You know, I thought of writing this post—all about the Marx Brothers’ 1946 film, A Night in Casablanca (only it really isn’t)—anyway, I had this idea of writing it from the point of view of Sig Ruman’s film toupee.
Sig Ruman is the film’s baddie. And to make sure other characters don’t recognize him as the baddie he is, he wears a toupee for disguise. That makes his toupee important. So important that the hairpiece in the part even has a name. Sewn right into its lining:
Now that interested me. Whoever heard of a toupee with a moniker? But there it is, right onscreen—Mr. Stubel, Performing Hairpiece. Playing a major role in a major motion picture. Who knew toupees acted in films? A whole new side of Hollywood opened up for me: That small, exclusive acting colony of the Artificial Follicle. It raised so many questions: Like, how does a toupee get cast? Does it have to audition? What do postichean casting directors look for? What kind of negotiations go on between producers and a toupee’s agent? (And what kind of agents have toupees for clients?) What’s the going rate for scalp actors, anyway? What’s it based on? Experience? Texture? Length? Would, for example, a medium-sized toupee earn as much as a towering Marie Antoinette peruke?
Moot points, I’m afraid. Although Herr Stubel gets his name on screen, he doesn’t get a credit in the cast list. Nor even a mention on the film’s IMDB page. He plays his part—mainly being sucked off Ruman’s bald pate by a vacuum tube (a risky stunt, for which, I’m sure, no doubles were used)—beautifully, inestimably enhancing his co-star’s performance. Yet for much of the picture Herr Stubel is out of sight—stuffed in a drawer or hidden under a hat. But for the few meaningful moments he is on, Herr Stubel really dives into his role. In more ways than one.
There are no small parts, as the saying goes, and our tufted friend, despite his brief time onscreen, truly does his hairoic bit. Bravo, I say.
But poor Hair Stubel is not alone in his limited screen time. Opportunities for other scalp actors in this film are as thin as Groucho’s own scanty thatch. Chico, as usual, keeps his curls tucked under his round hat. But shockingly—and I do mean shock—Harpo’s usual blond wig wasn’t cast. Instead, the decision was made to cast Harpo’s real hair, combined with a dyed-red weave. The result, writes Stefan Kanfer, Groucho’s biographer, makes Harpo look like a “distressed Ariel.” Kanfer’s being kind about those dissed tresses. Harpo looks like he stuck his finger in a light socket and forgot to remove it. The sight of those shocked locks is truly hair-raising to see.
But there’s another issue, which is: Why was Harpo’s wig getting the brush-off to begin with? I mean—after all those years of loyal scalp service. Only to be tossed aside, like a used rug, and recast with what looks like a frizzled perm on steroids. Now that’s what I call a mangy deal. No respect or consideration given. Instead, that poor wig probably got shoved into some cramped, dusty drawer. Probably the same cramped, dusty drawer Hair Stubel got shoved into. Where, in such a squeezed space, they’ll probably end up getting into each other’s hair.
What these hairpieces need is a Union. Let’s not beat about the bush; these guys lack job protection out there in Heartless Hollywoodland—a town filled to its follicles with hairy toppings of every sort. And all of them so…essential to the creation of cinematic illusions. Picture, for instance, how [Insert Name Here] would look like without any scalp cover! Why, Hollywood would become one giant cue ball, from one end of town to the other. And who buys a movie ticket to watch a pool table? I’ll even suggest a Union name: The International Snoodhood of Toupees, Wigs, Falls, Perukes, Extensions, and General Scalp Coverings. (That last part excluding Hats. It’s not that we’ve anything against Hats. Only they should start their own union. As should Dresses, Shoes, Ties, Overcoats, Bathing Suits, Socks, and Undergarments of all Persuasions. That’ll show those Tinsel Town Honchos!)
Wigs of the World, Unite! You have nothing to lose but your Manes!
Despite their value to our movie viewing pleasure, however, never do these hardworking little rugs receive even the merest wisps of recognition. Instead, they’re fleeced, skinned, pelted, ruffed up, and pretty much have the wool pulled over their eyes (or…whatever they use for eyes…). What, you think because it’s stuck on a mannequin stand that a wig doesn’t have feelings? Imagine the sorrow, the heartbreak, the dis-tresses they must suffer. Sheesh, that’s worthy of not just a Marx Brothers flick, but of a Cinematic Epic. You know, like From Hair to Eternity. Or Ben-Hair. Or maybe an entire Hairy Potter series. Or even a coiffured version of Hamlet—capped by that famous soliloquy: “Toupee, or Not Toupee”. (I couldn’t resist that…)
And so, dear readers, as we start our movie-viewing year of 2024, entranced by all those cinematically pretty faces we so love to watch…please give a thought to what’s above it all—those silky locks, those bushy mops, and those oh-so flowing manes. All of which are brought to you courtesy of Hair Stuber and Furiends. Who ask for nothing more than a tip of the (unionized) hat now and then…so they, too, can get their Place in the Sal-un.
Ah, well. Hair Toupee. Gone Tomorrow.
Hairy—that is, I mean Happy—New Year.
Bonus Clip: Aside from those fringe scenes with the great comedy team of Ruman and Stubel, here’s a clip of A Night in Casablanca‘s next funniest scene (but give a thought for Harpo’s absent wig):
You can watch A Night in Casablanca on YouTube here; free with ads, while available. Hairyfyingly funny.
Grand Old Movies 