Stars: Bela Lugosi, Helen Chandler, David Manners, Dwight Frye, Edward van Sloan
Director: Tod Browning
Oscar History: No nominations
Snap Judgment Ranking: 3/5 stars
That all changes this October as we endeavor on our first theme month in a long while. Starting today with Dracula, and until Halloween, I'm going to be filling all of the major gaps in my horror movie classics list, watching the remaining titles of the "Big 8" horror films of the Universal Era that I have yet to see, as well as seeing some of the other major pre-1970 horror films that I've never caught on the big (or small) screen. There are classics of the horror genre post-1970 that I haven't caught yet, and maybe we'll do that next year, but this month I want to focus more on the campier and humbler pictures that began the horror genre in a major way, and hopefully by the end of the month we'll have roughly a dozen new horror screenings/reviews for your perusal. If you're so interested, play along and fill in the gaps of movies you also need to see, and if you're already an expert, join me in the comments and list out the lesser-known pictures of the era I should check out. In the meantime, let's get to Tod Browning's classic that started an empire at Universal, Dracula.
(Spoilers Ahead) Weirdly enough, I've never read Bram Stoker's Dracula, and while I'm familiar with the myth in terms of ways that it has permeated pop culture, I genuinely don't think I've seen a big-screen telling of this story before now. This was exciting for me as I found the film more original than I had initially anticipated for a tale that is so entrenched in movie lore. The film, of course, centers around Count Dracula himself (Lugosi), a creepy, ridiculous sort of man whose title and charm bring him in contact with London elites after largely being a recluse in his home country (implied to be Transylvania, but I don't believe it's ever mentioned by name unless I missed that clarification). He takes a young solicitor named Renfield (Frye) as his captive, making him into a blood-crazed lunatic, and then slowly starts killing the young women of London, eventually settling on Mina (Chandler), a young woman who is recently engaged. After killing Mina's friend and turning her into a vampire, Dracula bites Mina, and she starts to exhibit the traits of a vampire. Thankfully, Professor Van Helsing (van Sloan) is an expert in vampires and able to find tricks to stop Dracula, and kills him in the end to save Mina from completely turning into a vampire, ending up happily-ever-after.
The movie surprised me in a few ways. For starters, it's better-acted than I expected. Helen Chandler's Mina is eerie when she's possessed, and Frye's Renfield is a campy delight, in many ways the equal of Igor, his Frankenstein counterpart. Lugosi has caught lots of flack from film historians when compared to someone like Boris Karloff, who was a considerably better actor (and far smarter with his money/script choices, which is why he had a far more traditional career with more opportunity than Lugosi...plus, English was his first language & Lugosi never shed the accent). Still, Lugosi lands this part very well, and has an eeriness that is undeniable. He never blinks in the picture, and while the hamminess of his thick accent, melodramatic line readings, and of course that menacing glare have been done to death by virtually every actor who has taken on the role since, it works and has a calming horror in the movie; there's a reason he created the Dracula prototype. He's better than I expected, far stronger than the few other films I've seen of his, and I'm excited to see a couple other major pictures of his before this month is done (I've got at least two more on the schedule for our theme marathon), to see if this was the only trick in his acting arsenal, or if he was an under-appreciated actor of his day.
It has to be said, though, that it's the sets that were truly the star for me on this picture. Dracula's castle and later Carfax Abbey are stupendously designed, with high vault ceilings that add to the drama of the movie. I read afterwards that the sets were used in multiple other pictures, as they cost too much to just use in Dracula, and I'd believe it-the climactic scene where Dracula, feeling betrayed by Renfield, murders him on a winding staircase is the closest the film comes to real chills for a modern movie audience, and a lot of that has to do with the genuine fear of such a clearly dangerous, terrifying drop for the actors below. It's usually an insult to call the sets the best part of a movie, but here it aids the story so splendidly it's impossible not to be impressed. Like Dracula itself, it's extra and overdone, but is filled with enough awe and shockingly big touches you don't really care.
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