FILM / A Look at Hammer Horror’s Dracula—On Camp Value and Beyond / Alissa Marmol
Image © Hammer Films
It’s an old and familiar story. The count. The damsel. The bite. Evidently, elements might change and shift, expand or disappear — there may not be a castle or a wooden stake, the damsel might have outgrown any distress and the count may merely be a rich, alluring stranger — but the core stays the same. Vampires have been a staple of folklore, mythology and pop culture since the nascent stirrings of society as we know it. Hammer Horror’s Dracula (1958), a personal favourite incarnation, provides an apt example of the definitive image of the titular vampire, undeniably ingrained in any audience’s consciousness through a sort of cultural osmosis.
Helmed by Terence Fisher in his second major directorial feature after coming off the heels of The Curse of Frankenstein’s success and written by Jimmy Sangster, Dracula is ostensibly an adaptation of Bram Stoker's novel in name alone. It does, however, serve spectacularly in its role of reminding a modern viewer of Hammer Horror’s well-deserved reputation as a once-giant of cinema and in helping one gain a working understanding of how the vast majority of contemporary portrayals of vampires came to be. What Hammer offers is sensuality, gothic horror verging on gothic romance and back again.
Not only does the film depart from the novel but it becomes immediately apparent to any present film buffs that a sharp turn has been taken from the Bela Lugosi depiction of the character in Dracula (1931) as well. We begin with Jonathan Harker, friend of the infamous Doctor Van Helsing, and his arrival at Count Dracula’s castle with the intent of destroying him under the guise of having been hired as a librarian. Once Harker’s plan comes to an untimely end, Dracula departs to a nearby town in order to prey on the family of Harker’s fiancee, Lucy. With the stakes quite literally raised high, it’s up to Van Helsing to put a stop to Dracula’s reign of terror.
It must be noted, above all else, that Hammer’s take on Dracula is visually lush and stunning. With the honour of being the first vampire film in dazzling Technicolor and though confined to Bray Studios without a chance of on-location shooting, the film astonishes in the here and now, perhaps even in the absence of any willingness to put oneself in the shoes of those who had watched the spectacle first-hand in the 1950’s.
From the very first shot, we are treated to an imposing gargoyle against a sky tinted pink by the sunrise in a lingering shot that gives way to the castle itself stretching out, all purposely ancient-looking stone walls. Afterwards, it is admittedly the sight of Dracula’s coffin, his name engraved in plain letters, and vividly red blood being poured over it that establishes the tone of the film. There is the suggestion of gore throughout the feature, not distasteful but enough to drive home the point of it — Hammer Horror does not shy away from the would-be reality of vampirism. No chocolate syrup and black-and-white cinematic sleights of hand to be found here, the starkness of puncture marks on pale necks and the red smeared across Christopher Lee’s bared teeth does not disappoint.
The wardrobe, too, delights in its mid-Victorian glamour. Despite a lack of true notions of cinema during my initial watch of Dracula a certain number of years ago, a remarkable attention to detail in Hammer’s catalogue had stood out. It still does. While the air of gothic romance never goes as far as to constitute a bodice-ripper, even with persistent low-cut dresses and nightgowns, it is precisely the detail and the sense one gets of the characters in question that so thoroughly enchants. Clues of social class, mannerisms and intricacies of characterisation are all brilliantly woven in the costume design.
Similarly, it is rare to find films where the wardrobe of the male characters doesn’t appear bland in comparison to their female counterparts but Dracula manages a feat of now-iconic costumes, including Dracula’s own cape and Van Helsing’s fur coat — the latter is even subject to a heart-warming moment when it’s handed to Tania, the young daughter of the Holmwood family’s housekeeper, after a vampire attack.
Most notably, nevertheless, is undoubtedly the cast of the film. In a world where Hammer Horror has become synonymous with the cinematic history of horror, it’s rightfully hard to imagine anyone but Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing in their star-making roles of, respectively, Count Dracula and Doctor Van Helsing. There are few scenes when the two come directly face-to-face but, at last, when it does happen, the tension immediately skyrockets and there’s something electric to the way they play off each other as natural enemies. Furthermore, both Lee and Cushing lean masterfully into a kind of necessary pathos that elevates their characters far above any one-dimensional interpretations. Van Helsing and Dracula are locked in a battle neither particularly desires but understands as vital, arguably more life-threatening than the whims of other world-famous adversaries of the same rank, such as, say, Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty.
That being said, the rest of the cast isn’t to be underestimated either. Carol Marsh as Lucy Holmwood, Jonathan Harker’s fiancee, shines nearly as much as the leads, especially during the attempted abduction of Tania and her return from the grave. One might find something visceral in her portrayal of Lucy, a pain and dread combined with wide-eyed innocence that’s seldom gleamed anywhere else, her hope for Jonathan’s return giving way to her acceptance of Dracula’s dark gifts.
Ultimately, Hammer Horror’s Dracula (1958) is an absolute tour de force of filmmaking that has withstood the test of time. Though commonly categorised among the camp stylings of the studio’s later films, this particular endeavour stands tall as a solid story grounded in a mythology of its own making that suffers no crisis of special effects or overdone acting that afflicts the kind of B-movies Hammer is presently known for. With its atmospheric and gothic approach to the subject matter, it’s no wonder Dracula has so greatly influenced every piece of vampire-related media that has come after it and remains, as previously mentioned, such a definitive portrayal of the Count himself.
Alissa Marmol is an aspiring writer and filmmaker with a passion for the bizarre and mythical. A recent graduate of Film Studies, she's always looking for the next creative opportunity. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @sonnyjoons.