Christine A.
Yelp
This place has been on my mental "To Try" list since 2006 when we were gearing up for the first L.A. zombie walk. I kept getting sidetracked, and it's a bit difficult to make it up that way on weekdays since they're not open on the weekends.
So was it worth the wait? Ooooooooooh yeah.
First off, it's in a rather industrial, warehouse-filled area with train tracks right outside their door. Every few minutes or so, a Metrolink train would lumber by, while low-flying jets would be taking off and landing at nearby Bob Hope Airport. Dapper Cadaver seems almost nondescript, with just their bright green, coffin-shaped sign to tell you where they are.
The entry way is filled with jars of formaldehyde with (fake?) animals inside, and there's this furry demon with bugged-out eyes behind the door. The front desk is a glass case packed with surgical instruments, and other cases in the lobby are loaded with other curiosities like Fiji mermaids, animal skeletons, and models for teaching anatomy.
A photo album near the door shows some stills of movies and TV shows their "cadavers" and other props and set pieces have appeared -- "Bones" seems to be in there the most.
The warehouse -- now this is truly something special -- is practically a museum in discovering what horrifying shapes they can get latex, foam, and rubber to form. The first thing that fell into my line of sight was a decapitated man in a floral shirt sitting on the floor, grinning head nestled in his lap.
To the left there's a collection of bones, skeletons (some still semi-fleshy or burnt), skulls (there's even a giant fake T-Rex cranium), and funeral caskets in varying colors. In that same corner are candelabras in every shape and size, piked severed head optional.
To the right are a mob of dismembered, burned, and cut-up corpses and mass-murderers in position to kill you. A gutted, naked woman with her intestines sprawled along the floor lays across from the smirking headless man. By them are a sarcophagus and a couple of mummies. Peeked behind them and noticed this menacing fortune-telling machine.
Walk around some more you'll find torture devices, electric chairs, eviscerated and sacrificed rubber animals, and racks of make-up pieces and prop weapons.
It's all fake, but in a sense you have to have the sort of constitution of a person who grew up visiting RottenDOTcom when his parents weren't looking and was desensitized early.
The warehouse is well-lit, but the sort of place I think I'd freak out in if I had to navigate it in the dark with an increasingly dimming flashlight.
And all of these gory, little friends they made? They're all up for rentals -- be it for your next slasher pic or Halloween party.
On my way out, just had to buy a $10 shirt. At the very least it's a thanks for letting us linger in their workshop. I love these guys.