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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.

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