Christopher Lee must have turned down a fortune to star in this follow-up to Dracula's first venture into Technicolor. But it seems he knew what he was about. This is cheap fare indeed - a confused plot and a poor script, relieved only by tasteful set-design and pretty cinematography.
Despite the title, Dracula himself appears nowhere, the star-role being filled by Peter Cushing as vampire-hunter Dr. Van Helsing. Co-star (it says on the poster) is Martita Hunt, for me a big draw. But there is altogether too little of Martita, sent to her doom - twice! - before we've really had time to react to those powerful mannish features, the sort that the French, not us, celebrate as 'jolie-laide' (ugly-beautiful).
Long before there was Hammer, the Dracula stories were discreetly laced with sexually ambiguous themes, and there is no shortage of this here. But Martita does not seem to be part of the game, unless we interpret her relationship with her chained-up vampire son as incestuous.
Meanwhile the significance of the so-called brides is unclear. And we can't always tell who's who in the zoo, scrambling in and out of coffins or shallow graves at odd times of night. The lovely but vacuous Yvonne Monlaur carries no conviction whatever as the young teacher taking up a job at the local boarding-school; she sounds as though she's only just started to learn English herself. Freda Jackson is wildly miscast as the village servant-girl, quite unable to conceal her worldly sophistication. Mona Washbourne, however, startles us with her giggly effort as the head teacher, when most of us can imagine her only as that dowdy old housekeeper from 'My Fair Lady'.
Peter Cushing turns in his normal well-polished version of just being Peter Cushing. And David Peel makes an unusual impact as the first vampire with fair hair - photogenic enough, until he opens his mouth. Hell's Teeth, those vampire incisors are simply not him.
Of course we expect Hammer dialogue to creak a bit ("God bless you" - "If only he could"). But do we really have to sit through exchanges as banal as "We will have dinner in ten minutes. Will you be ready by then?"
Certainly this one will keep a hallowed place in the collections of dedicated Hammer buffs, who find reassurance in the same old carriage clattering into the inn-yard, and will no doubt cherish its imperfections for years to come. But the general viewer will find little satisfaction in 'The Brides of Dracula'.
Despite the title, Dracula himself appears nowhere, the star-role being filled by Peter Cushing as vampire-hunter Dr. Van Helsing. Co-star (it says on the poster) is Martita Hunt, for me a big draw. But there is altogether too little of Martita, sent to her doom - twice! - before we've really had time to react to those powerful mannish features, the sort that the French, not us, celebrate as 'jolie-laide' (ugly-beautiful).
Long before there was Hammer, the Dracula stories were discreetly laced with sexually ambiguous themes, and there is no shortage of this here. But Martita does not seem to be part of the game, unless we interpret her relationship with her chained-up vampire son as incestuous.
Meanwhile the significance of the so-called brides is unclear. And we can't always tell who's who in the zoo, scrambling in and out of coffins or shallow graves at odd times of night. The lovely but vacuous Yvonne Monlaur carries no conviction whatever as the young teacher taking up a job at the local boarding-school; she sounds as though she's only just started to learn English herself. Freda Jackson is wildly miscast as the village servant-girl, quite unable to conceal her worldly sophistication. Mona Washbourne, however, startles us with her giggly effort as the head teacher, when most of us can imagine her only as that dowdy old housekeeper from 'My Fair Lady'.
Peter Cushing turns in his normal well-polished version of just being Peter Cushing. And David Peel makes an unusual impact as the first vampire with fair hair - photogenic enough, until he opens his mouth. Hell's Teeth, those vampire incisors are simply not him.
Of course we expect Hammer dialogue to creak a bit ("God bless you" - "If only he could"). But do we really have to sit through exchanges as banal as "We will have dinner in ten minutes. Will you be ready by then?"
Certainly this one will keep a hallowed place in the collections of dedicated Hammer buffs, who find reassurance in the same old carriage clattering into the inn-yard, and will no doubt cherish its imperfections for years to come. But the general viewer will find little satisfaction in 'The Brides of Dracula'.