As we wind down our discussion of the filmed adaptions of Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula, it’s become apparent that the book’s journey from shelf to screen is a primer on every mistake that can possibly be made when adapting a book to film. Wherever it was attempted, there was always, always, somehow, a fly in the ointment, fatal flaw that screwed the pooch. Until… Hammer’s Horror Of Dracula, written by someone with no allegiance to the source material who based their script on nothing more passionate than the budget’s restrictions. The result was and inadvertent classic.
After Horror Of Dracula, Hammer went on a tear with a series of vampire films. The immediate sequel was called Brides Of Dracula. Christopher Lee is not on hand, but actor David Peel is there to play Baron Meinster, who suffers not only his vampire curse, but also a vaguely incestuous relationship with his domineering mother. Until they both bump up against Peter Cushing’s Van Helsing. Brides Of Dracula is every bit as good as Horror of Dracula. High praise.
Then Christopher Lee returned for a string of sequels, some great, like 1968’s Dracula Has Risen From The Grave, some not so great, like Scars Of Dracula, some good, like Dracula: Prince Of Darkness and Taste The Blood Of Dracula, and some, like Dracula AD: 1972, so crazy we need to set aside some space to examine them separately. Hammer’s Dracula series mercifully wound down with 1973’s Satanic Rites Of Dracula, but the Count did not lie dormant.

Nothing to see here folks. Keep it moving...
The following year, Dan Curtis, who rose to fame producing a late ‘60’s daytime soap called Dark Shadows that not only starred a vampire but, for a brief period, attained Beatles-y levels of teen fandom, produced a nifty TV movie written by the great Richard Matheson starring Jack Palance. In 1977, the BBC made a miniseries starring Louis Jourdan that played up Dracula as a smoochy romantic figure. That is NOT in Stoker’s book. Not. At. All. In the book, after Dracula drinks blood, he is not described as being swoony with the afterglow, but rather, “bloated like a tick.” But this interpretation was a 70’s trend that came to full flourish with a revival of the original Balderston-Deane play on Broadway starring a blow-dried, disco-coiffed Frank Langella as a dewey-eyed, dreamboat Dracula. The play was a hit and was adapted as a film in 1979 and directed by John Badham, hot off Saturday Night Fever.
Around that time, a writer named James Hart, in his forward to the book, Bram Stoker’s Dracula: The Film And The Legend, read the original novel. So taken by it, he began researching the story, adding into the mix the legend of the real Vlad The Impaler, all in hopes of writing the one, true, faithful adaption of Stoker’s novel.
The script floated around Hollywood for years until, around 1990, it landed in the lap of a giant movie star. Winona Ryder. In 1990, hot off Beetlejuice, Heathers, Edward Scissorhands and Mermaids, Winona Ryder was hot, hot, hot. She read Hart’s script with an interest toward playing Mina, the object of Dracula’s desire. She gave it to Francis Ford Coppola for his opinion, if only his opinion on it as a vehicle for her.
Coppola and Ryder must have had a complicated relationship. She was slotted to play Michael Corleone’s daughter in the misbegotten The Godfather Pt. 3, but dropped out at the very last minute due to nervous exhaustion. This led Coppola to – famously – cast his daughter Sofia in the role. It was a controversial choice that caused the already bedraggled production a heapin’ helpin’ of negative press.
Well, Francis Ford Coppola apparently doesn’t hold much of a grudge, because not only did he approve of the script for Ms. Ryder but he also signed on to direct it himself. Dracula was going to be made again. This time by the guy who made The Godfather! His angle? To finally make a film that was faithful to the novel.
Mistaaaaake!
Oh, this will be good. Trust me. Next time.