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#666 - Bram Stoker's Dracula
Francis Ford Coppola, 1992
During the Victorian era, an English lawyer meets with a Transylvanian nobleman who is revealed to be a vampire.
I took a stab at reading Bram Stoker's Dracula a few years ago for academic purposes but I never managed to finish it, though I always intended to do so. Of course, that intention has been diminished somewhat by my viewing of Francis Ford Coppola's adaptation, which seeks to translate the iconic Gothic novel into an appropriately decadent early-1990s film complete with lurid colour schemes and dramatic camerawork. I haven't really bothered to watch much Coppola outside of his Big Four (with the exceptions being the underwhelming Rumble Fish, the tolerable The Godfather Part III, and the haven't-seen-it-since-the-age-of-seven Jack) but it sounded like Bram Stoker's Dracula might just be one of the most worthwhile films he'd made since Apocalypse Now. Its blending of supernatural horror and torrid romance proved an initially intriguing combination but that intrigue was definitely worn down as the film played out. Bram Stoker's Dracula ultimately proves a bit of a frustrating experience because the vivid nature of its technique is so often undermined by the ways in which the film opts to handle its interpersonal element.
Things start off alright with a fantastic prologue before jumping to the hilariously miscast Keanu Reeves as he plays the Englishman tasked with looking into the affairs of a Count Dracula (Gary Oldman). While Reeves is effectively trapped by his ancient-looking master, Oldman himself soon sets about heading to England in search of fresh blood. This puts him in touch with Reeves' fiancée (Winona Ryder), who just so happens to look exactly like the woman whose suicide led to Oldman becoming a vampire. Some more supernatural shenanigans take place before the renowned Dr. Van Helsing (Anthony Hopkins) is brought in to handle affairs regarding the vampire scourge now plaguing London. It's enough plot to guarantee my interest (when else am I likely to see Richard E. Grant and Tom Waits share a scene?) but the lurid visual aesthetic only does so much when it comes to building an effective film. Blending of various different colours, to say nothing of the ways in which shadows play across the wall, definitely makes for a consistently interesting style that also extends to the sharp costume design and production value.
Of course, Bram Stoker's Dracula is arguably undone by the haphazard quality of its cast. Reeves is an easy one to single out thanks to a stiffness that goes beyond his usual acting stereotype, but Ryder isn't much better as she gets even more screentime as the Victorian lady who falls prey to Oldman's slick maneuvers. Given how much the film didn't exactly skimp on British (or convicingly British-sounding) performers for the rest of its production, sticking these two in some prominent roles does feel like a bit of a misstep. Otherwise, everyone does well. Oldman channels career-sustaining menace as both the older Count and his much more affable younger self, while Hopkins chews considerable scenery as the heavily accented doctor whose expertise proves invaluable in defeating vampires. Even Grant and Waits get stuff to do in relatively minor roles, whether it's the former as a drug-addicted physician harbouring an unrequited love or the latter as a bug-eating servant of darkness whose raspy howl appropriately communicates his sycophancy and despair.
The aesthetic brilliance of Bram Stoker's Dracula certainly makes it worth an acknowledgment beyond the limitations of its story and performers. Costumes naturally alternate between silky European decadence and prim English stuffiness. Colours are strong and often balance red and blue in eye-boggling combinations. While Bram Stoker's Dracula is a sumptuous visual feast packed out with all sorts of period-appropriate detail, it still feels extremely straightforward even as it tries to mix complex romantic plotlines with a more palatable horror story about a vampire. It arguably hasn't aged all that well, but it's such an obvious extravaganza that one can't help but pay it some attention. It may not be scary to your typical modern viewer, but being scary is arguably the least of this film's concerns. It's bringing an old tale to the screen in a way that hasn't quite been seen before and it shows underneath the widely varying ability of each performer. Whether such an experience is worthy of your attention is debatable, but I think if you have any interest in film as a purely artistic medium then you might find something of worth here - even if it isn't the plot or acting.
Francis Ford Coppola, 1992
During the Victorian era, an English lawyer meets with a Transylvanian nobleman who is revealed to be a vampire.
I took a stab at reading Bram Stoker's Dracula a few years ago for academic purposes but I never managed to finish it, though I always intended to do so. Of course, that intention has been diminished somewhat by my viewing of Francis Ford Coppola's adaptation, which seeks to translate the iconic Gothic novel into an appropriately decadent early-1990s film complete with lurid colour schemes and dramatic camerawork. I haven't really bothered to watch much Coppola outside of his Big Four (with the exceptions being the underwhelming Rumble Fish, the tolerable The Godfather Part III, and the haven't-seen-it-since-the-age-of-seven Jack) but it sounded like Bram Stoker's Dracula might just be one of the most worthwhile films he'd made since Apocalypse Now. Its blending of supernatural horror and torrid romance proved an initially intriguing combination but that intrigue was definitely worn down as the film played out. Bram Stoker's Dracula ultimately proves a bit of a frustrating experience because the vivid nature of its technique is so often undermined by the ways in which the film opts to handle its interpersonal element.
Things start off alright with a fantastic prologue before jumping to the hilariously miscast Keanu Reeves as he plays the Englishman tasked with looking into the affairs of a Count Dracula (Gary Oldman). While Reeves is effectively trapped by his ancient-looking master, Oldman himself soon sets about heading to England in search of fresh blood. This puts him in touch with Reeves' fiancée (Winona Ryder), who just so happens to look exactly like the woman whose suicide led to Oldman becoming a vampire. Some more supernatural shenanigans take place before the renowned Dr. Van Helsing (Anthony Hopkins) is brought in to handle affairs regarding the vampire scourge now plaguing London. It's enough plot to guarantee my interest (when else am I likely to see Richard E. Grant and Tom Waits share a scene?) but the lurid visual aesthetic only does so much when it comes to building an effective film. Blending of various different colours, to say nothing of the ways in which shadows play across the wall, definitely makes for a consistently interesting style that also extends to the sharp costume design and production value.
Of course, Bram Stoker's Dracula is arguably undone by the haphazard quality of its cast. Reeves is an easy one to single out thanks to a stiffness that goes beyond his usual acting stereotype, but Ryder isn't much better as she gets even more screentime as the Victorian lady who falls prey to Oldman's slick maneuvers. Given how much the film didn't exactly skimp on British (or convicingly British-sounding) performers for the rest of its production, sticking these two in some prominent roles does feel like a bit of a misstep. Otherwise, everyone does well. Oldman channels career-sustaining menace as both the older Count and his much more affable younger self, while Hopkins chews considerable scenery as the heavily accented doctor whose expertise proves invaluable in defeating vampires. Even Grant and Waits get stuff to do in relatively minor roles, whether it's the former as a drug-addicted physician harbouring an unrequited love or the latter as a bug-eating servant of darkness whose raspy howl appropriately communicates his sycophancy and despair.
The aesthetic brilliance of Bram Stoker's Dracula certainly makes it worth an acknowledgment beyond the limitations of its story and performers. Costumes naturally alternate between silky European decadence and prim English stuffiness. Colours are strong and often balance red and blue in eye-boggling combinations. While Bram Stoker's Dracula is a sumptuous visual feast packed out with all sorts of period-appropriate detail, it still feels extremely straightforward even as it tries to mix complex romantic plotlines with a more palatable horror story about a vampire. It arguably hasn't aged all that well, but it's such an obvious extravaganza that one can't help but pay it some attention. It may not be scary to your typical modern viewer, but being scary is arguably the least of this film's concerns. It's bringing an old tale to the screen in a way that hasn't quite been seen before and it shows underneath the widely varying ability of each performer. Whether such an experience is worthy of your attention is debatable, but I think if you have any interest in film as a purely artistic medium then you might find something of worth here - even if it isn't the plot or acting.