise.
Not so evocative anymore. Just a relic of something that was wonderful for a long time to a lot of people, now just very gone.
The National Archives original of this picture (which is linked to the big one above if you'd like glorious diorama full-size) was simply titled 'Bride of Frankenstein, 12/7/35'. Fortunately, I recognised that ancient, now very extinct, streetscape in the background. So naturally, I delved..
I think I was most moved by the kindness and innocence on these peoples' faces. It's pre-war and a time that's still pretty much pre-mass production, so really not that much removed from the Victorians' civility and propriety. The reduction of human dignity and march to barbarism is decades away. Here, society is still bonded by trust, dignity, and respect.
This was my grandparents' era, so the social connection with how these people thought and lived is perfectly familiar from my own growing up. In those decades to come, the younger ones here will be sporting crazy-pattern polyester pant suits or powder blue safari shorts with long socks, while mentoring spotty, greasy haired teens with sustaining morality like, "you can always bend down and pick up nothing", or "if you want to interest a boy, walk away. But look back."
Anyway, returning to the pic, why was this footpath so busy on July 12, 1935? Is it typical of downtown Sydney in those days? From stories I was told, probably. But what's going on here is a bit special, and without any more info than the date and title to go on, it took some deduction to figure out.
It's winter of course, and Dateandtime.com says it was a Sunday. The shadows are an overcast afternoon, the streetscape puts us in George Street's cinema strip, and we're all in our literally Sunday best. There's a poster on the rear wall advertising Bride of Frankenstein, and according to IMDB, 1935's the year it was released. So the trail's hotting up.
Weeks after I first found this pic, again by chance I came across its mate, or perhaps just one of a long lost series, as it was obviously taken very shortly after the first. In the new one, a car has drawn up to the kerb, and most of the crowd are looking at it. On closer inspection, it seems perhaps what we have is some very early PR hype.
~~
I'm uncertain of this cinema's original name, as it's had many incarnations over the years. It's now just a shell for a complex of snack shops, bars, and a language school, but in the early 80s I used to know it as Maxys, when the auditorium had been converted to a roller rink. I'd go with friends after work on Thursdays for the gay roller disco night. IMMENSE clean fun! [Hm, - 1980s, gay, disco, and roller, in one para. Do I rock?] It still had the original opulent decoration then, of which there's just a sad remnant left in the foyer of the present McDonalds franchise.
Not so evocative anymore. Just a relic of something that was wonderful for a long time to a lot of people, now just very gone.
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