Classic Movie Review: Dracula
By Josh Spiegel
October 11, 2010
BoxOfficeProphets.com
I’m talking, of course, about Dracula. Yes, your beloved writer (I am beloved, right?) has never, ever seen the 1931 horror film Dracula. Though it’s not the first Dracula film - the 1923 silent film Nosferatu is deservedly well regarded - it features just about every familiar point in its tight, 75-minute running time from the book of vampire clichés. Man turning into bat? Check. Man with dark black hair and cape? Check. Fangs sucking blood? Check. Vampires without reflections? Check. Unable to go into the sun? Check. You get the idea. Coming to the film nearly 80 years after its release, I can’t tell you that I loved Dracula - there are many flaws, a good portion of which can’t be considered part and parcel of watching a movie from 1931 - but it’s a fascinating film that every fan of horror films should watch.
The star of the film, and a man who would be forever typecast as the title character, is Bela Lugosi. Lugosi’s features are striking, so striking that the film’s director, Tod Browning, uses as a crutch any time he can show a close-up of Lugosi’s piercing gaze, his enigmatic smile, and pale face. The first few times the shot appears, no matter what the setting, the effect is surprisingly notable. Considering that Browning tends to use this shot a good 20 times in the first 30 minutes, though, any effect gets dulled. What amazed me is that Lugosi’s theatrical performance (no surprise, as the cinematic adaptation was based on a famous play starring Lugosi and a few other cast members) goes from being compelling to cheesy to laughable to compelling, almost at the exact same time.
The plot’s old hat, by now, but it’s still interesting to consider in terms of the script. The biggest issue I have with the story (which is so common that it feels older than the source material by Bram Stoker) is that there’s not really a hero. In the Francis Ford Coppola version, it’s said that he had Keanu Reeves play the young male love interest for the heroine because the audience would be repelled by his wooden performance and root for Dracula. Even in this version, there’s not really a good guy to root for. Sure, Abraham Van Helsing, the Dutch doctor who’s easily the smartest human in the film, has noble interests at heart but the character (at least as played here) is bland. Of course, if we’re being honest, the most interesting and compelling character in Dracula is also the grossest: Renfield.
Ah, Renfield. In some ways, this is the role Peter Lorre was born to play, the kind of sniveling lackey that he would typify in his work with Humphrey Bogart. For those who don’t know (and does anyone really not know or vaguely remember the plot of this movie?), Dracula opens with Renfield, a normal man, a real estate agent, going to the count’s castle to discuss a move to England. Dracula wants to make sure the move goes smoothly, so he makes Renfield his insect-loving slave, transforming him into a creepy nutjob. Renfield remains a mental patient throughout the rest of the film, but his constant appearances become the most laughable element of the movie. When you’re dealing with a story about an undead man who sucks the blood of human beings for sustenance, suspension of disbelief is necessary, so this is not the issue.
No, the issue is that Renfield shouldn’t keep appearing, right? Because he’s a mental patient, right? When people are introduced to him, they are horrified. One of Browning’s best visual ideas is to make Renfield look like a human-sized insect, not only in his movements but in the shot compositions. Easily the most haunting shot of the film is the one where dockworkers encounter Renfield for the first time upon arriving in England. He is at the bottom of a staircase, glowering at them, looking like a spider with only two eyes. So, if it’s not clear to us by this point, we know he’s nuts when he freaks out because an orderly at the mental hospital tosses out a spider he’s trying to eat. When said orderly, later, bemoans that Renfield’s “gotten out” again, I had to laugh.
Something notable about Dracula is that, until an update to the film in the late 1990s, there was no score. In a genre that’s been known for killing any tension with screaming violin strings or booming drums, it was a little more than disconcerting to not hear any music, outside of the opening credits. Again, there was a score composed for the film’s restoration by Philip Glass, but I honestly wonder what it would have been like to watch this movie back in 1931, not knowing what to expect (presuming you didn’t read the novel or see the play) and watching a movie that’s permeated with dead silence. On the one hand, this makes the viewing experience even more haunting, as it makes the story seem more realistic. On the other hand, there are a few dead patches that could have been punctuated by music.
Lugosi and Dwight Frye (as Renfield) are the most exemplary performers in a film that seems more interested in atmosphere than anything else. The set design, even for a film from so long ago, is stately and impressive, so much so that Browning makes sure we know it’s there, with so many wide shots squeezed in next to the extreme close-ups of Lugosi’s face (almost always lit with an effect to make his eyes seem more frightening). All of this aside, there’s no getting around the fact that sometimes, the original is best. Though I’ve seen other versions of Dracula, there’s something very economic and intense about this film, even if the film is more about style than substance. Lugosi is charismatic enough that you see why he coasted on the role for years. In two weeks, we’ll see if Boris Karloff and Frankenstein hold up as well.