If ever there was anything dependable about the nature of humanity--other than the fact that we will always find reasons to divide ourselves--it's that we will do anything we can to mentally protect ourselves from that which we fear. And because the ultimate fear for the human race has always been death--the great unknown certainty from which none of us can escape--it's fascinating to see just what lengths we will go to bury that certainty deep down in our psyche. Horror in particular is not much more than a vast exercise of this very kind.
After all, how else to explain why the people most obsessed with all things mortal and macabre take the keenest interest in horror? Simply put, it's a catharsis; a way of coping in a fun and deflected way with something many of us have trouble dealing with, but are nonetheless fascinated by. So when my brethren in the League of Tana Tea Drinkers proposed a blog roundtable discussion on the phenomenon of "cute monsters" in horror, the whole thing was a no-brainer for me.
The question is, why do we infantilize creatures of horror the way we do in our modern culture? Why do we tend to make them "cute"? For my money, one of the most profound and telling examples of this is the beloved series of monster cereals from General Mills: Most famously Frankenberry and Count Chocula, but also their occasional friends Boo Berry, and yes, even Yummy Mummy. Here we have creatures that once inspired genuine terror in the hearts of men (and women)--turned into tasty, sugary treats for children (young and old) to eat while watching cartoons on a Saturday morning.
Think about it for a moment. Let's deconstruct, shall we? Once we peel back the layers of cuteness, what do we have? A cereal made in the likeness of a murderous, mindless being stitched together from corpses, and another in the likeness of a demonic vampire who drains the blood of the living. A cereal based on the immortal soul of a human being who has passed on, and another on the mummified and resurrected corpse of an ancient Egyptian pharoah. Granted, that's certainly reading a lot into it, but at the very base of it, isn't it true?
In the case of three of those monsters, the origins in popular culture can be traced to the classic Universal horror films of the early 1930s. Were it not for those films, there would certainly be no General Mills monster cereals. Yet those films were intended as straight-up horror, to chill the blood and inspire terror in the masses. And even before the days of motion pictures, the legends those films were based on stretch back even further into time--the novels of Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker; and further still, the dark folklore of ancient and medieval Europe, in which creatures such as vampires were wretched, repulsive enemies of humanity.
And yet fast forward a few centuries, and we're sitting on the couch munching on their little faces, soaked in multi-colored milky goodness. The ad campaigns surrounding the cereals have turned the monsters in cartoon characters, voiced in the likeness of famous horror actors of the past like Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi and Peter Lorre (again, individuals whose job was to inspire abject fear, now transformed into juvenile comedy).
Clearly, the bite of the classic monsters (pardon the pun) is dulled by portrayals such as this. I'm not saying they still don't have the power to terrify us--personally, I find Dracula, Frankenstein and The Mummy to still be frightening and powerful horror films. Nevertheless, it can't be denied that creatures which were once taken far more seriously have now become safe, tame, and consumable by children.
Why has this happened? Familiarity is part of it, to be sure. After all these years of being seared into our consciousness, Drac, Frank and the gang are more like old friends than entities out to destroy us. There's also the type of thinking alluded to earlier: Specifically, our willingness to take something which frightens us and defang it (quite litereally) so we can more easily process it psychologically.
Since death is at the very heart of horror, it's no suprise that most monsters are linked very closely to it. When we break it down, every single one of the General Mills cereal monsters is technically a dead person. Quite jarring to analyze it that way, but also quite true. They are based on beings which do nothing if not remind us of our own mortality. This is the basic source of the horror they all inspire; whether ghost, mummy, vampire, or flesh golem.
And so we do what we always do--we protect ourselves from what we fear, in this case using one of the most tried-and-true methods. We take away its power by turning it into something which is a parody of itself, a harmless representation suitable for small children--so far removed from its origins that one really has to do some mental gymnastics to make the connection.
But the connection remains--twisted, warped and mangled far from its original meaning--yet still there. We've transformed the monstrous into something more manageable, but it's still present, if only we look hard enough. So the next time you're loafing on your recliner, a heaping bowl of Frankenberry and pink milk sitting on your belly as you take in ESPN Sportscenter, think long and hard about the gruesome, undead, homicidal atrocities that inspired your delicious, cavity-inducing breakfast.
The history of horror is populated with a cornucopia of malicious monsters to chill the blood and excite the imagination. But for roughly the past eight decades, one monster in particular has stood head and shoulders above the rest as the most prominent, and the most readily identifiable with the genre: the vampire.
There's something about the vampire's ability to literally drain away human life that seems to resonate at the very epicenter of what horror is all about. From ancient folklore to Victorian literature, and eventually on the silver screen, they have called to us, both terrifying and irresistible. Vampires have been the subject of countless horror films. As challenging as it may have been, our crew--along with the Brutal as Hell gang--have selected our all-time favorites. Read on, and remember, the dead travel fast... B-Sol on Nosferatu
Not only the greatest horror film of the 1920s, but I believe an argument could be made that it might be the finest horror film ever. However, I'll just say it's my all-time favorite vampire flick, and leave it at that. Pure joy for any true horror fan, from beginning to end, Max Schreck's exploits as the demonic Count Orlock make up an almost transcendent experience of movie viewing. It might be easy and predictable to choose this one, but I choose it for a reason--it is the most frightening movie of its era, and still the most rewarding to watch. Not to mention the best screen adaptation of Dracula.
But despite Nosferatu technically being a Dracula adaptation, Max Schreck's Orlock is an entity all on his own, with a distinct persona and look that virtually transcends horror cinema, if not cinema as a whole. The rising out of the casket, the unforgettable shadow-walk up those stairs. This, readers, is the stuff of cinematic horror immortality. It gets no better.
It’s surprising how few vampire films I’ve watched, given how many vampire books and novels I’ve read over the past several years. Fortunately, I’ve managed to avoid the majority of the Twilight franchise, limiting my experience of vampires on the silver screen to the laughable Gerard Butler film Dracula 2000, Robert Rodriguez’ From Dusk Till Dawn, the classic vampire film Nosferatu, and the ever-popular Underworld franchise. For various reasons, I recently reached the conclusion that of this limited selection, Underworld has made its way to the top of my vampire horror movie list to become my favorite movie featuring the blood-sucking undead.
Although Underworld isn’t particularly intellectually stimulating, it is a fast-paced action-adventure horror film with vampires, werewolves (or lycans, as they’re called in the film), and a centuries-old war raging between the two factions. Using the traditional star-crossed lovers theme of Romeo and Juliet, Underworld follows the sexy, self-sufficient vampire Selene (Kate Beckinsale) as she falls in love with a human named Michael Corvin (Scott Speedman). Unfortunately, Michael was bitten by a lycan and is undergoing the painful process of becoming one of Selene's mortal enemies.
Many people will be surprised to know that Underworld was my first introduction to both Kate Beckinsale and Bill Nighy, two actors that I really like. In my opinion, Len Wiseman's casting in Underworld is phenomenal; Beckinsale is the essence of the vampire Selene, and her porcelain complexion couldn't be more perfect for the role. In addition, Bill Nighy is unbelievable as one of the first vampires ever created, corrupt and cruel and filled with hatred for the lycans. The special effects used to turn Nighy into the blood-deprived corpse as he first appears in Underworld is very well done, but without Nighy's effective acting and powerful presence, the role would've fallen flat.
I also love the visual style that Len Wisemen and his Oscar-nominated cinematographer, Tony Pierce-Roberts (Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, De-Lovely), use in Underworld. Everything from the rainy urban landscape and the vampires’ massive, hulking mansion, to the skin-tight black leather that Selene wears and the dark, shadowy complexions of the lycans contributes to the stunning contrast of lights and darks that characterize the film’s cinematography. In addition, the camerawork in Underworld is superb. Establishing shots are often grand urban vistas. Even the use of CGI in these shots is flawless, creating images that convey both the dark, secretive nature of the vampires and lycans while also expressing the enormity of the landscape in which they dwell.
The use of slow motion camerawork during the climactic fight scene at the end of Underworld is genius given the speed attributed to both lycans and vampires in the film. This fight sequence is dissimilar from many of the fight scenes in other contemporary films like Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 3, which often feature images that move too fast for audiences to follow adequately. Instead, Wiseman and his production team used slow motion not only to keep viewers in the loop with regards to the mechanics of the fight, but also to highlight the beauty of the fight choreography itself.
It is no wonder to me that Underworld spawned both a sequel and a prequel, with yet another sequel rumored to be in production. The leading lady is a sexpot with giant pistols and a hunger for blood, the cinematography is breathtaking, and the story of love and betrayal is interesting, if not compelling. I look forward to a fourth installment of the Underworld franchise, and I hope someone talks Beckinsale back into a skin-tight suit of leather for me.
From the very first time I viewed Fright Night (on a double-bill with Creepshow, no less!), I knew that I had happened upon something magical. If I’m not mistaken, it was the very first modern vampire movie to have been viewed by my young, impressionable eyes. Up until that point I had only been acquainted with the likes of Lugosi, Lee, and the rest of the gang as they creaked their way through cobwebbed castles and crypts. This was an entirely new experience. Vampires in today’s world? My adolescent spine shuddered at the very thought. Not to mention the overt sensuality exhibited by the charming-as-hell Chris Sarandon and his bloodsucking brethren. Seeing the act of vampirism turned into an appealing and sexual act was a giant bombshell that went off in my brain. Like the ravaged wasteland of a real explosion, my perspective on vampires would never be the same again.
Fright Night is a wild ride, a film packed with homages to those Universal and Hammer terrors, but with a decidedly 80’s flavor. For instance, the vampire’s abode is your typical Gothic house squatting in an impenetrable mist and filled with ghostly antiquities. But a few scenes later we’re transported to a bustling nightclub where the synthesizers blare through the speakers and the dancers have more hair than the members of a werewolf convention. The mixture creates a highly electric and downright fun atmosphere that won’t be forgotten for some time. The powerhouse performances from the ensemble cast bring the movie to a whole new level. I could go on for days about how every role is fully realized and the amazing chemistry that sparks between each actor. Magic like this is a rarity, particularly in horror films. But somehow Fright Night makes it seem like a feat that can be accomplished with a passive wave of the hand.
I love watching movies made by filmmakers who actually love horror movies. The passion and hard work put forth shines in every shot, the loving product of a devoted craftsman. Fright Night is a prime example of just that type of genius. Even though some may see it at worst as only a fair parody of the vampire theme, I actually think it’s one of the sub-genre’s highest achievements. This is how the undead were meant to be seen. Sinister, mysterious, terrifying, and oh-so-seductive (no sparkles included). Fright Night is just the film I’d instantly recommend to anyone seeking a good time with some bloodthirsty friends. It’s everything you’ve been waiting for, with just a little more of a… bite.
My taste in horror trends toward the '70s and '80s, but not even I can resist the baroque charms of Bela freakin' Lugosi as the original vampire. Dracula is a movie that needs no introduction. Lugosi's performance was so intense and profound that even in times when the vampire was represented most commonly by Lestat and Edward Cullen, the cape and brow is still iconic. Slick your hair, throw on a tux and vaguely ceremonial medallion and you're instantly recognizable as Count Dracula 80 years later.
Tod Browning's movie throws most of Bram Stoker's novel out the window and it mixes and matches characters, but the major themes remain. It also represents the beginning of a golden age of horror for Universal Studios where every picture was drenched in crashing thunder and crumbling castles and unmatched performances by legends of the genre. Every god damn frame of Tod Browning's movie is deliberately crafted for maximum gothic. Shots of Lugosi frame his imposing presence perfectly and his intense, burning stare is highlighted frequently by a band of light across the eyes to entrance you exactly as his vampiric stare is supposed to be doing to the cast.
Dracula is fundamentally awesome; the text-book by which all horror films follow and a subtle exercise in how to sneak themes of kinky domination and submission into a movie made in a very chaste studio system. It plays a heavy hand at times, rubbing your nose in its intensity but this expertly crafted horror film is so perfect that it just doesn't matter if it feels excessive. The Count, his vampire brides, his accent and his sinister influence are such incredible storytelling elements and played so perfectly by Bela Lugosi that by comparison, the Harkers and Abraham Van Helsing seem like total downers. Not to put too fine a point on it, I love Dracula.
I'll tell you what else: Mexican Dracula is pretty cool, too.
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Head over to Brutal as Hell to see what Marc Patterson and his crew have come up with. And if you're interested in taking part in the future, just give Marc or myself a holler.
I haven't been dealing too much in horror industry news anymore, in part because there are others who are so much better at it, but this tasty little tidbit was just too tantalizing to pass up! The New York Post's Broadway reporter Michael Riedel broke the news this morning that producers are in talks to revive the classic 1927 John Balderston/Hamilton Deane stage production of Dracula--and are angling for their lead to be none other than Javier Bardem.
To call this casting inspired is to make a colossal understatement. Bardem--best-known for his chilling turn in the Coen Bros.' No Country for Old Men--is, in the opinion of this blogger, an absolutely and outstandingly perfect casting choice. Now, keep in mind, we're talking about the adapted stage version, not Stoker's original story.
As we all know, the role was originated in '27 by Bela Lugosi, who took it from the Great White Way to the silver screen in 1931--in a movie I very coincidentally reviewed just yesterday. Fifty years later, it was first revived on Broadway with a young Frank Langella in the lead (Langella would also reprise the part on screen shortly thereafter). And now, more than 30 years after that, it is very possibly becoming a reality once again--although it should be noted that the Broadway producers are in contention over the rights with a group of off-Broadway producers also looking to revive the show, with an unknown as the Count and F. Murray Abraham as Van Helsing (hey, can we get Abraham to jump over to the Bardem production? Cause that would rock on an astronomical level).
I've got fingers and toes crossed big-time for this one, and I'll certainly be in the audience for it if it happens. In fact, I'll think I'm going to start saving up the $87,000 for the tickets today!
Bardem perfectly combines sex appeal, a sinister edge, and exotic Continental-ness--a similar combo to what Lugosi brought to the table. Langella, in my opinion, only succeeded in the first category, but was sorely lacking in the latter two. Who knows, if this should actually come to pass, there might be another cinematic version of the classic play in our future! Move over, Eddie Cullen--Daddy's home.
"There are far worse things awaiting man than death..."
My last post on the most overrated horror movies of all time brought something interesting to my attention. A few people suggested that one of these films should be Tod Browning's original Universal production, Dracula. The reason this is interesting to me is that I both understand where these folks are coming from, yet I also strongly disagree with their assessment.
In my opinion, the 1931 Dracula is very slightly overrated, in that it gets often equated with James Whale's Frankenstein, a film which is superior to it. Nevertheless, I would not in a million years consider it one of the most underrated horror movies of all time, specifically because I think it is excellent. Flawed, but excellent. And it richly deserves to be one of the most famous horror films ever made.
Let's address the 500-pound gorilla first and foremost, and talk about Bela Lugosi. If you were to look up the word "iconic" in the dictionary, you may just see a picture of Lugosi as Dracula. The legendary Hungarian actor so completely merged himself with the role that to this day, we cannot think of the character without thinking of him. Literally. Say what you want about stagey-ness, but that's one seriously effective performance right there.
Lugosi, who had originated the part in the stage production, thoroughly and completely puts his mark on the role, forever transforming it--for good or ill--from Bram Stoker's conception of the Transylvanian count, with the assistance, of course, of Hamilton Deane and John L. Balderston's entrancing script. It is a script which drastically departs from Stoker's novel, taking the story in a sexually charged direction I don't believe was as strongly intended by the book, but which has permanently altered the vampire as perceived in popular culture.
On screen, Lugosi grasps your attention with a level of completeness that most actors only dream of. He is particularly strong in the first half of the film, during the scenes that take place in his native land, as well as his early encounters with Van Helsing, Mina, Lucy, and the other England-based characters. Stripping away the many decades of familiarity and kitsch that have accumulated around it, it is a performance that still has great things to offer.
And yet, for my money, the film's most powerful and memorable performance isn't even Lugosi--it's the impeccable Dwight Frye as the mad Renfield. Almost as iconic as Dracula himself is Frye's leering performance, complete with that unforgettable, oft-imitated laugh. There's a reason I named the Best Supporting Actor category of the Cyber Horror Awards after this man, and it has to do with performances like this one, in which he takes full advantage of his somewhat limited screen time to leave an impression on the viewer that lasts a lifetime. Every word that leaves his lips, every motion of his body, is perfection.
I will admit to a certain amount of stagey-ness to the overall production from a set design standpoint, even more so than other Universal flicks of the era such as Frankenstein and The Mummy. Dracula is quite literally a filmed play, and it's evident at times. And yet I consider this a forgivable trait of much early '30s cinema, which sees filmmakers still learning how to best make an effective sound picture in a studio. It's part of the experimentalism and maverick mentality that makes me cherish this era so much.
And this stagey-ness of the production certainly does not extend to the brilliant camerawork of Karl Freund, a German expatriate whose innovative talents for camera movement add a tangibly vibrancy and excitement to the film, most notably in the initial reveal of Dracula in his castle very early on. Freund's skills go a long way to counteracting the stagey feel of this adapted Broadway production.
When it comes to the kind of stiffness often referred to, the one actor who does come to mind is Edward Van Sloan in the role of Abraham Van Helsing. An accomplished stage actor who would later improve on what he could do in front of a camera, Van Sloan is indeed somewhat too stagey and deliberate, and a classic example of the bumps in the road that occurred as filmmakers continued to fine-tune the process of adapting to sound films--namely the type of dramatic performances that would work best in the new medium. It wasn't until Peter Cushing in the 1950s that filmgoers would get the definitive Van Helsing.
Dracula kicked off the venerable Universal cycle of monster movies, and while I wouldn't consider it the best of them, or even the second best, I do find it to be extremely effective and enjoyable, and the kind of film that I appreciate more each time I see it. It is hurt somewhat by a noticeably less engaging second half, degenerating just a bit from gothic horror into drawing room melodrama. Nevertheless, through it all, Lugosi and Frye keep us enthralled.
Some of the film's weaknesses have been attributed to director Tod Browning and his notoriously low comfort level with sound productions. An accomplished director of the silent era, he seems to be much more at home directing scenes which require the least dialogue. Some point to the famous wedding banquet scene of another classic of his, Freaks--a scene which could just as effectively played out without any sound, if not moreso. In Dracula, we get amazing, minimally verbal moments such as Renfield's encounter with the Brides, and the Count's subsequent "claiming" of him.
For moments like that, I'm also willing to forgive Browning's dated technique. He was a filmmaker with a flair for the visually stunning, and he puts that flair to great effect in this film.
In short, Dracula remains one of the most important and influential horror films of them all, with a level of quality that may not be at the exact same height as its importance or influence. Yet even if it's only to see Bela Lugosi create the most famous horror movie character in history right before your eyes, this is a film that is the very definition of a "must-see", and rewards the viewer each and every time. It is imperfect, yes, but it is also more powerful than the majority of horror films you will ever see.
P.S. Just so you can't say I never went out of my way for all of you, I want to inform you that the dust aroused by simply handling this musty old book set off a nasty allergy attack as soon as I shut off the cam. So I hope you all enjoy the results of my sacrifice, people!
This slice of fried gold came my way via Fangoria Magazine. Apparently, it is a real commercial for Trojan condoms that was cooked up by the obviously brilliant Ronni "Raygun" Thomas (creator of the 2006 horror short Dawn of the Flies). According to the story, the Trojan company was less than pleased with the finished product, since it had originally been envisioned featuring five brain-dead jocks. Wow, a condom ad filled with a bunch of bros--how original!
Anyway, Thomas subsequently lost the account as a result of this brilliant work, and so it most likely will not see the light of day as an actual commercial. So much for boardroom taste. And so, it's our duty to spread it around like the viral sensation it should be. Enjoy!
The decade of the Great Depression has always held great fascination for me, and one of the reasons is the proliferation of excellent films during the era. In fact, I'd go so far as to say with the possible exception of the 1970s--my personal favorite movie decade--the 1930s may have been the greatest era for movies, ever. And for the purposes of this blog, it goes without saying that the horror films of the era were among the finest ever produced, benefiting from a time of true experimentation in filmmaking. Here are my ten faves...
10. White Zombie (1932) There may not be any flesh-eating yet, but this Bela Lugosi classic is the very first zombie film, and deserves a special place in every ghoul-lovers' heart because of that. It was a bomb in its own time, but has since grown to mega cult-status, even inspiring the name of a band the adoration of which seems to be a requirement of being a modern horror movie fan...
9. The Mummy (1932) While not one of my very top Universal gems, there is a certain austere terror to this Boris Karloff vehicle. Truth be told, I actually prefer the later Kharis Mummy series of the 1940s (blasphemy, I know), but the great Karloff is still riveting as the immortal Imhotep.
8. Werewolf of London (1935) For my money, superior to the much better-known Lon Chaney Jr. film The Wolfman, this was Universal's first crack at lycanthropy. Excellent Jack Pierce makeup and a fine performance from Henry Hull certify this one as required viewing for anyone who thinks werewolf flicks begin and end with AWIL.
7. The Black Cat (1934) Classic monster titans Lugosi and Karloff team up in this, arguably their finest collaboration, about a newlywed couple terrorized by a Satanic cult. Very daring for its time, squeaked through just as the Hays Code was being instituted in Hollywood, signifying an end to everyone's fun for the next 30 years...
6. The Invisible Man (1933) It all comes back to the iconic performance of Claude Rains in the title role, as a scientist whose great discovery comes with the price of homicidal madness. Much funnier than it gets credit for, it also features some ass-kicking special effects that are still mighty impressive some three-quarters of a century later.
5. Dracula (1931) It's such a given that this is a horror classic, that you don't often realize how truly great it is. I recommend re-watching if you haven't seen it in a well. Stagey as he is, Lugosi commands your attention from beginning to end, and Dwight Frye is a god among men. Their scenes together in the Transylvania portion of the movie are easily the highlights of the picture.
4. Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde (1931) The finest of all the various adaptations of Robert Louis Stevenson's 19th century literary classic. Just as good as anything put out by Universal during the period, this Paramount production--directed by Rouben Mamoulian--contains an Oscar-winning performance from Fredric March, and some rare pre-Code nudity from Miriam Hopkins. Fleshofthestars.com take note!
3. Freaks (1932) Reviewed recently right here in The Vault, this is one of the true bizarre gems of horror cinema, the mad creation of a post-Dracula Tod Browning with an entire troupe of real life sideshow carnies at his disposal. So vastly different from 90% of the rest of the movies made during this era, Freaks is a movie that will stay with you always.
2. The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) Yes, I did it. I made Bride number 2, not number 1. I may catch flak for this, but so be it. Still and all, Bride of Frank is easily one of the finest-made horror films of all time, perfectly mixing healthy doses of dark humor and jarring Christian imagery. Ernest Thesiger is delightful as the insidious Dr. Pretorius, and the cabin scene--Young Frankenstein notwithstanding--is still extremely moving.
1. Frankenstein (1931) I've always preferred James Whales' original to the often more-lauded sequel. Its stark simplicity, its engaging set designs, and best of all its unbelievable mime performance from a then-unknown Karloff. He fleshes the monster out into much more than a monster, but rather a creature to be pitied. Colin Clive is also frenetically excellent as the creature's tragic creator.
* HONORABLE MENTION * Dracula's Daughter (1936) This one was just barely edged out, to the point that I just had to give it a quick mention. Gloria Holden is magnificent in this oft-overlooked, sexually daring sequel to the Lugosi original.
He's been a German U-boat captain, an evil wizard, a Galactic separatist, a Bond villain, and most famously, the lord of all vampires. And now the great Christopher Lee, Hammer's Count Dracula himself, is also a knight. According to Reuters, the 87-year-old Lee was knighted today by Queen Elizabeth as part of the queen's Birthday Honours List.
Holding the distinction of having appeared on screen more times as Dracula than any other actor in history, Sir Christopher Lee (I like the sound of that!) also recently gained a strong, new following thanks to his roles as Saruman in the Lord of the Rings trilogy and Count Dooku in Star Wars Episodes II and III. Long consigned to B-movie actor status, Lee can now proudly take his place among other English thespians who have attained the same accolade, including Ian McKellen, Anthony Hopkins and Ian Holm.
Congratulations to Sir Christopher Lee, one of the all-time horror luminaries!
Not be outdone by his colleague the Wolf Man, yet another classic movie monster--namely the one and only Dracula--is set to return to the big screen as well, in a high-profile project announced last year called Dracula Year Zero.
On Wednesday, ShockTillYouDrop had a word with the film's director, Alex Proyas. Known for his excellent adaptation of The Crow, as well as his underrated cult fave Dark City, and yes, unfortunately, I Robot as well, Proyas should bring a unique vision to a script that supposedly merges Bram Stoker's fictional count with the historical Vlad Tepes upon which he was based. Presumably even moreso than Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992), which also did this to a certain extent.
Here's some of what Proyas had to say:
"I'm not a fan of remakes or sequels - I haven't done any and I'm not really that excited by them usually.
"In the case of Dracula, the reason I got excited is I read a particular script that puts the whole legend on its head in every conceivable way and comes out with something that is both a kind of ode to Bram Stoker's original Dracula, in that it's kind of a prequel to that, but also redefines the character to such an extent that I found it quite exciting, so that is very much a reinvention of that character and it's why I got excited about it."
The script in question is by Matt Sazama and Burk Sharpless, two untested commodities who also penned the screenplay for next year's remake of Flash Gordon--to be directed by Breck Eisner, the man also at the helm for the remakes of The Crazies and Creature from the Black Lagoon. How's that for random connections?
If ever there was anything dependable about the nature of humanity--other than the fact that we will always find reasons to divide ourselves--it's that we will do anything we can to mentally protect ourselves from that which we fear. And because the ultimate fear for the human race has always been death--the great unknown certainty from which none of us can escape--it's fascinating to see just what lengths we will go to bury that certainty deep down in our psyche. Horror in particular is not much more than a vast exercise of this very kind.
After all, how else to explain why the people most obsessed with all things mortal and macabre take the keenest interest in horror? Simply put, it's a catharsis; a way of coping in a fun and deflected way with something many of us have trouble dealing with, but are nonetheless fascinated by. So when my brethren in the League of Tana Tea Drinkers proposed a blog roundtable discussion on the phenomenon of "cute monsters" in horror, the whole thing was a no-brainer for me.
Think about it for a moment. Let's deconstruct, shall we? Once we peel back the layers of cuteness, what do we have? A cereal made in the likeness of a murderous, mindless being stitched together from corpses, and another in the likeness of a demonic vampire who drains the blood of the living. A cereal based on the immortal soul of a human being who has passed on, and another on the mummified and resurrected corpse of an ancient Egyptian pharoah. Granted, that's certainly reading a lot into it, but at the very base of it, isn't it true?
Clearly, the bite of the classic monsters (pardon the pun) is dulled by portrayals such as this. I'm not saying they still don't have the power to terrify us--personally, I find Dracula, Frankenstein and The Mummy to still be frightening and powerful horror films. Nevertheless, it can't be denied that creatures which were once taken far more seriously have now become safe, tame, and consumable by children.
And so we do what we always do--we protect ourselves from what we fear, in this case using one of the most tried-and-true methods. We take away its power by turning it into something which is a parody of itself, a harmless representation suitable for small children--so far removed from its origins that one really has to do some mental gymnastics to make the connection.
