Hugo: Man of a Thousand Faces
Say
you were a fan of toys with interchangeable facial features. But say
you were also a realist, and a brown potato head just didn't float
your playtime boat. Say these two things, and then say "Hugo: Man of a
Thousand Faces" - because Hugo was probably just the plastic noggin
you were looking for.
First released in 1975, Hugo was a bald, rather creepy-looking hollow
torso and head - vinyl on top, with stuffed cloth arms. But with the
head/torso get-up came an accessory kit which toy company Kenner
claimed could give the arranging artiste a thousand different end
combinations.
And before you go chalking up that claim to plain old
marketing brouhaha, check out the list of special face accoutrement:
sideburns, a goatee, eyebrows, noses, chins, scars, warts, eyes, an
eye patch, sunglasses, eyeglasses, a mask, a head bandage, moustaches,
fangs, and a wig. And keep in mind, the additional eyes, chins and
noses included in this feature menagerie came in addition to
the features that Hugo was born with. Hey, a thousand different faces
might have been possible after all.
Instead
of pegs and holes, Hugo's features were affixed with temporary glue,
which came in two little sticks. Of course, if you were a real Hugo
devotee, you went through those glue sticks in no time, and then you
were presented with a problem: paste and white glue were messy and
clumpy and Hugo didn't much care for having his hair and his warts
torn off when they had been attached with such serious adhesives. Or
at least it didn't look like he did - Hugo never really talked
that much.
Kids in the mid to late 1970's face-arranged for hours, and Pee Wee
Herman, incidentally, had some well-remembered ventriloquist fun with
Hugo during one of his early comedy stand-up shows. Future plastic
surgeons, future disguise artists, future artists who emulated those
off-kilter Picasso-like facial features - for all of you and many
others, Hugo was your man.
The box exclaims "Make thousands of pretend friends!"
- Yeah, friends who look like they'd shiv a seven-year-old sooner than
play dolly with him . . . |
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