Masks in Film History
Wallet. Keys. Phone … Mask. Covid-19 has brought on a “new normal” in every aspect of our lives and the house departure checklist just got a little longer. Though Covid-19 has made face masks a new addition to our regular wardrobe, they have quite a long history in cinema, and not just as costumes on characters but as themes in a story.
The mask’s power as a transformative tool is so ritualized and timeworn that it is the unofficial logo for an entire artform. Since theater was an influence on early motion pictures (consider the framing and gestural acting of silent film), it figures that masks would be smuggled into movies. Some of the most enduring images from film history are associated with masks.
It appears that there are three primary uses of masks in film: entertainment, disguise and protection. Of course there is crossover (the masks of 1999’s Eyes Wide Shut arguably disguise AND entertain) and distortion (the oxygen mask of 1986’s Blue Velvet is definitely not used for protection) but I’ll be using these three loose categories to explore masks in film history. I’m the first to admit that the scope of this rudimentary categorization is far from complete, and would most likely expand considering the inclusion of face-masks in films regarding 2020.
MASKS AS ENTERTAINMENT
From ancient Greek plays through Japanese Noh theater, masks are deeply intertwined in the universal language of entertainment and ritual. An Oni-mask (devil-mask) from Noh theater becomes a mother-in-law’s scare tactic in 1964’s Onibaba. Terry Gilliam’s baby-head mask in Brazil (1985) conceals the identity of the torturer but also offers eye candy for the audience. Leatherface changes masks throughout The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) to please himself and, strangely enough, us. The fantastic designs of many masks throughout film history offer an fascinating meta dual role: disguise the character, entertain the audience. The infamously intimidating black visage from Amadeus (1984) conceals Salieri’s identity, as played by F. Murray Abraham; there is also a masked ball sequence, appropriate to 18th century Vienna.
Masquerades appear through film history, from Gilda (1946) to Marie Antoinette (2006). A masked ball offers Cary Grant an opportunity to deceive Grace Kelly in To Catch a Thief (1955), while Jennifer Connelly dreams of David Bowie at a masquerade in Labyrinth (1986). Masquerades continue to act as key scene locations for Anthony Adverse (1936), An American in Paris (1951), Judex & Tom Jones (both 1963), The Abominable Dr. Phibas (1971) & Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet (1996).
Masquerades carry along the plot, but then there are plots entirely activated by a mask. Jim Carrey’s supernatural elasticity in The Mask (1994) is perhaps the most immediate example. Fred Astaire dances with masked women bearing Ginger Rogers’ face in a bizarre attempt to woo her in Shall We Dance (1937). Anthology film Flesh & Fantasy (1943) features a magical mask worn during Mardi Gras, while Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960, released in Italy as The Mask of Satan) features masks with internal spikes, hammered onto the face as punishment. Bava’s son Lamberto similarly places a mask at the beginning of Demons (1985); the bizarre, silver construction is exhibited in a cinema lobby, scratching all who touch it. Jason Lee in The Crow (1994) uses a Harlequin mask as inspiration for his own transformation, while the vivid masks of Sichuan opera enhance the tradition of performance in King of Masks (1995). Death Mask (1998) features a mask that (as you may have guessed) kills those who wear it, whereas George A. Romero’s Bruiser (2000) has a protagonist whose mask seemingly inspires an entire rampage.
The phrase “mask” lends a genuine air of intrigue to a title, whether it be Peter Lorre films such as The Face Behind the Mask (1941) and The Mask of Dimitrios (1944), or Roger Corman’s Poe adaptation The Masque of the Red Death (1964). Surrealist film The Mask (1961) is often considered the first Canadian horror film. And often, masks are simply employed as a means of contextual necessity: Halloween scenes in Meet Me in St. Louis (1944), E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982) or the Pagan ritual found in The Wicker Man (1973). The first film featuring legendary luchador Santo was released in 1961 (Santo vs. the Evil Brain), as masks are core to lucha libre. The simplicity of Santo’s mask is as compelling as the blankness of Michael Meyers in Halloween (1978) or the minimalism of tokusatsu hero Ultraman, whose first film was released in 1967. There are stories of characters affected by masks, but these masks affect audiences and absorb projections so readily that several enter pop culture iconography.
MASKS AS DISGUISE
Consider the verb. Masks in movies usually cloak identity; such a straightforward concealment opens new storytelling possibilities as social status and recognition disintegrate. French silent crime serial Les Vampires (1915, not about vampires) is about masked members of Paris’ criminal underworld. Studios releasing Westerns would even highlight the bandit conceit in the title, with films such as Universal’s The Masked Rider (1941) or RKO’s Masked Raiders (1949). Crime films and noirs are loaded with masks, from the hooded holdup in Kansas City Confidential (1952) to the bank robbery clown mask in Stanley Kubrick’s The Killing (1956, which seemed to influence 2008’s The Dark Knight). Cloaked criminality comes up in English costume drama The Wicked Lady (1945), Tony Curtis swashbuckler The Purple Mask (1955) and Italian action film Danger: Diabolik (1968).
Harry Belafonte, Robert Ryan, and Ed Begley attempt a hold-up with face-masks in Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) eerily similar to those worn in public today. Heist masks appear in The List of Adrian Messenger (1963) while Sean Connery and company don leather masks in The Anderson Tapes (1971). The cheap rubber masks in The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973) seemed to influence a range of crime films following, including the President masks of Point Break (1991), the animal masks of Killing Zoe (1993), the nun masks of The Town (2010) and the bald mask in Drive (2011). Michael Mann’s Heat (1995) opts for hockey masks during the heist, as does Steve McQueen’s Widows (2018). Kung-fu fighters with singular animal styles wear corresponding masks in Five Deadly Venoms (1978), a classic from the Shaw Brothers who would use a similar motif in Masked Avenger (1981).
The phrase “masked avenger” could be generally appropriate for any roundup of iconic mysterious do-gooders: The Lone Ranger, Zorro, The Green Hornet, just about all superheroes. The Guy Fawkes mask in V for Vendetta (2005) has been famously appropriated by hacktivist collective Anonymous. Alternately, the heist masks from Spring Breakers (2012) bear a striking resemblance to the Pussy Riot balaclavas.
Similarly covering the entire face and head (albeit, in bandages), The Invisible Man (1933) is one of classic horror’s most enduring, costume-friendly designs (and perhaps an influence on Sam Raimi’s 1990 superhero film Darkman). Vincent Price conceals his identity as the murderer in House of Wax (1953) with a wax mask, of course. A featureless killer strikes terror in Giallo masterpiece Blood and Black Lace (1964). Joan Crawford axe-murder flick Straight Jacket (1964) utilizes the mask as a narrative lynchpin, whereas Brian de Palma opts for extravagance with the owl-inspired mask in Phanom of the Paradise (1974). Texas indie horror The Town That Dreaded Sundown (1976) may have inspired the hooded eye-hole design from the first Friday the 13th (1980) installment. Masks continue to provide scares through Tobe Hooper carnival horror The Funhouse (1981), Italian slasher film Deliria (1987), and Clive Barker’s Nightbreed (1990). One of the most recognizable horror masks concealing identity is Ghostface from Scream (1996), an image somewhat synonymous with Halloween itself. The Wax Mask (1997), Vidocq (2001), Kill List & You’re Next (both 2011), The Purge (2013), Hush (2016), Haunt and Trick (both 2019) all utilize masks to conceal identity.
Beyond horror, there is surprising variety in how masks are used to conceal or disguise. The 1952 swashbuckler Scaramouche sees Stewart Granger adopt the titular stock clown character from the commedia dell’arte theatrical form. A mask is used to hide disfigurement in films as varied as Cinemascope sci-fi Queen of Outer Space (1958) and David Lynch’s somber Elephant Man (1980). Hopping genres too (fantasy with 1987’s The Princess Bride, comedy with 1993’s Mrs. Doubtfire), surprise “mask rips” have become a running joke in the Mission Impossible franchise.
MASKS AS PROTECTION
It could be argued that “disguise” falls under the category of “protection” but I’m referring to much more utilitarian uses. Oxygen masks are embraced in The Crazies (1973) and rejected in Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977). Of course goalie masks appear in Slap Shot (1977), Youngblood (1986), and The Mighty Ducks (1992). Audrey Hepburn dons a sleeping mask to bed in Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961); Steve McQueen dons a face-guard in Le Mans (1971). John Malkovich wears a protective cone mask for wig powdering in Dangerous Liaisons (1988); Madonna oversees masked fencers in Die Another Day (2002).
Facial transplants serve as a focal point around the French horror film Eyes Without a Face (1960) and Japanese film The Face of Another (1966). One can find a grimier version of Eyes Without a Face in 1977’s Scalpel; it’s a similar story regarding an obsessive surgeon, only set in the American South. (Incidentally, Scalpel was the last film I saw in theaters before quarantine, playing in a double-feature after David Cronenberg’s The Brood (1979) at The New Beverly on March 10. California went into lockdown roughly a week later.) Also inspired by Eyes Without a Face is Pedro Almodovar’s The Skin I Live In from 2011, a film about a plastic surgeon (Antonio Banderas) attempting to create artificial skin.
No discussion of surgery could bypass the extensive presence of face-masks in nearly any scene featuring doctors, hospitals, medical centers, or war scenarios. The Young Doctors (1961) comes to mind, as does The Young Doctors in Love (1982), which had a teaser poster of two doctors in face-masks passionately kissing on the beach à la From Here to Eternity (1953). Robert Altman’s classic M*A*S*H (1970), The Hospital (1971) starring George C. Scott and Michael Crichton’s Coma (1978) all feature face-masks used by medical personnel. And then, of course, are the pandemic films that hit too close to home, where multiple kinds of protective masks can be seen. These are films such as Outbreak (1995), Carriers (2009), and Contagion (2011).
Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter is wearing a mask in The Silence of the Lambs (1991) as a restraint, almost a muzzle. One is reminded of the Man in the Iron Mask, a centuries-old French legend. Whether it’s Douglas Fairbanks in The Iron Mask (1929), Louis Hayward in James Whales’ The Man in the Iron Mask (1939), Patricia Medina in Lady in the Iron Mask (1952), or Leonardo DiCaprio’s 1998 turn in the role, this ambiguous, mysterious visage certainly captures audience imaginations.
As mentioned before, there is some Venn-diagramming with the categories I’ve loosely laid out. Darth Vader’s mask in Star Wars (1977) disguises his identity and is an entertaining nightmare of sleek geometry. But the main function of the mask? Respiratory assistance. Same reason why I’ve placed Bane’s mask from The Dark Knight Rises (2012), which is said to release an anesthetic to suppress pain, in the disguise section of the article. The Phantom of the Opera (both 1925 and 2004) is about a man disguising himself after committing murder, but also to hide his disfigurement. Frank (2014) is about a musician who wears a goofy oversized smiling head, but who has also suffered from severe mental health issues all of his life; the mask could be considered therapeutic, a comfortable extension to the outside world.
Jason Voorhees and his bloodied hockey mask (which did not appear until 1982’s Friday the 13th Part III) is arguably also used for self-protection. The character is generally thought to be a disfigured boy who was thrown into a lake, drowned, and has enacted revenge on summer campers ever since. This would imply that Jason Voorhees doesn’t wear the mask for entertainment (it’s a fairly banal item) or disguise (we know his name) but for protection. The protagonist of Friday the 13th wears a mask to protect himself from the shame and humiliation of his disfigurement. Oddly, the mask makes Jason human.
Perhaps I bit off more than I could chew. So many films merit inclusion- for example, any scene depicting Day of the Dead counts, as skeleton masks would be featured. And where does the definition end? Would scenes with spa facials count? Once one begins looking, masks are everywhere. We’ve made death masks for centuries while The Masked Singer surges in popularity. Given their ubiquity throughout time, it is alarming to hear about any resistance toward wearing face-masks. Alarming, but not surprising: human selfishness is as familiar in storytelling as masks themselves. Recognizing the significance of face-masks will only help bring us closer to a time when we can leave them at home.
