Hammer's "Dracula" ends with Peter Cushing crumbling Christopher Lee to dust by pulling down the curtains. It's a good thing my mum didn't catch him or she would have boxed his ears, ("I don't care WHO started it Professor Van Helsing! Now stand in the corner and think about what you've done!")
That leaves a problem for this sequel. As a pile of dust there's not much Dracula can do except grit your driveway. Fortunately some tourists arrive at his castle where they are welcomed by butler Clove who gives them tea and sends them to bed. The tourists are impressed by this hospitality until Clove strings one of them up and slits his throat, at which point they threaten to write a strongly worded letter to the Romanian Tourist Board.
The tourist-blood revives Dracula, although he now has an inexplicable urge to wear a knotted hankie and buy ashtrays made of seashells. He fangs one of the women, who reacts by letting down her hair and discovering she's had cleavage all along. A monk saves the remaining tourists and takes them to his monastery not realising that they are Club 18-30 members until they get drunk and let off all the monastic fire extinguishers.
"You are safe here," the monk assures them, "vampires cannot defile a house with their presence unless they are invited in. Like double glazing salesmen."
However, Dracula is intent on slaking his vile lust and there's an exciting denouement. I really enjoyed this, it reminded me of being scared as a kid watching Friday Night Horror on ITV. It still has scary moments, black humour and the best Dracula ever in Christopher Lee, although Peter Cushing is sorely missed.
No comments:
Post a Comment