For Hammer Studios, Dracula would remain a lucrative cash
cow throughout the 1960s. Despite ongoing protestations by star Christopher
Lee, who argued that the studio cared more about shoehorning him into
increasingly desperate storylines than they did about properly exploiting Bram
Stoker’s famed literary icon, the character would be killed off and resurrected
time and time again. For a period of time, continuity was maintained. In 1970,
Scars of Dracula broke from this tradition by essentially rebooting the
franchise. It also introduced a nasty, bloodthirsty streak that made earlier
entries look tame - much to the consternation of Lee, who worried - quite
rightly, as history would have it - that the series was on the verge of self
parody. Hammer’s next step would prove even more irksome to their outspoken
star - they elected to bring Dracula in to the modern day (or rather, their
rather middle aged notion of youth culture) in Dracula AD 1972. The film had
its share of problems, but it offered good production values and the long
awaited return of Peter Cushing as Professor Van Helsing - albeit a modern day
descendant. These factors alone were enough to put the film several pegs above
its tacky predecessor, and they also ensured proper theatrical exposure courtesy
of Warner Brothers.
The film was reasonably successful at the box office, but
not exactly the bonanza Warners were hoping for - thus, their contracted follow
up, initially titled Dracula Is Dead… And Well And Living In London, was
already in production by the time the distributor lost interest in the project.
And so it would come to be that the final Hammer Film Production to costar
Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing would fall into the hands of Dynamite
Entertainment, who would grant the film a perfunctory release in the United
States in 1978, shorn of four minutes of footage and under the generic title
Count Dracula and His Vampire Bride - a full five years after failing to set
the box office on fire for Warners in the UK, under its best known moniker, The
Satanic Rites of Dracula.
The
screenplay by Don Houghton has genuine promise - so much so that one frankly
regrets the decision to make it another Dracula sequel. Without the frankly
gratuitous presence of the old Count, it might have emerged as an engaging
occult thriller, perhaps with Van Helsing on board as a sort of expert in the
field. Much of the narrative is actually carried by Inspector Murray (Michael
Coles, reprising his role from Dracula AD 1972 with an incongruous “modish”
haircut) and MI5 agent Torrence (William Franklyn) as they investigate the
kidnapping and murder of a government agent. The killing is linked with a top
secret occult society, whose members are comprised of some of the top ranking
members of the British government. This modern day Hellfire Club has the makings
of a truly interesting plot point, but Houghton loses sight of it because he’s
obliged to bring Dracula into the fold. Even Van Helsing seems a trifle
underused here, with Cushing sitting rather wistfully on the sidelines for a
good chunk of the film. It takes forever for Dracula to make his appearance,
and when he finally does, Lee seems as disenchanted with the role as he did in
Scars of Dracula. Things liven up towards the end, however, when Cushing and
Lee get to play off of each other - a game of cat and mouse commences with Van
Helsing visiting the offices of a shadowy businessman known as DD Denham, whom
he knows to be Dracula in disguise.
The notion of Dracula as a symbol of a corporate
bloodsucking is an irresistible one, but it, too, gets the short shrift in
favor of trotting out the usual fiery conflagration. Even so, Lee has fun with
the role during this scene, adopting a mock Bela Lugosi accent as he lingers in
the shadows, just waiting for Van Helsing to blow his cover. This inevitably occurs,
and the gloves are off for the final showdown. Hammer’s screenwriters typically
found outre manners in which to dispose of the Count, but here Houghton falls
back on an idea that sounded better on paper than it plays out on screen - Van
Helsing lures Dracula into the woods and uses himself as bait, thus prompting
the Count to tear himself to shreds in a Hawthorne bush - the very plant which
provided Christ with his crown of thorns, and thus quite deadly to a vampire.
Hammer’s King of the Undead is thus reduced to an ill tempered klutz, tripping
about and getting more and more battered, before Van Helsing drives the point
home with one last stake to the heart. As demises go, this was probably Lee’s
most ignominious prior to Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith (2005).
It would probably sting a little less (pun intended) were it not for the fact
that this film marked the end of an era. Lee would go on to costar with Cushing
in a few more films - notably the all-star horror spoof The House of the Long
Shadows (1983) - but this would be their final confrontation at Hammer. It
would also mark Lee’s final appearance as Count Dracula, though the French
farce Dracula and Son (1976) - a charming and stylish venture, far superior to
most of the Hammer sequels, for what it’s worth - saw him donning cloak and
fangs in the context of a gentle parody. Cushing would reprise his role as Van
Helsing one last time, appearing in Hammer’s bizarre horror/kung fu mishmash
The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires (1974).
For fans of the franchise, The Satanic Rites of Dracula is
neither fish nor fowl - it doesn’t come close to matching the magic of Horror
of Dracula (1958) or Dracula - Prince of Darkness (1965), nor does it scrape
the bottom of the barrel like Scars of Dracula. The script flirts with
interesting concepts but fails to elaborate on them. Cushing and Lee give
solid, professional performances, but neither can be said to be truly at their
very best. Production values are solid, but unremarkable. Director Alan Gibson
approaches the action briskly but without much style - he arguably brought far
more pizzazz to Dracula AD 1972, despite some painful padding - and John
Cacavas’ funky soundtrack couldn’t be further removed from the grand tradition
of Hammer scoring, as exemplified by the work of James Bernard. It’s not a bad
film, but it seems a weak, half-hearted way of ending a once-imposing series of
horror films.
REVIEW: Troy Howarth
Images: Marcus Brooks
