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U.K.
(Made for TV)
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1977
Directed by Philip Saville
Starring
Louis Jourdan
Frank Finlay
Judi Bowker
Color
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160 Minutes
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Not Rated
Format: DVD (R1 - NTSC)
BBC
Warner
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This BBC telefilm had its American debut in 1978,
broadcast in two installments as part of the PBS
series Great Performances. A 10th grader
at the time, I distinctly remember watching and
enjoying it; it was by far the most faithful adaptation
of Bram Stoker's classic novel I'd ever seen.
Almost thirty years later that sentiment holds
true, confirmed by my second-ever viewing of Count
Dracula via its September 2007 DVD release.
This
isn't to say that Gerald Savory's teleplay (sub-labeled
"a Gothic Romance" in the opening credits)
hews unerringly to the book, because it certainly
doesn't. No film version of a novel can be 100%
true to its source. In this particular case the
differences are comparatively minor, involving
the omission/compression of certain events and
characters. Perhaps the most significant departure
from the text is the way Dracula is portrayed
by Frenchman Louis Jourdan (Swamp
Thing, Octopussy)
a stylistic choice
by the actor and not, I believe, an attempt by
Savory or director Philip Saville to remold the
Count into something radically different.
Jourdan's
Dracula is not a creepy Valentino possessed of
otherworldly charisma (Bela Lugosi), nor is he
an imperious nobleman given to bursts of feral
savagery (Christopher Lee). He deliberately speaks
the familiar classic lines (the welcoming of Jonathan
Harker to the castle; the "children of the
night" speech) in an almost casual manner,
purposefully devoid of any affectation. When Dracula's
vampire brides close in to feed on the supine
Harker he chides them gently, as a doting father
would a wayward child, rather than snarling with
hellish rage a
direct departure from Stoker. I suspect many viewers
might characterize Jourdan's interpretation as
being too 'mellow', as I first did; after some
initial resistance he brought me around. His Dracula
is supremely arrogant, coolly confident. Disdainful
of humanity, to him the living are mere irritants
at worse, nourishment at best. He fully understands
his place in the world, and that place is at the
top of the food chain. ("I am bound to
this earth. I make it my domain.") Why
can't these sad, silly mortals just accept this
as the natural order of things?
The Count's
hairy palms and long, sharp fingernails are
faithfully carried over from the novel, as is
his Johnny Cash fashion sense. ("
Clad in
black from head to foot, there was not a speck
of colour about him anywhere.") However,
Jourdan is not presented as an old man who gradually
grows younger as he attains fresh blood; he retains
the same visage throughout. To my knowledge,
only Bram Stoker's Dracula
(1992) and the Jess Franco-directed Count
Dracula (1970) depict the Lord of the Undead
as a white-haired elder, with the latter being
the most accurate to Stoker's original description.
Both
the BBC Count Dracula
and the earlier Franco film do share one notable
thing in common two of Stoker's characters,
English aristocrat Arthur Holmwood (AKA Lord Godalming)
and American adventurer Quincy Morris (a cowboy
from Texas), are combined into a single person.
(In the Franco version Quincy Morris is a highborn
Brit; in the TV movie he's a twangy Texan named
"Quincy P. Holmwood".) The telefilm
jiggers with the novel further by making Mina
(Judi Bowker) and Lucy (The
Land That Time Forgot's Susan Penhaligon)
sisters instead of best friends; it also reduces
somewhat the participation of Mina and asylum
director Dr. Seward (Mark Burns) in the narrative.
The cross-continental race from England to Transylvania
is greatly telescoped, switching from London to
the final approaches to Castle Dracula in a single
edit.
Yet
even with all the changes listed above, the '77
Count Dracula remains
the adaptation most faithful to Stoker. Distilled
as they are, the significant events of the book
are portrayed in the correct chronological order
(some brought to the screen for the first time)
and the characters more or less comport to their
literary counterparts. Running twenty minutes
shy of three hours, the telefilm is long enough
to hit the high points and major themes of Stoker's
work without truncating them to bits. It's well-paced,
too, consisting in the main of relatively short
scenes which keep the story moving along.
Accentuating
Jourdan's interesting take on Dracula is an able
cast, headed by Frank Finlay (1974's The
Three Musketeers) in the critical role of
Prof. Van Helsing. He's simply terrific,
astutely capturing the gentle kindness and steely
determination of the vampire-slaying metaphysician
as depicted in the novel. (...Even if his
Dutch accent sounds distinctly Irish by the end.)
Jack Shepherd's Renfield is less twitchy and more
restrained than other portrayals, experiencing
brief periods of calm lucidity in the midst of
his madness. The delicately beautiful Judi Bowker
(Clash Of The Titans)
has now become my all-time favorite screen Mina;
she channels the character's innocence, youth
and intelligence directly from the page.
Younger
viewers might find the combination of film (exteriors)
and videotape (interiors) jarring, but this was
standard operating procedure for British television
in the 1960s and '70s (and some contemporary U.S.
TV productions as well.) Yes, Count
Dracula looks like a soap opera,
but at least a handsomely mounted one. It's well-directed
and edited, with a fine atmospheric score by composer
Kenyon Emrys-Roberts. The special effects are
simplistic, even primitive by modern standards,
but in general they've held up and still work.
Just like Bram's book.
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A long-requested title, the R1 Count
Dracula DVD is most welcome even if it
is a bare-bones release. The fullframe transfer
looks surprisingly good given its inherent softness;
keep in mind that a 30 year old TV movie partially
shot on video isn't going to be sharp and crystal
clear. The disc's mono audio track is neither
laudable or condemnable
it does the job adequately, glitch-free but occasionally
hampered by the film's original sound recording.
The film is playable as
either a single 160-minute program or in
two separate parts. It's a shame about the dearth
of extras... A commentary by Louis Jourdan might
well have been fascinating. (In his late 80s now
and out of the public eye for almost two decades,
it's quite possible he's too infirm for such participation
even had BBC Warner made inquiries.)
10/06/07
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