Blu-Ray Review: Countess Dracula

By Less Lee Moore

The term “Hammer Horror” evokes a certain feeling. For more than two decades, Hammer Film Productions produced some of the most iconic horror films of all time, movies which implied a distinctive cachet: lush, artful, Gothic. There were also buxom beauties and a lot of vivid red blood.

Countess Dracula was released in 1971 when the studio was starting to lose its grasp on the market and trying different approaches to the Dracula/Frankenstein/Mummy trilogy of terrors. Ingrid Pitt, fresh from Hammer’s The Vampire Lovers (loosely based on J. Sheridan LeFanu’s Carmilla), stars as the Hungarian countess Elisabeth Nádasdy, herself loosely based on the infamous Countess Elisabeth Bathory, who allegedly bathed in the blood of virgins to maintain a hold on her youth.

That’s as much of the plot as you need to know going into Countess Dracula, which feels more like a creepy soap opera or simplified Shakespearean tragedy. This isn’t an insult by any means, as Countess Dracula is a genuine feast for the senses.

Filmed in Pinewood Studios, there are many forest scenes in the film, all lit by an eerie overcast sky, which always proves effective in these kinds of period vampire films. The set design and lighting are gorgeous and appropriately spooky and the costumes are stunning, all as one would expect from a Hanmmer Horror.

What is unexpected is the plethora of absolutely ridiculous headwear. I am admittedly ignorant of early 17th century Hungarian fashion, but between the men who would give The Queen’s Guard at Buckingham Palace serious hat envy and the Countess’s nurse Julie’s quasi-flying nun attire, it’s hilarious. Again, this isn’t a dig at Countess Dracula, though you might find it hard to concentrate on the scene near the beginning of the movie where the will of the Countess’s late husband is being read.

More amusement can be found in the romantic adventures between the post-virgin-blood Countess and her love interest Imre Toth, in which it appears that the latter is trying to wipe off his moustache with the Countess’s hand and/or face. It’s kind of hard to believe that the actor (Sandor Elès) who was so unsettling in And Soon The Darkness is the same person who capriciously leaps about and has all the sex appeal of a baby goat. I suppose when you’re old, insecure, desperate, and evil like the Countess, that sort of youthful exuberance is charming.

For all its silly affectations, Countess Dracula is a surprisingly rich text. The plot is markedly similar to The Leech Woman from 1960, which, although spoofed most excellently on Mystery Science Theater 3000, has a lot of great commentary on sexism and aging. In both films, a troubled, lonely old woman discovers the secret to regaining her youth, one that costs the lives of other women, specifically those who are younger and more “innocent.” In The Leech Woman, June Talbot uses a special pointed ring to extract fluid from the pineal gland and mix it with the rare orchid pollen called Nipe; in Countess Dracula, Elisabeth stabs with a hairpin.

There’s a fair bit of misogyny in Countess Dracula, too, so it’s no wonder that Elisabeth goes a bit mad. When Captain Dobi, the castle steward who’s pined for Elisabeth for 20 years, goes looking for a new virgin at her behest, he approaches a village man who’s trying to sell some full-figured ladies. Dobi asks if the clearly underage Bertha is available and if she’s ever been with a man. The flesh peddler laughs heartily and asks, “Can you imagine anyone wanting to?”

Chambermaid Teri is Elisabeth’s first victim and her mother Rosa, another household servant, is upset, continually asking what has happened to her daughter. In one scene in the kitchen, the sergeant of bailiffs yells at all the women for being worried and accuses them of being ungrateful for what the Countess has given them. There’s a clear divide between the realm of men (having the agency to do “important” things) and that of women (vain and/or overemotional). This is reiterated when the chief bailiff sends all the women away for their own safety while he investigates the mysterious disappearances of women in the village and through the ongoing situation of Ilona, the Countess’s daughter.

Elisabeth plots with Dobi to waylay Ilona, who has traveled from Vienna to console her mother after the Count’s death. This seems to be a ruse to trick Imre into falling for her, believing Elisabeth is the 19-year-old Ilona. But it is also revealed that the Countess sent Ilona away about a dozen years before, ostensibly to save her from “the dreaded Turks,” a not-so-veiled reference to the discord between the Turkish and Hungarian peoples during this period of the Ottoman Empire. (The man who Dobi charges with keeping Ilona captive is a dirty half-wit, which makes the movie’s portrayal of Turks uncomfortable, if not outright offensive.)

It doesn’t take a huge leap of imagination to assume that no matter how lovely Elisabeth might have been in her youth, she was always envious of her daughter’s beauty. Even after Dobi returns Ilona to the castle—to be Elisabeth’s next victim, no less—she is kept in the dark literally and figuratively, being housed in the servants’ dingy quarters and not being told what is happening with her mother, even when her own life depends upon this knowledge.

Besides the sexism and ethnic tensions, Countess Dracula also addresses the class struggle. On the way back to the castle after the Count’s funeral, a line of beggars stands by the side of the road. One man comes forward and begs for help for his struggling family. Dobi smacks him with a whip and the man falls, being crushed under the wheels of the carriage as the other villagers look on in horror. One of them screams that the Countess is the Devil. Later, when the Countess, Dobi, and Julie have all been imprisoned for their crimes, it is the women of the village who are shown sneering the epithet “Countess Dracula” in turn.

The Blu-Ray of Countess Dracula boasts a stunning transfer, with only a few speckles here and there and just one scene that appears obviously grainy. If you’ve only seen the film on VHS tapes or television, it’s worth your while to check out this reissue. Although some may consider it a more lightweight chapter in the history of Hammer Horror, a closer look reveals there’s a lot of subtext to enjoy along with the beautiful production design and outrageous hats.

Countess Dracula was released on Blu-Ray on May 6 by Synapse Films. The combo pack includes audio commentary with Ingrid Pitt, director Peter Sasdy, screenwriter Jeremy Paul, and author Jonathan Sothcott; a featurette called “Immortal Countess: The Cinematic Life of Ingrid Pitt”; an archival audio interview with Ingrid Pitt; a stills gallery; the theatrical trailer; and reversible cover art.