DRACULA IN THE DARK DRACULA IN THE DARK The Dracula Film Adaptations JAMES CRAIG HOLTE Contributions to the Study of Science Fiction and Fantasy, Number 73 Donald Palumbo, Series Adviser GREENWOOD PRESS Westport, Connecticut • London Recent Titles in Contributions to the Study of Science Fiction and Fantasy Robbe-Grillet and the Fantastic: A Collection of Essays Virginia Harger-Grinling and Tony Chadwick, editors The Dystopian Impulse in Modern Literature: Fiction as Social Criticism M. Keith Booker The Company of Camelot: Arthurian Characters in Romance and Fantasy Charlotte Spivack and Roberta Lynne Staples Science Fiction Fandom Joe Sanders, editor Philip K. Dick: Contemporary Critical Interpretations Samuel J. Umland, editor Lord Dunsany: Master of the Anglo-Irish Imagination S. T. Joshi Modes of the Fantastic: Selected Essays from the Twelfth International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts Robert A. Latham and Robert A. Collins, editors Functions of the Fantastic: Selected Essays from the Thirteenth International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts Joe Sanders, editor Cosmic Engineers: A Study of Hard Science Fiction Gary Westfahl The Fantastic Sublime: Romanticism and Transcendence in Nineteenth-Century Children’s Fantasy Literature David Sandner Visions of the Fantastic: Selected Essays from the Fifteenth International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts Allienne R. Becker, editor The Dark Fantastic: Selected Essays from the Ninth International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts C. W. Sullivan III, editor Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Holte, James Craig. Dracula in the dark : the Dracula film adaptations / James Craig Holte. p. cm.—(Contributions to the study of science fiction and fantasy, ISSN 0193–6875 ; no. 73) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–313–29215–9 (alk. paper) 1. Dracula films—History and criticism. I. Title. II. Series. PN1995.9.D64H65 1997 791.43′675—dc21 96–49736 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright  1997 by James Craig Holte All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 96–49736 ISBN: 0–313–29215–9 ISSN: 0193–6875 First published in 1997 Greenwood Press, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. Printed in the United States of America The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48–1984). 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 CONTENTS Preface vii Introduction: The Shape-shifter xiii 1. The Source 1 2. Early Adaptations 27 3. Resurrection in Britain 47 4. An Unheavenly Host 67 5. Not All Fangs Are Phallic: Female Film Vampires 93 6. Conclusions: A Century of Draculas 111 Bibliography 121 Index 159 PREFACE “It was a dark and stormy night.” —Snoopy, Peanuts It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder boomed in the heavens outside while flashes of lightning repeatedly lit up the wet spring night sky. Bats flew from the stone tower of the Gothic castle, the night I met Dracula. Really. In 1973 I was studying for graduate examinations in English literature at the University of Cincinnati and, as it so happened, beginning my first year as the caretaker of an abandoned Catholic girl’s school, Sacred Heart Academy, the main building of which was a replica of England’s Kennilworth Castle. Sitting high on the crest of one of Cincinnati’s seven hills, the castle—complete with tower, chapel, creaking floors, endless corridors, abandoned furni- ture, and a legend of a ghost in the basement—had been empty for several years, but the new owners, investment bankers intent on turning Sacred Heart into condominiums, wanted someone to live in “the castle,” as it was known to the residents of Clifton, the viii Preface university area, to keep watch over the property, protecting it from vandals or, perhaps, the ghost in the basement. “Yes, Masters,” I thought to myself when I accepted the position. In those days one part of the examinations consisted of a series of identifications from all of English and American literature from, as we used to say, Beowulf to the Beatles. Successful graduate students learned such significant information as the name of Beowulf’s sword (Hrunting), the Green Knight’s horse (Gringolet), and Lord Byron’s physician (Polodori). Such knowledge led to doctorates, jobs, and, one hoped, eventually tenure. It was on that dark and stormy night, alone in the castle with only my guard dog, Olaf, who indeed was glad and big, that I decided that I should at least skim through a book that had appeared on the examination once in the past, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, a novel I had never read but thought I knew from television reruns of Tod Browning’s 1931 film adaptation starring Bela Lugosi. There might be a question about the vampire on the examination, I thought. I expected to spend an hour turning pages before I moved on to something more central to English literature and more likely to appear on the exam, such as Joyce’s Ulysses or Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, works of social and aesthetic merit that had appeared on numerous previous tests and in all the study sessions. Several hours later I finished Stoker’s novel, carefully checked and rechecked the three locks on the large oak front doors of the castle, and brought the dog into the caretaker’s apartment. I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night; Dracula was that good. I had been bitten by Stoker’s vampire. Not everyone has such a dramatic first encounter with Dracula, and not everyone is so affected by the novel. In some circles a taste for Stoker, like a taste for Poe, is considered the mark of an inferior mind. Some critics dismiss Dracula as mere escapist trash or simply a popular thriller intended to frighten the immature and the uneducated. Popular it is. For a century Dracula has never been out of print, and Stoker’s novel has been adapted and transformed by filmmakers, television producers, novelists, advertising agencies, and comic book creators with such enthusiasm that the name “Dracula” has become synonymous with vampire. This century of sustained popularity of Stoker’s tale suggests that many readers, and many viewers of the numerous film adaptations of Dracula, have been and continue to be mesmerized by Count Dracula. Just as Jonathan Harker’s meeting with Count Dracula changed his life, my encounter with Dracula has had an impact on my life Preface ix and work. Interest in Stoker’s vampire narrative led me to hun- dreds of films and novels about the undead, providing me with a source of endless delight and my colleagues and family with a source of endless amusement. Imagine, a grown man reading and writing about vampires. My collection of vampire memorabilia— containing Transylvanian earth, countless postcards and T-shirts, photographs of Count von Count, Christopher Lee, Bela Lugosi, the Transylvanian Castle Dracula (one of three) vampire puppets, and shelves of paperback novels, university press literary criticism, and slick magazines—continues to grow, and my daughter is never without a clue as to what to get me for Father’s Day or Halloween. Sometimes vampires are quite useful. On a more serious note, my encounter with the Count has given me the opportunity to study hundreds of vampire films, novels, short stories, plays, and poems. I have had the opportunity to be present during the development of a new literary genre, the dark romance, a literary form that combines the elements of horror and romance, turning old narratives to new ends, as readers and viewers find the figure of the vampire ever more attractive as we move to the end of the twentieth century. Finally, I have been able to spend both time and energy examining why horror narratives in general and vampire narratives in particular are so popular in the late twentieth century, and I have come to the conclusion that in postmodern Western society, horror, and vampire narratives in particular, serve as morality plays for the readers and viewers, defining the constantly shifting ground between good and evil that is one of the hallmarks of American culture as it moves toward the third millennium. As Andrew Delbanco has observed eloquently in his popular study The Death of Satan, in an ironic age traditional standards of virtue and morality have been called into question, and the vampire, the figure of the dark other, the foreign, the threatening, the sublimated, has become a hero. At a time when the central political and cultural conversation appears to be what is of value, the vampire narrative, with its emphasis on masking and unmasking, the defiance of convention, and the assault on such middle-class institutions as law, medicine, religion, science, and marriage, provides a perfect tool with which to chronicle the contemporary culture wars raging in American society. No work of substance is attempted in isolation, and while I have played at being Professor Van Helsing in search of the vampire, many people have helped me. I would like to thank Professor x Preface Andrew Horton of Loyola University in New Orleans, whose interest in and knowledge of both classic American and European cinema were a constant source of inspiration to me when I was learning how to combine an interest in literature with a love of film. I would also like to thank Professor George Stade, a wonderful undergraduate teacher who taught me to appreciate Victorian literature. Also most helpful have been the Department of English, the Honors Program, and the College of Arts and Sciences at East Carolina University. The Department of English and my chairman, Don Palumbo, have indulged my interest in the undead by permit- ting me to offer graduate seminars in horror, the fantastic, and film history. I have learned much from my colleagues and the students in my classes. Also supportive have been David Sanders and the Honors Program of East Carolina University. The Honors Program has continued to sponsor my Horrible Honors Seminar, an intro- duction to the study of the horror genre with an emphasis, of course, on Dracula and other vampire narratives. In all of these courses, I have had the opportunity to test my theories, some of which have survived to be included in this book and some of which have been staked by perceptive students. The College of Arts and Sciences has been supportive as well, providing me with research and travel grants to follow the vampire to both London and Romania. I would especially thank my friend and colleague C. W. Sullivan III, master of the fantastic whose knowledge of film, myth, fantasy, and science fiction is unbounded, and whose interest in things strange matches my own. My search for the vampire has taken me many places—New Orleans, London, Bucharest, and often Ft. Lauderdale. Along the way many kind strangers have helped me, and some have become friends without whose interest and support this work would not have been possible. I would like to thank the members of the International Association for the Fantastic in the Arts and the Lord Ruthven Assembly, especially Ray McNally, Radu Florescu, Mar- garet Carter, Elizabeth Miller, David Van Becker, David Skal, Katie Harse, Stephanie Moss, Bill Senior, Carl Yoke, and Roger Schlobin. The International Association for the Fantastic in the Arts has provided a home for those who take the fantastic seriously, and the Lord Ruthven Assembly is made up of scholars, writers, and artists who know their vampires and take them seriously. Members of both groups are good friends, good critics, and always cheerful