DRACULA: 4K UHD re-issue (Universal, 1931) Universal Home Video
You just know we are about to officially
enter the fall season when Universal Home Video begins to figure out another
way to endlessly re-re-re-regurgitate its classic monster franchise. One of the great virtues of 4K has been its ‘end
game’ in terms of, at last, delivering a level of ultra-hi-def resolution to
home theaters that, in most properly calibrated set-ups, can rival theatrical
presentations and, in some instances, even best it with a level of visual
refinement lovingly ripped from an original camera negative. Unfortunately,
this also presents something of a quandary for home video companies addicted to
the tired, old re-issue model of yore. In the infancy of VHS/BetaMax, video quality
was never actually a concern.
But then, came LaserDisc, with the
subtle race on for providing improvements to image and sound, as well as
additional content to augment the home-viewing experience. With the advent of
DVD, ‘special edition’ marketing became the order of the day. But then, a major
hiccup in the industry forced it to collectively reconsider producing any ‘new’
extra content. And just like that, home video divisions across Hollywood began
to dry up. So, Blu-rays increasingly slapped out extras already produced for
DVD, before steadily pulling back on the goodies altogether. Which brings us to
4K and, alas, full-circle to the return of the ‘bare bones’ VHS mentality in
marketing. Mercifully, a 4K ‘movie only’ edition usually comes with a
repackaged ‘un-remastered’ Blu, containing at least some of these legacy
extras.
This year’s ‘nothing new’ announcement
from Universal are 4K singles of their classic monsters’ catalog already
packaged together and long-since released as Volumes One and Two. If you
already own those sets, there is virtually nothing to get excited about here.
And that is a major problem for the studios, as current corporate custodianship
of these assets seems wholly disinterested in ‘catalog’ releases, per say, in
UHD – all, except for a handful of titles it believes are the only ones, worthy
of their efforts and coin to restore and remaster. So, where does that leave a
classic like Tod Browning’s Dracula (1931)? Still, being pushed to the front
of the line while other Uni flicks of similar importance remain MIA – in some
cases, even on standard Blu, as more money gets poured into repackaging than
remastering. In case you’re wondering…I’m not a fan. But I digress.
Fear of the unknown is a popular
elixir among movie goers. The supernatural, with all its mysteries and danger
has endured as a cornerstone in pop culture because, secretly, human beings are
drawn to the unexplained. Fear and excitement are really first cousins,
tantalizing our intellect with the promise of some elevated stimulation,
brought about, but ultimately quelled by the fact we remain safe and secure in
our theater seats. The allure is even more profound and – on occasion - toxic
when it is sheathed in a sort of fetishistic sexual attraction. Béla Ferenc
Dezső Blaskó, better known to American audiences as Bela Lugosi, may have seemed
an unusual choice as the recipient of such adulation from adoring female fans,
but this Hungarian-born sophisticate was to experience a surge in popularity
after his debut in Dracula; an iconic re-envisioning of the classic Bram
Stoker horror story.
The roots of Dracula can be traced
all the way back in history to Voivode of Wallachia, (a.k.a. Vlad the Impaler),
a prince in name only, belonging to the House of Drăculești, and whose practice
of impaling his enemies on spikes (rumored to have totaled in the tens of
thousands) earned him a very bloody reputation in Central Europe between 1456
and 1462. Stoker’s take on ‘Dracula’ retained some of Vlad’s more promiscuous
bloodlust, blending history with a new mythology about this morbidly undead
creature, who feasted on innocents to remain eternal - so far, hardly a
prospect most of us would find even remotely sexually arousing. Ah, but then
came the movies with their ability to conjure to mind any fantasy imaginable,
their visual trickery making the impossible probable and blurring the lines
between reality and escapism. The illusions only possible at the movies were
the subject of many an early experimenter; the elaborately concocted becoming
the art of the early ‘magic lantern’ show. In 1922, director F.W. Murnau
created the definitive homage to Stoker’s bloodsucker with Nosferatu –
an expressionist masterpiece that, unfortunately, did not have the consent of
Stoker’s widow. As such, a lengthy and costly lawsuit ensued, concluding with a
court decree ordering all prints of Nosferatu destroyed. Mercifully, this
edict was not carried out.
Nosferatu is, in fact, a
far more faithful interpretation of Stoker’s demonic creature of the night than
any of the various incarnations soon to follow it – including Browning’s Dracula.
Partly to skirt the issue of rights, the influential Broadway reincarnation of
‘Dracula’ by Hamilton Deane and John L. Balderston significantly
deviates from the Stoker novel, Dracula now transformed into an elegant
– if mysterious – European sophisticate whose ‘alternative lifestyle’ is not
immediately apparent. The play was a resounding smash and Carl Laemmle Jr. –
into whose capable hands the fate of Universal had been placed at the tender age
of 23, felt reasonably confident Dracula would resurrect the studio’s
waning box office. The Deane/Balderston play was already a proven commodity.
But perhaps the best thing about it was the discovery of that vampire’s essence
in Bela Lugosi, a soft-spoken Hungarian with a unique and deliberate cadence in
his phonetically-learned English. Ironically, Legosi was first passed over to
reprise his role in this movie.
By all accounts the shooting of Dracula
was chaotic. Browning relied heavily on Karl Freund to lens many of the scenes,
while the script by Garret Fort daily evolved as a work in progress. To
complicate matters and inflate the overall budget, in the days before
post-syncing made it possible to overdub actors for the foreign language
market, Dracula was photographed twice; by day by Browning, then at
night with an all-Spanish cast after the Browning unit had gone home. Viewing
the two movies side by side, one is awestruck by Browning’s restraint, and the
punctuated visual splendor of the Spanish language version. They really are two
separate experiences. The Browning version relies on Lugosi’s intangible
‘charm’ – at once both inviting yet terrifying – to carry many of the
sequences, while the Spanish version explores the mobility of the camera with
some impressive cinematography. The liquidity of this camerawork in the Spanish
version does much to mask the shortcomings of its star, Carlos Villarias, who
adapts Dracula as the leering and clichéd figure of Gothic terror. But
Browning’s version has Lugosi and the actor gives a startling – occasionally
bone-chilling – performance as the diabolical Count who keeps vampire brides in
his castle cellar.
Our tale begins with solicitor,
Renfield’s (Dwight Frye) perilous journey to Castle Dracula. The Count assures
his victim no harm will come to him, but later hypnotizes and devours
Renfield. The master and his now hapless
slave, having gone mad from being bitten by the vampire, board a schooner for
England. Renfield is committed to a sanatorium and Dracula meets the kindly Dr.
Seward (Herbert Bunston) his daughter, Mina (Helen Chander), her fiancée, John
Harker (David Manners) and a close friend, Lucy Weston (Frances Dade) while
attending the theatre. Lucy becomes transfixed by Dracula who wastes no time
feasting on her blood. When Lucy dies from this encounter, an autopsy reveals
two small puncture wounds on her neck. Meanwhile, Renfield’s obsession with
eating bugs causes Professor Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) to do an analysis
of his patient’s blood.
Dracula turns his attentions to
Mina. Although his love bite does not destroy her, Mina too becomes dreamlike
and aloof. Thus, when Dracula returns for a more cordial visit, Van Helsing and
Harker quietly deduce he is responsible for their recent tragedies, especially
after Dracula shows no reflection in a mirror. Meanwhile, Lucy has risen from
the dead to prey upon young children in the park. Van Helsing plans to take
Mina away to spare her a similar fate, but instead orders Nurse Briggs (Joan
Standing) to guard her with a wreath of wolf bane. Dracula attempts to
hypnotize Van Helsing but is driven back by the crucifix. After Dracula’s
hypnotic compelling of Mina to bite Harker fails, Harker and Van Helsing pursue
Dracula to his coffin and wait for daylight, whereupon Van Helsing drives a
stake through the Count’s heart, thus releasing Mina from his curse.
Viewed today, Dracula is
hardly as profound or as disturbing as it must have seemed to audiences back in
1931. And yet, it retains an air of palpable foreboding, thanks to the meticulous
craftsmanship afforded by John Hoffman and Herman Rosse’s mammoth production
design, creating some truly sumptuous and spooky visuals, superbly lensed by
cinematographer, Karl Freund. The crux of the movie’s enduring success and
appeal, however, remains Bela Lugosi. From the moment we are introduced to this
incandescent glowing-eyed Count, thick black hair slicked back to reveal his
severe widow’s peak, his murderous intent thinly disguised beneath a strained,
but still very affable smile, Legosi exemplifies not only the avaricious terror
but also a luxuriant – nee decadent – old world charm. At a time when American
audiences were genuinely fascinated by European folklore, Dracula
emerged as something of a thoroughly devious reconstitution of such Tyrolean
romanticism, brought tragically forth to wreak havoc on the 20th century.
Dracula is tame by
today’s standards. Film censorship had yet to take complete hold of the
industry. But its early signs are already in place. Universal was, in fact,
‘encouraged’ to keep the story’s more suggestive aspects at bay. Perhaps more
out of concern his audiences might be repulsed rather than intrigued by this
tale, Carl Laemmle Jr. elected to merely imply Dracula’s ‘shape-shifting
conversion’ from human to bat, his ‘relationship’ with the undead catatonic
brides in his cellar also inferred rather than explained. The most visually
repugnant aspect of the movie remains Dwight Frye’s Renfield. The actor had
been considered something of a rising star with great potential as a leading
man prior to the release of Dracula. Afterward, the public would not
accept Frye as anything but variations of this insane, bug-eating victim
destined for the asylum or worse.
Dracula also typecast
Bela Lugosi. Today, we tend to forget Lugosi only played Count Dracula twice - here,
and then as pure camp in Universal’s hilarious spoof horror/comedy Abbott
and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948). In the interim, Lugosi’s movie
career greatly suffered. Infrequently cast as a demented henchman in support of
Boris Karloff, this stereotype clung to his reputation as an actor, despite the
fact he was a relatively soft-spoken, genial, and well-read connoisseur of fine
art and music. Bowing to the will of the public’s fascination to see him repeatedly
resurrected in these monstrous dregs, Lugosi eventually allowed the line
between his personal and public life to blur, becoming a cliché of his former
self in later years. He was buried in full Dracula regalia in 1956.
Today, Lugosi’s legacy as the Count
has virtually eclipsed both the stature and the reputation of Braum Stoker’s
original novel. It really is a remarkable achievement considering virtually
every film maker since 1931 has had to reference Lugosi’s iconography in one
form or another to re-tell the story. Remember, the concept of the widow’s
peaked, elegantly attired patron with cape and walking stick are not part of
Stoker’s novel. They have absolutely nothing to do with the historical
trappings either. Yet, ask most anyone today
to conjure to mind the image of the vampire and a cheap imitation of Lugosi’s
Hungarian accent mimicking the lines “I want to suck your blood” or “Look
into my eyes…blah, blah, blah” are likely to be recreated. If nothing else,
Lugosi has achieved the same sempiternity as his darker creation. His Dracula
is immortal.
Universal’s single disc 4K release
of Dracula sports the same exceptional UHD transfer as before. Dracula
underwent a formidable photochemical, then digital restoration some years ago, cribbing
off original nitrate elements. For the 4K releases, even the most minute
imperfections were digitally massaged, including contrast fluctuations, gate
weave, built-in flicker, scratches and specks. The 4K reveals astonishing
amounts of visual clarity, depth and detail. Contrast correction has produced
inky black levels and a pluperfect midrange of tonal grays with excellent
reproduction of grain. The image is both crisp and clean. The inherent
shortcomings of the original noise floor in this early Westrex sound recording have
been faithfully reproduced in DTS 2.0 mono.
Through their technological wizardry, Universal has managed to salvage the
monaural clarity in dialogue and effects while marginalizing the hiss and pop
that for decades has plagued Dracula’s sonic presentation. Extras all
hail from previous DVD and Blu-ray releases and include the 35 min. vintage
‘making-of’ hosted by Carla Laemmle, two comprehensive audio commentaries, one
by David J. Skal, the other by Steve Haberman, a 36 min. biography on Bela
Lugosi, the Spanish-language version (also meticulously restored), an
introduction to the Spanish version by Lupita Tovar, an alternative stereo
score composed by Philip Glass, archives of vintage poster art, marketing and
other photographic stills, ‘monster tracks’ that provides a litany of trivia on
the movie, trailers for all of the movies in the Dracula franchise, and
finally, a 9 min. look at how Universal restored both versions for this hi-def
release. Bottom line: nothing to see here, folks. If you already own Dracula
in the Uni set from a few years ago, you can pass on this. Otherwise, it’s a
keeper.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
5+
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