Dracula
Posted: October 13th, 2011, 5:25 pm
Been immersing myself in Dracula films.
"There are far worse things awaiting man than death." Count Dracula
Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922)
Even though Nosferatu is ostensibly the story of the fiendish Count Orlock, there's really no hiding the fact that Orlock is really the infamous Count Dracula. The story about the making of the film is fascinating in itself, as is the fact that the wife of Dracula author, Bram Stoker, won a plagiarism suit requiring director F. W. Murnau to not only stop distribution of his film, but to literally destroy all of the prints and negative. Fortunately that Draconian (sorry) verdict wasn't completely adhered to, and we still have, what for me, is one of the best versions of Dracula on film.
Later Dracula films would more closely follow the various stage plays based on Stoker's novel, all of which alter the great Count significantly. Murnau's Count stays a bit closer to the novel, where the Count isn't a well-mannered, tuxedo-wearing member of the upper class (the class differences is one of the fascinating things about Lugosi's Dracula), but rather he's the rat-like embodiment of evil, especially as played by Max Schreck. (Everyone knows that "Shreck"--Max's really name--translates to "terror" in German, right?)
Way too many highlights in Nosferatu, but the crossing on the "ship of death" is certainly one of them, as is the parade of coffins, all carrying victims of Orlock's "plague." Murnau is at his Expressionist best in Nosferatu, and it should be noted that it is this film that introduces the idea that vampires and sunlight don't mix.
Dracula (1931)
It's with good reason that nearly everyone gets the image of a tuxedoed and caped wearing Bela Lugosi when they hear the name Dracula. Even just from his introductions in Dracula (he has two), Lugosi clearly lays claim to the role, one that would be recognized the world over.
But while undeniably a classic, is Dracula a good movie?
Yes, and unfortunately, no.
There's no doubt that the introductory scenes in Transylvania, the beautiful and ominous painted backdrop of the Carpathian Mountains, the Borgo Pass and especially Dracula's castle, are Gothic Horror at its best. In the castle, cinematographer Karl Freund's camera slowly tracks in, pulling us forward as he focuses on a coffin, a bony (and double-jointed) hand reaching out as Dracula awakes. Also awakening are the ominous children of the night, ready to make their beautiful music; the spiders, the bats, the bugs, the armadillos(!).
Then there's Lugois's second introduction, as he presents himself to Renfield on that fabulously creepy staircase (one of two great staircases in the film), with all of those memorable lines, spoken with Lugosi's oft-imitated but never duplicated accent. (Well, at least not 'til Landau.)
And then we go to London and, unless Lugosi is in the scene, the film becomes a giant snooze fest. We are basically confined to a few rooms where people just continue to gab and any action takes place off screen. There's an interminable discussion between "stars" David Manners and Helen Chandler, which director Browning shoots in a single take, that just begs for a closeup or a camera move or something other than filming a stage play. Not only that, but these sequences are sloppy, too. There's a scene where in the foreground, in full view of the camera, a piece of cardboard is taped to a lamp, diffusing the light source.
Fortunately Lugosi occasionally reappears, and there are enough intrusions by the mad Renfield (and I bet anyone who has seen the film has tried to do Dwight Frye's wonderfully maniacal laugh), and of course the always stoic Edward Van Sloan as Van Helsing to usher us back into the darkness of Carfax Abbey and the demise of the dreaded Count.
At least for awhile….
Drácula (1931)
Filmed simultaneously with the Browning version, and on the same sets, I suppose this Spanish language version had a distinct advantage in filming overnight: the ability to see Browning's rushes and improve on them. And that they did, for the Spanish version of Drácula is much more cinematic than Browning's version. The pacing is a bit slower, but director George Melford and cinematographer George Robinson keep the camera moving, and even in the dreadfully boring drawing-room scenes, Melford provides cutaways and indeed cuts to some parallel action as well. It also helps that Melford filmed the entire script, whereas Browning, thinking scenes were redundant, simply cut out pages of the script, getting rid of, what turns out to be, pretty crucial and visual plot elements.
Alas though, the Spanish Drácula has two insurmountable hurdles that clearly makes Browning's version the Dracula. The first is the main cast: there's just no beating Edward van Sloan's Van Helsing; and while I really like Pablo Álvarez Rubio as Renfield, there's no question the Dwight Frye owns that part. As for Dracula himself, Carlos Villarías is unfortunately almost a cartoon, especially when compared with the amazing Lugosi.
The other insurmountable hurdle in Melford's version is more of a conundrum: What happened to the venomous armadillos?
Mark of the Vampire (1935) Be-Vare: Here There Be Spoilers!
I know what your thinking because I can read minds. For instance, right now you're thinking that I really can't read minds. Right? Right. With my talent established I ask: So what if this isn't really a Dracula movie? It features Lugosi as a caped vampire, and that's pretty much synonymous with Dracula.
This is the kind of film that used to drive me batty (sorry) because it didn't adhere to its own internal logic. After a death, where the body is drained of blood and those two tell-tale marks on the neck indicate vampires, we wait a year for the silliness of the plot to actually kick in. Two vampires haunt an abandoned castle as well as the (oddly) attached chateau where our "heroes" are trying to deal with the menace, and, hopefully, solve the murder. That the vampires turn out to be actors trying to frightened the murderer into being more susceptible to hypnotism and then reenact his committing of the murder is, perhaps, a bit much to believe (not to mention a complete let down), but still maintains the internal logic.
What doesn't, however, are the acting vampires themselves. Everyone except two members in the household know that these two vampires are actors. And yet, our two vampires always act like vampires, even when no one else is around! And The Method hadn't even been invented yet! Like I said, this lack of logic used to drive me batty (see above apology).
But not anymore. Now I believe that Count Mora (Lugosi) and his daughter, Luna (Carroll Borland--the original goth girl, who can be seen in Jack's avatar) really are vampires. Looked at from that perspective, the film, which was edited to its bare bones before release, still holds together quite well, and for me, is much more enjoyable. Plus, Lugosi's only line, the last in the film, "Did you see me? I was better than any real vampire" can now be taken ironically, especially considering this is director Tod Browning's second go at Dracula (and, of course, London After Midnight.)
While featuring a little too much of the MGM gloss, there are quite a few wonderful set pieces that really make this a treat for horror fans, not the least of which is the introduction of the Count and his daughter as they glide along a landing and then down some creepy stairs. There are plenty of bats, spiders, a possum (but again no venomous armadillos) and one too short but amazing shot of Luna flying down from the ceiling, landing, and folding her wings behind her. Pretty cool.
The sexual component, another essential element of Dracula and vampire films in general, is pretty interesting in Mark of the Vampire. Apparently sequences, which inferred an incestuous relationship between Mora and his daughter, were removed from the film. (Of course, if they were just actors and not really related, their relationship should be of no concern.) But still in the film is a fascinating sequence in which Luna transfixes Irena (the heroine of the film who knows that Luna is an actress!), and in her catatonic state, succumbs to Luna's advances, Luna's shroud enveloping Irena. All this goes on, mind you, while Count Mora himself watches with a devilish smile of approval. Real vampires or just actors, it's pretty amazing this scene was passed by the Production Code.
In the original Dracula (1931), there was a short but significant instance of male homosexuality when ol' Drac pushes his hungry brides away from the fainted Renfied. Dracula wants him all to himself. Interestingly, in the Spanish version, it's the Brides who get to feast on Renfield; Drácula isn't even there. Luna's dalliance with Irena is one of the first lesbian vampire sequences on film.
More to come...
"There are far worse things awaiting man than death." Count Dracula
Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922)
Even though Nosferatu is ostensibly the story of the fiendish Count Orlock, there's really no hiding the fact that Orlock is really the infamous Count Dracula. The story about the making of the film is fascinating in itself, as is the fact that the wife of Dracula author, Bram Stoker, won a plagiarism suit requiring director F. W. Murnau to not only stop distribution of his film, but to literally destroy all of the prints and negative. Fortunately that Draconian (sorry) verdict wasn't completely adhered to, and we still have, what for me, is one of the best versions of Dracula on film.
Later Dracula films would more closely follow the various stage plays based on Stoker's novel, all of which alter the great Count significantly. Murnau's Count stays a bit closer to the novel, where the Count isn't a well-mannered, tuxedo-wearing member of the upper class (the class differences is one of the fascinating things about Lugosi's Dracula), but rather he's the rat-like embodiment of evil, especially as played by Max Schreck. (Everyone knows that "Shreck"--Max's really name--translates to "terror" in German, right?)
Way too many highlights in Nosferatu, but the crossing on the "ship of death" is certainly one of them, as is the parade of coffins, all carrying victims of Orlock's "plague." Murnau is at his Expressionist best in Nosferatu, and it should be noted that it is this film that introduces the idea that vampires and sunlight don't mix.
Dracula (1931)
It's with good reason that nearly everyone gets the image of a tuxedoed and caped wearing Bela Lugosi when they hear the name Dracula. Even just from his introductions in Dracula (he has two), Lugosi clearly lays claim to the role, one that would be recognized the world over.
But while undeniably a classic, is Dracula a good movie?
Yes, and unfortunately, no.
There's no doubt that the introductory scenes in Transylvania, the beautiful and ominous painted backdrop of the Carpathian Mountains, the Borgo Pass and especially Dracula's castle, are Gothic Horror at its best. In the castle, cinematographer Karl Freund's camera slowly tracks in, pulling us forward as he focuses on a coffin, a bony (and double-jointed) hand reaching out as Dracula awakes. Also awakening are the ominous children of the night, ready to make their beautiful music; the spiders, the bats, the bugs, the armadillos(!).
Then there's Lugois's second introduction, as he presents himself to Renfield on that fabulously creepy staircase (one of two great staircases in the film), with all of those memorable lines, spoken with Lugosi's oft-imitated but never duplicated accent. (Well, at least not 'til Landau.)
And then we go to London and, unless Lugosi is in the scene, the film becomes a giant snooze fest. We are basically confined to a few rooms where people just continue to gab and any action takes place off screen. There's an interminable discussion between "stars" David Manners and Helen Chandler, which director Browning shoots in a single take, that just begs for a closeup or a camera move or something other than filming a stage play. Not only that, but these sequences are sloppy, too. There's a scene where in the foreground, in full view of the camera, a piece of cardboard is taped to a lamp, diffusing the light source.
Fortunately Lugosi occasionally reappears, and there are enough intrusions by the mad Renfield (and I bet anyone who has seen the film has tried to do Dwight Frye's wonderfully maniacal laugh), and of course the always stoic Edward Van Sloan as Van Helsing to usher us back into the darkness of Carfax Abbey and the demise of the dreaded Count.
At least for awhile….
Drácula (1931)
Filmed simultaneously with the Browning version, and on the same sets, I suppose this Spanish language version had a distinct advantage in filming overnight: the ability to see Browning's rushes and improve on them. And that they did, for the Spanish version of Drácula is much more cinematic than Browning's version. The pacing is a bit slower, but director George Melford and cinematographer George Robinson keep the camera moving, and even in the dreadfully boring drawing-room scenes, Melford provides cutaways and indeed cuts to some parallel action as well. It also helps that Melford filmed the entire script, whereas Browning, thinking scenes were redundant, simply cut out pages of the script, getting rid of, what turns out to be, pretty crucial and visual plot elements.
Alas though, the Spanish Drácula has two insurmountable hurdles that clearly makes Browning's version the Dracula. The first is the main cast: there's just no beating Edward van Sloan's Van Helsing; and while I really like Pablo Álvarez Rubio as Renfield, there's no question the Dwight Frye owns that part. As for Dracula himself, Carlos Villarías is unfortunately almost a cartoon, especially when compared with the amazing Lugosi.
The other insurmountable hurdle in Melford's version is more of a conundrum: What happened to the venomous armadillos?
Mark of the Vampire (1935) Be-Vare: Here There Be Spoilers!
I know what your thinking because I can read minds. For instance, right now you're thinking that I really can't read minds. Right? Right. With my talent established I ask: So what if this isn't really a Dracula movie? It features Lugosi as a caped vampire, and that's pretty much synonymous with Dracula.
This is the kind of film that used to drive me batty (sorry) because it didn't adhere to its own internal logic. After a death, where the body is drained of blood and those two tell-tale marks on the neck indicate vampires, we wait a year for the silliness of the plot to actually kick in. Two vampires haunt an abandoned castle as well as the (oddly) attached chateau where our "heroes" are trying to deal with the menace, and, hopefully, solve the murder. That the vampires turn out to be actors trying to frightened the murderer into being more susceptible to hypnotism and then reenact his committing of the murder is, perhaps, a bit much to believe (not to mention a complete let down), but still maintains the internal logic.
What doesn't, however, are the acting vampires themselves. Everyone except two members in the household know that these two vampires are actors. And yet, our two vampires always act like vampires, even when no one else is around! And The Method hadn't even been invented yet! Like I said, this lack of logic used to drive me batty (see above apology).
But not anymore. Now I believe that Count Mora (Lugosi) and his daughter, Luna (Carroll Borland--the original goth girl, who can be seen in Jack's avatar) really are vampires. Looked at from that perspective, the film, which was edited to its bare bones before release, still holds together quite well, and for me, is much more enjoyable. Plus, Lugosi's only line, the last in the film, "Did you see me? I was better than any real vampire" can now be taken ironically, especially considering this is director Tod Browning's second go at Dracula (and, of course, London After Midnight.)
While featuring a little too much of the MGM gloss, there are quite a few wonderful set pieces that really make this a treat for horror fans, not the least of which is the introduction of the Count and his daughter as they glide along a landing and then down some creepy stairs. There are plenty of bats, spiders, a possum (but again no venomous armadillos) and one too short but amazing shot of Luna flying down from the ceiling, landing, and folding her wings behind her. Pretty cool.
The sexual component, another essential element of Dracula and vampire films in general, is pretty interesting in Mark of the Vampire. Apparently sequences, which inferred an incestuous relationship between Mora and his daughter, were removed from the film. (Of course, if they were just actors and not really related, their relationship should be of no concern.) But still in the film is a fascinating sequence in which Luna transfixes Irena (the heroine of the film who knows that Luna is an actress!), and in her catatonic state, succumbs to Luna's advances, Luna's shroud enveloping Irena. All this goes on, mind you, while Count Mora himself watches with a devilish smile of approval. Real vampires or just actors, it's pretty amazing this scene was passed by the Production Code.
In the original Dracula (1931), there was a short but significant instance of male homosexuality when ol' Drac pushes his hungry brides away from the fainted Renfied. Dracula wants him all to himself. Interestingly, in the Spanish version, it's the Brides who get to feast on Renfield; Drácula isn't even there. Luna's dalliance with Irena is one of the first lesbian vampire sequences on film.
More to come...