Vampire (review)

 Spoilers ahoy!  

Okay this review is late.  No excuses.  As I write this, only one performance of Vampire from the Fuzzybottoms Theater Company remains--I am told it is nearly sold out and so please hurry to get your ticket!

Vampire takes place in the closing days of the first world war, then known simply as The Great War, or (more commonly) simply "The War."  It centers around the struggle of House Dracul to break free of the power of the Council into a modern age, as embodied in Boris Dracul (Kurt Merril) the current leader of the House.  His blood brother Dmitri (Nathan Douglas Shoop) longs for a more primal existence for vampires.  

But unknown to pretty much everyone, a refugee from the countryside named Adriene (Amanda Vidal) is in fact the love child of Dracula (Josh Noori) himself.  She is the stuff of legends, the Dhampir Stone whose power will reshape the age-old war between Witches and Vampires.  Even she does not know the truth about herself, only knowing she must take a certain medicine every single day.  But she has very few doses left, and no money with which to buy more ingredients...

Now that sounds like a cool set-up, right?  It is!  But the full extravagance of this show pretty much must been seen--no, EXPERIENCED--to be fully appreciated.  On the one hand, there's a relatively simple explanation of the show.  It is a very feminist, very gothic, very life action Anime.  I mentioned this description to some cast members and they all laughed and/or nodded, agreeing.  On another level, though, is is more visceral than that, but in a lighthearted way belying the often grim, unsettling subject matter.  Fuzzybottoms had developed the skills to have the most extreme, cartoon-ish (almost) violence on stage complete with splashing of blood spraying into the audience!  Now, this is simply colored water that will wash out with a good rinse.  But it is does make for a startling and goofy way to be part of the fight, to feel the impact of the battles on stage on many, many levels!  

At the same time, lots of folks might find this more than unsettling, but actually triggering.  The depictions of sexual assault, casual murder and cruelty, savage acts of revenge (a few of which had the audience cheering)--these are Adult Fare. 

But that is not a criticism.  Simply a recognition of what many would like to know going in--to see a huge cast of characters brought to live by a very talented cast (April Littlejohn, Alec Frasier, Stephanie Mayer, Karlee Currin, Christine Celozzi, Nathan Bock, Philip Wheeler, Heather Boothby, Amanda Kaye, Meagan Cavasar, Victoria Gluchoski, Christian Thomas, Lex, Valima May, Monaye Moyes, Sean Alan Mazur, Elisa N. Ellis, and Samantha De Galicia) who do what theatre people do best--pretend with all the power of a child, and all the discipline and awareness of an adult.  Then, invite you to join in.

I really enjoyed their last show.  Really enjoyed this one.  Can hardly wait for the next!

Vampire plays one more show, at 5pm October 30 at The Sherry Theater ,11052 W Magnolia Blvd  in North Hollywood 

Feminist Dracula (review)

Spoilers ahoy!

The NoHo Arts Center is a very nice theatre complex on Magnolia, where I saw a splendid Dracula way back in 2009. Now a new adaptation of Bram Stoker's most famous novel just opened, a Dracula explicitly referred to as a "feminist take.' Upon hearing of this, I was intrigued!

Elsewhere I've described my reaction to the script. This review focuses upon the specific production happening right now in North Hollywood under the auspices of Theatre 68 which commissioned this script.

Begin with the space. It caught my imagination instantly, not least because of an imaginative, even compelling pre-show (presumably the work of director Sohia Watt). Frankly, the rest of the show had a lot to live up to after following that! 

At times it even did.

Sometimes it did not.

Frankly a big part of the blame for this last (which overstates it a bit, to be honest) lies in the script (see link above) which gives barely a hint as to the characters of Arthur (Diego Maureira) and Quincey (Kenneth James) or their mutual love interest Lucy (Ariel Hart), and a tiny bit more regarding Jack Seward (Jude Evans). Cannot blame the actors for not being given much of chance to show what they might do.  Given how the rest of the cast measured up, I must conclude all the actors were of the same quality, but given unequal attention by the writer.

This Dracula belongs to the character of Mina (Rachel Zink) , with  interestingly many of the other major characters taking turns as enemy and ally to her.  One measure of the actors who play Jonathan Harker (Jordan Wall), Professor Van Helsing (David Caprita), Dracula himself (Robert Homer Mollohan), Mrs. Westenra (Perry Smith) and the bug-eating lunatic Renfield (Kristen Lerner) is how all of them succeed in shifting between those roles. Overall, very well!

Mollohan lacked a little consistency, but that also seems inherent in the nature of how this play interpret the character--as a chameleon in some fundamentally emotional manner. He genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself, though, and in a very refreshing change of pace attempted at no time to channel Bela Lugosi, Frank Langella nor Gary Oldman! Bravo! Even his deliciously maniacal laughter proved motivated!

Wall managed the curious balance of Harker, between strength and weakness, anger and tenderness with rather a lot of skill. I never liked him, but then I don't think we were supposed to. Felt sorry for the guy, though.

Caprita's Van Helsing was such an over-the-top misogynist he could easily have been done as a villain from a melodrama. Yet instead he came across as very real, very malevolant in  his way, and yet able enough to prove a useful ally. Sometimes.

Lerner of course got the plum role. Renfield is to Dracula what Gollum is The Lord of the Rings. Small wonder David Manners (who played Harker in the Lugosi film) wanted to play that role--and at least one film adaptation conflated the parts of Harker and Renfield together! Again, the actor involved avoided a trap. Too often in playing madness the temptation exists to create a Batman-eque villain. Lerner avoided that, and (no less impressively) showed a complex set of relationships with those in her time onstage.

Zink really carried the night, though, and did so with a fairly ugly journey of self-discovery. One of the tragedies inherent in this adaptation is the image of two different futures Mina can see embodied in Renfield and in the bitter, almost heartless Mrs Westenra. Because although feminist, this play does not take a Xena-esque approach by turning Mina into a fount of wisdom who puts the vampire lord out of his misery (this has been done a few times, most famously in Bram Stoker's Dracula as well as the Wildhorn musical). Rather, this version is more of a dystopia, a look into a society whose treatment of women makes savagry weirdly attractive.

Along the way, much credit must go to the Succubi (Caroline Henry, Kara Gibson, Isabel Wagner, Anna Yosin) who function not quite as a Greek Chorus--mostly because they rarely speak while literally becoming the set as often as not. It proved a wonderful conceit, giving a dreamlike immediacy to the proceedings!

Yet the nitpicker in me also wants to point out the English accents distractingly inconsistent. Generally the cast did a fine job in that respect (which deserves some applause right there) but the sudden pronunciations shifting from English to American did prove distracting--at least to my ear.

Performances of Dracula are Fridays & Saturdays at 8pm and Sundays at 7pm through November 1, 2015. Tickets are $25.

My new play: "Carmilla"

Not exactly news that I'm a hug fan of Joseph Sheridan LeFanu's Carmilla. Well, now I've written a play version and we're trying to put it up on stage!

In fact we've got rather a lot lined up. Enough to run a fundraising campaign to finish the process, complete with gifts (like this mug) for certain levels of donors.

This really is a dream come true for me, seeing LeFanu's classic as I've long believed it should be--with all the ambiguity, the drama, the sensuality and haunting as the original story!

Given we're talking about a stage play and not a novella, more a story being told in 2013 instead of 1872, some changes are of course needed. Probably the biggest change I've made is to create a character to whom Laura is telling her history. LeFanu has her talking to someone. We don't know who, not really. In my version, this is a specific person with an agenda of their own--an agenda somewhat at cross purposes with Laura, which leads to awkward questions Laura probably does not like answering. But must, given the circumstances...

30 Days of Night: Dark Days (Review)

Spoilers ahoy!

A major event among fans of the undead--especially those with a liking for graphic novels--remains the publication of 30 Days of Night, later made into a film of the same name.  In particular this work and its sequels were heralded for "making vampires scary again."  One can hardly argue.  Rather than anguished fallen angels, the creatures at the heart of these stories were the equivalent of sharks--hiding in the shadows and then grabbing those who strayed too far from safety.  The central plot idea--of the vampires enjoying a orgiastic feast in a small Alaska town that "enjoys" 30 days of night--added a nicely creepy Night of the Living Dead and/or The Thing feel which worked nicely.

Now a sequel to the first film has arrived on DVD.  Loosely based upon the actual sequel 30 Days of Night: Dark Days follows the efforts of survivor/widow Stella to deal with her grief.  At first she simply tries to tell the world.  As the film opens, she finds herself recruited by a small band of vampire hunters.

Melissa George does not reprise her role as Stella, that part being taken over by Kiele Sanchez.  The latter is a more obviously tough-looking person, which in a way shows what has gone wrong with this production.  Most folks might not realize how startling it was years ago when Jodie Foster got the part of Clarice in Silence of the Lambs, given that she was this tiny actress then best known for rather more feminine/victimized roles.  In hindsight, the choice was brilliant.  Not so here.  None of the actors are bad.  All do their jobs well.  But with one exception none of them shine, none rise above the material.   The best actors add nuance to their roles, and dive deep into whatever each character experiences moment by moment.  Only one member of the cast really managed to that here.  Rather they show the surface and maybe one layer underneath.

We'll get to the one exception in a moment.

The script doesn't help, showing as it does pretty much the same flaws.  Whereas the graphic novel didn't shy away from the really dark and disturbing stuff about our central characters, this movie does.  It is a subtle thing, but important.  Stella, our hero, is a ravaged soul.  We use clinical terms like trauma or distress to define what she endures, but in terms of the character herself her world has been shredded into bleeding strips.  Her husband gave his life to save her from an unearthly horror.  Her ability to cope with that fact (and all the details associated) has frayed Stella's mind.  She is taking insane risks.

She is not quite at the point where the movie's ending makes sense, however.  Comparisons to the source material aren't always fair, because we are talking about different media.  Books can be read at leisure, savoring each sentence and image.  Movies rush at you at 25 frames per second.  In this instance, though, doing so leads to exactly what doesn't work in the film.  The dramatic punch is pulled.

Dane is arguably one of the most interesting characters--a vampire who retains enough of his humanity to consciously help the hunters.  The graphic novel has him a stronger person than the movie.  Stella even likes him, to her surprise.  He says most vampires are "assholes" simply because most people are.  Not the route one can take in the films, because those who adapted it from the start went with an interesting route.  Their vampires truly are beasts, predators ruled by their instincts.  In both films this allows a certain formula for victory.  Successfully kill the Alpha of the pack, and the rest of them will simply not oppose you.  It comes across as instinct.  Dane in the film is a vampire in whom those instincts didn't quite "take" for some reason.  That makes sense, given the movie's mythology.  It makes Dane the vampire equivalent of a sociopath--he doesn't feel kinship with his fellow bloodsuckers so can go against the pack mentality.  Give credit where credit is due--that is a fascinating idea.

Unfortunately, the reason for having Dane there gets lost.

In the graphic novel Stella is not only surprised to find herself liking Dane, but is fascinated by him, eventually making love to him and is deeply upset when he's killed.  The film has her only ever tolerate him.  She beds another of the hunters, a more ordinary man rather like herself but maybe just a little bit emotionally healthier.

Okay but here is the kicker.  The movie keeps the graphic novel's ending.  Stella finds out there is a way to bring a vampire back.  She then goes back to Barrow Alaska, site of the terrible siege, and digs up her husband Eben.  He had made himself a vampire specifically to gain the power to save Stella and a few other survivors.  Then he watched the sun rise with her, saying he didn't ever want to not love her.  She watched him become a man-shaped cinder.  Now she does what it takes to resurrect him--and he immediately bites her throat.

A good ending.  Except that it wasn't set up.  Stella didn't go through the kinds of changes to lead her to do such a thing--a reckless act of desperate loneliness and hope, emerging from her experience with Dane.  Nor did the actress have the chops (and impressive they would have to have been) to carry that out on her own.

One actor in the ensemble did rise above the material.  Mia Kirshner plays Lilith, the undead Queen Bee.  As a bit of trivia, this marks Kirshner's third time essaying a vampire--previously on The Vampire Diaries and as a teenager for two episodes of Dracula: The Series.  These days she's probably best known for five years as the mercurial Jenny on The L Word, but in that and other roles she's revealed what a startlingly interesting and often fearless actress she can be.  She's tiny, yet dominates every scene in which she appears.  The weirdly sing-song voice, like a little girl almost playing with dolls, added to her creepiness and strangely enough to the sense of power conveyed.  Even more so her body language--regal and still and yet animalistic at the same time.  Imagine Graf Orlock from the silent classic Nosferatu but as a pretty woman.

Do I recommend the movie?  Depends on your mood.  None of the performances are bad (quite a step up for many direct-to-DVD productions).  Some are good.  One attains real quality.  The excitement of the basic story--the hunters trying to take out Lilith and so destroy her nest--is there, transposed in some interesting ways.  A few details are just cool, while at least horror itself remains intact.  Stella's journey through the bowels of that ship includes stuff one expected the studio to balk over, but evidently they didn't.  Lilith's unique method of feeding from a handsome young man was something I've never seen before--and was erotic in a skin-crawling kind of way.  But don't expect something with the emotional power of Let Me In or Shadow of the Vampire or even The Wolfman.

Let The Right One In

Spoilers ahoy!

In several months time, an English language adaptation of the Swedish novel Let the Right One In will open in theaters. Written and directed by Matt Reeves of Cloverfield fame, the film has a slightly different title--Let Me In--and stars Chloe Grace Moretz of Kick-Ass and Kodi Smit-McPhee of The Road.

They have a lot to live up to. Last year a Swedish adaptation of the same novel won the devotion of many fans, including yours truly. I easily placed it on my list of "Ten Best Vampire Films Ever Made" and will probably remain there.

Forgive me while I gush.

In the early 1980s, a lonely twelve-year-old boy endures the attention of bullies. Oskar is precisely the kind of child who attracts such predators -- sensitive, intelligent, with a morbid imagination. He dreams of revenge, of lashing out against his tormentors. One night, a man and his daughter move into the apartment next door. Soon after, Oskar meets the daughter, Eli. Unwashed and strange, she stands in the snow without shoes and doesn't seem to notice the cold. Strange murders soon have the town buzzing, but at first no one connects them to the stranger and his "daughter." No one but Oskar. He figures out that his one true friend, the girl he has come to love, is a vampire.

A film simultaneously similar yet totally different from Twilight would be difficult to imagine. We have a romance between a human and a vampire--but instead of teens, they are children. Oskar isn't this shy, secretive figure everyone finds attractive. He's a weirdo, trapped in a situation (divorced parents, neither of them really understanding him, no friends) pretty much guaranteed to twist him into an unhappy, violent adult. Yet enter Eli--a reluctant but ruthless monster, who sees in Oskar perhaps an echo of herself. Her other half? A soulmate? That is what their relationship more-or-less becomes. Other, crueller vampires? No. The other monsters in this film are not undead, but very much alive. Anyone who ever had the dubious honor of tasting a bully's attention, at precisely the time in life when one is most vulnerable, least able to cope, should be able to sympathize. More, there is another monster. Eli's father/keeper, Hakkan--his precise relationship to her remains ambiguous. But he will certainly kill for her, does do so. And more. My own impression at the time was that here was a pedophile who'd fallen in love.

The love here is not saccharine. No classical piano pieces composed during sleepless nights. Eli does spend at least one night in Oskar's room--but not watching him. He asks her to get under the covers with him, and they simply snuggle the way children do (in many ways Eli remains a child, no matter how long she lives).

Another point of comparison/contrast--both films end with the vampire rescuing their love from danger. But Eli doesn't kill another vampire in hand-to-hand combat. No, she takes out human bullies who haven't a chance against her--the fight isn't the important point of that scene but her motivations. No "I must leave you to protect you" nonsense, but rather "I am here to protect you, and I always will be."

Both films are beautiful to see. LTROI however has the tougher job. The forests of the Pacific northwest are inherently lovely to behold. Not so a barren, planned suburb of Stockholm during the winter--dingy, uniform, lacking history and showing it. Yet somehow those barren lines and stark shapes become beautiful. Just as (leading again to the heart of this story) the feelings between a murderous child and a nascent serial killer make for a startling love story.

Coming from a theatre background, the thought of another film version of such a great story bothers me not at all. Lots of actors get to portray Cyrano de Bergerac, Ophelia, Willy Loman, Emma, etc. Why not Eli and Oskar (renamed Abby and Owen for the American version--relocated to New Mexico during the Reagan years, a time when we looked always outward for darkness, rarely at ourselves--part of Owen's dilemma as explained by writer/director Reeve).

Go out and see the movie. Or read the book. Or both. And get ready for the new version, for which I have high hopes.

April 2010 Chain: Meeting Noelle

This is my entry in the Absolute Write Water Cooler Blog Chain April 2010. This month's theme is "What would it be like to meet your novel characters?" And I'm going to cheat. I'm going to "meet" Noelle, who is certainly novel but right now is not a character in a novel. Rather she's one of the two leads in the web series I'm developing with my writing partner Annie LeFleur. And I should explain that since Noelle hasn't been cast yet, in this writer's mind's eye she keeps shifting appearance. Sometimes she looks like Felicia Day, others like Melanie Lynskey or Amber Benson.

Okay where is this?
If I said "my apartment" would that suffice?
Not at all.
Understandable. Well, I suppose one could say this is the real world, but that probably doesn't help. For that matter, it might not even be true, or at least not the total truth.
That is not any kind of an answer.
I'm your creator. Well, one of them. (pause)
Soooo...which one? The Father? The Son? The Holy Spirit?
None of those. Lets just say this is a dream, and one or both of us is dreaming it. In this dream I'm one of the authors who have created the fictional character Noelle. You.
How nice.
No, really. At least from my perspective. Case in point--try to use your powers on me.
Just so you know--those words coming out of your mouth make less and less sense.
Noelle, I know. Really. Your birthdate in Bristol, the names of all three siblings, where you went to work, who who met, what happened to you there, where you went afterwards and when you returned to London. I know all about Cecily, about the Mayor and what happened in Paris.
So you know everything?
Not everything. That's part of what makes you alive and not my puppet. I'm not sure precisely what you'll do, nor do I have every detail. As far as I'm concerned, you're a mystery I'm still trying to solve--and like any real person that mystery cannot be completely solved. Hopefully.
Well, this has been a fascinating conversation but we seem to have reached an impasse so...
Please don't go.
I'm sure you think you can make me stay, but...
No, I don't. Please, stay. I cannot make you, not really.
Which means you're not my creator then. So bye-bye!
I know why Cecily is in town. (long pause)
Bravo. You have my attention.
But I cannot tell you.
Which makes your words a bluff.
Look--the elements of your life are the stuff of a story. That story has its needs, its requirements. One of those is the timing of when and how you learn Cecily's intentions. From those proceeds your actions.
That you already know?
In general.
Okay, lets break this down. You claim to be a writer or a god or something and that I'm one of your characters? So every single bit of pain I've suffered, all the losses and mistakes and accidents and the like--those are your fault. Right? RIGHT?
I was going to mention my writing partner Annie, but--yeah. More or less.
Sounds like mostly more to me.
You know, even if I didn't write you, if I'm just a deluded fool or figment of your own imagination, that wouldn't take away the fact that for you to exist at all there will always have been pain as well as pleasure. Always. Just like me. And Roy.
Leave him out of this.
He's actually central to...
I said--leave him out.
For the sake of courtesy, I will refrain from mentioning him. But leaving him out is not an option. Your stories are entwined.
Why? He's just this guy, a little too friendly and a little too nice. Somebody I know. A friend. Whatever f*ck*d-up sh*t you have planned for me doesn't have a damn thing to do with Roy!
Sorry. Not something I can discuss. But...no, I cannot say.
If you really do know as much as you say, that was not a smart thing to say out loud.
You and I are between worlds. Seems unlikely you can harm me.
Not a good bet.
Well, you can't physically harm me. Not for real.
Time to find out...
Doesn't the bitter always come with the sweet? How can there be light without some shadows? Without pain and loss, we cannot appreciate the pleasure or the finding. Please believe me. Please. I know. Too well.
Hey, if I'm not even real...
But you are real, that's the point. Maybe not real in the same way I am but the fact you threatened me is proof of the truth of you. I didn't expect that.
Then again, maybe this really is just a dream, eh?
Yours?
Why not?
No reason I can see. In which case, you made me instead of the other way around.
How does it feel?
A little disorienting. A tiny bit giddy. But--if you created me then using your argument I should blame you for a lot.
Not interested.
But...
I'm going.
Can I at least thank you for dreaming me up?
No. Good riddance.
(Long, long pause)
That didn't go the way I thought it would. Probably should have just shut up.

Participants:
Proach: http://desstories.blogspot.com
RavenCorinnCarluk:http://ravencorinncarluk.blogspot.com
AuburnAssassin: http://clairegillian.wordpress.com
DavidZahir: http://zahirblue.blogspot.com/ (ME)
>>>xcomplex: http://arielemerald.blogspot.com/ (NEXT)<<<
Frodo: http://annvevera.blogspot.com/
FreshHell: http://freshhell.wordpress.com
leahzero: http://words.leahraeder.com/
Aimeelaine: http://www.aimeelaine.com/writing/blog/
Anarchicq: http://www.anarchicq.com/
Breddings: http://breddings.blogspot.com/
*RomanceWriter*:http://staceyespino.blogspot.com
Forbidden Snowflake: http://www.alleslinks.com/
razibahmed: http://www.southasiablog.com/
CScottMorris: http://cscottmorrisbooks.com/
Aheila: http://thewriteaholicblog.wordpress.com/
LadyMage: http://www.katherinegilraine.com

Carmillas: "Blood and Roses" (Review)

Spoilers ahoy!

Herein is the last in my series of reviews of filmed adaptations of Joseph Sheridan LeFanu's vampire classic Carmilla. Next up, Roger Vadim's 1960 motion picture Blood and Roses. Such was its English-language title. In French the movie was more usually known as Et mourir de plaisir ("To Die of Pleasure").

My feelings about this flick began and remain mixed. What cannot be denied is that it captures something interesting and emotionally real amid an air of fantasy blending with reality. Other critics have noted its mood, which manages to convey eroticism with virtually no sexuality. No small feat. And the tale is a compelling one--despite the fact I don't really like any of the characters (an overrated "requirement" in my opinion).

But it isn't really an adaptation of Carmilla at all. The t.v. shows House and Monk have more to do with Sherlock Holmes than this film to do with LeFanu's tale.

Relocating the story to modern-day Italy, Vadim begins with the family Karnstein. In this case, they are a still-extant noble house with branches in Italy and Austria (those who know European history should find this very easy to accept). Legend tells of peasants attacking the Karnsteins in the 1700s out of fear they were vampires (again, historically this make some sense) with only one survivor--the beautiful Millarca, saved by her lover and cousin Ludwig. But Ludwig proved unfaithful. He nearly married three times, but each of his fiancees died soon before the wedding.

So the tale is told by Carmilla, last remaining Austrian Karnstein who lives with her cousin Leopoldo in an Italian estate. All agree Carmilla resembles long-dead Millarca while Leopoldo looks like Ludwig. We can see where this is going, but in general the script eshews the flavor of cliches. A dream-like atmosphere descends as a costume party begins to celebrate Leopoldo's engagement to Georgia. The nearby ruins--including the tomb of long-dead Millarca--become the setting of an elaborate fireworks display. Fire and mist abound while revellers in capes and masks dance and gossip in the night. A drunken Carmilla--only too obviously in love with her cousin--appears in a costume identical to that in Millarca's portrait (amusingly, this frightens away a couple of school girls reciting a poem for the event). Later, she stares into her reflection in a pool while a voice from the ruins summons her. Millarca extends her power, brings her latter day doppelganger to the tomb, which opens at her touch. We don't see what happens next but the result seems clear. Millarca walks again, taking possession of Carmilla's body.

All this makes for a good movie, and in the hands of a fine director like Vadim, the results do more than entertain. They move. They even compell.

But...

This is not LeFanu's story. Instead of a strange and mysterious love affair between two girls, we have an immortal stalker of a handsome man at the apex of a romantic triangle. Instead of love or at least obsession between vampire and victim, we see a vampire pursuing her prey with little more feelings than a snake has for a bird. The slow pace of 19th century rural Styria gives way to modern Italy, amid coroner inquests and official inquiries and a stream of visitors to the Karnstein home. Elements of the original remain, but more as set pieces (effectively used).

Two other versions of Carmilla I know were filmed. One was a 1960s BBC production starring Jane Merrow, almost certainly lost. The other was for French television in the 1980s that I'm trying to get my hands on. Wish me luck! Another--rather lurid--version, complete with sword fights and copious female nudity, is supposed to be filming in Europe right now. When and if it is finished and released, expect a review from me. And if you know of any versions I've not mentioned, you'll earn much gratitude on my part for sharing!

Polish TV Carmilla (Review)

Spoilers ahoy!

Here is the latest in my reviews of all known adaptations of LeFanu's vampire novella Carmilla. Again, for the sake of those who haven't read earlier posts, I'm restricting myself to recognizable versions of the original story. Thus a movie with a lesbian vampire in it named "Carmilla" doesn't count unless it is in some sense trying to tell LeFanu's tale.

In 1982 an adaptation aired on Polish T.V. How I got ahold of a copy is fairly convoluted, involving an estate sale and a third party. Frankly, I'd never even heard of this one and was excited to set eyes on such a thing. Unfortunately, it is entirely in Polish, a language I do not speak and there are no subtitles. Yet I know the story well and this was a remarkably faithful version. Following it proved not difficult.

The title character is played by Izabela Trojanowska, who certainly brings to it an air of otherworldliness and predatory charm. She's evidently mostly known as a pop singer in Poland. I've learned little more about the production, sad to say.

What I can say, having watched it, is this might be the single most faithful version yet made. It begins with the prologue missing from every other filmed Carmilla. Then we view Laura's household as it is when the events of the story proper begin. For once she does indeed have two governesses, the older and no-nonsense Madame Perradon along with the more elegant and imaginative Mademoiselle de la Fontaine. We actually see the dynamic between them and Laura as well as Laura's father. We get a sense, for example, of the class differences between them. More (in fact, vital) a sense of Laura's place here is only too clear. Lonely, saddled with (relatively mild) rules and subtle expectations in lieu of distractions or pleasures. She comes across as a waif, but not really an ingenue. More like a girl on the verge of womanhood with little or no idea what that means, obedient by habit almost to the point of invisibility.

One thing that impressed me about this was how much the story remained from her POV. More than once the fact people were keeping things from her became vivid through the camera work. That their mysterious guest focuses nearly all her attention on Laura of course proves intoxicating. Carmilla's arrival matches that of the book, but handled with what clearly couldn't have been a large budget. No carriage accident on screen, but as staged there was no need. A nice touch were the servants accompanying Carmilla's "mother." Not only silent, each had a kerchief tying their jaws shut, precisely as undertakers treated the dead in the 19th century. Shades of Marley in A Christmas Carol.

Also included was the Mountebank selling charms against the vampire, although he is freaked by Carmilla's presence and later is brought back to do a drunken scene in the local graveyard which substitutes for the whole Baron Vordenburg sequence. For the sake of plot, Laura's father seems to be merged with General Spielsdorf, allowing him to have the scene of "catching" the vampiress about to feed. Good stuff! The peasantry, coming to ask help of the Polish equivalent of country squire worked well, allowing a flashback to the legend of a vampire hunter in the past. Like I said, the elements of the novella remained largely intact.

Mostly, though, what pleased me was the atmosphere--like an odd ghost story--and the relationship between the two female leads. Although predatory, this Carmilla seemed to feel a little guilt as her friend weakened. Laura herself seemed so modest as to willingly hold on to whatever little pleasures she could find, hardly thinking to ask for more. As her only friend is hunted down and destroyed, she seems in shock. Certainly no one seems to think her deserving of much comfort. Protection, yes. Care, certainly. But that she might have had feelings for this woman never seems to enter into anyone's mind.

I'll confess frankly to a wish the relationship between the two had been more sensual, that Carmilla be a bit more tormented a la Ingrid Pitt in The Vampire Lovers. But that is personal taste.

Yet all this leads up to a startling little denoument. In the aftermath of the vampire's destruction, Laura's father and Mademoiselle de la Fontaine fall asleep late at night in the main room. Each is in a comfortable chair as the candles flicker and the fireplace glows. The door to Laura's bed room opens. The girl emerges, wearing only her long white nightgown and for the very first time her hair is completely undone, like a pale mane of some animal. She glides into the room, waking no one. Her eyes fix upon the exposed throat of her governess...

Overall I was very impressed by this version. Very impressed indeed. Now if I can only find some English subtitles!

Carmillas: "Nightmare Classics" (Review)

Spoilers Ahoy!

Second in my series of reviewing adaptations of the Joseph Sheridan LeFanu vampire classic Carmilla. A word of explanation--my goal remains to only review actual adaptations of the original. Movies or shows that simply use the names "Carmilla" or "Karnstein" do not count. Not for my purposes, anyway.

This time, 1989's edition of Nightmare Classics transporting the characters to the American antebellum South. Yet again Laura is given a name change, this time to Marie for some reason (played by Ione Skye) with Meg Tilly as the title character. A Van Helsing-stand-in named Inspector Amos is included but sans any personal stake in tales of vampires--quite unlike Baron Hartog of The Vampire Lovers or Baron Vordenburg of the novella. Rather Roddy McDowell's character is there to (rather surprisingly) piece together clues about what is going on with some explained deaths--including one from a swarm of bats!

One problem with adapting LeFanu's tale is the lack of obvious conflict involving our narrator/main character. In this one, tension between Marie and her father (Roy Dotrice) fills the void, at least partially from the fact Marie's mother deserted them both. Relations between them are chilly at best, with the girl's loneliness like vinegar on an old but unhealed wound. All too eagerly she leaps at the chance to have a friend, a real friend, and if that friend turns out to be a creature from beyond the grave--well, what of it? One of the most effective sequences in this version is when the two girls play in the night, Carmilla revealing some of her powers to a delighted Marie. Meanwhile Inspector Amos tells Marie's father about the supernatural danger threatening this house and home. Which brings us to arguably the most startling and famous image of this version--Carmilla literally floating in the air as she feeds upon a willing Marie.

As far as I know, this Carmilla is one of only two adaptations to end with the strong hint that the vampire hunters are too late, that while Carmilla herself is destroyed the titular heroine of the story has taken her place among the undead. Indeed, that is one of my favorite "bits" from this version. And honestly, both Skye and Tilly measure up to Doctrice in the acting department (the same cannot quite be said of McDowell, but he isn't bad by any means). Watching this film, one understands Marie's interest in her strange friend, while the interplay between father and daughter feels essentially real.

But the story just does not flow well at all. It feels rushed, and ultimately some of it seems stapled together rather than arising from the action. Odd details pop up, such as the notion that Carmilla was the one who took Marie's mother away, but nothing is really made of this. Nor does it make that much sense. I mean, if there was a whole tomb full of vampires wouldn't a whole lot more deaths be going on? And what about Marie's mother? What was she doing in that tomb? Not to mention (well, actually to mention it) exactly what Carmilla's plan at the end seemed to be.

I also have a pet peeve in vampire stories--namely, that piercing the heart should simply not be easy. That's why we have rib cages, after all.

Still, in this one the narrator was not some gormless little girl. She was a young woman with personality (albeit one nothing like Laura of the novella). And it is reassuring to see no obvious young male suitor--which in turn gives a tiny hint of (at least emotional) incest regarding her father. Juicy stuff! The stuff, to coin a phrase, of nightmares (hence the title). But it doesn't really come together. Methinks one reason is length. At a mere 51 minutes how can one do justice to this story? Especially while cramming it with gore and violence for no good reason?

Not an unworthy effort, but on the other hand not quite a successful one either.

Adapting Carmilla

(Note: This is a version of an essay I've written and published online before. However, there are several differences.)

I like vampire stories. I also like adaptations, seeing how a story translates from one medium to another. But what I find intriguing as well as frustrating is the relative lack of adaptations of Carmilla. For those who don't know, this is a novella written by Joseph Sheridan LeFanu and generally agreed to be a classic of the vampire genre (if you're of a mind, the full text is right here). To my knowledge it has been filmed seriously three times--by Hammer Studios as The Vampire Lovers, by Roger Vadim as Blood and Roses and for Nightmare Classics using the original title. There was also Crypt of the Vampire which was reasonably faithful, at least in terms of general plot and had the added bonus of starring Christopher Lee. Three radio plays (one in German). Three known stage productions (one a chamber opera, another an erotic German musical). A pretty good version for Polish television. Another for French t.v. Still another (almost certainly lost) for the BBC in the 1960s (starring Jane Merrow).

And that is pretty much, as they say, it.

Now compare that to the dozens of plays, films, operas, musicals and ballets based upon Bram Stoker's novel! Just a role call of actors who' ve played the lead in straight adaptations make for an impressive list: Shreck, Lugosi, Villar, Lee, Palance, Oldman, Jourdain, Elliot, Langella, Warren, etc.

Why?

Methinks maybe I've figured it out.

Dracula has all kinds of mini-dramas going on, not least because the characters have full and interesting relationships. Lucy has three men proposing marriage to her, which everyone wants to keep the fatal illness of her mother secret. Mina's fiancee vanishes then reappears following a journey abroad. There's a madman, a shipwreck, an attempted murder, a detective story, a chase across Europe, etc.

Carmilla (written, it should noted, by someone who had not worked in the theatre) is a first person narrative. Its purported author is a lonely girl pretty in an isolated country estate. Other than the title character, she has no one her own age with whom to talk. We learn little or nothing about the lives and interests of those around her--her father, her governess, the housekeeper of the schloss (those two are nearly always combined into one character). The few other characters who do interact and at least have interesting stories to relate--General Spielsdorf, the mountebank, Baron Vordenburg--are little more than walk-ons. The other vampire victims are all off-stage. For that matter, there's only one vampire (Stoker's novel has five).

Another problem is the nature of the vampirism itself, at least in this story. Laura (the narrator) recounts her dreams but they don't really suggest very much in terms of dramatic stage actions. She doesn't go sleepwalking, for instance. She doesn't seem to become in any way vampiric. More importantly, no one seems to suspect the truth for the longest time--until the General and Baron show up and events spiral to their conclusion with breakneck speed but little enough suspense.

LeFanu's creation has never been called an adventure, after all. Its strength lies in the atmosphere, the mood and the subtle eroticism of events from the POV of someone who seems rather innocent, almost simple. Laura, quite simply, has not a trace of the spunk of Mina Murray or Lucy Westenra.

All of which creates problems for the writer trying to adapt same. Not necessarily insurmountable problems, though. Nor should we forget just how many elements from Carmilla have found themselves into various depictions of Count Dracula and other undead. Most tellingly, this vampire gets to know and woo her victim -- ubiquitous now in the genre yet totally missing in Stoker's novel.

Most versions "solve" the issues by moving away from the source. Laura (whose name usually gets changed for some reason) nearly always gains a male admirer of an appropriate age. The business of discovering precisely what ails the heroine (or narrator) is strung out, with aforementioned male admirer taking part in some way. Some kind of tension ends up introduced between father and daughter -- or Laura's father is transformed into her cousin, sometimes to serve as a love interest. Along the way one of the two governesses nearly always vanish. Others become victims of the vampire, characters we get to know.

It occurs to me a more interesting direction is deeper into the text itself. For one thing, it is in the first person which makes it the testimony of a particular individual. So might Laura be a less reliable narrator than we suspect? What, in other words, did she leave out from the written word? Perhaps out of (justified?) fear that others would read her words? Indeed, she seems to be recounting the story to an older woman from a city. But who is this woman? And how did this account end up in the papers of an occult scholar (as noted at the very start of the novella)?

As written, Laura also seems isolated from the others in her home. One might ask "Why?" What were her father, governess and housekeeper keeping from her? For what reason? And what did they think would happen if she found out? Laura evidently was visited by the spirit of her dead mother--were there other signs of her being psychic? Hints abound in the novella that Laura's mother was in fact a distant relation of Carmilla herself. Does this have something to do with why she died? For that matter, what is an English gentleman doing living in a remote estate in rural Austria anyway? Her father also agreed to take a total stranger into his home with little or no argument, upon the word of a strange woman he claimed to have never met before. What was up with that?

Nearly every adaptation either turns Laura into a pretty nonentity or changes her personality to reflect a stronger character. One wonders is this is really necessary. True, making a waif into someone interesting remains a challenge, but again -- Laura is the narrator. She does not dwell upon herself in any great detail. Methinks maybe we should recall that the novella was written long before the ready availability of dramatic media -- plays were rare, and movies unknown. The written word in practice must have received far more attention (which certainly helps explain those compound, complex sentences). Hence tiny details within the text abound to give an image of Laura's actual personality:

She has grown up speaking a polygot of English, German and French which she openly believes most could not follow. What a fascinating detail! Both isolating and yet ennobling. She is apparently quite as obsessed with Carmilla as the vampire is with her. Imagine two girls spending hours brushing each other's hair, for instance. And Laura gives no details, but admits to trying many a trick and tactic to get Carmilla to reveal her past. Both images have the potential for wonderful dialog or so it seems to me.

Curiously, the family dynamic of Laura's home rarely gets explored. Her father is quite elderly, so she was a child "late in life." English, he served in the Austrian Imperial Service and retired with a pension. Evidently this was when he married and fathered Laura. With an interest in medicine and a disdain for ghost stories (Laura was forbidden to hear any as a child), he seems rather conservative, gallant, and rather selfish in a subtle kind of way. Madame Perradon, described as a heavyset woman functioning as a housekeeper as well as mother-figure, is cheerful and down-to-earth. Lastly is Madame de la Fontaine, Laura's finishing governess of mixed German/French parentage and a tendency towards fancy as well as gossip.

As I've stated elsewhere, methinks the necessary tone is important as well. Dreamy, atmospheric films are a less obvious choice than some. But look at the magnificent Picnic at Hanging Rock with its fictionalized tale of a mystery and scandal at a Victorian Girl's school. Music and cinematography united to create precisely the kind of rhythm evoked by LeFanu's novella. Re-read the description of Laura's home again -- the rows of lime trees in the garden, the moat with its swans, the moonlight reflecting off the windows of the schloss, making it nearly as bright as day. Or the brilliant haunted house film The Haunting which does so much by suggesting rather than showing or telling (in this respect LeFanu's story echoes Henry James' The Turn of the Screw) . Since, like most people, I do see Carmilla as a love story of sorts I'd recommend the intensely erotic and beautifully filmed The Lover as a pretty useful template as well, along with the lingering photography of The Duelists (director Ridley Scott seems to have deliberately copied the colors and lighting of paintings).

Screenwriters, unless in collaboration with a director or directors themselves, almost never have the standing with which to make such a specific adaptation. Playwrights, on the other hand, lack the full set of tools screenwriters enjoy (musical scores, the close-up, etc.) while retaining far more control as well as greater opportunity to see their works done -- multiple times, perhaps, with different casts and designs. Yet for myself, I'd like to see both an excellent film and an equally wonderful stage version.

Does that make me greedy?

The Female of the Species...

Vampires are everywhere, and a staple of the genre is the human/vampire romance. Nor am I complaining! The eroticism of the whole idea clearly strikes a chord in many a distracted audience member (yours truly included). Bill and Sookie on True Blood. Edward and Bella in Twilight. The looming triangle in The Vampire Diaries. Henry and Vicky from Blood Ties. The list goes on and on.

But isn't something missing? Or someone?

What about a love story between a human man and a vampire woman? I mentioned this to a good friend on Thanksgiving. Her response managed to intrigue and disturb. "But it is bound to come up," she said, "that the gal can beat him up." Now let us take that apart for a moment. I've been involved romantically more than a few times. Which of us would be able to physically assault the other successfully never seems to have come up in conversation. Never that I can recall, anyway. In response to this, my friend confirmed such had never been an issue in her relationships either.

So why bring it up?

Methinks this has something to do with the notion that be a vampire's lover is in some sense to be a victim, or at least submissive. Male submission is pretty much taboo in our culture -- all the more reason to dip one's toe in those waters, so say I! But then, I also really loved the movie Mishima (check it out, the flick is awesome).

On the other hand must a love story be about any other kind of submission than that to the passion itself? When I think on many of the real wonderful romances of film and literature--from Romeo and Juliet to The English Patient and even A Mighty Wind--relatively few involve submission, overt or covert. Others, such as The Lover and The Secretary, do and do so very well.

Methinks this might be the natural direction for vampire love stories to go. More, to some extent it already is headed there. Consider the underage "couple" at the heart of Let The Right One In, or the adorable pair that are Hoyt and Jessica on True Blood. Nor is this some kind of "modern" idea, as anyone who saw Son of Dracula with Lon Chaney Jr. can attest. Ditto the first filmed sequel to Bram Stoker's famous novel -- said novel itself including an act of near seduction between Lucy Westenra and her still-breathing fiancee, Lord Godalming. Fans of Dark Shadows might also recall Angelique Collins and her "harem" of handsome young men with fang-marks on their throats (at least until she finally bit the love of her life). The first film inspired by the series included an undead Carolyn in nightgown very diaphanous summoning an eager Chris (or was it Tom?) Jennings to her arms.

But things, including story ideas, go in cycles and maybe we're approaching a time for the vampire woman and her male lover/victim. Lord knows there are many a story possibility inherent in the idea.

Towards that end, consider this bit of photo manipulation and the alternate (fictional) history it might represent...heh heh heh...

What I'm Writing...

I'm writing a vampire novel. Just started Chapter Six in fact and am pretty pleased at the progress. Check out the cool concept art at left!

Right now I'm at the stage where I'll let folks know what it is I'm working on, mostly in a blatant effort to generate buzz and therefore eventual sales. But there's also a reason psychological. I'm deliberately applying pressure to myself. Ah what a tangled web we weave when in writing we would achieve...!

Simply, in the 1840s a "penny deadful" novel titled Varney The Vampyre saw the light of day. At over two hundred chapters (that's right -- CHAPTERS) this best-seller proved a pivotal work in vampire fiction. With it began the whole trope of the Reluctant Vampire, as well as stuff like a portrait providing a clue to the vampyre's human identity and a team of intrepid would-be Slayers visiting a crypt as part of their anti-vampiric operations. Plus lots more. It really is a seminal work in the genre.

Unfortunately, it is very poorly written.

Look to the right. Among the links under Elsewhere On The Web is a blog devoted to Varney, in which an intrepid soul is going through the work offering her (very entertaining) commentary on each chapter. She'll show what I mean about the "poorly written" part. A few examples: Varney has something like seven different origins. Characters change names, subplots lead nowhere, major characters vanish for no apparent reason, the whole thing is chock full of compound complex sentences in the passive voice. And so on.

Having finally read Varney The Vampyre about the same time as someone mentioned the Darker Passions series and coinciding with the publication of Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters, an idea grew inside my mind. Such is often an omen. This was no exception. My notion seems relatively simple -- edit/adapt the original manuscript into something better, or at least something I'd rather it be. Arrogant? Well, yeah. Not an accusation I can truthfully deny, but on the other hand perhaps that is a necessary ingredient for my writing.

So--I titled my novel Baneworth. The family the Vampyre "haunts" for much of the first third enjoys the name "Bannerworth" but I wanted something more gothic. Rather than recreate the entire opus (which seriously loses the plotline after a time), my focus would be on said family. Along the way I nailed down a specific origin for the vampyre, along with cutting some superfluous characters (as well as truckloads of meandering incidents involving lost matches and the like). Likewise, the story takes place circa 1815, during the Regency. And because my sensibilities associate the undead with eroticism, the book is not simply a vampire story but also a kind of romance.

Regarding this last, allow me to state a preference or three. Frankly, what displeases me most in too many attempts at erotica remains the instant beginning of mechanical descriptions of coitus. How dull. What makes something sexy is not the act but the context, the story, the seduction and discovery. In other words -- foreplay. Hence my decision to write Baneworth with a gradually increasing air of sensuality. Part of that involved laying the groundwork for different potential couplings, yet allowing for uncertainty. Really, I'm not against formulas in fiction. Not at all. But at heart such should be a tool, not a set of laws. Without going into details, it seems to me that if you hint that A and B are getting together and they more-or-less do, then all the effort you put into C and D should lead up to some really startling surprise. For example, perhaps C and D are in fact rivals for the affections of E who in turn desires F. Expectation must be created if the writer is to thwart it effectively.

Writing Baneworth will probably take many more months, but my hopes are high. Wish me luck!

Dream Cast "Carmilla"

Awhile back, I posted my dream cast for Jane Eyre. Well, now my imagination turns to what some might call more 'up my alley.' One of my favorite period stories is Sheridan LeFanu's Carmilla, part of a collection published under the title Under a Glass Darkly. Some disagree, but most who've studied such things say LeFanu's tale is the first example of the lesbian vampire trope. After Bram Stoker's famous novel of a Transylvanian Count, this may be the most adapted vampire story in history (although the caped impaler wins handily in that category, probably by an order of magnitude).

Most such adaptations are poor, to say the least. Many are trashy, brimming with sexual innuendo but no tension, drama, or even eroticism. Others, like Hammer Studios' The Vampire Lovers at least qualify as guilty pleasures. Roger Vadim at least tried to do a more-or-less faithful rendering in Blood and Roses (its English title). But even he changed to period, location, the focus and introduced a male love interest (not at all uncommon is such adaptations).

As of today, I have every known filmed version of the story save two--one of which is believed lost (a BBC production from the 1960s) and the other was a French t.v. film from the 1980s (am working on finding that one). Hardly any even try to capture the peculiar flavor of the original.

Granted, this is anything but an easy task. Much of the "action" takes place off stage (or page, if you prefer). The discovery of the vampire and her destruction follow almost immediately. No chases across the mountains, no futile efforts to keep the undead from her prey. In essence, the entire novella is from the victim/beloved's POV, a waif named Laura who usually becomes little more than a pretty prop for the filmmakers (Showtime's Nightmare Classics version is notable for at least breaking this stereotype).

But consider...Styria (the setting) is a sparsely populated land of mountains and forests dotted with farms and the occasional schloss. Following invasions and war its towns and castles mostly lie fallow. It is an empty land, a haunted landscape. Mists hover around the near-empty woods and valleys. On the night of a full moon, a stranger comes to a lonely family--a girl named Laura living with her widowed father. What's more, this stranger (the title character) recognizes Laura as someone from her childhood dreams. Laura recalls Carmilla the same way! Thus is born a mysterious friendship which proves to be much more.

Imagine if you will a motion picture as atmospheric as Picnic at Hanging Rock or Let The Right One In or The Duellists (plus maybe a touch of Lets Scare Jessica To Death). Laura and Carmilla walk together amid the lime trees, wheedling secrets from one another, sharing a dream not only in the past but to some extent right now.

Laura in the novel is telling what happened to someone--we do not know who. How reliable a narrator might she be? What was left unsaid? For example, who can say where Carmilla dwells at other times? She must sleep in her grave, yes, but who are the people who brought her? If anything, the coach and aristocratic woman who calls herself the vampire's mother seem even stranger that she herself. In truth, the novella abounds in tiny unanswered questions. My ideal would be for a film focusing on those questions, yet not really answering many of them.

Along those lines, I would suggest an unconventional choice for Laura. Some fans suggest Emma Watson for the role, but given the nature of Laura--this lonely, rather naive girl who so fascinates an unaging nosferatu--my suggestion is another Harry Potter alumn. Evanna Lynch.

For the title character, I'd choose someone who's actually played a vampire once before, but is now better known for another fantasy film series. Anna Poppelwell (for those who don't know, she was in the recent two big budget films based on the Chronicles of Narnia). Some might think this odd casting, since Ms. Lynch comes across as so ethereal while Ms. Poppelwell is quite voluptuous. Yet to me this creates an interesting dynamic, and helps explain/reinforce the relationship of the two--each in some sense is better suited to be the other, and perhaps on some level they know it. Besides, expectations are things to be used ruthlessly by storytellers the world over. So there!

Laura's father, whose name we never learn, is supposed to be English and elderly. Yet there's also something of a mystery to him. For example, he evidently forbade Laura to be told ghost stories and the like when she was a child. Why? For that matter, whatever happened to his wife, Laura's mother? My choice would be Edward Petherbridge, an excellent British actor probably best known here in the States as Lord Peter Wimsey on Mystery.

Running the household is Madame Perradon, Laura's governess and for all practical purposes her mother-figure. Since the casting in this matter is entirely up to me, I will select another British actor, one rightly praised for her many fine performances--Kristen Scott Thomas, perhaps best known for The English Patient but equally if not more impressive in such films as Angels and Insects, Four Weddings and a Funeral, etc.

Maybe somebody someday will do a version not unlike the one described here. Maybe. Stranger things have happened.