OPINION: Van Helsing Has Outlived His Usefulness

 

By Joe Gibson

 

While I like the original book and enjoy most adaptations, there are some things that annoy me about how the franchise has developed over the years. Any given version seldom has all three of Lucy Westenra’s suitors (Arthur Holmwood, Quincey Morris and Dr. Jack Seward), and if it does (Coppola’s film), it has other drastic alterations that prevent it from being faithful to the text. Jonathan Harker is usually present, but he is either dumbed down or incidentally killed off, and the script is usually not smart enough to do so in such a way that doesn’t just also subtract from Mina Murray’s journey. Yet, there is one character that has only grown in focus and importance over the years. Where there is Dracula, there must always be Van Helsing for some reason.

 

Frankly, my problem is not with the character but with his oversaturation in the Dracula story. He is but one character in an ensemble yet leeches the focus away from all the rest to the point that in my cursory research in straight adaptations (excepting prequel, sequel or midquel scenarios like Dracula Untold, Son of Dracula or The Last Voyage of The Demeter), he never sits out whatever final fight occurs with Dracula even while Harker or even Mina die in acts one or two far more commonly. Think about how many times Jonathan Harker dies just to prop up Van Helsing, even while Van Helsing changes into a younger vampire-hunting leading man that Harker otherwise would be. It has been done well, and it has been done poorly, but it gets to a certain point where I wonder why it is done at all and begin to think of alternatives, alternatives that I find more engaging.

 

Let me pitch to you a scenario for a Dracula adaptation where it starts as the book does (so that's Jonathan Harker at Castle Dracula not Renfield, Lucy having three suitors propose back to back, the juxtaposition of Mina and Lucy's sexuality with Lucy getting bitten first, the arrival of Van Helsing, and return of Harker) but crucially, Harker with his capacity for self obfuscation and the suitors in general aren't taking it seriously so Van Helsing dies. It is then that they finally step up to defeat Dracula. As I started this article, Van Helsing overrides these other relationships, and maybe the simplest way to mitigate that problem is to eliminate him. It automatically raises the stakes to get rid of the sagelike mentor whose instruction surely would have prevailed.

 

The thing that I've realized recently is that the other members of this little fellowship altogether are capable of replacing Van Helsing if they align their strengths together. Technically, that shouldn't be surprising since depictions of Van Helsing have warped so as to replace every single one of them, but in this ensemble cast of iconic characters, it gives more of them more payoffs to follow the natural consequences of killing him off in the next adaptation.

 

If any of the characters in the original Dracula actually qualify as vampire slayers, it would be Jonathan Harker and Quincey Morris for being the ones to track down and kill Dracula. In terms of familiarity with vampires, Van Helsing's knowledge is only theoretical, but Harker's knowledge is personal due to his cold open section at the castle. A purist should acknowledge that Harker makes more sense as the vampire hunter on account of track record, but even so, Harker and Quincey are the ones in the party to kill Dracula in actuality, a role given to Van Helsing that they deserve to reclaim.

 

Seward is the doctor conducting his own investigation into Renfield, a case that blends science and supernatural (Van Helsing is also literally a mentor character to Seward, so the application of having to keep the former alive through following his example is a very minor change). Poising Van Helsing as the expendable mentor that Seward has to learn from is a simple change that keeps Seward relevant and memorable in the story. Van Helsing would no longer be around to treat Mina, which means that the scientific trial and error of how Seward studies Renfield and assists in treating Lucy at the beginning of the story would be more relevant for how he would treat Mina at the end of it. (Again without this throughline, it becomes easier to see why Seward is demoted in many adaptations, but I hope you can see how merely reducing Van Helsing increases Seward immensely.)

 

Arthur, interestingly, also has a concrete relationship with Van Helsing that lends itself so easily to a death for the old doctor. First, they are upper-class men (Van Helsing by reputation at least) and notably the most dignified. Arthur directly contrasts the other suitors with this category, since they are an awkward doctor and an American cowboy, while the positive reputation of foreigner Van Helsing directly contrasts the 1897-based xenophobia that exists toward Dracula. However, it also goes deeper than that. In the text, Arthur resembles an adult version of Van Helsing’s deceased son, creating a fatherly fondness for Arthur particularly in this group from Van Helsing. At the same time, one of Arthur’s most important moments in the novel is when his father dies so Arthur takes up the title of Lord Godalming. The motif of taking on the role of a father figure who dies already exists for Arthur, so it should be easy to see how Arthur could step up to be the leader of this fellowship following the death of another father figure. If this all sounds like a lot for a film, it really isn't especially since people already know the general story, but, if adapting these characters in a context that does them justice is too much for a film, then Dracula shouldn't be just films (not that the various miniseries take full advantage of all the members of the fellowship).

 

From the simple alteration of killing Van Helsing, Harker, Seward, Arthur, and Quincey Morris can all take on new life, and it really baffles me that I have not seen an adaptation do this yet (if one exists, please direct me to it). It would be so efficient within the existing framework of adapting the novel that I kind of think it should be obvious, but there is a reason off the top of my head for reticence to commit to something like this: Van Helsing is an exciting foil to Dracula.

 

 As I hope to have demonstrated, dialing back Van Helsing’s screentime in this way would only benefit the other characters, but the next challenge is that aforementioned rivalry. While it absolutely does raise the stakes to kill off the character who would have the easiest time defeating Dracula, the Dracula and Van Helsing rivalry has been iconic since at least the 1931 film (for all my talk of prioritizing other characters, I love a good “your will is strong, Van Helsing” moment). All that said, for one thing, it’s not technically in the book as strongly as it is in the 1931 film onward if at all, and I would also argue that there are several characters more suited for that archenemy role than Van Helsing.

 

As I already detailed, Harker and Quincey are the vampire slayers of this story. Harker is the obvious choice for archenemy, being the vehicle for our introduction to Dracula as well as the vehicle for the vampire’s death in the book, while also being Dracula’s persistent romantic rival. Despite this, many adaptations still diminish Harker’s role to favor Van Helsing, but the presence of Hutter in the Nosferatu films means that some form of Harker is one of the main universal constants of this story. Still, maybe Harker is too commonly killed off to justify setting him up as Dracula’s opposite; in that case, Quincey has so much potential.

 

Despite very few adaptations remembering Quincey, he has the most franchise potential as a vampire-slaying cowboy from yesteryear (if Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter can be a real movie, why not explore Quincey Morris fighting vampires in Texas?) or perhaps a modern cowboy cop as Rebecca Quincy (child of Morris Quincy) is in Renfield 2023. Another idea off the top of my head would circumvent the immortality problem of Dracula, where, in any given continuity, Dracula gets killed by methods that should work but then returns to life for the next movie. Since the deaths of Dracula and Quincey are so intertwined in the original novel, why wouldn’t whatever revives Dracula also revive Quincey? In the event of that story, Dracula and Quincey are on a level playing field while avoiding the “power creep” that occurs from the modern conception of Van Helsing being an accomplished vampire hunter that still somehow struggles against a vampire. 

 

(Power creep is essentially when the skills and weaponry necessary early on in the story become superfluous later on because of increasing improvement and innovation, and  having a character that specializes in taking down vampires struggling for a whole film to take down a vampire can very easily make all or much of the story redundant and unnecessary. It does not necessarily have to play out that way, but there is no arms race necessary in the battle between vampire and normal laypeople as this story is in the book or the faithful adaptations.)

 

Just because the release of Nosferatu 2024 has reminded me of it, The Last Voyage of the Demeter features a character, Black doctor Clemens, who gradually comes to put together what is happening on the ship and organizes the most tenable resistance to the Count he can. Clemens is implicitly the closest thing to the Van Helsing in that film’s continuity, and the film is so much more interesting for making a new character that we slowly learn about while he grows more dynamic in the fight to stay alive (he does not seek out the vampire but does seek out the ship and helps the victims on board for reasons we learn over the runtime). However, I do not want to spoil too much of that film and character since its low box office (like Renfield 2023) and lack of significant success on streaming (unlike Renfield 2023) means that most of you reading have not seen it, so let us proceed to the most tenable option.

 

As the Nosferatu films demonstrate, the most substantive stakes and therefore most cogent dichotomy often are found in the battle between Mina/Ellen and Dracula/Orlok. Outside of Renfield, Mina is the clearest demonstration of what Dracula’s will can do to a person, with the strength in Mina’s character coming from how she resists the changes (this is more present in the book than the 1931 film), and Ellen is the one that manages to kill Nosferatu. One aspect I very much like about the Mina Dracula rivalry in its various forms is that Mina is both the best equipped (an entire fellowship of men fighting for her as well as a connection to Dracula she can sometimes exploit) and worst equipped (often a physically weak sexually repressed woman slowly falling victim to his curse) person to defeat him, and that is where the best drama comes from (a fight that can go either way based on the characters' strengths and weaknesses is more compelling than a fight with a foregone conclusion). The advantage to selecting Mina as the counterbalance to Dracula in a story is that she is relevant throughout the whole story, whereas Van Helsing usually has to be summoned to help.

 

Though I have argued Van Helsing’s true modern utility is in passing on the torch, I should say that I do very much appreciate his functionality in the original book as well as the Edward Van Sloan and Peter Cushing versions of the character. It is just also true that each of those and the following great adaptations of the character leeched away focus and importance from the remainder of the cast in ways that either are now or someday may prove detrimental to the Dracula IP.

 

Nosferatu: A Symphony of (Misplaced) Syphilis: A Reaction To 2024's Horror Remake

 

 

By Joe Gibson

Watching Nosferatu 2024 produced intense reactions of shock, disgust, and especially suspense. Because I do not have the film in front of me to revisit annotated, I cannot state any conclusion with a degree of accuracy that reaches my satisfaction; essentially, I will commend the film for its tone, mood, expressionism and all technical aspects while approaching its story considerations with a bit more trepidation. Again, I am not the final say, this is not my final say on the matter, and I could be wrong to varying extents about everything I am going to say…but I will say it.

 

First I should explain the differences between Nosferatu and the traditional Dracula character and how that influenced my expectations going in. I intensely dislike whenever a film tries to graft on romantic pursuit of Mina to Lord Dracula’s aims, because it isn’t in the novel and is made at the very least improbable by the meticulous details of Bram Stoker’s tale (hinting at other motivations). Coppola’s film is the most apt demonstration of my ire: if everything Dracula does is about Mina and her previous life, why does Dracula collect his three wives, feed them with abducted children, and go after Lucy first?

 

It is possible to answer those questions, but it represents changing and warping the original intent (to the point where you might as well rename the vampire too). Dracula’s goal is some vague world domination, and, for whatever reason, he chooses to go about this first by corrupting two Victorian women (this would make a lot more sense to someone with neurosyphilis, which we will get to), but Nosferatu – Nosferatu (that is to say Count Orlok, though the original film and new remake both use the terms interchangeably) has always been different than that.

 

If you rewatch the original Nosferatu, as I did to prepare for the new one, you will see far less evidence of grand aspirations or complicated designs. Orlok is looking to move and reacts to the appearance of Ellen’s visage. There are no three wives, and there is no feeding operation for them wherein he regularly abducts infants; there is just Orlok and Ellen. This lends itself exceedingly well to the romantic reinterpretation as everything in the film leads to the union of predator and prey.

 

But the imagery of the plague ultimately won out as its presiding subtext. Nosferatu brings the plague upon the German town of Wisborg (as I understand it, the bubonic plague was something more tangible around that time that may have even been very recent at the time). Since the focus was the plague, rats were prominent and even Orlok is ratlike in his face and posture.

 

Dracula too represents the slow march of an illness, but it is venereal disease. He is a disgusting character but sexual, his bite and embrace corrupt, the novel spends much of its time analyzing the sexualities of Mina and Lucy, many of Bram Stoker’s influences and contemporaries suffered from syphilis because syphilis was a very prolific and timely thing to comment on from the 18^th century onward, the insanity of Renfield resembles neurosyphilis, much of what we understand as general insanity is just neurosyphilis as we know with studies into the General Paralysis of the Insane, and Bram Stoker is speculated to have himself died of syphilis!

 

Sorry, that was quite a lot. Basically, syphilitic imagery is inextricable from Dracula, yet was extracted for Nosferatu to favor the plague, and that is really important for how we approach the fixation on the leading lady (my current thoughts are that while either one can be intimate or looming large, Dracula is more readily a sexual vehicle due to his literary DNA). So imagine my surprise when Robert Egger’s new Nosferatu focused more on syphilis than the plague. (There are many ways it brings in other stuff from the novel and warps it such as Willem Dafoe’s twisted Van Helsing type and Harding’s scene in the sepulchre mimicking Arthur and Lucy, but those serve the tone without the detriment I see to the story in transfixing back on syphilis.)

 

Syphilis comes in stages: a chancre upon the tongue or other areas of infection, a rash across the body and then the gummatous lesions. However, the most important motif would be sexual regret because that is how it transmits. The art and poetry focus on the moment surrounding the sexual encounter where the lovely woman decayed into a corpse, thus also dooming the protagonist to the same fate. I shall share here a poem and art piece to prove this point.

 

Here is Charles Baudelaire’s The Metamorphoses of the Vampire (https://fleursdumal.org/poem/186)

Then the woman with the strawberry mouth,
Squirming like a snake upon the coals,
Kneading her breasts against the iron of her corset,
Let flow these words scented with musk:
— "I have wet lips, and I know the art
Of losing old conscience in the depths of a bed.
I dry all tears on my triumphing breasts
And I make old men laugh with the laughter of children.
For those who see me naked, without any covering,
I am the moon and the sun and the sky and the stars!
I am so dexterous in voluptuous love, my dear, my wise one,
When I strangle a man in my dreadful arms,
Or abandon my breast to his biting,
So shy and lascivious, so frail and vigorous,
That on these cushions that swoon with passion
The powerless angels damn their souls for me!"

When she had sucked the pith from my bones
And, drooping, I turned towards her
To give her the kiss of love, I saw only
An old leather bottle with sticky sides and full of pus!
I shut both eyes in cold dismay
And when I opened them both to clear reality,
By my side, instead of that powerful puppet
Which seemed to have taken some lease of blood,
There shook vaguely the remains of a skeleton,
Which itself gave the cry of a weathercock
Or of a sign-board, at the end of a rod of iron,
Which the wind swings in winter nights.

 

Consider the very framing for Nosferatu’s existence in this new movie: that Ellen’s yearning and lustful encounter brought a corpse to bed with her that infects her and damns her soul. Some syphilitic imagery is more overt than others: Dracula is a bit more veiled than Baudelaire, but, in this franchise, having sexual intercourse with a decaying corpse that slumps into leathery puppet with skeleton legs as Ellen concludes this film is necessarily syphilitic. Even so, this hits the finer details of this poem such as biting the breast rather than neck or wrist, Knock, the old man that laughs like a child and literally seeing the syphilitic carrier naked multiple times with Orlok’s full frontal. (I chose this poem primarily because it is the one easiest for me to call to mind due to learning about it and syphilis in my WSU Honors Blood class taught by Professors Justin Rhees and Cynthia Jones. I am not insinuating that the film intended to borrow from this, but we should not rule it out either since it was notable enough to warrant exploration in that class.)

 

From that lens, the nudity, shocking though it may be is by no means surprisingly except insofar as this is meant to still be about the plague, and this guides me into my burgeoning issue with the script (pending confirmation that I did not miss something to tie it together). Because the plague isn’t the plague but explicitly tied to Nosferatu’s magic syphilis, I asked myself a question I could not answer on the ride home from viewing this: how does one become a vampire?

 

In the original film, that would be wholly irrelevant; Orlok’s bites do not transform, and there is no evidence of other vampires in the region or the world (outside of the book’s diegetic exposition that might as well just be about the same vampire we are watching). In the Werner Herzog film as I understand it, the bites do transform the human, but this new film is erring far closer to the original where vampirized Hutter is really not a prospect. However, there is another vampire that is unearthed and staked, so Nosferatu is creating more.

 

At several points in the film, Willem Dafoe’s mad doctor explains that this is not really the plague but Nosferatu’s doing, and he also connects the plague affliction Harding succumbs to with the death from bites of Harding’s family as being the same thing that needs the fire to cleanse it. (If I misconstrued this, please clarify what I missed.) This seems to mean one of two things: either when Nosferatu’s shadow hand went over the city, he mass infected everyone or at least as many people in the city to the same degree as biting them (in which case Willem Dafoe needs to burn the entire town down to remain internally consistent) or while Harding was in a deep sleep so as to not stop Nosferatu from killing his children, Orlok gave him the same sex dreams he was giving Ellen so as to progress his infection (because I do not remember him biting Harding and sex visions are the only other way we see him work his curse). Neither option is preferable for the storytelling suffice it to say.

 

Perhaps it is possible that none of these victims were on track to become vampires, but I fail to see why Nosferatu would have singled out that one person from his native land to do anything differently with them. And furthermore, if he did roughly the same thing as in Wisborg to make that vampire (we have no evidence otherwise), why isn’t everyone else there infected? (For what it is worth, much of these townsfolk are implicitly Roma travelers that may not have been there long enough for infection, and the film accounts for how they knew of the disconnected vampire involving some ritual wherein a virgin on horseback could lead them to it, but this also shows us a different method for vampire dispatch where staking works completely including a possible different role for Ellen that Hutter knows about so, pending further analysis, that answer might also weaken the film's integrity.)

 

Another question that comes to mind is how the nuns treated Hutter’s symptoms of Nosferatu’s infection to the point where the doctors and Hutter comment on his better condition than the rest. The nuns implied they could have healed him completely if he had stayed longer, which gives this magic system an opposing dichotomy of powers, but the earnest prayers of German characters do nothing, and even Willem Dafoe the Van Helsing type does not use wafer or Holy water to cleanse the boxes of Earth but fire (even though Holy water had some effect on Ellen during her trances). Again, it is possible I missed something, but, for the stakes to hold, this needed more explanation, and if that explanation was cut just so we could stare at Bill Skarsgard’s prosthetic penis, then I have no words for that except what I have already said.

 

I have no evidence for this supposition, but the sense that I got watching this movie is that after failing to cast him as Orlok or Knock, Eggers just hastily wrote a part for Willem Dafoe to be Willem Dafoe because he sort of takes the role of the expositional book from the original but more strangely paced and confusing. First I should say that I like the idea of bringing a Van Helsing into this story but then warping that warm familiar presence to better serve this expressionist horror tone. (For instance, as I mentioned, Harding’s last scene in the tomb mirrors Arthur discovering and staking Lucy, but whereas we would expect Harding to have to put his vampirized wife to rest and step into a hero role, he seems to commit necrophilia and then die.) Second I will say they did not apply that consistently.

 

Dafoe seems unstable through his introduction, then composed in his pseudo-medical scenes, ultimately leading us to the new climax set piece of Knock’s impalement, where Dafoe reveals he was lucidly manipulating Hutter on a duck hunt because he wanted Ellen to kill Nosferatu and Hutter to kill Knock. Dafoe cackles madly and sets the house on fire but then reappears during the final scene to be a source of authority and comfort for Hutter, even cast in the new day’s bright light to communicate him as truly a good guy. That is not consistent characterization, plotting or theme work; it is just a Willem Dafoe Greatest Hits track where he gets to portray vignettes of the kind of range he can act out across his best roles.

 

This is running a bit longer than I wanted so I will wrap this up with a little bit on Ellen and Hutter. Again, this is not a review but a reaction, so I have no issue vaguely stating the progression, likability and strength of Nicholas Hoult’s acting is Oscar worthy and leaving it at that. I get the sense that for the film to work as intended, Lily Rose Depp’s performance had to be at least as strong, and it would have been except for the marital sex scene where she switches between Ellen and vaguely Nosferatu controlled that makes me unable to tell what the subtleties in her performance are supposed to mean (even the film lacks the faith in her expression because it gives us the clichéd “slows down and back is turned to prime us for a jumpscare” rather than letting it speak for itself). Of course, her performance being that way is contingent upon this being a syphilis story that does not clarify the scope of Orlok’s vampiric powers, so those are the major stumbling blocks I have with accepting this story even if otherwise the craft was exceptional and the film made me feel everything it wanted me to feel.

To read Doug Gibson's thoughts on the film, follow this link: https://planninecrunch.blogspot.com/2024/12/nosferatu-2024-is-near-classic-great.html

The Last Voyage of the Demeter is an above-average current Universal horror

 

Review by Doug Gibson

"The Last Voyage of the Demeter" is a superb Gothic-type horror film. It's atmospheric, creepy with frightening scenes. I don't know if it will be a money-maker because it's a bleak tale. But it has an engrossing, suspenseful, and hopeful climax/ending.

“The Last Voyage of the Demeter” comprises chapter 7 of Bram Stoker’s Dracula novel, in which the vampire travels to London. When the ship drifts into Whitby harbor, it’s deserted and the crew is dead. The depiction of the ship is realistic. The cinematography is gorgeous, and the musical score from Bear McCreary adds to the gothic dread and drama.

It’s a good cast. Of particular note is Aisling Franciosi, as Anna, a Roma woman stowed away on the ship to be essentially a chew toy for Dracula. Her character slowly gains resolve as her strength returns. Apparently the Anna character was a late addition by producers. It was a smart move. She’s a protagonist who provides courage and sacrifice in the life and death battle.

Also strong are Liam Cunningham as Captain Eliot, and Corey Hawkins as Clemens, a member of the crew. Clemens is a black doctor who cannot find employment in his profession due to racism. He saves Anna from death and eventually becomes the leader in the struggle to survive the vampire.

If there is a weakness, it is how Dracula is portrayed. I don’t mind the Nosferatu-like appearance, but having Dracula appear as a human-oid bat is a bit off. He looks like an outcast from the Island of Dr. Moreau. However, Javier Botet as Conde Dracula is creepy and savage and I am happy the producers resisted the urge to go all computer on the character.

The secret to a good horror film is that it provides character depth to the victims of evil. You, as the viewer, care about – and grieve the deaths of well-developed characters. This is what separates a classic horror film, such as “Halloween,” from slasher dreck like “Friday the 13^th.”

In “… Demeter,” there is a well-developed, likable character that we sympathize with. This character is ultimately doomed. We grieve for this character’s fate. It adds to the horror because the filmmakers took the time for audiences to get to know this character.

 

This is an above-average film. It reminds me of a cross between Universal expressionism and the Hammer genre, with its savage, Nosferatu-like vampire. However, watching it I knew this would lose money. It's suspenseful but not often scary. It doesn't have the jump scares, head explosions and torture porn that many contemporary viewers want. I do think its reputation will increase with time.

A final note: As mentioned, the film seems to be underperforming at the box office. Nevertheless, it’s an excellent effort. I wonder today why $45 million would be spent on “…Demeter,” which is a solid B movie. If this film had cost $15 million it might have ended in the black and we’d be able to one day watch what the filmmakers appear to have set up as a potential sequel.

Drakula Halala -- the first filmed Dracula

Recap by Doug Gibson

"Drakula Halala," a 1921 Hungarian/Austrian film, is considered the first "adaptation" of the Bram Stoker novel. The film is lost; all that remains are stills and news reports, including a small novelization of the film. Above are the stars of the film, Paul Askonas as Drakula, and Margit Lux as Mary Land, the young lovely he menaces.

Scholar Gary D. Rhodes has the past several years become the man who fills in the pieces of a 50,000-word puzzle of the history of Dracula, Bela Lugosi and Ed Wood. Rhodes recently wrote an essay on the history of "Drakula Halala," which more or less means "Dracula's Death." He also translated the novella from the Hungarian.

I've always been fascinated with this film, and I am appreciative of Rhodes' essay, which will be the template for this post. The essay is part of a new book that Rhodes has co-edited with Olaf Brill, Expressionism in the Cinema, published by Edinburgh University Press.

Rhodes is the postgraduate director for Film Studies at the Queens University in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Brill is a German writer on film with an impressive resume. Rhodes notes that from his research, it seems that "Drakula Halala" was an expressionistic film. In what makes one ache to see this lost film, he sees similarities with "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." Certainly, the novella compares to Caligari in plot.

I urge readers to buy Expressionism in the Cinema and learn more about "Drakula Halala." I will present a short recap of Rhodes' translation of the novella and afterwards mention a few facts unearthed by Rhodes in the chapter.

The melodrama, suffering, despair and pessimism that is ingrained in the Hungarian culture is represented in Rhodes' translation. Mary Land lives alone, a seamstress working long hours to support her father, confined to a mental institution after the death of his wife. The family was once happy and wealthy, but all that is gone. Mary's boyfriend, a woodcutter named George, implores her to rest but Mary will not.

Eventually, Mr Land's death appears near and Mary and George travel to the asylum. Left there by George, Mary talks with Dr. Tillner. Left alone she is accosted by several of the inmates, including a sadistic man, Drakula, who believes he is immortal. Another, who laughs, is called the "Funny Man." Mary visits her father, who dies. Overcome by sorrow and the fear of Drakula and other inmates who visit her and pretend to be doctors, Mary is advised to spend the night in the asylum.

That night, alone, Mary is kidnapped by Drakula and taken to his castle, where he says, they will be married. Mary's revulsion, her cross and the light push Drakula away from her. He promises to return for their wedding when night comes. That evening there is an elaborate wedding ceremony prepared with other brides of Drakula. It's a strange ceremony, with elaborate lights, shrill music and flowers flowing from the ceiling. Just before Drakula kisses her, Mary pushes the cross toward him. Everyone flees, including Mary.

Outside the castle, Mary is rescued by a family. An attempt by Drakula to recapture her fails. A real doctor cares for her until he is led away on a fool's errand by Drakula. He returns to Mary before any harm can come to her. Nevertheless, thoughts of Drakula torture her in her bed, and seeking relief, she runs out of the house and into the cold snow.

We then cut back to the asylum, where Dr. Tillner is conducting his rounds. Mary is sleeping. The nurse informs the doctor she's had a terrible night of bad dreams.

Mary's kidnapping, attempted marriage and flight was all a dream.

Outside, in the courtroom, the mental patients are gathered. The "Funny Man" has a gun. Seizing an opportunity to prove his immortality, Drakula goads the "Funny Man" into shooting him. He does and Drakula dies.

George returns to gather Mary. They return home to a lifetime of happiness.  Mary requests that no one ever speak of Drakula, and asks that a manuscript of his be burnt. (Below is a still of the wedding scene in "Dracula Halala.")

The film, if the novella is correct, is hardly Stoker's "Dracula." Maybe they wanted to exploit the Dracula cultural sensation without paying any royalties to Stoker's widow, Florence. In later years, she would shut down "Nosferatu" and nearly destroy every print due to copyright violation.

The director of "Drakula Halala" was Karoly Lajthay, who acted in films with a young Bela Lugosi. It was shot mostly in Vienna but created by Hungarians. Interiors were shot in Budapest. Askonas had also played the sinister, mesmerizing Svengali in a 1912 version of "Trilby." Lux has appeared in the Mihaly Kertesz co-directed "Alraune."

Kertesz later became the famous director Michael Curtiz. He worked with Lugosi, his future expatriate, in Hungarian cinema. Curtiz was one of three screen writers credited for "Drakula Halala."

Rhodes' recounts publicity and advertising efforts for the film. There were expectations of a long showing of the film in Hungary. But that didn't happen. The film premiered in Vienna in 1921 but only played briefly in Budapest during the spring of 1921.

It's anyone guess as to why the film had a limited showing. Rhodes merits our appreciation for unearthing the information he has discovered. It may be that tucked away, forgotten in an Eastern European film vault, exists a print of "Dracula Halala." Only time well tell. Rhodes, nevertheless, has intrigued us enough to want to know more about the "first Dracula film."

Classic horror films, from what novels came these great flicks?

By Doug Gibson

Ever taken the time to read Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein?” Or Bram Stoker’s “Dracula?” You’d be surprised at how both, particularly Shelley’s “Frankenstein,” differ from the iconic movies with Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. Film scholar Rob Backer provides an entertaining look at the literature behind much of horror cinema in “Classic Horror Films and the Literature that Inspired Them,” McFarland, 2015, 800-253-2187). 

Besides the perennials, such as the above-mentioned and “The Mummy,” “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” “The Phantom of the Opera” and much of Edgar Allan Poe, Backer, a lawyer and self-described avid fan of classic horror films, has added literature and films that may escape the casual fan’s notice. I had never heard of “The Viy,” by Nikolai Gogol, although I have seen the film, “Black Sunday,” that many believe resembles “The Viy,” a tale of a man trying to avoid a fatal encounter with a witch. As Backer notes, though, “Black Sunday,” while a fine film, has virtually nothing to do with the book. He directs readers to an obscure, 1967 Russian film of the same name, which, he writes, “is one of the closest adaptations of a horror story ever filmed.”

I note this because horror films rarely follow closely the literature of which are based. Much of Backer’s book details the similarities, and differences, between the written word and what’s on the screen. As the author frequently stresses, this is not always a negative. In many cases, the shifts in plot are necessary. The mediums are distinct; books allow us insight into the thoughts of major characters, and more clues into how society and culture has shape them. Film has an hour or two to tell a good story. Often in the book, Backer laments the “boring” parts of a horror novel, the reading detours exploring mood swings of characters. Film appropriately bypasses these sections.

To continue reading this review, go to the website of the Standard-Examiner newspaper, where it was originally published.

'Tod Browning's Dracula' a defense of an often-maligned film and director

By Doug Gibson

It’s a safe bet that when the word Dracula is uttered, most of us think of Bela Lugosi, who played the iconic role, or Bram Stoker, who wrote the novel. But far fewer have heard of Tod Browning, the man most responsible for Dracula and other vampires maintaining their edge in the popular culture and not stuck on the sidelines with, say, Svengali.

Academic Gary D. Rhodes, of Queen’s University, Belfast, is one of the best genre scholars and he’s often tackled the film career of Bela Lugosi, who starred in Browning’s 1931 “Dracula.” In recent years, he’s broken new ground in books he co-wrote with others on Lugosi’s “lean years,” the mid 1940s and 1950s. Rhodes, along with Arthur Lennig, Frank Dello Stritto, Andi Brooks, and others underscore why Bela Lugosi, and Dracula, exceed Boris Karloff, the Frankenstein monster, Lon Chaney Jr., and the wolf man, as icons. 

But one man who has got the shaft the past couple of generations is “Dracula” director Tod Browning. In fandom and scholarship, it has become the norm to demean the 1931 film, to trash Tod Browning’s direction, and even occasionally Lugosi’s performance, although that’s more rare. David J. Skal and William K. Everson are among respectable researchers who often maligned Browning’s “Dracula,” notes Rhodes in the book “Tod Browning’s Dracula,”  376 pages Tomahawk Press, 2014. Another strong genre writer, Tom Weaver — who graciously praises Rhodes’ book — has been none-to-kind to Lugosi, Browning, and “Dracula” over the year, particularly in his excellent multi-authored book, “Universal Horrors.” 

I’m taking a long time to get to Rhodes’ book, but I enjoy the minutiae, and want it all on the pages. But here we go. Rhodes’ new book, out in the USA this year, is a spirited defense of Tod Browning’s direction of “Dracula” and the film’s high quality (which by the way, was nearly universally praised by critics when it was released 84 years ago). 

Unlike a lot of apologetics, “Browning’s Dracula” is not full of forced defense or spin; he has accumulated a strong amount of evidence to support his claim that “Dracula” is worthy of classic status and that Browning’s direction was carefully nuanced and designed to create a dark, scary classic story that is both creepy, other-worldly, full of specific images and very well-paced. Also, Rhodes easily swats away long-accepted myths, such as that Browning offered little direction to the film, or that cameraman Karl Freund actually directed the film, or that Freund, in protest left the camera static, or that Browning’s “Dracula” had less camera movement than the longer “Spanish” version. 

Take this example: It’s long been a source of amusement to “Dracula” and Browning critics that there is a piece of cardboard stuck between a lamp and a headboard of the bed where “Mina,” Helen Chandler’s character, is resting. Through careful examination of the film, Rhodes makes a strong case that the inclusion of the cardboard is a story device in which the protagonists, eager to protect a resting Mina, have placed the cardboard there to keep light rays off her face. Also, Rhodes notes that the scene as displayed also allows more light to shine upward. One can criticize Browning’s choice of prop, but it wasn’t a result of carelessness or ineptitude by the director, as so many have claimed..

Rhodes also, I hope, puts the definitive end to the long-held fantasy that the “Spanish” “Dracula” is a better film than Browning’s “Dracula.” It’s a splendid film, I agree, and a lot of fun, both as a companion piece and bit of history that’s mostly lost today (films made specially for foreign lands). But it’s not as good as Dracula. It plods at 30 minutes beyond Browning’s 74-minute film, and the acting, save Lupita Tovar’s “Eva,” (Mina) is too melodramatic. Also, as Rhodes writes, Browning has far better camera placement and interaction between his principal actors, better pacing, better continuity, better symbolism, better lighting, better dialogue, better scene selection (the Spanish “Dracula” neglects Dracula’s attack on the flower girl) and, as mentioned, the direction is better paced and more suspenseful.

As Rhodes notes, much of the criticism of Browning’s “Dracula” is rooted in what we wish we could see, such as victim-turned vampire Lucy’s death scene, or more depth to Dracula’s sea voyage, or a deathly flight back to Transylvania, or even more blood (although Rhodes notes that many critics error on their tallies of blood in the film.) However, Universal was working under budget constraints due to the Depression, and finances were tight. Rhodes’ thesis, which I agree with, is that a very talented director made a memorable, classic film. Particularly interesting uses of symbolism recounted include Chandler mimicking a bent-over male figurine — representing Dracula — by Lucy’s bedside, and an insect in the Dracula’s castle opening scene appearing to be near the size of a “coffin.” More examples: the symbolism of three women on Lucy’s bedside lamp, and their relationship to Dracula’s three wives; and Browning having Chandler, with long dress train, following Lugosi on Carfax Abbey’s stone stairs as if she is nearly another vampire wife. In the Spanish Dracula, the symbolism is lost with Tovar being carried by actor Carlos Villarias.

There’s far more to this book than I’ve mentioned. Rhodes deals with the public perception of vampires through the 19th and early 20th centuries. Readers may be amused to learn that in the early days of silent cinema, Theda Bara and “vamps” were more often associated with vampires. In fact, Universal, wary of complaints, pitched “Dracula” initially as a strange romance. As Rhodes adds, once the film was out, it quickly become known as a horror film. 

Besides Rhodes’ intent to set the record straight on “Dracula” and Tod Browning, the book, with loving detail, delves into the minutiae of the making of the film, its initial reception, and its long lifespan through the decades. Our opinions are subjective, and we are entitled to like and pan as we please. But facts are important, and Rhodes has compiled the facts well in “Tod Browning’s Dracula.” I imagine it will settle a lot of arguments and debates. You can buy the book from the publisher here or via Amazon here.

Nosferatu (1922) – A Symphony of Horror

Nosferatu is the first screen adaptation of Bram Stoker’s famous Dracula novel. Stoker’s widow Florence was unhappy with the similarity of the film to the novel, so prints of the film were ordered to be destroyed. Fortunately, the film remains in print today, and has been digitally remastered by various DVD distributors with filtered colored scenes and music scores to select from. Many worn public domain prints with missing intertitles are also in circulation.

Real estate agent Thomas Hutter is assigned to travel to the Carpathian Mountains to sell a house to Count Orlok, a strange pale recluse with fangs and elongated fingers. At Orlok’s castle, Hutter is bitten on the neck by the count and held captive in the castle. Hutter escapes, but discovers that Orlok has traveled to Wisborg, Germany with coffins filled with his naïve soil and rats to spread the plaque. 

Director F. W. Murnau creates an eerie, dreamlike world where much is left to the imagination of the viewer. Blood is often mentioned, but never shown on screen. A carriage ride sequence shows the film negative in reverse as fog travels through the forest and around the carriage. Other scenes show Orlok’s shadow cast on walls to suggest imposing doom as the count approaches his victims. The count rises from his coffin on board a ship like an erect, phallic symbol. 

After Universal Studios made the 1931 version of Dracula, starring Bela Lugosi, the count was forever changed as a handsome, sophisticated and aristocratic man. Max Schreck’s characterization of the count, however, portrays him as a rat like creature with claws that repels anyone who encounters him.  In fact, Schreck’s name means “horror” in German. Murnau’s 1922 Nosferatu has never been matched, and remains the best of all vampire films in the history of cinema. German director Werner Herzog remade the film in 1979, with Klaus Kinski in the role of the count. Happy viewing! 

Steve D. Stones

Nosferatu (1922) – A Symphony of Horror

By Steve D. Stones

On the evening of Tuesday October 2^nd, 2012, the Weber County Library Main Branch in Ogden screened F.W. Murnau’s 1922 German Expressionistic masterpiece – Nosferatu. The print shown was the 2007 release by Kino International with the Hans Erdmann score and 1922 intertitles faithful to the original film. It was a great treat to see this classic film up on the big screen this evening.

Hutter, a real estate agent, is assigned by Knock to travel into the Carpathian Mountains to sell property to Count Orlok, a hideous rat looking creature with an elongated body and fingers, living on human blood. Hutter’s coach refuses to take him to Orlok’s estate, so he travels on foot. He encounters the Count driving another coach through the woods. It is here that one of the most haunting shots of the film is seen as the coach travels through a fog infested forest while the print is shown in reverse from the negative. Cheap prints in the public domain omit this creepy sequence.

Hutter arrives at Orlok’s estate to make the sale. While there, he writes letters to his young wife Mina, complaining of mosquitoes biting his neck. He soon discovers that Orlok has trapped him in his Carpathian Castle, and plans to travel to Hutter’s hometown of Wisborg, Germany with coffins filled of his native soil. While on route, the rats in the coffin spread the plaque to all the ship’s passengers, bringing the plaque to Wisborg. Orlok leaves the ship and carries coffins through pointed archways to his destination. Funeral processions of coffins being carried into the streets signals that death and the plague have arrived in Wisborg.

Just before sunrise, Orlok confronts Mina in her bedroom as she sleeps. He evaporates in the sun light after Mina is bitten on the neck. Just before the sunlight fills the room, a reflection of Orlok can be seen in the mirror next to Mina’s bed, which is not in keeping with future depictions of vampire beings who cannot cast a reflection in mirrors. Many scenes show Orlok walking around in bright daylight, such as a famous sequence of him walking across the bow of a ship traveling to Wisborg. 

Max Scheck’s portrayal of Count Orlok is grotesque and iconic, a true screen legend that continues to haunt audiences even today. Scheck’s Orlok is more truthful to Bram Stoker’s vampire in the Dracula novel. More contemporary depictions of Dracula show him as a handsome aristocrat that attracts and repels beautiful women. Scheck’s Orlok is meant to be a frightening creature, avoiding any romantic references.

Stoker’s estate was not pleased with the intentional copyright infringement of Nosferatu to the Dracula novel, so all prints of the film were ordered to be destroyed. Lucky for us, Nosferatu is still in circulation for audiences to enjoy today. German film maker Werner Herzog recreated Nosferatu in 1979 starring Klaus Kinski in the role of Count Orlac. See both great classics this Halloween Season. Also see the 2000 film – Shadow of The Vampire, which is a fictionalized account of the filming of Nosferatu. Happy Viewing!! (Above is artist Stones' work, Vampire Crunch)