At the cinemas Christopher Lee was the reigning Count Dracula, an increasingly mute and brooding predator of base impulses: revenge, hunger, and reproduction. Television was getting in on the Stoker act as well. British anthology playhouse Mystery and Imagination offered their take with Denholm Elliott as a more social monster. It was an adaptation that, while truncated, was the first to include a few details from the novel that had been neglected before, and for a TV production was more frank with sexuality than even Hammer had been.
A patient known only as Thirtyfour (for his room number at Doctor John Seward's sanitarium) escapes confinement and crashes the dinner party Seward is hosting. Guests at the party include the Weston mother and daughter, a count from Transylvania, and arriving late will be Mina Harker. Thirty-four throws himself at the feet of Count Dracula, calling him "Master". The Count declares they have never met, and Thirtyfour immediately walks it back and returns meekly to his cell. The party goes on, Dracula dominating the room (and young Lucy Weston's gaze) with his presence.
You may know Denholm Elliott from the Eighties as Marcus Brody, the schoolmaster who employs Indiana Jones, or as the butler to Dan Aykroyd and Eddie Murphy in Trading Places, or from any number of other character parts both more and less prestigious. That's when he hit my own radar. It's not easy to picture him as Dracula until you see the younger and slimmer Elliott rocking a Van Dyke and shades (eat your heart out, Gary Oldman). Elliot's Count is highly urbane and has a confidence that's almost snide, quiet until talk of his heritage fires his angry pride. If you think you know Denholm only from his late career, check this out.
Dracula is the man of the hour. Thirtyfour is easily swayed by a few words from him when the sanitarium guards are no match for the patient; Lucy breathlessly attends his every gesture, oblivious to her fiance Seward; Seward has to hide his annoyance that his guests the Westons extended their invitation to the unexpected and unwelcome Russian royalty who has swayed them. Mina is eager to meet the Count as her husband Jonathon Harker has gone missing after a stay at Dracula's home in Transylvania. It's not the only question surrounding the Count - Thirtyfour was a passenger on the ship Demeter on the same voyage that brought Dracula to England. After Dracula came ashore early the ship met with tragedy, the unidentified patient the sole survivor.
Thirtyfour isn't just an amnesiac but a maniac obsessed with devouring insects and small animals for their life force while he awaits the arrival of "the master". Seward consults his mentor, esteemed Professor Abraham Van Helsing. Mina meets the man, and things begin to fall into place. Dracula sets his eyes on Lucy and begins to visit her each night.
What's interesting about this Dracula is that he comes across as a fairly skilled social manipulator, except for the lies that are easily exposed. Seward is the first to suspect the Count of driving the tragedies that are unfolding around his clique, but Dracula has set him up to look the jealous lover and so his suspicions are dismissed by all. Lucy and Thirtyfour are pitted against each other through yet more jealousy, the patient's for his lost place as the Master's favored pet. Lucy's frail mother becomes a plot device as the vampire exploits her fears for her daughter (this is taken from the novel, and had never appeared onscreen before in earlier adaptations). Later, after Lucy has become a vampire, Dracula will play off of Mina's grief and her depression, having driven her and her fiance apart.
Under hypnosis, Thirtyfour recounts a little of his meeting with "the Master". We see this in a dreamlike flashback in which three ghostly women stalk and attack him in a castle. The sequence is nearly silent but for the hissing of the women and the patient's narration. The sequence stands out from otherwise staid camerawork and direction - not dull but not innovative. The brides also stand out for their overt sexuality: for a television production, their sheer robes are shocking. Now, I'm watching this on a bootleg disc made from an unrestored copy, so the image is not pristine...and that's from a production that had a constrained TV budget. Its in black and white. Plus, that sequence is murkily lit. All the same, I can see that the the gowns become opaque only strategically, allowing glimpses of the actors' breasts that are nearly complete. I couldn't get a screenshot to prove it. Hammer took audience's breath away with decolletage - British TV took it further. No one remembers. Only Hammer is still known.
Later on Dracula will assault Lucy as she sleeps. This is another sequence that is surprisingly frank for television. Lucy writhes in bed, asleep and having a clearly sexual dream as Dracula kneels and watches. When finally he penetrates her throat she climaxes. Strong stuff for 1968 television.
As the plot heats up, Dracula uses the undead Lucy as a proxy to seduce Mina. The lesbian (well, bi really) attraction between them is undisguised for television. Happily, this is depicted without bias, there is no vilification of sexuality in the film. It's simply erotic.
Looking back to the novel, this is also the first production to allow the Count's facial hair, and the first time Lucy and Mina meet the old man Swales at the cemetery, where he engages in spirited talk of the town's seemier history. In this, a colorful but inconsequential bit of the novel (a bit of mood-setting and character development) is spun into a clever twist that helps streamline the movie.
I like this Dracula. It's talky but neither slow nor stagebound (despite obvious, low-budget sets), and took me by surprise for a number of reasons: its sporadic fealty to the novel, its unadulterated sexuality, the revelation of Denholm Elliott. More substantially, Dracula's crafty manipulations are given as much weight as his supernatural abilities, an innovative advance for the character. Performances are good across the board - Bernard Archard is an engaging Van Helsing. Corin Redgrave is a little affected as Thirty-four, suggesting he's more a stage than a screen actor. James Maxwell (Seward) and Susan George (Lucy) are natural and fluid, easily sympathetic.
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