Dracula (1974)

1974 was a bumper year for vampire films in quantity, if not always quality. Andy Warhol was bring the sleaze and gore in Blood for Dracula. Hammer Studios were looking for new twists, with Captain Kronos, Vampire Hunter and the martial arts cash-in Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires. Meanwhile, David Niven was embarrassing himself in Old Dracula. Elsewhere, Dan Curtis, the producer of legendary Gothic soap opera Dark Shadows brought us a TV take on the tale.

The screenplay is by genre legend Richard Matheson, and the plot hits all the major beats of the source novel. But, like the Hammer and Universal versions, it pares back the sprawling plot and cast of characters. One original element it does introduce is the idea of Dracula being a tragic, lovesick character, doomed to spend eternity pining for a lost love. This is something that Francis Ford Coppola will use twenty years later by in his risible take on the story.

In the title role is Jack Palance, someone who has no problem being evil, menacing, and imposing. In fact he's almost like the Terminator, acting alone, breaking into houses, and refusing to lie down when shot, Palance also brings a secondary layer to the character. His Dracula is someone who is occasionally vulnerable to, and not quite in control of their lusts. This offers a reading of the character as a metaphor for addiction.

Opposing Dracula as his arch rival Dr Van Helsing is Nigel Davenport. He is best known, to me at least, as the cantankerous scientist Hubbs in the apocalyptic classic Phase IV. As Van Helsing he brings the necessary stolid reassurance of the character. But he lacks the eccentricity and energy that someone like Peter Cushing being to the role.

The cinematography makes it look like an episode of Hammer House of Horror. This is not a criticism, as a I am big of fan of this show, but it means it might be an acquired taste. Regardless, it's a pacy, creepy and often overlooked version of a familiar tale.

 

 

Casque d'Or (1952)

Despite being set in La Belle Époque, Casque d'Or is not a stuffy period drama. Director Jacques Becker creates a rich and believable world that is also vibrant and contemporary.

The story centres around Marie (Simone Signoret), the girlfriend of Roland, a gangster in a small French town. After a chance meeting, Marie she falls for Georges, a humble carpenter, and her boyfriend's jealousy leads to a fatal showdown.

The subdued tone means little or no histrionics or melodrama, even in the confrontation scene between Georges and Roland. There is no explicit violence, but the coldness and the closeup shots are chilling and uncomfortable. There is no music and glamorization of what is happening.

When Georges goes on the run there is also an interesting contrast between the dark, dense city, full of crime and death and the wide expansive and peaceful countryside.

The haunting finale mirrors the opening. This is a film with a bleak worldview. Georges is an honourable man in a dishonest world. Everyone does the decent thing, and nobody is happy.

Parasite (2019)

For once the hype is justified and the Oscars got it right. Parasite is a brilliant, unsettling and completely unpredictable work.

Set in modern day Korea, the story revolves around two families, from polar opposite ends of the social spectrum, whose lives intertwine by chance. There is no point saying much else about the plot, as you should watch Parasite with as little prior knowledge as possible.

Director Bong Joon-ho effortlessly switches between gears and genres. He mixes unsettling horror, with black comedy and heartbreaking tragedy, wrong-footing the audience expectations. He backs it with characters that are complex, believable, and very sympathetic, even when this sympathy is challenged.

It is also, I suspect, a richly layered work with plenty of rewards for repeat viewing.

 

 

Machine-Gun Kelly (1958)

Machine Gun Kelly is a change of pace from Roger Corman's more common 1950s output of cheap monster movies. It has an intelligent script, lean muscular direction from Roger Corman, and a brooding early performance from Charles Bronson.

Bronson plays George "Machine Gun" Kelly, a bank robber with two major obsessions - death, and a particular type of firearm. After a particularly successful job, Kelly is now Public Enemy Number One. Tensions grow in his gang, especially his partner in crime Flo Becker (Susan Cabot), who starts to question if he is a real man.

The screenplay uses Freudian elements to create a title character who is more than one dimensional. Kelly is infantilised by everyone around him. He has a fear of death that is repeatedly triggered by symbols that he sees. And he is a snivelling coward once deprived of his phallic machine gun. As well as making for interesting characterisation, this approach allows Corman to refute accusations that he is glorifying criminals.

Corman's directorial stylistic high point would come later, with his rich and surreal adaptions of several Edgar Allan Poe stories. Here, he shows the versatility and good taste to know that what he needs to do is to keep things focussed and moving. However, there are some great stylistic choices, such as the wordless opening sequence, showing a violent bank robbery that ends in the death of a security guard.

Road to Morocco (1942)

The third of seven films Bob Hope and Bing Crosby made together during the 40s and 50s, Road to Morocco is pure entertainment that feels fresh and funny today.

The plot is never too important in these sorts of things, acting as a way of dumping the pair in the middle of nowhere so that they can wisecrack their way back home. In this case, the pair are shipwrecked after Hope blows up the vessel they were stowing away on, before drifting into Morocco.

Of course, being 1940s Hollywood, this is the 1940s Hollywood version of Morocco. Everybody is white and speaks either heavily accented English or gibberish. But, the series was always intended as a spoof of the hit film genres of the day, so it feels more like a parody of those tropes rather than a celebration.

The non stop wisecracking from Hope is broken up with an occasional musical interlude from Crosby, and Dorothy Lamour provides the love interest. There is also a charming and refreshing sense of self awareness. Hope regularly breaks the fourth wall to talk to the audience or complain about Crosby sabotaging his Oscar hopes. Even a Camel stops to comment on how this is the screwiest picture he's was ever been in.