I spent Thanksgiving with Dracula, and I don’t mean that creepy relative who likes to dress in black or my cold-hearted, soul-sucking “ex.”  On Thanksgiving evening, I watched the 1931 Universal film interpretation of Bram Stoker’s novel about the world’s most famous vampire, except it wasn’t the one with Bela Lugosi. Instead, I devoured the Spanish-language version starring Carlos Villarias. The Spanish Dracula, or Drácula, can be found as one of the extras on Universal’s DVD release, which is part of their Monster Legacy Collection. I was so intrigued with what I saw that I returned to the Lugosi version to compare and contrast.

In the early sound era, Universal sometimes produced two versions of the same film—one with English-speaking stars for American audiences and another with Hispanic stars for Spanish-speaking audiences. The purpose was to prevent the loss of the Spanish-speaking market because of the advent of talkies. In the silent era, producing a film for international audiences simply meant translating the intertitles into other languages. When sync-sound became the norm, international markets were far less interested in English-language talkies, and the big studios became concerned about losing foreign revenue. For a short while, Universal produced Spanish-language versions of some of their films to maintain their Spanish-speaking markets. Spanish versions of Universal films used different casts and directors but were shot on the same schedule using the same sets. I had heard about this practice back in film school, but I had never seen any of the Spanish-language Universal films until I watched Drácula.

VILLARIAS AS CONDE DRACULA; NOTE THE BACKLIT COBWEBS, A NICE TOUCH NOT IN BROWNING'S VERSION.

I don’t speak Spanish, but I am so familiar with the Dracula story and the Bela Lugosi version of the film that I had no difficulty following along. My inability to speak Spanish proved an advantage in many ways, because without the distraction of spoken dialogue, I focused on visual style, camera movement, and acting. Surprisingly, Drácula held its own against the English-language version in many ways—except one.

George Melford directed Drácula while Tod Browning was in charge of the English-language version.  The history books laud Browning for directing the first major Hollywood film with a purely supernatural storyline, thereby launching the horror genre in America. And, Browning’s Dracula not only gave the genre one of its iconic characters but also the definitive portrayal by Bela Lugosi.  In many ways, all other interpretations of Stoker’s novel and character are measured against or compared to Browning and Lugosi’s.

However, Melford’s version of the material is more cinematic than Browning’s, which has been criticized for looking static and stagy. Perhaps Browning was intimidated by the new sync-sound technology; the cumbersome equipment associated with “talkies” confounded more than one director during the early sound era. Or, he may have been trying to emulate the eerie atmosphere of the stage version by capturing the low-key lighting and creepy settings in a series of long shots. Browning was assisted by legendary Expressionist cinematographer Karl Freund, who was renowned for his fluid camerawork and expressive lighting, but in this film, Freund’s camera was more or less grounded.

VILLARIAS CAN'T QUITE DUPLICATE LUGOSI'S VAMPIRE GRIMACE.

Team Browning shot the English-language version on a Universal soundstage on sets designed by Charles D. Hall during the days, while Team Melford shot the same script pages at night using the same sets. Melford was assisted by producer Paul Kohner and cameraman George Robinson. Apparently, Team Melford took advantage of the fact that Team Browning shot first. Team Melford poured over Browning’s dailies, pinpointing the strengths and weaknesses so that they could craft their scenes to be scarier, more atmospheric, or just plain better.

LUGOSI'S GRIMACE IS MUCH MORE EFFECTIVE.

One of the major differences between the two films is the use of camera movement.  In the English-language version, Freund does move the camera occasionally, most notably in the introduction of Count Dracula to the viewer. The camera tracks toward his coffin as his hand opens the lid ever so slightly, and his long graceful fingers reach out. A couple of shots later, this same tracking move is repeated to capture the Count himself as he stands mid-frame looking into the camera. The effect is that he is commanding the camera, and therefore the viewer, to come toward him. Team Melford emulates Freund’s ideas in the Spanish-language version, except that the tracking shot toward Villarias’s Conde Drácula is longer, faster, and more noticeable. Robinson then repeats this same tracking shot to great effect when Renfield meets Conde Drácula for the first time. Drácula stands in front of a huge spider web as the camera tracks toward him, as though the Count is luring Renfield–and us—into his trap. The spider webs in this sequence are backlit, which draws our attention to them—a nice touch missing from the English-language version.

During the second half of Drácula, Team Melford increases the overall use of camera movement. Robinson tends to track or crane toward a character who is about to say or reveal something significant during a scene, which does not occur in Team Browning’s version. Robinson’s shots may lack the fluidity of Freund’s camerawork in his German Expressionist films or even in his film The Mummy (1932), but the increased amount of camera movement in Drácula adds vitality to many scenes.

Melford also uses more shots per scene than Browning, particular medium shots for dialogue and medium closeups of Conde Drácula when he is looking his most vampire-like. More shots translates to a better sense of pacing, and more medium shots and closeups literally bring the viewer closer to the characters, engaging their attention in a way long shots do not. The increased camera movement and higher number of shots makes Team Melford’s interpretation of the material more cinematic than Team Browning’s, though not necessarily more enjoyable.

"THE CLAW" GESTURE, SO OFTEN FOUND IN GERMAN EXPRESSIONISM MAKES ITS WAY INTO AMERICAN HORROR.

Ultimately, Team Browning’s version of Bram Stoker’s novel trumps Team Melford’s because of Bela Lugosi. After decades of sequels, remakes, parodies, cartoons, and self-reflexive re-creations of this most famous classic, it is almost impossible to appreciate Lugosi’s iconic performance with fresh eyes. However, to contrast Lugosi’s performance with Villarias’s does reveal the tragic Hungarian’s strengths as a horror-film star. The Spanish cast members of Drácula were not allowed to watch the dailies featuring their English-speaking counterparts. The exception was Villarias, who was not only ordered to watch them but also instructed to emulate Lugosi—a huge mistake on the part of Universal. Villarias had a long career during the Golden Age of Mexican cinema, and he may have been a solid actor when allowed control over his characters. But, his performance of Dracula pales in comparison because it is a poor imitation of Lugosi’s gestures, vocal inflections, and expressions. And, in my opinion, Villarias did not have the charisma, presence, or technical skills that Lugosi exhibits in this trademark role.

Bela Lugosi’s movements, particularly his hand gestures, are at once elegant and ethereal. His long fingers are graceful and fluid as they slowly reach toward his victim; or, they become eerily claw-like when trying to hypnotize an adversary. The claw-like gesture may have come from Lugosi’s stage interpretation of the role, but it is also similar to a gesture common to Expressionist films that signifies an animal-like character or an extreme state of emotional distress. Lugosi’s deliberate reading of lines and vocal inflections are effective not just because of his heavy Hungarian accent but also because of their timing. He delivers a sort-of pay-off in lines such as “I don’t drink . . . wine.” It’s the extra beat between “drink” and “wine” that gives the line its double meaning. Another Lugosi trademark—the narrowing and widening of his eyes—is used in the film to convey the unleashing of Count Dracula’s hypnotic powers, an expression now deemed campy. However, one need only see Villarias’s unsuccessful attempt to imitate Lugosi to be reminded of how well such expressions, gestures, and vocal inflections serviced the character’s aura of exotic evil to which we are both attracted and repelled. Villarias fails most miserably when trying to emulate Lugosi’s strange grimace-like smile when the Count goes in for the kill—or the bite. Lugosi does not bare his teeth as his thin lips stretch into an exaggerated smile that makes him look feral. Villarias cannot duplicate that effect, opting to open his mouth to show his teeth, which makes him look dopey or loopy. Lugosi’s signature performance in the otherwise stodgy English-language version of Dracula trumps the more cinematic visual style of Team Melford in the Spanish-language version. Viva Lugosi!

LUPITA TOVAR AS EVA LOOKS LIKE A VAMPIRE WOULD FIND HER DESIRABLE.

Still, there are strengths and differences to Drácula that are worth mentioning. The performances by the other members of the Spanish cast are just as good or in some cases better than in the English-language version. Pablo Alvarez Rubio plays Renfield as a stark, raving lunatic in an extreme but controlled performance that is mesmerizing. I love Dwight Frye’s creepy interpretation of Renfield as demented and unbalanced in Browning’s film, but Rubio’s high-energy portrait of lunacy gives Frye a run for his money. The female cast members in Drácula are more expressive, sympathetic, and sensual than their English-speaking counterparts. Lupita Tovar stars as Eva Seward and Carmen Guerrero costars as Lucia Weston in Drácula, while Helen Chandler and Frances Dade play the equivalent characters, Mina Harker and Lucy Weston, in Dracula. Chandler and Dade are stiff, unmemorable, and colorless. Tovar and Guerrero are much more natural, lively, and life-like in their roles. Interestingly, the costuming and makeup for the Spanish-speaking actresses are different; Tovar and Guerrero look fetching in their long, flowing hair and low-cut, sheer nightgowns. In one high-angled shot, the camera depicts a kneeling Tovar in a low-cut gown as she struggles against the power Drácula. The camera angle clearly reveals her assets. Flat-chested Chandler and Dade, on the other hand, wear unflattering, high-collared gowns and dresses, with their hair cut short and curled tightly. Frankly, they don’t seem like they have two ounces of warm blood between them.

ARMADILLOS AND OPOSSUMS STAND IN FOR RATS IN BROWNING'S VERSION.

Other differences include the preference for armadillos and opossums to represent the vermin in and around Dracula’s castles, while the Spanish-language version used real rats and mice. Armadillos add a bizarre connotation to Dracula’s home, which suggests an exotic world in a far-away land in Team Browning’s version; actual rats equate the Count with pestilence and vermin in Medford’s film, which is in keeping with Nosferatu, F.W. Murnau’s famous interpretation of Stoker’s novel. The decision to eliminate details that might be off-putting to American audiences—rats, sexy leading ladies, death screams by Dracula’s victims—reveals the prudish roots of American culture.

The Dracula vs. Drácula contest was a fun exercise and a worthwhile learning experience. Ultimately, however, I suspect that spending Thanksgiving evening watching two versions of the same film is a clear indication of my lifetime membership in the movie-geek club.

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Side note: I saw the sequel to Twilight, New Moon, the next day after watching Drácula. In researching the members of Team Medford, I found that producer Paul Kohner married Lupita Tovar. Their grandson is producer-director Chris Weitz, who directed New Moon!!! In all of the hype surrounding New Moon, you would think someone might have mentioned the coincidence of two generations of the same family involved in the production of historic vampire films. Of course, that presupposes that reviewers and entertainment writers would actually research their subject in an effort to know what they are talking about. I guess I expect too much.