Dracula's Daughter (1936)
Look out, she'll get you!
Year of Release: 1936
Genre: Horror
Rated: Approved
Running Time: 71 minutes (1:11)
Director: Lambert Hillyer
Cast:
Otto Kruger ... Jeffrey Garth
Gloria Holden ... Countess Marya Zaleska (Dracula's Daughter)
Marguerite Churchill ... Janet Blake
Edward Van Sloan ... Professor Von Helsing
Gilbert Emery ... Sir Basil Humphrey
Irving Pichel ... Sandor
Summary:
This popular horror classic picks up where Dracula left off. Dr. Von Helsing, thinking he has rid London of all vampires, is instead arrested for murder. Just when Von Helsing's fate seems sealed, the bodies suddenly disappear. Soon several people are found mysteriously killed, their bodies drained of all blood.
Meanwhile, beautiful and mysterious Countess Marya Zaleska appears in London. The troubled woman seeks the understanding Dr. Garth, Von Helsing's psychiatrist, for consultation.
A mysterious sequence of events surrounding a disoriented young girl leads Von Helsing and Garth to deduce the countess must be a vampire. They set off to Transylvania after the elusive countess to rescue Garth's beautiful fiancee in this engrossing thriller.
Review:
Dracula's Daughter, remindin' us that nude modeling for a vampire always ends tastefully.
And speakin' of uncontrollable hemorrhaging, this week it is my privilege to announce a victory over corporatism following the timely demise of Redbox Video.
'Course, if you recall we already enjoyed our own regional triumph about 18 months ago when Harley and Rowdy Pankins dragged our own Redbox down Broadway and deposited it in the river, but Edgar Mastrude was so pleased by this development that he decided to host a celebratory grift for all the regulars down at the Videodome. I guess it just goes to show that not all conmen wear American flag lapel pins or flail around on the ground like Australian breakdancers possessed by the Holy Spirit.
Anyway, Edgar came up with this promotional idea where he'd give away a lifetime supply of free rentals to one lucky individual who could stay awake for an entire dusk-to-dawn movie marathon; or as you and I call it - Saturday night. Shoulda known he'd hafta take somethin' beautiful like the collapse of a freestanding cinematic drivel dispensary and make it morally reprehensible.
"You think I don't see what you're doin' here?" I growled, startling Edgar amid a cacophonous 5th Avenue chew.
"Promise you won't tell Bambi! The doc says I need... um... support... to reduce my back strain," Edgar self-reported.
"Right. Like she's not gonna piece it together when her bra comes outta the wash lookin' like a jump rope. Besides, that's not what I was talkin' about," I said, reswallowin' the bite of gas station burrito his confession had caused to rise from its gastric grave.
"Oh. Well, in that case, get bent," he scoffed, reclaimin' his candy and pullin' back out onto the road to diabetic coma.
I really didn't mean for so many people to notice, but I hadn't considered the immense surface area the elastic strap had to reverberate off of when I snapped his corrective undergarment to regain his attention.
"You're stackin' the deck, asshole. Oasis of the Zombies? The Doberman Gang? Casablanca Express for cryin' out loud? Tryna put everyone to sleep so you won't hafta cough up a prize is one thing, but you show this crap and some of 'em may never wake up again," I warned.
"Oh horse hockey. I only chose those titles to perform routine maintenance since they haven't run for a while," Edgar insisted.
"Yeah, so it would seem - May 19th, 1986. December 2nd, 1987. And... oh look, post Reagan Administration - October 8th, 1992. Probably just a coincidence that nobody's had any desire to watch 'em since Crystal Clear Pepsi went off the market," I challenged.
"You'll show these movies or I'll..." he started sayin'.
"Maybe I'll show 'em the surveillance footage of you kissin' the Barb Wire standee and pledgin' your eternal devotion to Pam Anderson," I threatened.
Edgar got a look on his face like he'd just remembered the stringer of carp he'd left in the trunk of his car on Memorial Day Weekend.
"Now, here's what's gonna happen - *I* am pickin' the movies, *you* are gonna give these people the same shake you'd give your jowls durin' your weekly toothbrushin', and if I think you're puttin' that sausage link you call a thumb on the scale it's gonna wind up part of these folks' Denny's Grand Slam Breakfast tomorrow mornin'," I told 'im.
Edgar then affirmed his commitment to a fair competition and offered his enthusiastic support by stormin' off and doin' somethin' to the bathroom that local toxicologists have since described as an "extinction-level event" for all multicellular life known to inhabit the area. In retrospect, I see that it was also a deliberate act of sabotage and the first shot fired in the war to come.
Turnout for the event was high and we hadda turn a lotta folks away after Lieutenant Duggan stopped by to remind us about the "maximum occupancy" figure (52) posted on the wall next to the fire extinguisher that hadn't been recharged since Married with Children went off the air, but I tried not to let her tyrannical disregard for the 14th Amendment get me down as I carefully selected a flick from each of the Big 5 genres (Horror, Sports, Science Fiction, Comedy, and Action) to fill the nine hours between sundown and sunup.
This was not a responsibility I took lightly and I wanted to make damn sure that whoever claimed the prize had the stamina necessary to put it to good use, so I started 'em off with Dracula's Daughter to separate the wimps from the champs early on. 13 people, mostly folks who were either there just to be part of the spectacle or needed (but refused) to use the can after Edgar got done with it left before the first flick'd even ended, leavin' 39 hopefuls still in contention.
None of us noticed Edgar screwin' around behind the pop machine 'cause we were all too busy watchin' Sly Rocky Rambo and Carl Weathers whale the tar out of each other durin' the flashback sequence at the beginnin' of Rocky II, but that diabolical diabetic musta been workin' in secret, and the moment Talia Shire started naggin' the Rockman about simple IRAs and mortgage rates Edgar pulled the trigger on Phase II of his plan.
"Just hooked up a brand new tank of syrup, anybody thirsty?" Edgar announced cheerfully, prompting roughly 30/39 remaining participants to abandon Talia's wet blanketry.
I shoulda known better, and for anyone readin' this who fell victim to Edgar's treachery, I apologize. But I didn't notice anything was off until people started noddin' off in the middle of the trainin' montage and by then it was too late.
"Alright, what're you tryna pull now? Spiked the Pepsi with Prozac, didn't ya? Or did you figure out how to distill the essence of Wolf Blitzer into liquid form and tranquilize 'em into a CNN-based stupor?" I snarled before stickin' my head under the Dr. Pepper slot and takin' a swig.
"Caffeine free. You're one sick son of a bitch, ya know that?" I declared, overcome with disgust.
"May as well knock off for the night. As you can see, I'm gonna have my cake and eat it too," he grinned, showin' off a mouth fulla popcorn kernel slivers.
"Well then, why don't you grab a fork and we'll see how deal with this little slice," I smirked.
Cost me $13 outta my own pocket but I set up every kid in the joint with a Hershey bar, the result of which kept everyone awake and praying for death for another two and a half hours until we'd sailed through the conclusion of Rocky II, conquered intergalactic prejudice with Enemy Mine, and completed the two 15-minute intermissions between. The kids finally crashed right around the time I was stickin' Spring Break in the VCR, which is probably just as well.
Now, not to get off topic, but I'd imagine there are aficionados among you who may question the strategic importance of Spring Break in the lineup. You may be thinkin' "Hey, bucksnort, why go with a pale imitation when Porky's is right there?" Simple, beef curtain - the exposures in Spring Break are evenly balanced throughout the movie rather'n bunched up almost entirely within a single shower scene, but even more importantly - Spring Break has absolutely no plot to follow while tryna fend off the Sandman.
Unfortunately, Edgar had a couple more tricks up the sleeve he might otherwise have if anyone made a shirt capable of accomodatin' arms that size, and these were the insidious kind that tend to go unnoticed. The babes of Fort Lauderdale were no match for the reduced light levels and pleasant Autumn breeze that came rollin' in after he propped the front door open, and by the time the credits rolled on Spring Break I was down to 13 contenders.
Call me desperate. Call me conniving. Call me collect if you get arrested for poundin' Edgar Mastrude's colossal carcass and I'll testify in court that it was self-defense. What I'm tryna say is, I had no choice but to call in the big guns.
"Someone better be dead," Juanita Hernandez groaned.
"Mornin' Juanita! I'm sorry, did I wake you?" I asked cheerfully.
"Si. For last time," she hissed.
"Listen Juanita, I know it's late, but I need 10 orders of nachos, a dozen grease burgers, and a five-gallon bucket of onion rings," I pleaded.
"Sir, thees ain't Weendys. Now roll down weendow, steek head eenside, and roll up teel you see fire and breemstone," she snapped.
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease, Juanita? I'll do anything you want," I begged.
"Like what?" she sneered.
"Uh... I'll marry ya," I offered with a level of sincerity that surprised me.
Judging from the stifled cackling I at least managed to improve her mood a little.
"Oh come on. I can't possibly be worse than Skunky," I complained, surprisingly hurt.
"No worse..." she acknowledged after Skunky ripped one in his sleep and rolled onto his side. "But no better."
"Alright... I'll fix the leak in the concession stand roof," I promised.
"You couldn't stop leak in ju pee-pee!" she barked.
"Maybe not, but I'm sure Billy Hilliard would pitch in," I suggested.
"Si?" she considered.
"Totally. Still pretty warm out too - warm enough that a guy might hafta take his shirt off if he built up a sweat," I suggested, fully aware of the December-May crush Juanita had on Billy.
"Sofocos estupidos," I heard 'er say before the unmistakable twist of a box fan dial.
"Fine. Geev me... 30 minutes, and you PAY before you touch," she scolded.
"Thanks babe, you're the best," I beamed.
"Ees a curse," she agreed before slammin' the phone down into its cradle.
Without those provisions I'm sure Edgar woulda bested us, but I only lost four more contestants while I was out collectin' the grub, and once they sank their teeth into that deep-fried, artery-hardening heaven everyone got their second wind... and later on, a third wind that violated several Geneva Convention protocols against the use of chemical weapons.
I really shoulda Ex-Laxed the bastard when I had the chance but by that point I'd grown cocky and didn't want 'im tethered to the dumper during my moment of triumph, so I popped the fifth and final flick in the VCR and grabbed a seat to watch Arnold the Barbarian, Apollo Creed, and The Body parachute into the jungle to shoot it out with an intergalactic Rastafarian stag beetle. Between the automatic weapons fire and digestive distress I felt pretty confident that somebody was gonna take home the the keys to the video kingdom. That is until the power went out.
It was an unusual occurrence to say the least, what with all the street lights on either side of the road still beaming out their comforting yellow glow. Stranger still was the fact that nobody'd seen Edgar since around the time Arnold back-flopped off the waterfall, until he came saunterin' in from the storage room (where the breaker is conveniently located) yellin' into his cell phone.
"I don't care if no one else's reporting any outages, it's out HERE!" he bullshitted, before seeming to come to an understanding with the technician on the other end.
"Sorry folks, electric company can't make it till 7 when Dick Buford punches in," he claimed.
"What're we supposed to do till then?!" Grover Umpleby howled.
"Yeah! It's only 45 minutes till mornin' - who gets the voucher?" Blair Lemus sniveled.
"Dunno. Guess we'll just hafta wait and see who's still up at sunrise," Edgar smiled.
Okay, so maybe I *did* Ex-Lax 'im. Don't you go judgin' me. Besides, vengeance was only a perk, as my primary motivation involved keepin' him from witnessin' any of the final four (I lost five of the remaining nine about ten minutes after the AK-47s went silent) nod off before I could come up with a way to ensure everyone was awake at dawn. Luckily, I can be a pretty resourceful guy when my back's against the wall.
"Hello? Sheriff's office? I wanna report a robbery in progress," an anonymous voice said.
I'm not at liberty to say who made the call, and it's possible that if somebody was to open up the ice compartment atop the soda fountain they might find a disabled burner phone buried in there. All I know is that when the sirens came screamin' down the street at 6:06 the final four were wide awake and eager to be entered for their shot at the prize.
Deputy Dahl was pretty hacked off but unable to coax a confession outta anyone or find the phone that'd made the call, and once he realized he wasn't gonna get to shoot anybody he stomped outta there and left us to take care of more pressing business.
Maurice Fowler won the drawing and everyone who hadn't slunk outta the store by then congratulated 'im on his victory. Everyone 'cept Edgar, I mean. He was still on the crapper conductin' an ass-Tuba symphony when the rest of us left, but I'm sure he'll honor the certificate I gave Maurice when he decides to make use of it. I mean, it'd be a shame if Edgar decided to stiff the guy and someone went around town circulatin' a timestamped photo of all those flipped breakers. Not to worry though, I'm sure it won't come to that.
That's basically the reader's digest version and I may've missed some of the back row shenanigans that happened while I was takin' notes, but it's gettin' to be that time of year when society remembers people like us're alive and expects us to educate it on the subject of "scary movies," so I hadda comport myself with a certain degree of professionalism to get the goods on the first flick of the Halloween season.
Every year I try to be optimistic about the Universal Classics even though most times watchin' 'em just makes ya feel like you're visitin' an elderly relative whom you're obligated to be polite to because without 'em ya wouldn't be where ya are today. No offense to the folks out there who prefer the subtlety of Dracula's Daughter gettin' a little thrill from makin' 'er next meal slip 'er dress straps over the sides of 'er shoulders, but I just can't get into it when I could be watchin' Vampyros Lesbos, ya know?
All the same, bein' well-versed in genre history is critical for ensurin' people only ask you about your interests once, so I'd like to take a moment to share with you a few snippets from Dracula's Daughter that've stayed with me throughout the years despite the flick's general lack of staying power.
First, if your children steal and ritualistically burn your corpse to free themselves from their connection to you, assume that whatever brought them to that point was not simply "a phase." Second, Scotland Yard is nothing but a false front concealing layer upon layer of sod. And third, you should never run away from your problems unless you're absolutely certain your therapist will give chase.
The movie picks up right where Dracula left off with Van Helsing admirin' the lumber he just laid until a coupla cops show up to book 'im for murder and for gluttonously chewin' up every bit of scenery in Carfax Abby while there're starvin' character actors goin' to bed hungry. Next thing, Scotland Yard starts doin' stretches so they won't pull a muscle when they throw Chetham's Library at Van Helsing, only before they can do it some woman who's dressed up like she's about to throw 'erself on Ayatollah Khomeini's casket arrives at the police station, announces herself as next of kin, and hypnotizes the deputy with a Gypsy mood ring the size of a doorknob so she can collect the body without bein' harassed by the Daily Mail. Then she and this guy who looks like Kevin McCarthy survived an explosion at the Hot Topic (Sandor) toss Bela's body onto a vampyre to free her from Dracula's curse, but the defeatist familiar keeps throwin' cold water on her dream of gettin' an 80-hour a week job at a textile factory and lettin' her dentition go to hell like a regular person until she gives in to the pressure and ensorcels some bystander and sticks 'im for drinks.
The next day, Van Helsing retains the legal counsel of a former psychiatry student (Garth) to help 'im Cochran his way outta the murder rap, 'cept by the time the judiciary finally gets around to habeasin' the corpus's gone missin', and so Garth decides to party like it's 1899 and violate client/lawyer privilege by divulgin' all the details of the case to a Victorian ballroom fulla aristocrackers. Also attending the party is the Countess, who overhears Garth similarly violating patient/doctor confidentiality regarding Van Helsing's mental acuity, and right around the time the guy starts assertin' that he can cure any type of psychosis with one lobe tied behind his back she gets this look on her face like she just found an entire Oreo in 'er cleavage and asks Garth if he'd be willing to take a look under 'er hood to see if he can't get her id recalibrated back to the factory specs. Garth agrees to give 'er psyche a tune-up and recommends confronting her addiction without botherin' to get into the meat of what that addiction actually is, and unfortunately, when Sandor brings 'er one of those homeless blonde bombshells that used to litter the streets like rats in the '30s to "model" for her she loses control of 'er incisors. Now she's really gone and stepped in it, 'cause simply cuttin' back on your plasma intake creates more problems than it solves if you leave enough for the victim to stabilize and positively ID you to the attending doctor who just happens to be your new therapist, and when Garth gets a look at the neck nibblins on the midnight snack he realizes the stakes have been raised and goes to consult the human lathe for tips.
Then the Countess goes to see Garth and tells 'im she tried to quit cold turkey and ended up downin' a 20lb butterball in the process, but insists that if he'll run away with 'er to the mainland she's sure they'll be able to nip this thing in the bud and settle down to a quiet life in the Carpathians where the local villagers speak in hushed tones and forbid their children to come within six leagues of your castle. Garth's not sure he wants to crack open a cold one just yet, so he goes to visit the gal in intensive care to see if he can pry any more information out of 'er before accidentally causin' her heart to do the jitterbug all over intensive care after regressin' 'er back to the night society almost finished suckin' the life out of 'er. 'Course now the Countess sees the writin' on the crypt and decides to kidnap Garth's secretary and fly 'er back to Transylvania even though she swore she'd never go back after Bela disowned 'er for playin' with her food, and this leaves Garth with no choice but to pursue the Countess back to the ole honeymoon suite despite all the native soil buildin' up in his britches. This's a pretty short one so I'd better shut my yap right here before we reach the climax, but you can bet your bippy that there'll be no climaxin' in the flick even if the Countess has her way. You'll hafta consult Jess Franco if you want a real vampire happy ending.
Alrighty, well, I guess that's why they call these kinda deals Plan B. Credit where it's due - the idea of a sympathetic vampire (a much harder sell than either Karloff's Frankenstein Monster or Lon Chaney Jr.'s Wolf Man) was a fresh and gutsy one for its day, and the subtle hint of lesbianism was pretty daring as well, but the fact remains that when people think Dracula they think Bela Lugosi hypnotizin' babes in lace nighties and gnawin' their necks. And it's clear that Universal initially shared that sentiment, as they had planned not only for Lugosi to reprise the role, but also to bring in both Boris Karloff and Colin Clive to further boost the star power before Lugosi decided to hold out for more money and Bram Stoker's widow started makin' a nuisance of herself where it concerned creative control. You may remember Florence Stoker as that great admirer of art who, upon discovering F.W. Murnau had based Nosferatu on her husband's novel, demanded not only her rightful share of the film's profits, but for all its negatives to be turned over to her for destruction.
Because she was the executor of the Stoker Estate and the sequel was originally modeled after "Dracula's Guest" -- a chapter of the Dracula novel that was cut to shorten an already lengthy story -- she did have the right to make such a request, but ultimately the studio chose to go another route, and one that ultimately meant moving forward without Lugosi. It's not clear how much more money Bela was requesting, but given the pitiful salary he received for Dracula in relation to the box office receipts it generated, I don't think a raise was an unreasonable request even before factoring in how integral he was to the film's success. He would, instead, re-team with Dracula director Tod Browning for MGM's superior Mark of the Vampire.
Additionally, James Whale was still under contract at Universal and was originally slated to return to direct the sequel, however, following the success of Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein, The Old Dark House, and The Invisible Man, Whale was concerned about becoming typecast and was also gunning for the director's gig on Show Boat. Consequently, when the time came to submit a script, the one he put forth was so deliberately controversial and expensive that the studio essentially backed away slowly and released him from any obligations he may have had to helm the sequel, which was, of course, his intention. It's a shame that Universal didn't have the guts to call his bluff, but they knew, as Whale did, that the censors would never have allowed much of his script to be glimpsed by human eyes, and consequently, the Dracula's Daughter we got is somewhat removed from Browning's film.
I'm startin' to feel like a pompous ass with all this culturally significant commentary on the origins of classic cinema, so let's pop a straw in this sucker and see if Bela left any plasma for his alabaster bastard daughter to sustain herself.
The plot suffers from tonally inconsistent comedic sequences involving Garth and his frustrated secretary-in-waiting, which, while somewhat amusing, have no place in a Gothic horror film. This characterization is also true of the cowardly police officers who arrive on scene at Carfax Abby to discover Van Helsing and the bodies of Dracula and Renfield - though these types of characters were not an uncommon trope of the era and are less damaging to the flick on-the-whole, as they occupy such a small portion of it. On the other hand, the choice to begin the film precisely where its predecessor concluded (as Universal also did with Bride of Frankenstein) is a wise one that helps tie the two pictures together, and the return of Edward Van Sloan as Dr. Van Helsing is welcome even if the screenwriters seem to have forgotten they did so after the first 20 minutes. I would also commend the decision to make the Countess a sympathetic figure searching for a cure to her affliction rather than trying to carry on with a second iteration of Dracula sans Lugosi, as any attempt to do so would only showcase the inadequacies of his successor, but ultimately the story is a bit threadbare and lacks the chilling atmosphere that made Dracula a classic.
The acting is adequate, if beneath the incredibly high standards previously set by Lugosi and Dwight Frye. Gloria Holden does a great deal with facial expression and paints a unique portrait of hopelessness as the conflicted creature fighting to regain her humanity in the face of a compulsion too strong to overcome, and Irving Pichel does the best he can in his one-dimensional role as the familiar seeking eternal life, but that's about where the praise stops. Otto Kruger and Marguerite Churchill are fine as the perpetually quibbling doctor/assistant, but the choice to include this angle in a vampire movie is strange and ineffectual to say the least, and the afterthought treatment given to Van Sloan's Van Helsing character is utterly baffling.
Here's who matters and why: Otto Kruger (The Colossus of New York, The Jungle Captive), Marguerite Churchill (The Walking Dead), Edward Van Sloan (Dracula 1931, Frankenstein 1931, The Mummy 1932, The Mask of Diijon, The Masked Marvel, The Monster and the Girl, The Phantom Creeps, The Black Room 1935), Gilbert Emery (Between Two Worlds, The Return of the Vampire), Irving Pichel (Destination Moon, Torture Ship), Halliwell Hobbes (The Undying Monster, The Invisible Man's Revenge, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 1931), Billy Bevan (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 1981, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Invisible Man's Revenge, The Return of the Vampire, I Married a Witch, The Invisible Man Returns), Nan Grey (The Invisible Man Returns, The Black Doll), Edgar Norton (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 1931, Son of Frankenstein, The Man Who Laughs), E.E. Clive (The Hound of the Baskervilles 1939, The Invisible Man 1933, Bride of Frankenstein), David Dunbar (The Son of Dr. Jekyll, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 1941), Douglas Gordon (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 1941), Guy Kingsford (The Son of Dr. Jekyll, The Invisible Man's Revenge), George Kirby (The Invisible Man Returns, The Ape Man, Werewolf of London), Eily Malyon (She-Wolf of London, The Undying Monster, I Married a Witch, The Devil-Doll 1936, Mark of the Vampire), Clive Morgan (The Black Sleep, Abbott and Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Undying Monster), Vesey O'Davoren (The Son of Dr. Jekyll), John Power (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 1941), Christian Rub (Jungle Woman, Mark of the Vampire), Pietro Sosso (The Mummy's Ghost), Bert Sprotte (The Black Room 1935), Paul Weigel (The Vampire Bat, The Invisible Ray, Condemned to Live, The Black Room 1935, The Black Cat), Eric Wilton (The Invisible Man Returns, The Wolf Man 1941, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 1931).
And the big wheels: Otto Kruger (Charles Tobin in Sabateur, Jules Amthor in Murder My Sweet, Judge Percy Mettrick in High Noon, Randolph in Magnificent Obsession), Gloria Holden (Alexandrine Zola in The Life of Emile Zola), Halliwell Hobbes (Mr. Mufflin in Gaslight), Christian Rub (the voice of Pinocchio, 1940).
The special effects, or effect, as it were, is a waxwork of Bela Lugosi constructed for the sequence in which the Countess ritualistically burns his body. The first flick had bats on strings and giant spiders but it's possible that the crew didn't think they went over and decided not to go back to the well for the sequel, or, more likely, they didn't feel such things would fit into this type of story, and they would have been right. You could call it an instance of "nothing ventured nothing gained," though it's just as fair to say that no losses were accrued by playing it conservatively.
The sets don't measure up to those of Dracula given that the flick takes place in London until the last five minutes and features a vampire who would rather not embrace the affliction. In those last five minutes we do get a return to Castle Dracula and by that point it's like bein' handed a glass of ice water in the Mojave given the drought of Gothic imagery leading up to it. It's not all bad though - the fog-shrouded site of Dracula's cremation is superb, the brief opening sequence inside Carfax Abby is solid, and the London streets/Romanian village are nice, but the flick spends so much time inside residences, hospitals, and opulent ballrooms that the atmosphere present in Dracula and Frankenstein is missing in action. This isn't a foul-up on the part of the production manager as they must adhere to the story being told, but substituting an art studio for Castle Dracula just isn't gonna generate the kinda vibes we've come to expect from a Universal monster movie.
The soundtrack, while composed in an era of musical indistinction, is much more lively and generally present than the Universal classics that came before and feels like night and day when compared with either Dracula or Frankenstein. I'm not sure that's a good thing given how effective the moments of silence often were in those two flicks, but it becomes plain almost instantly that the importance of music to a film had been recognized and implemented. As expected, the opening credits boast dramatic strings, horns, and mischievous woodwind scoring that was the hallmark for Horror flicks of the era. These are followed by sillier, comical woodwind pieces inserted to oversee the scenes of cowardly deputies refusing their duties and employer/assistant shenanigans. As I've mentioned, probably to the point of obnoxiousness - soundtracks, while present even in the days of silent film played by a musician just off stage, hadn't yet found their footing or realized their potential in terms of maximizing a film's mood, and Roemheld's score is no exception. That said, it is on par with its peers and correctly hits the tone of the scenes in which it plays even if it's neither memorable nor unique - though I'm giving it an extra point for the amusing snippet of Rule Britannia inserted into the sequence where the constable is trying to instill a sense of national pride in his chickenshit deputy.
Overall, the absence of Gothic atmosphere, combined with the loss of Bela Lugosi and Dwight Frye, results in a precipitous drop in quality when compared to Browning's original classic. I don't claim to be a great admirer of this particular age of cinema and that is something to take into account when considering my score, but even so, Dracula's Daughter is objectively weaker than every Universal monster film that came before it despite being only one year removed from the high-water mark of Bride of Frankenstein. Your mileage may vary, though you have my assurance that I was careful to divorce my ideas of what the movie "should be" from the critiquing of its production values. Still, if you're just getting into the Universal classics and discovering a strong affection for them, you'll enjoy this one too - just be sure to temper your expectations a little.
Rating: 50%