More Cellulloid Anticipation

Haven't done one of these for awhile...

Quite simply, there are some movies not out yet to which I am hugely looking forward.  Consider this a cinematic rorshach test if you will about what really goes on inside my soul.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid.  Muhahahah...

One of  these is Black Swan.  I'll admit that what got my attention at first was the much-bally-hooed sex scene between stars Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis.  But the idea of an intense psychological drama/thriller set in the world of ballet was intriguing in and of its own right.  Then, earlier this week, I saw the trailer and was blown away.  Click on the title above to see said trailer.  Like the poster to the right, it was disturbing in an exciting way.  From what I can gather, the lead character seems to be going mad.  Or perhaps is already mad.  Or (perhaps most intriguingly) is straying outside what is normal, safe and mundane--an artist who glimpses a world that exists in shadows and behind our backs.  How that is different from insanity is another question, and I'm not sure an answer is particularly necessary.

Anyone who knows me very well realizes just how much I'm looking forward to Let Me In, based on the Swedish novel that already produced on the best vampire films ever (again, click on the title to see the red band trailer--not real sure why it is restricted, though).  Chloe Moretz plays a little girl vampire who befriends a lonely, tortured boy played by Kodi Smit-McPhee.  In an interview the latter put one aspect very well.  She gives him, he says, "something to look forward to."  Novel and first film created a strange, nightmarish and yet innocent, even sweet love story.  More than one reviewer called this the anti-Twilight and while I don't share their (presumed) hatred of Myers' series, the logic is clear.  No pulling of punches.  No dreamy love interest who is a romance novelist's stereotypical ideal.  For one thing, these are children, on the verge of sexuality but not there yet (and one will likely never be), yet still sensual.  The vampire is not a "vegetarian."  She cannot be.

The director (Matt Reeves of Cloverfield) stated in various forums that he wanted to make the setting of his film clearly American, in keeping with the themes of the novel.  From the trailer and other hints, he seems to have done precisely that.  Good!  I don't want a carbon copy of the first film.  What would be the point?

Another vampire movie I'm looking forward to--Suck, which after showing at film festival after film festival has finally gotten a DVD/Blueray release later this year.  Over the past year or sot there've actually been a lot of trailers for this but I included my favorite (click the title).  Vampire comedies are tricky, at least in my humble (HAH!) opinion.  Most simply don't work.  My own theory is that its a question of tone.  Pure camp or silliness has its place (I say this as a huge fan of Red Dwarf and Monty Python as well as the late, lamented The State on MTV) but to my mind the best comedies explore the humor of these weird creatures called human beings.  This seems to go double or even triple for comedies about no-longer-human creatures like vampires.  My two favorite vampire comedies have plenty of jokes, but remained focused on the characters first and foremost (Love at First Bite and Sundown if you're interested).  Having watched five or six different trailers for this movie I think it likely this one succeeds where so many others have failed.  Just watch the trailer and you'll see what I mean.

Carmilla Screen Treatment

Okay I finally did it!

Last week I was suffering through a bout of writers' block, when on a whim my fingers began opening Word and started putting words down.  Inside three days I had produced a screen treatment for Carmilla, based on Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's famous vampire novella!

For those of you who don't know, a screen treatment is something akin to a detailed outline of a movie, a description of what the movie would be like to watch.  Not a shot-by-shot, but a narrative to capture the "feel" as well as the story.

Cannot tell you how long I've been wanting to scratch that itch!

Don't know what I'll do with it, not yet.  Perhaps if End of the Line really takes off, I'll be able to interest a movie studio.  Hey, a guy can dream!  For the record, I tried to make the title character both sympathetic and monstrous.  Another goal was to remain faithful to the strange waiflike quality of the narrator, Laura.  Part of that involved cutting one of the few characters and I know some folks will be distressed but so be it.  Along the way I also found what I felt to be a good ending to this particular story.  The novella's final pages are a good read but make for a poor set of scenes.  But they do give a notion of what is in someways a straightforward destruction of the vampire coupled with Laura's own mixed feelings about her experience.  Methinks I may have captured that, as well as suggesting a wonderfully spooky something as well.

Along the way, I also designed a coat of arms for the Karnsteins--that "wicked" and mostly extinct family from which Carmilla (and interestingly, Laura's mother) arose.  Imagine if you will a heraldric wolf, pierced by two swords.

I'm also proud to have retained some of the my favorite little "bits" from the novella.  Laura's insistence on having the portrait of "Countess Mircalla" in her bedchamber.  The presence of both governesses as well as the advanced age of Laura's father (she was a late-life child clearly).  The peddler/mountebank.  The sleepwalking incident.  Laura and Carmilla combing each others' hair.

I am a Guest Blogger, Part Deux!

A post near and dear to my heart for Vampires.com--about Joseph Sheridan LeFau's Carmilla.

July 2010 Chain: Meeting Marko

Tis time again for the Blog Chain from the Absolute Writers Water Cooler. In this case we're to show our antagonist in a positive light. Well, I'm again returning to the web series I'm working on right now, End Of The Line. The part isn't cast yet, so I'm not sure what Marko will end up looking like. He's Styrian (that's a part of Austria) and aristocratic, charming and sexy and oh so ruthless. For a reason. One has to wonder how his life might have gone if only...

Anyway. One face that immediately springs to mind is that of Toby Stephens, son of two very distinguished British actors and with a quite a respectable career in his own right. For example, he got to play Rochester in Jane Eyre as well as Bond villain (how cool is that!?). But the part might just as easily be taken by Ben Barnes (of Prince Caspian and Dorian Grey fame) or Chris Pine (these days best known as the latest incarnation of Captain James T. Kirk).

At first I was going to meet Marko myself, but oddly enough that isn't how things happened...

"Mr. Branzer?" The chair made little sound as it slid across the carpet. Johnston rose as he moved that chair, precisely as he'd practiced time after time. Clients didn't want to see an attorney with human flaws. They paid for competence sublime and unflappable. Johnston prided himself on just such competence. He practiced.

"Yes," said the man stepping inside the office. Johnston judged him to be thirty at first glance, then mentally added ten years a second or two later. Something about those eyes. "I am sorry to be late." He was supposed to have been here three minutes ago. Germans and their punctuality.

"No worries," Johnston waved away that concern. "Please sit."

"Thank you." Marko Branzer didn't so much sit in the leather armchair offered as he claimed it. Johnston felt a stab of envy at his client's grace, and the way he managed to wear what was after all a rather old if elegant suit. To Johnston's practiced eye, a few telltale signs of wear had begun to show. One cuff frayed in the tiniest way. A brass button barely more loose than its fellows in the charcoal gray vest. A tie slightly faded. Shoes ever so slightly more scuffed than one might expect. Each detail possibly meaningless alone, but combined forming a specific message. Here was a man descended from what he had been. The suit was Saville Row, but not recent. A shirt good, but not the best. Yet here was a man who clearly was used to the best. That he was going without gave Johnston a mild pleasure.

"I am pleased to announce we've had success with out inquiries, Mr. Branzer."

"And by success you mean--?"

"The title to which you referred in your letters, that title is indeed vacant and therefore you may with reasonable certainty petition to claim it for yourself."

Johnston did not see the reaction he expected. In his experience, the distant relatives of noble families enjoyed the prospect of a title, of being able to call themselves The Right Honorable or His Excellency. A smile was common, often subtle but sometimes quite obvious and delighted. Some changed their posture, drawing themselves up as if they'd earned some kind of prestige by what was in truth just an accident of history. Not this one. Mr. Marko Branzer just stared at Johnston, stared without blinking until the attorney almost cleared his throat.

"If I may expound," he began, "the Von Alphsteins proper were of course reduced in the wake of the First World War. Three sons and two daughters died before it was over. Casualties on the front or victims of the Influenza. I don't know if you were aware, Mr. Branzer, but the autumn of 1918 saw one of the greatest health disasters in human history."

"The Spanish Flu," replied the man in front of him. "I am very familiar with it. Across the globe millions died, more than in the Great War to that date, and in a mere handful of weeks." He spoke low and looked away at the end.

"As it happens," said Johnston, "the Baron's oldest son and youngest daughter both perished."

"But the Baron himself survived? Or not?"

"For a time. He suffered a stroke and his middle daughter Greta cared for him until 1924." At the mention of the daughter's name, Branzer turned again to stare at Johnston.

"What happened to her?"

"She was your great grandmother I believe?"

"My grandfather and she were close."

"Quite so, quite so. I would hope they remained in correspondence, at least for a time?"

"Not as long as either of them would have wished, Mr. Johnston. But--what became of her?"

Johnston made himself sigh and rearranged his features in a mask of professional compassion.That mask had been the work of years and he was proud of it, taking a genuine pleasure in seeing its impact. "She had lost so much, you see," said Johnston, "and I fear she did not get along well with the remaining son of her own generation, the new Baron."

"Alois."

"That was his name, yes."

"He was a swine." Branzer's voice did not rise above a whisper, and every word dripped venom. Johnston did a take.

"Your knowledge," he said after a moment, "of their personal relationships--gleamed no doubt from your grandfather, I presume--cannot help but be more accurate than my own." Johnston now feared the worst. Some people got lost in the past, took everything personally, feeling the passions of strangers as if they had anything to do with the here and now. Adjusting his mask accordingly, Johnston did his best empathic nod while quietly adding another ten percent to the bill. "I'm sorry to say she died in 1925."

"The cause of death?"

Johnston inwardly braced himself for unpleasantness. "The local coroner ruled it a suicide." His reading conveyed just enough doubt to hopefully give an injection of comfort.

"I don't believe that." This Branzer spoke without rancor, almost not even addressing Johnston at all. Typical of the type. Egocentric to the bone.

"We have copies of the official report, should you wish to peruse them."

"No need. No purpose at this point."

"As you wish."

Branze now moved with a speed that astonished Johnston. He produced a cigarette case from the interior pocket of his not-quite-the-best coat, and a matching lighter. A tiny dark cigarette appeared as if by magic on Branzer's lips. Johnston noticed this in the exact instant the cigarette became lit. Then case and lighter disappeared. It seemed to have taken a tenth of second. No more. Perhaps less.

"Knowing Uncle Alois as I did," said Branzer in a low voice, "whether he put the pistol in her hand or held it himself--the difference was no more than academic." He took a long drag on the cigarette. "What date?"

"Excuse me?"

"Upon what date did my--did Greta von Alphstein die?"

"She...she shot herself--you were quite correct about the method--on the twenty first of June."

"On my birthday."

True or not, Johnston found that detail distasteful. "How extraordinary." He managed to keep a neutral tone.

"Not so much, either way." Branzer took another deep drag, allowing the smoke to wreathe about him. The effect was startling, mesmerizing, and to Johnston ratehr common. "And dear Uncle Alois? What did fate have in store for him? Had he married?"

"Twice actually, both times to young women of good family and considerable fortune."

"Were there children?"

"As it turned out, no."

"No, there wouldn't be." An old hate shone in Branzer's eyes, a hate born from pain. Johnston was experienced enough to recognize the signs, and feel put upon by having to experience it even second hand. Third hand in this case. "How soon did each of them die?"

"'The first died soon after the first World War. The second shortly before the Second."

"Alois outlived her?"

"He did."

"Of course."

"But I might as well admit, Mr. Branzer, that Baron Alois von Alphstein came under suspicion for his second wife's death. There were evidently police inquiries following complaints from her family."

"Mr. Johnston--are you about to tell me justice was indeed done?"

"That perhaps is beyond the scope of my knowledge, sir. I can tell you the investigations were ongoing when the Baron met with an accident. His automobile slipped on a patch of ice one night and spun out of control. He suffered numerous broken limbs as well as other injuries."

"Did he die of them?"

"Eventually."

"When?"

"Six months or thereabouts."

The handsome client took another long drag on his cigarette. Closed both eyes as he did so. "Do you have family, Mr. Johnston?" he asked after an eternal several seconds.

"I do indeed."

"One hopes you and they are somewhat strangers to each other."

Johnston blinked, absorbing his client's words. Several responses immediately came to mind. His genuine reaction--startled distaste as such a baffling and boorish comment--did not. Honestly was rarely the wisest answer, in his experience. "Oh?" he finally said.

"Intimacy carries its own horrors, you see. Expectations coupled with the most intense of judgments, choices limited by a thousand thousand demands until answering them becomes habit. I've often considered how a relationship resembles a horse and its rider. The parent, like a jockey, squats upon the child's back and gives directions. Words and actions are like reins. All the power that an adult has over a child functions essentially as does a bit. Family traditions like blinders over the eyes. Pity the vast majority, Mr. Johnston, who never throw their rider off, who don't manage to jump the fence. It isn't easy. The rider, after all, has a crop. And even the best of them use it." Suddenly, Marko Branzer stopped. He lifted one hand to his cheek, a look of astonishment on his face. His eyes opened and stared at his fingers as they came away.

Oh dear God. The man was crying. Johnston looked around him, seeing if a box of kleenex or something might be nearby. His clients weren't usually so emotional. Finally, he remembered some were in his least-used drawer, the bottom left. He opened it, reached in and took out an unopened box of tissues. Soon, his fingers had removed the top. He turned to his client.

The chair was empty. The door finished closing. In the air a trace of scented tobacco lingered.

Don't know if I succeeded or not. Perhaps you'll let me know?

Here is the list of participants to the July Blog Chain:
CScottMorris: http://cscottmorrisbooks.com/
Aheïla: http://thewriteaholicblog.wordpress.com
AuburnAssassin: http://clairegillian.wordpress.com/
Collectonian: http://collectonian.livejournal.com/
DavidZahir: http://zahirblue.blogspot.com/
IrishAnnie: http://superpenpower.blogspot.com/
Anarchicq: http://anarchicq.com/
Proach: http://everythinghistorical.wordpress.com/
devero: http://mysticcrossroads.wordpress.com/
bri ness: http://briallison.blogspot.com/
hillaryjacques: http://www.hillaryjacques.blogspot.com/
LadyMage: http://www.katherinegilraine.com/
M.R.J. Le Blanc: http://libraryofandunien.blogspot.com/
Mariekeme: http://www.mariekenijkamp.com/
aimeelaine: http://www.aimeelaine.com/writing/blog
Lyra Jean: http://lyratorres.wordpress.com/
Fokker Aeroplanbau: http://rightfarright.blogspot.com/
Irissel: http://irissel.blogspot.com/
CowgirlPoet: http://frontnotes.blogspot.com/
Alpha Echo: http://writersramblings81.blogspot.com/
cryaegm: http://enigmainklings.blogspot.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: "Crypt of the Vampire" (Review)

Spoilers ahoy!

In 1963 the movie Crypt of the Vampire got made, the first real attempt (as far as I've been able to learn) to capture on film Joseph Sheridan LeFanu's classic novella Carmilla. Yes, I know there was Vampyr which was supposed to be inspired by LeFanu, but while an extremely fine movie one wonders how anyone could call it an adaptation. Not one character from the original makes an appearance, nor particularly any incident. So this joint Italian-Spanish production counts as the first.

How is it? Well, a mixed bag overall. Despite the DVD cover, the entire film in fact is black and white, used to generally good effect. The castle itself turns out to be an odd blend of shadow and stark open spaces. Certainly the dream sequences work without resorting to special effects, just atmosphere and acting. Many shots are quite beautiful.

Christopher Lee portrays Count Ludwig Karnstein, concerned over his daughter Laura (right name for once) who has terrible nightmares and who may resemble a vampire witch from generations past. A curse involving Carmilla's vengeance seems to be working its way through the current Karnstein family, killing young women. Laura herself fears she may be responsible--an interesting notion explored as well as possible given the near-total lack of personality she otherwise demonstrates. Count Ludwig hires an historian (the seemingly obligatory young male love interest) to investigate. A carriage accident results in a sweet young woman named Lubya staying at the castle. Readers of the original will no doubt realize she is in fact Carmilla, but the film actually makes one doubt it. No small feat. Added to this mix is a deeply superstitious housekeeper, an old mountebank (a character usually erased in the adaptation), plus a maid who is also the Count's mistress.

Visually, the whole thing works, even when it is being just a tad ridiculous. The heraldry afficiodo in me recoils at a coat of arms that consists of a stylized letter "K" for example. The women's hair is non-period, but that is hardly surprising. Even period films with many times the budget of this one often get that detail wrong. The lead actress is lusciously beautiful but almost startlingly susceptible to suggestion. Frankly she seems rather a ninny of the first order. Someone suggests she looks like the long-dead Carmilla, and she believes it (in fact they look nothing alike). The hint of guilt is enough to provoke all kinds of nightmares (quite effective to behold). And the mysterious Lubya winds the girl round her little finger with seemingly no effort.

Lee gives his typical good performance. Parenthetically, let me bemoan this man's career rarely allowed him to show the full acting chops of which he was in fact capable. Take a look at him in Lord of the Rings, in the original The Wicker Man and in the biopic Jinnah to see what I mean. He's the only memorable performer in this film, although to be fair everyone else does a workmanlike job.

The reason for the title eventually gets explained, with an idea that actually has some interest to it. Seems while she's wandering around killing girls Carmilla is also asleep in her crypt, vulnerable to destruction. Among other things this allows us the suspense of Lubya threatening Laura up until the last moment.

But at its heart the central character is no longer an expatriate English girl living by herself amid haunted woods. She's a vapid ingenue aristocrat who needs a man to protect her. The story has nothing really of the English or the German about it, feeling Italian more than anything else (understandably enough). This even extends to the look of the castle--a stark, practical exterior baking in the sun, contrasted with lush furnishings amid black-as-midnight shadows within. The heroine's father is not elderly nor does he discount the supernatural.

I've seen worse adaptations (the first version of Moby Dick springs to mind). The movie has some charm. But at heart it is almost totally its own story rather than a genuine attempt to adapt LeFanu's famous tale.

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.

Carmillas: "The Vampire Lovers" (Review)

Spoilers ahoy!

This is a little project I've been considering for awhile--reviewing every single serious adaptation of Joseph Sheridan LeFanu's Carmilla, or at least the ones recorded. For the record, I will only review stage productions I've actually seen--which at present is zero but hopefully that will change.

In 1970 Hammer Studios looked back at a solid decade of success, remembered today with fondness by fans of genre film. They had more-or-less discovered Peter Cushing and Sir Christopher Lee (among others). Whereas Universal Studios' horror classics had been icons for generations, Hammer re-invented those same ideas with a distinctly British and more modern slant. Arguably their greatest success in this direction was Dracula. Lee at last supplanted Lugosi in many imaginations as the ultimate Dracula. Other vampire films followed, bringing fangs and bare bosoms as well as technicolor blood to the screen.

The Vampire Lovers marked a new mini-franchise for Hammer. Instead of linking the story (however slightly) to Bram Stoker's famous novel, instead they went after LeFanu's atmospheric tale of tortured love . Of course the lesbianism of the tale got maximum attention (or at least as much as they thought possible under the eyes of the censors), along with pleasantly copious amounts of partial nudity by lovelies such as Ingrid Pitt and Madaline Smith. No complaints there! But they also did what one expects in a Hammer film...

Extra blood, extra violence, extra sex. For example, this film has Carmilla physically seduce the heroine (re-named Emma for some reason) then do the same to her governess Madame Perradon (Kate O'Mara, later to achieve genre fame as The Rani on Doctor Who)! Far more was made of people suspecting a vampire might be in their midst, and Carmilla's response was to seduce/slaughter those who stood in her way. Along those lines, much more was made of the final "hunting" of her grave, intercutting those scenes with Emma's rescue by a suitably young male love interest (something totally absent in the original).

And yet...

Unlike almost any other version, this lurid (for its time) titillation feature captured an essence missing from virtually all other versions. Carmilla in this film is a tragic figure, one literally in tears as she is forced to feed, and broken-hearted at seeing Emma's reaction to the truth. Pitt is actually a bit old for the part, but she does a wonderful job of coming across as a someone in love rather than lust. Nor is that a function of the performance alone. We see the vampire prey upon another young woman (this one named Laura) without as much drama. Carmilla is so taken with Emma she tries to take her away, precisely where and to what end is not clear. Likewise Carmilla seems influenced/dominated by a strange man in black (a role initially offered Christopher Lee but he turned it down). Sexism? Perhaps. But the goal here pretty clearly remained to lend sympathy to the "monster" by making her not completely responsible for her actions. Likewise, before her beheading by Cushing's General Spielsdorf, Pitt's character seems almost to welcome it.

Hammer went on to make two other films more-or-less sequels or prequels to this one--Lust for a Vampire and then Twins of Evil. Pitt refused to reprise her role either time. Under pressure from censors, each film had less and less lesbian content. The supposed "love story" of the former was at least some attempt at capturing the chemistry Pitt and Smith clearly found. Alas, it didn't work. One other movie, Captain Kronos Vampire Hunter, had some tiny connection to the "Karnstein Trilogy" but nothing more.

So we are left with what should have been the trashiest version, but which in some ways was the most faithful.

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?

Brides of the Impaler (Review)

Ahoy! Ahead there be SPOILERS....

Edward Lee's novel Brides of the Impaler is an example of very effective cover design. The fact is, a friend of mine was reading it at work and I asked to read it when she was done. Mission accomplished! Title and cover combined to attract a fan of vampire novels.

Fortunately, this is indeed a vampire novel. With that title and this cover one would feel disappointed upon reading an inspirational tale of Peace Corps workers in El Salvador.

And vampire novel it is! More, as implied, it deals with none other than the most famous undead of all time (so far), namely Vlad The Impaler aka Vlad Tepes aka Dracula! (say it with me, rolling the 'r' we go along -- DRRRRRAAAACUUUUULAAAAA! Wasn't that fun?)

Not all vampire novels are the same of course. For one thing, not all fall really under the same genre, not really. Some aim for eroticism, and others for humor while still others are essentially gothic versions of Harry Potter or Romeo and Juliet. This one aims at horror, at a sense of malignant evil which has a real chance of triumph, of ruthlessly destroying/corrupting the innocent and good. It doesn't try to define evil very much, going after the relatively straightforward stuff of cruelty and wanton destruction. Nor is this a novel that particularly focuses on character -- the hardest thing in the book is to keep the two lawyers apart in the mind. Ditto the two cops. The insane homeless women? Good luck. They wear different clothes and one of 'em has the least teeth, but that is about it.

Which is not meant as a severe criticism. This novel isn't really so much about the nuances of what makes people tick, but about the stuff that happens to them. Along the way, the author actually accomplishes some interesting effects.

For example, the title and cover hints in some subtle way about lesbian vampires. Maybe it is the reminder of a Dracula's harem in the book and movies, with the indelible image of all three practically gang-raping Jonathan Harker. Such elements do exist in Brides of the Impaler. A successful artist (of grotesque little dolls) finds herself haunted by dreams and then hallucinations about an almost-nude vampire nun offering sensual pleasures. Eventually these dreams start to intrude upon reality, including a moment when she "wakes" to find herself mid-coitus with her foster sister! Yet this is ultimately not erotic at all. It isn't intended to be, save in the most fleeting of ways. In fact, by then we realize that both young women had had vicious foster parents who used them in child pornography, forcing them to do things to each other. That drains pretty much all the titillation out of that scene, as is intended. The erotic becomes ugly, threatening, even sadistic. Likewise, fantasies about lesbian vampires licking you all over really get spoiled when said vampires are filthy, covered in scabs, missing teeth, their nails uncut and grimy, etc. Instead of sexy, this is pretty nauseating. Again, as evidently intended.

Mind you, I will say the horror of books like this would be even more powerful if we really felt these characters were in any sense real. Hardly a one comes "alive" on these pages, and the few who almost approach it are minor characters at best -- a security guard, an archeology student, a certain priest horrified by what he sees as a dark prophecy coming to fruition.

I'll also nitpick about the history intrinsic to the story. While far from an expert on medieval Wallachia, the stories about Vlad the Impaler bear very little resemblance to all that I've read. On the other hand, how much of a valid criticism is that really, when you get down to it? This is a novel, not a history tome. Its avowed purpose to make you feel creepy, not to leave the reader with a greater understanding of Eastern Europe during the 15th century.

Some cool ideas, some chills and thrills, some moments when your skin crawls. That is the promise of this novel and that is the promise it keeps.