The theater is webbed. Lights flicker from ledged candles or stab through shades of veiled dark or flash ruby and scarlet. Sounds clop, pound, shriek, clank, peal not excluding eerie real music. Three be-Witching women in filmy white whirl. As if from an eddy they create comes a tall figure in a black velvet tunic, his head hooded in black sequins. Before we can acknowledge Dracula and his brides, they're putting the bite on Renfield to help them all get down and Transyvania-dirty in England. Soon, Dr. Seward (Richard Garcia, wonderful at worrying) is occupied with Renfield (Fred Zimmerman, credibly creepy), his mad patient, and preoccupied with daughter Mina (Heather Gulling, who makes us care too). With her nightly bad dreams and loss of blood, she's also a concern to her fiance, Jonathan. (Mike Vogt loses intensity only in Jonathan's English accent; he loves and fights with stout heart.) At Seward's urging, Prof. Van Helsing comes prepared to be the (wolf)bane of Dracula's existence. He's aided by the other men and the hocus-pocus we've come to know and admire here in bloody detail. We tend to get sucked up in it all because Robert Ryan delivers a realistic Van Helsing, while Garcia and Vogt project such trust of him.
As hypnotized maid and confused Cockney attendant, Cheryl Johnson and John Andruzzi point up, often comically, Dracula's cunning. Seduction scenes (some torso-baring) are as much a scream as sexy, and substantiated by the plot.
Along with the usual flying bats and portraits coming to life, extra-special effects are red-light eyes, a breaking mirror, a skeleton rising from casket, a crucifix flaring. The many scene changes take place efficiently, allowing the story to flow well.
