OctoBOOr 18th: Bram Stoker’s Dracula, dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1992 (United States). 4/5 pumpkins. 

“Yeah, she was in great pain! Then we cut off her head, and drove a stake through her heart, and burned it, and then she found peace.”

I’m not sure it’s possible for me to be objective about this film, seeing as how it was one of the first R-rated films I was allowed to see, and my first viewing of it was on a Halloween night, no less. Not as iconic as Browning’s take on the tale, nor as “pure” or critically popular as Murnau’s Nosferatu, Coppola’s take remains the most faithful to the book in spirit, tone, and plot and is my favorite overall. It even nods to the book’s construction as a series of journal entries, diary confessionals, and recorded medical musings. Everyone loves to rag on Keanu Reeves’ performance here, but I’d counter that he’s actually note-perfect. If you want to delve into the novel’s/film’s themes of sexual deviance, then Jonathan Harker represents the staid, vanilla, and secure. Thus, Reeves’ wooden and proper take is entirely appropriate, and the contrast is never more evident than in the first act, watching him robotically stumble about whilst Gary Oldman’s Dracula slinks, slithers, and stalks around him wraith-like, both physically and conversationally. Oldman’s Dracula is the obvious stand-out performance and he brings the necessary pathos that nearly every other actor seems to pass over in favor of pure monstrosity – the Count is a tragic figure and Oldman understands this; you can feel the centuries-old heartache gradually sap away at him, even as his outward vitality and vigor increases. Anthony Hopkins is at his scenery-chewing best as Van Helsing, and Tom Waits is both hilarious and stomach-churning as the pitiable Renfield. Operatic in scope, Coppola’s Dracula is a feast of garish colors, ornate sets, and larger-than-life performances.

OctoBOOr 3rd: Dracula, dir. Tod Browning, 1931 (United States). 4/5 pumpkins. 
“For one who has not lived even a single lifetime, you're a wise man, Van Helsing.”



I was lucky enough to catch this in a movie theater last night, which is really ideal, given the stunning set design and gothic atmosphere with which this film drips. It’s a film carved from black marble, which is to its credit during the Transylvania-set scenes (witness the shot where Renfield is framed by the shadow from the window, casting bars across his face as he walks, quite literally, into the spider’s web). That’s to its detriment when it transitions to the drawing rooms of London, however, where the film falls flat when not centered around Bela Lugosi and his interactions with Van Helsing. Lugosi gets all the laurels – and deservedly so – but Dwight Frye is downright unhinged as the pitiable Renfield and almost steals the show. It’s a role that apparently brings out the scenery-chewing best in actors (see Tom Waits in Coppola’s take on Stoker’s tale). It might be blasphemous to say, as many moments in the film rely on the aural negative space, but the film certainly suffers on the whole from not having a musical score. To that end, once you've seen the original, I suggest seeking out the version with the accompanying Phillip Glass/Kronos Quartet score, commissioned in 1998. As Roger Ebert remarked, "The Glass score is effective in the way it suggests not just moody creepiness, but the urgency and need behind Dracula's vampirism. It evokes a blood thirst that is 500 years old."