Monster Masks

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At Composite Effects in Baton Rouge, monsters rise from silicone

From the street, the headquarters of Composite Effects, or CFX, looks like a common warehouse in an industrial section of South Baton Rouge. Inside this modest exterior, the front office is small and whitewashed. Two desks sit against the longer walls with file folders and papers perched on top. A calendar picturing puppies and kittens hangs next to an invoice that details the cost of shipping synthetic blood and slime across the country. A lightweight door is all that separates the “normal” world from a factory that manufactures detailed nightmares in the form of lifelike silicone masks.

CFX co-owners and Louisiana natives Wes Branton and Ken Decker met in 2006 while studying sculpture at LSU. Branton had been thinking of moving to New York or Los Angeles to start his special effects career, and Decker had a paid apprenticeship at Jim Henson Company. But the two decided to open a prop shop in Baton Rouge. “The movie industry was new to Louisiana and a better opportunity than going to an over-saturated area,” Branton said. “It was a gamble. It took more courage to stay and to build this up in Baton Rouge.”

[Pictured above: A multi-step process takes these monster masks from their origins as carved busts to airbrushed silicone masterpieces that move with the musculature of the human face.]

While creating special effects and make-up at local haunted house The 13th Gate, Branton and Decker came to understand how time-consuming it is to apply horror makeup, a process that had to be repeated every night; they saw an opportunity to eliminate makeup altogether. The pair had been experimenting with a lighter, more flexible type of silicone, and they used it to sculpt a Pinhead character (from the Hellraiser horror franchise), the first of their popular masks.

Over the next seven years, CFX grew into a company that now employs thirty full-time employees. The shop creates everything from special effects and props for films (weapons, sides of beef, body parts, etc.) to medical models and custom masks for burn victims. “We actually haven’t figured out what we don’t do yet,” joked Branton.

Even with all of these irons in the fire, the majority of their current business revolves around creating and manufacturing an extensive line of high-end silicone masks that sell anywhere from $600 to $1,500. Diana Branton, wife of co-owner Wes Branton, started as a sculptor at CFX in 2008. Though she still occasionally carves creatures out of clay, she has taken on the responsibilities of marketing director. “Wes and I met at CFX and started dating,” she said, “but there wasn’t anything scandalous about it. We got married a couple of years ago in a voodoo-themed ceremony, but really nothing scandalous at all.”

Her most recent sculpting effort was a replica of one of the icy, zombie-like creatures known as White Walkers from the HBO series Game of Thrones. It took more than forty hours of work to form the many intricate facial ridges of the creature into the clay. CFX recently signed a licensing agreement with HBO to create and manufacture realistic masks of these mythical, Nordic-like beings for sale to the public.

CFX currently employs three full-time sculptors, who carve everything from a series of nightmarish busts inspired by the seven deadly sins, to natural human masks, to demonic clowns. Their inspirations can rise from the darkest holes of their imagination or from a trip through an anatomy text. “I am sure I am on a watchlist somewhere for Googling horrible things—like sucking chest wounds,” Diana said. “I have had to find some pretty bizarre pictures.” The basic forms of the masks are all humanoid since they have to be engineered around the human face’s muscular structure in order to move with the wearer.

Once a mask is carved, a fiberglass mold is created. Diana estimates that there are now more than one hundred distinct head molds in the shop. Next, two types of liquid silicone, along with coloring that gives the mask its main pigment, are mixed and poured into the mold. CFX uses silicone that cures at room temperature over the course of approximately four hours. (When the South Louisiana humidity is high, this process takes a little longer.) Technicians apply CFX’s secret, patent-pending Duraflex technology, which gives the mask more durability without sacrificing movement. Patches and imperfections are filled, then the mask is cleaned and its seam lines removed.

The masks are painted mostly by airbrushing, a technique that is challenging because nothing likes to stick to silicone but silicone; the artists give the masks their depth by floating multiple layers of paint. The masks finally end up in the hair room where everything from eyebrows to a full head of hair are added, mostly using synthetic fibers, although employees like to joke that they acquire this material by shaving random people.

Most masks take at least twenty man-hours to create and are customized to suit the needs of the buyer. CFX even has an interactive mask lab on its website where customers can choose among different molds, colors, and accessories. “This really helps the customer describe what they want,” said Diana. “They have come up with some beautiful designs.”

Making wearable art takes time. Most masks take between four to six weeks to manufacture from start to finish, but the quality and realism are worth the price. “They do not degrade, tear, or dry out,” said Diana. “The silicone is extremely comfortable to wear because it is lightweight and transfers heat. So the wearer does not become claustrophobic.”

Their designs have even fooled law enforcement. In 2012, three men who’d purchased the natural human masks from CFX dressed as New York City police officers and robbed a check-cashing store in Queens. The heist netted them more than $300,000. The masks, all made from a mold affectionately known as “Mac,” were Caucasian in skin tone and were customized with a goatee. It took police six months to realize that the robbers behind the masks were actually African-American. The thieves were so pleased with their investment that they sent CFX a thank you note in the mail praising the masks’ quality and realism. They were arrested, and the story found its way onto television shows like 20/20 and Inside Edition. At the trial in New York, both Wes and Diana Branton testified against the robbers.

CFX’s client base ranges from undercover police officers to cosplay (costume play) hobbyists. A group of Internet pranksters donned the company’s elderly man mask, called “Codger,” and turned cartwheels in Walmart while a friend filmed their antics. Major haunted houses throughout the country use CFX masks. “A mask is big bang for the buck. Multiple actors can wear them. And you can change a mask’s character just by changing its costume,” Diana said. The masks also find their way into television and film. “I have even seen them on Disney’s A.N.T. Farm,” laughed Diana.

Even with all the popularity CFX has earned over the years, Diana is most proud of being a Baton Rouge success story. “A lot of talent in B.R. graduates and leaves,” she said. “No one thinks you can grow up and be an artist here in Louisiana, but we have carved out a great niche.”

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