Doctor Dracula, another Al Adamson two-movie composite

Review by Doug Gibson

I mentioned "Doctor Dracula" in an earlier post. It's not much of a film and merits its very low rating on IMDB.com.

What makes the film marginally interesting is one, it's directed by schlock auteur, the late Al Adamson, two it's likely the only film in which Dracula meets Svengali, three, it has John Carradine (although what trashy '70s film doesn't) and four, it's another example of Adamson practicing film composites, in which he takes two thin films to make an even thinner film.

Adamson and his partner Sam Sherman got their hands on an unreleased film called "Lucifer's Women." They shot a vampire tale to mix with it and managed to get a few actors from the earlier film to create a plot that is deliciously nonsensical in the Adamson tradition.

The film commences with a vampire killing a woman who welcomes his bite. We then switch to an author and mystic named Wainwright (Larry Hankin) lecturing and hypnotizing an audience. He has a book about Svengali. In the audience is Carradine's character and a doctor, Gregorio, (Geoffrey Land) who is openly derisive of Wainwright.

Also in attendance is the daughter, Stephanie, of the woman slain in the opening scene. She's played by actress Susie Ewing, best known as the trucker "Hot Pants" in the film "Smokey and the Bandit."

Stephanie is desperate to find out why her mom died. She consults Wainwright but he's not helpful. She receives greater assistance from Gregorio but his help comes with a bite; more on that.

We also kick to dull scenes in a nightclub where a beautiful singer named Trilby (get it) is performing. Wainwright is falling in love with her. That's because he is turning into the reincarnation of Svengali. There's a whole cult of people, including Carradine, who worship the devil and are involved in the Svengali resurrection. Wainwright/Svengali doesn't want to kill Trilby but the devil cult has a more powerful pull on him and she eventually is readied to be sacrificed. More later.

Meanwhile, Gregorio is -- big surprise -- really Count Dracula. Occasionally he kills women including a somewhat amusing scene where he gives the bite to a tipsy floozy who loves being in a coffin, played by Adamson's wife, Regina Carroll.

In what is probably the sole scene that provides any chills, Gregorio/Dracula produces the undead mother of Stephanie. She has no human qualities left, and openly scorns her daughter.

Dracula has similar plans for Stephanie, and he begins a slow process of controlling her. She may have something to say or do about that later; more on that.

Eventually, the film leads to the sacrifice of Trilby, played by Jane Brunel-Cohen. She may be the worst actress I've seen in a film. Even as she's about to die, she's incapable of conveying emotion.

Dracula crashes the sacrifice and viewers expecting a battle royal between the bloodsucker and the Svengali cult will be disappointed. Spoiler alert: Dracula wins with barely an effort. Land, by the way, is not too bad as Dracula. He's far better than Zandor Vorkoff in "Dracula Versus Frankenstein" or Mitch Evans in "Gallery of Horrors."

There is an abrupt, mildly surprising ending involving Stephanie and Dracula that I won't give away in case you want to see the flick. I recommend it only to Adamson completists and fans of composite films, of which Adamson made several,

The history of the film is interesting. It was made in the late 1970s, in which Adamson's Independent International, and other indie schlock producers, were being moved out of the business. Bigger studios were either making their own shockers or buying better-produced low budget shockers and tidying them up for major releases.

To my knowledge, "Doctor Dracula" was only released to television, which may explain why it's very tame, with virtually no nudity. Rumor has it that it played VHS with Adamson's "Horror of the Blood Monsters" and it got a sole DVD release in 2002. The DVD has the trailer for "Lucifer's Women." A better idea would be for Sam Sherman to apply the entire Paul Aratow-directed film, Lucifer's Women," (if it still exists) as an extra to the DVD.

John Barrymore does forgotten villain Svengali proud

By Doug Gibson

I'll say this for "Svengali," the 1931 Warner Bros. 81-minute pre-code adaptation of George L. Du Maurier's mostly-forgotten late-19th century, clearly bigoted and anti-Semitic "evil-eye/covetous-Jew" thriller, "Trilby," and that is, it sticks to the novel's downbeat ending. I've seen too many 1930s' and early 1940s' films trash the plots of novels to not appreciate director Archie Mayor for sticking pretty close to the novel.

John Barrymore stars as the anti-Semitic stereotype, a tall, lean, sinful, perpetually dirty vocalist teaching Jew with the evil eye, who sets that eye on pretty lower-class model, Trilby (Marion Marsh), steals her from her feckless artist lover, Billie (Bramwell Fletcher), and turns her into a singing sensation. In Warner Bros' toned-down depiction (that still retains a healthy whiff of bigotry) Barrymore's tall, bearded, long-haired dirty Svengali still manages to garner sympathy from the audience. He does this partially with wit; at one point he jokes with artists that his last bath was when he fell into the sewer, and with pathos (he is mistreated, and generally despised, even by his artist friends). Even with his triumph, garnered through the evil eye, over Trilby, he laments that his love gained is only "manufactured."

Film historian Frank J. Dello Stritto, in his essay, "Svengali: The Forgotten Monster," from the anthology "A Quaint & Curious Volume of Forgotten Lore,"  quotes Barrymore's take on his role: "The male character must be funny and get lots of laughs, particularly in the first part of the story. Although a sinister figure, he is a wise, dirty, glutinous Polish Jew, with no conscience and a supreme contempt for all those nice, clean straight-thinking English Christians."

Despite Svengali's affability, as defined by Barrymore, the first scene leaves no doubt as to the music teacher's capacity for evil. Madame Honori (Carmel Myers), a rich woman with a terrible voice whom Svengali tolerates both for her money and sexual favors (remember, this is pre-code), arrives. Svengali, not sure what will transpire, sends his minion, Gecko (Luis Alberni), outside. Svengali soon learns that the foolish woman has left her husband without a financial settlement. Outraged, he turns his "evil eye," unseen, on her. She screams in horror and flees the room. Later, it is learned that she drowned in the river Seine, a presumed suicide.

Svengali is obsessed with Trilby, played by 18-year-old Marian Marsh. She tolerates him because he cures her headaches, but otherwise is repulsed by him. Instead, she falls for artist Billie, younger, shorter, and more handsome. However, when Billie catches Trilby in a nude modeling session and leaves in disgust, Trilby goes to Svengali for advice. Unknown to Trilby, Svengali has been putting his hypnotic eye on her. She is easy prey for the loathsome protagonist, and leaves with Svengali, under his spell. Trilby's clothes are left by the river Seine. Billie and others assume she has drowned.

Years pass, with Billie and the others having heard that Svengali has achieved fame with a top singer prodigy. They decide to watch the new star in concert. Billie eventually recognizes her as Trilby, and Trilby him. She greets him happily and they chat for a moment. Suddenly, Trilby turns cold, and ends the conversation. The jealous Svengali, discovering the reunion, has placed the "eye" upon her. Svengali is jealous of Billie, who he knows can excite love in Trilby, whom he desperately wishes to excite in the same manner free of hypnotism. As he says, "You are beautiful, my manufactured love, but it is only Svengali talking to himself again."

As Dello Stritto notes in his essay, the novel is far more anti-Semitic than the 1931 film, which doesn't even specifically name Svengali as a Jew. He writes, "'Trilby' is blatantly anti-Semitic. The novel clearly links Svengali's Jewishness to his evil character and repulsive appearance." Du Maurier, a famous cartoonist for "Punch," wrote three novels late in his life. As Dello Stritto explains, Du Maurier was a short man, and loathed his short stature. His novels idolized persons who were tall, healthy and physically fit, which Du Maurier was not.  Dello Stritto writes, "His (Du Maurier's) first two books ("Peter Ibbotson" and "Trilby") succeeded as offbeat tales of love unrequited." In short, Du Maurier's novels were heavily autobiographical, and provided frank hints of the author's deepest yearnings.

With that knowledge, it is telling that Billie, in the novel, is regarded as "Little Billie." While Du Maurier is by no means a fan of Svengali, he does make him tall, and impetuous. Billie is short and wimpy, easily able to spurn Trilby if he fears she won't meet with his family's approval, and apparently not man enough to get her back from the evil Svengali once he discovers she really is alive.

Marsh, who played Trilby, is very good in the lead. She has a laughing, sweet countenance and personality early in the film and she reminded me of Marion Davies in light comedies. In this pre-code film, her "nude" backside is seen as she flees the modeling session, but it is not Marsh. It's a double wearing a nude stocking. Marsh, as mentioned, was only 18. Her career faded through the 1930s and she retired from feature films in 1942 after starring in the low-budget Producers Releasing Corporation comedy, "House of Errors," also starring Harry Langdon. Watch "Svengali" below: