Dracula (1931) ***1/2
While undoubtedly one of the most influential horror films ever made, I've never been able to fully connect with Tod Browning's Dracula (1931). There is much to love, but I've always found it a bit plodding. With its stiff performances, lack of score, and slow pace, I don't think it would be a quarter of the film it is without Bela Lugosi. Every moment he is on screen is electric; every moment he is not, it's painfully obvious (though Dwight Frye is a delightfully unhinged Renfield). Compare this with James Whale's Frankenstein (review), released later the same year—that film is much more dynamic and dramatic.
Browning's film set the blueprint for the many (many, many) adaptations of the story and portrayals of the character that have come since, there's no denying that. But, as far as early adaptations of Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897) go, I'll take F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu (1922) (review) over D31 any day. In fact, I've said all this before—and it may be blasphemy to most—but I prefer Werner Herzog's Nosferatu The Vampyre (1979), Terence Fisher's Dracula (aka Horror Of Dracula) (1958) (review), and Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula (1992) (review) to the 1931 film as well. All that said, there are plenty of enduring moments in D31 and I have nothing but respect for the reputation that the film holds. (I also like George Melford’s Spanish version, Drácula (1931) (review), almost as much.)
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