Dracula (1931)

When it comes to horror, few directors are more influential than Tod Browning, who single-handedly helped change the course of the genre for good, with his unique vision and precise style of storytelling being the foundation of many extraordinary works. Perhaps his most well-known film outside of his iconic Freaks (which remains one of the most harrowing but beautiful horror films ever made) is Dracula, which saw the esteemed director going in search of many new ideas, each one becoming a well-developed and meaningful foray into the darker side of human nature, as filtered through the deceptively challenging world established by Bram Stoker in what is widely considered to be perhaps the most famous work of horror ever written. An incredibly faithful adaptation, and one that has a very distinct vision that Browning puts together through engaging with the text on a much deeper level than we may have expected, the film is an absolute triumph, a dark and incredibly poignant endeavour that essentially sets the foundation for horror filmmaking in the 1930s, which was already shaping up to be a banner decade for the genre, especially since this film came in the same year as James Whale’s Frankenstein and Rouben Mamoulian’s Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, and it is difficult to not look back on this period as being one of the key moments in a genre that has sometimes been accused of being unoriginal, when in reality it is all just a matter of trying to understand exactly what these works were so influential, and continue to inspire many horror artists, across every conceivable medium, who constantly use these texts as the foundation for their own work, creating a vibrant lineage of contemporary art that is both engaging and deeply satisfying in ways that are sometimes difficult to pinpoint, but which are almost undeniable.

Browning’s adaptation of Dracula is neither the first attempt to bring this story to life on screen nor is it the most terrifying. Yet, it is often considered amongst the very best adaptations (I am hesitant to proclaim it as being the best overall since this is hyperbole and would serve to dismiss the many other astonishing adaptations over the years), and perhaps the first time that Hollywood had truly embraced the concept of vampires, in terms of offering audiences a wildly entertaining work that pandered to both the mainstream and the arthouse. Horror doesn’t tend to hold up in many instances since audiences tend to become desensitised to terror over time – what is outrageously terrifying for audiences in the past is mildly unsettling at best, and perhaps even amusing, to those that came in later generations. Dracula does not have this problem – it was certainly met with a lot more resistance at the time, but what makes Browning’s direction so captivating is that he wasn’t only interested in scaring audiences, but rather crafting a thorough story that uses the terror as a tool to make some profound statements, which emerge with such stark consistency, it’s bewildering to imagine that some may dismiss it as being merely not scary enough to warrant our attention when in reality this was never the overall intention. Dracula is a novel teeming with subtext, and Browning was one of the many artists who made sure to not overlook these elements – but unfortunately, the era in which this film was made (even under the more relaxed policies of the Pre-Code era) meant that there was a limit on what he could do with this material. In many ways, allowing some of the more challenging elements to linger in the ambigious spaces between the dialogue and images is perhaps the smarter decision, since we are drawn into this world and given the chance to engage with these small details on our own, which makes for a far more exhilarating experience, and one that immediately separates this from more conventional adaptations.

There aren’t many actors who immediately consolidate themselves in film history through a single shot, but the image of Count Dracula emerging from his coffin and standing in a dimly lit basement as his servants (or “children of the night”) surround him etched in the cultural consciousness more than many other moments. Bela Lugosi was not the first choice for the role – established stars that Conrad Veidt and Lon Chaney were courted, and they would have made the most sense in theory, since they were prominent performers who had success in horror films previously. However, it’s difficult to think of anyone better suited to the role than Lugosi – not only was he just as mysterious as Dracula himself, with his vague origins and genuine peculiarities made him a perfect fit. Moreover, he had spent many nights on the Broadway stage honing the character in a theatrical production of the novel years previously and therefore entered into this film armed with much more knowledge and experience with the material than just about anyone else who has ever played the character. Unlike some of his contemporaries like Boris Karloff and John Carradine, Lugosi didn’t ever truly manage to break free of the character (although he did exceptional work throughout his career), but that is only because he was so iconic in this role, it was always a part of his acting style. He makes history with this role, turning a seemingly straightforward horror villain into one of the most alluring figures in film history, and he has been appropriately recognized as a groundbreaking figure in the development of the genre, being one of the first examples of someone putting the performance before the terror, which was a quality that he shared with Browning, who always prioritized the more intelligent aspects of these stories.

Putting all of this aside, we have to try and understand the fundamental appeal of this film, which is not a challenging endeavour in any way. The very premise of Dracula is deeply alluring and has been one of the main reasons many artists have taken inspiration from the story. Despite being published nearly 130 years ago, the novel by Stoker has not had a single moment where it was out of print, which is an astonishing achievement for any text, let alone a work of fiction steeped so heavily in such dark subject matter. Cinematically, few concepts have aged better than vampires – except a few dreadfully cliched examples, these are entities that have remained a steadfast component of the terror canon for over a century and have yet to show any sign of waning in popularity. Much like their subject, these films do not age, and they only tend to become richer and more compelling as time progresses. We see filmmakers trying to take this material in different directions, making their adaptations bigger and more extravagant, but as entertaining as these spectacles may be, there is something about how Browning approaches the novel and its central ideas that make his version perhaps the definitive in terms of capturing that sense of mystery and despair that flows liberally throughout the novel but is sometimes absent in the more scatter-brained adaptations. It may carry itself with a sense of intentional mystery, and it never really does explain the logic behind some of these narrative details, but there is a quality that allows the film to maintain a genuine sense of intrigue that only draws us in – the entire purpose of the Dracula myth is that he is a figure that puts the victim in a trance, and Browning manages to capture this feeling throughout the film, putting us in a state of awe-inspired terror as he navigate the sometimes bizarre but consistently captivating world in which this film takes place.

Dracula is the kind of film that earns its place within film history from the very beginning, and it never tends to wane or go in any direction outside of what was intended. It is undeniably quite a faithful adaptation of the Stoker novel, which is remarkable considering how the text has been mangled and manipulated so much over the years, seeing something this direct feels oddly refreshing – but even within this, we find that Browning has made a few interesting decisions that develop on the original ideas with incredible vigour, honesty and detail. It can sometimes feel quite mysterious, and those who aren’t inclined to this style of Expressionistic, complex horror storytelling will not find much that they can grasp throughout this film, which is an intentionally ambiguous and incredibly captivating horror film that knows how to take us on a specific journey into the heart of the human condition, particularly the darker side of our inherent fears, namely the terror that comes with the unknown. Dracula is a beautifully-made film that is filled to the brim with unforgettable images and astonishing performances, each one extraordinarily detailed and quietly meditative in how it captures a very specific style of storytelling, the kind that we can’t ever truly find ourselves embracing until the very end when we have been witness to this deceptive and dark story that is in perfect sync with broader ideas. One of the most visually striking horror films ever made, and one that counterbalances the distinct grandeur with an intense and complex story, Browning’s adaptation is accurately viewed as one of the most iconic films of the 1930s, and one that helped set the foundation for the entire genre.

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