Based on the stage adaptation, not the Bram Stoker novel, this campy dash of Halloween spookery spends very little time in the Count’s creepy Transylvania abode. Instead, after handling the requisite introductions (and gaining control over a lowly realtor), Dracula boards a ship bound for London and commences nibbling aristocratic necks in merry old England. There, after a brief flight of frolic, he bites off more than he can chew in pursuit of a lovely neighboring heiress and is soon revealed / chased by an old professor with a familiar surname.

This one's a curious production, filmed like a silent picture, that leans on its dark, moody cinematography to lend color and atmosphere where the script lacks. The man responsible for that aspect, Karl Freund, was only a few years removed from Fritz Lang’s _Metropolis_ and would go on to further influence the Universal monster scene as director of 1934’s _The Mummy_. Legend holds that he served as unofficial co-director of this film, too, taking the reins during Tod Browning’s uncharacteristic absences during production. No matter the messy details, his visual language is one of _Dracula_’s strongest assets, all dense and dark and flooded with pulpy ink tones. He really nailed the target.

Bela Lugosi is another boon, although he isn’t given much to do beyond speaking in an exotic accent and striking an attractive figure. Though he wasn’t the studio’s first choice, Lugosi’s familiarity with the role (as star of the aforementioned theatrical production) made him an easy plug-and-play casting and he did everything in his power to own the opportunity. It’s a shame he wasn’t given more meat to chew; Browning seems perfectly happy in relegating him to a string of intensely awkward, lingering, wordless close-ups.

Beyond the factors of curiosity and influence, the heart of Hollywood’s very first vampire movie is awfully thin and silly. At once a film that’s ahead of its time and behind the curve, it’s loaded with cryptic, rambling dialogue, narrow plot developments and quaint special effects, particularly the omnipresent lifeless, dangling bats. It borrows liberally from 1922’s _Nosferatu_ and the ending is deeply anticlimactic, allegedly due to a set of eleventh-hour studio edicts. But hey, it still looks great and there’s no arguing with its legacy. Thousands of monster movies owe a large part of their identity to the work Browning, Freund and company put in with _Dracula_. Maybe watch one of those instead.