Dracula’s Daughter (1936)

“What new piece of asininity is this?”

Dracula’s Daughter picks up straight after the climax of Dracula (1931), which saw Renfield strangled to death and Professor Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) driving a stake through the Count’s heart.

In the seconds since those events, the good professor appears to have undergone a minor name change (he’s now Von Helsing); perhaps this was a half-hearted attempt to distance himself from all those vampire shenanigans.

Renfield (Dwight Fry) – the poor chap’s now lost his life as well as his marbles. Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) – he’s undergone an emergency change of name. (Dracula – 1931)

It makes sense, then, that the start of the film takes place in Whitby, North Yorkshire, which, oddly enough, seems to be populated entirely by Cockneys, posh Londoners and Americans. It also appears to be within walking distance of England’s capital…

It’s quite odd, you know – when Von Helsing tells the head of Scotland Yard, Sir Basil Humphrey (Gilbert Emery) about things that have only just happened, he does so as if he’s describing incidents that occurred, say, five years ago. Hmmm… (*strokes chin thoughtfully*)

As Dracula’s cold, undead body grows even colder, the fruit of his loins, Countess Marya Zaleska (Gloria Holden), turns up, having hitherto never been seen nor mentioned. Zaleska, by the way, resembles a cross between Siouxsie Sioux (appropriately enough) and Meryl Streep.

Siouxsie Sioux + Meryl Streep = Gloria Holden. No? Well, I guess it’s just me, then…

Zaleska is an interesting character. She doesn’t share her dad’s lust for blood (although she does need it). Instead, she wants to quit the vampire life, get out of the bat race, if you will.

She identifies the perfect person to help her: psychologist Dr Jeffrey Garth (Otto Kruger) but he’s not so keen, despite an initial attraction to the Countess. In any case, he’s in a steady relationship with Janet (Marguerite Churchill), who looks not unlike Taylor Swift. It’s no surprise, then, given both females’ rock-and-pop-music analogues, that they do not and clearly never will get along.

Marguerite Churchill and Taylor Swift – okay, I’m reaching…

Dracula’s Daughter leans far more into vaudeville than its predecessor – right from the get-go, in fact, with EE Clive’s comedy copper. And there’s a lot more of that sort of thing throughout the movie but, happily, it’s all quite amusing (unlike some of the ‘humorous’ routines in the 1931 film). This sequel is also more of a mystery story than an outright horror film, and features some romantic overtones. Actually, it’s surprisingly sensual for a mainstream American film of the 1930s, especially the sexually charged scene featuring Zaleska and poor unfortunate Lili (Nan Grey) – and, later, the near-seduction of a hypnotised Jane by the Countess after the action has decamped to Transylvania. (The subtext of this scene is, as I choose to interpret it: Siouxsie, the goth, telling unconscious prisoner Taylor, the mainstream pop star: “Your brand of music goes against everything I hold sacred; therefore, I am going to take you, body and soul.”

Countess Marya Zaleska (Holden) has designs on Lili (Nan Grey)

I must say, this is a very decent sequel. I think I actually prefer it to the original, which I have quite a few issues with (one example: Bela Lugosi is fine enough but it always bugs me when he puts the emphasis on the word ‘they’ in, ”The children of the night what music they make.” Eh?)

Anyway, Dracula’s Daughter is very professionally made, quite imaginatively directed and features very effective lighting, particularly during the scenes in which Zaleska beguiles her first victim, and Garth hypnotises Lili. I also liked the montage sequence that is used as visual shorthand for a series of media broadcasts requesting information regarding the whereabouts of the abducted Janet.

Admittedly, quite a lot of the film is fairly wonky and I’ve already touched on some examples. Another is the speed with which our heroes get to Transylvania – a country that seems to be stuck in one hell of a time warp, by the way. I’m sure this film isn’t alone in its credulity-stretching depiction of relative cultures, though. Some 36 years later, Marvel Comics, for instance, does very much the same thing in its (rather good) Tomb of Dracula series.

The Boy Friend (1971)

It’s rather clever of Ken Russell to adapt The Boy Friend for the cinema in such a way as to allow the viewer to peek backstage – so that we get to see the people behind the performances. It also means that he has free rein to engage in flights of fantasy that are far beyond the means of any theatre.

Ken Russell (centre) directs Christopher Gable and Twiggy

The movie epitomises that integral show-must-go-on ethos: performances replete with wide eyes and big smiles, even if all is not well off stage.

The cast is uniformly excellent. It would be invidious to pick out any one performer in particular because there are no weak links. However, I’m going to do it, anyway.

Antonia Ellis is totally on her A-game as limelight-hogging ‘Maisie’, who sees herself as the real star of the troupe.

Tommy Tune and The Boy Friend’s ‘other’ leading lady, Antonia Ellis

And Christopher Gable is utterly winning as ‘Tony Brockhurst’. His charismatic performance typifies stagecraft at its very best, and the fact that he was instrumental in the film’s mesmerising choreography speaks to his undoubted artistic abilities.

Christopher Gable and Twiggy – tripping the light fantastic

There’s even an extended cameo from Glenda Jackson who, despite limited screen time, goes through a satisfying character arc.

Glenda Jackson – more than just a cameo

It’s great to see actors who, later in life, became defined by a single character or genre, such as Brian Murphy. It’s easy to forget that many of these people are/were very talented performers, capable of doing all manner of thesping.

Tommy Tune, Graham Armitage, Antonia Ellis, Brian Murphy and Murray Melvin – all important members of a fine ensemble cast

Le orme (1975)

Footprints on the Moon / Le Orme is hard to categorise, the type of film that will likely provoke adoration and dismay in equal measure.

One thing that I think most will agree on is the way it looks; it’s very well-directed by Luigi Bazzoni and beautifully photographed by Vittorio Storaro. The plot, however…

Alice (Florinda Bolkan) is one of many translators who we see working at a scientific conference concerning the likely state of the world by the year 2000. Unbeknownst to her, she appears to have ‘lost’ two days of her life, which ultimately results in her being fired from her job. Alice can’t reconcile the missing days and seriously starts to doubt her sanity. In the kitchen of her clean-lined, ultra-modern apartment, she notices a torn-up postcard depicting a hotel in a place (a country?) called Garma. Intrigued, it’s not long before she flies out to the location in question to try and uncover what happened during those blank days.

Once Alice arrives in Garma, roughly 20 minutes into the film’s runtime, things become even more surreal. It’s as if she’s in a dream, conscious but not awake and with no control over what is happening. In that sense, it’s not unlike cult late-sixties’ TV show The Prisoner. Things just happen, kind of fall into place without any seeming rhyme or reason. Everyone Alice meets appears to know who she is or, at least, some version of her (who is called Nicole). There’s a young red-headed girl, Paula (Nicoletta Elmi), whom Alice spends quite a lot of time talking too. There’s also a middle-aged lady on a beach called Mrs Helm (Lila Kedrova) and there’s a woman who runs a clothes shop played by Caterino Boratto. While all appear to have knowledge of Alice, she doesn’t know them at all. Then there’s a pleasant – if a little insistent – English chap called Henry (Peter McEnery), whom she regularly bumps into.

Who are all these people? Has she been to Garma before? Or does she, perhaps, have a doppelganger?

The film is all the weirder for the way in which it intersperses footage from what is meant to be an old sci-fi film (featuring Klaus Kinski) that Alice used to enjoy as a kid. What has this got to do with anything? Well, you’ll find out by the film’s end – or will you?

My only real criticism of Le orme is the text that appears on screen at the climax, which, if true, rather reduces the mystery. However, it could be posited that this is just another layer of obfuscation. After all, ‘they’ would say that, wouldn’t they?

Le orme is very slow-paced but this works in its favour. I could have watched a lot more of Alice’s wandering about and meeting people she’s never met before but who profess to know her.

As I mentioned earlier, the film looks stunning, not least because of the gorgeous Turkish locations that represent the probably mythical Garma. The visuals are matched by Nicola Piovani’s very haunting score while, in the lead role, Bolkan gives an intense performance, making it easy to believe in a woman straddling the thin line between rationality and delirium

I watched the English dub of this (which lapses into Italian or French on occasion). Normally, this isn’t my preferred way of viewing a foreign film but I must say that it’s done pretty well. It sounds to me, too, as though Bolkan ADRs her own voice – Peter McEnery certainly does.

The Company of Wolves (1984)

What I learned from watching this film: wolves are people too! (Or something). Seriously, though, The Company of Wolves is really rather good. It is effectively an extended dream sequence in which Sarah Patterson’s Rosaleen works through her adolescent feelings, as she crosses the threshold from childhood to womanhood.

There should be more films like this, especially in a world that is becoming increasingly Disney-fied. Unfortunately, so many young adults are conditioned to thinking in terms of finding their prince or princess and living happily ever after. Not that there’s anything intrinsically wrong with the kind of fiction that often begets this notion.

The Company of Wolves, although 35 years old at this point, still serves to redress the balance between fairytale aspirations and real-life expectations. It posits a world that is fantastical, mythical but never trite. The never-never 18th-century realm depicted is exciting, monotonous, dangerous, sensual and unpredictable, a bit like real life, really. Men are not always what they seem – “some of the worst wolves are hairy on the inside.”

One of the wonderful things about portraying a dream on screen is that any and all anachronisms can be embraced, such as a Rolls Royce gliding through a dense forest without any trouble (and recourse to a petrol station, one would imagine).

It’s a shame that director Neil Jordan allowed the initial werewolf transformation to pass without some more judicious cutting. It simply isn’t necessary to stay on it for so long and expose its evident fakery. A couple of later transformations are much more effective thanks to clever editing.

It’s the only thing that really lets the film down – but not enough to stop it from captivating this viewer from its necessarily mundane beginning to its ambiguous end. George Fenton’s rich score puts the finishing touch on a movie that is, itself, rich with symbolism, wonderfully acted and imaginatively staged.

Il Conte Dracula (1970) – anatomy of a seduction

Soledad Miranda and Christopher Lee in Jess Franco’s movie adaptation of Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel.

Lucy Westenra, shortly after opening her bedroom window.

 

Lucy wonders if that was such a good idea…

 

Hello, who’s this bad boy?

 

Men – always after the same thing!

 

Post-coital ecstasy?

 

You might say that the Count has made a new woman of Lucy.

Doctor Who: Shada (1979/2017)

Not a film, I know, but it did have a limited cinema run, and is now presented on Blu-ray in feature-length form.

This sadly abandoned, Douglas Adams-penned story would have made a fitting end to seventies’ Time Lord shenanigans (and composer Dudley Simpson’s long association with the programme) but, in the world of Doctor Who, the story’s never over. Whether or not Shada counts as a film is entirely moot because this official completion is more than a qualified success.

Although I have the DVD that features the early 1990s’ reconstruction, I’ve never been able to get very far with it. This is mainly because – despite Tom Baker’s sterling linking narration – there isn’t quite enough extant footage to properly convey the story as a whole. The problem is further compounded by Keff McCulloch’s music, which just feels wrong for something of a 1979 vintage.

Shada 2017 is a different beast, however. First off: Mark Ayres’ score is fabulous. It’s possibly my favourite aspect of the whole production. He perfectly invokes the spirit of Simpson – using City of Death as a hopping-on point – but does something that is entirely his own. Honestly, it’s so good!

What’s more, the animation is a marked improvement on the similarly resurrected Power of the Daleks (1966/2016), which I have to admit I was somewhat disappointed by – although, I understand that the animators were hamstrung by an unrealistic deadline, so the results are perhaps understandable given the circumstances. Shada, though, makes for a much smoother viewing experience. I was surprised to discover that the surviving location film and studio video material and the animation gel together pretty seamlessly.

I can now say that I have finally managed to watch the ‘original’ Shada – and I enjoyed it very much indeed.