Vampira (aka Old Dracula) (1974)

I don't know why, but I spent a good few years trying to see Vampira/Old Dracula.  I don't know why, perhaps I was hoping for a lost classic, more likely it was simply because it was one of those films which had seemingly just vanished from public view.  It always intrigues me when this happens, especially when it is a studio backed star vehicle like Vampira.  Anyway, I finally managed to see it, under its US title of Old Dracula on one of the streaming services via Roku.  It really wasn't worth the wait.  David Niven was, undoubtedly, one of the greatest film stars produced by the UK, apparently as debonair and charming off screen as he was on it, he was also, with the right vehicle, a pretty decent actor, but by the seventies his career was definitely in decline.  Indeed, the quality of the films he appeared in declined alarmingly as the decade progressed, with Vampira representing, if not a nadir, then a definite low-point for Niven's career. The fact was that by the seventies the sort of roles Niven was known for had dried up - the sort of romantic light comedies and adventure films he had made his name in simply weren't being made any more.  So, one can, perhaps, see why Niven was attracted to the lead role in Vampira: an ageing, but still suave and aristocratic, Dracula, forced to open his castle to tourists for a 'vampire experience'.  Equally, one can see why the film's producers would have been glad to have him on board, doubtless feeling that his name would add credibility to what was less an old-style light romantic comedy than a new-fangled sex comedy, (not that Niven was any stranger to the genre, having already starred in 1970's woeful The Statue).

The idea  of satirising Gothic horror films must have seemed an obvious move in 1974: the genre was just about played out and Hammer had saturated the market with Dracula movies during the late sixties and early seventies, with diminishing returns.  Endless variations on theme - modern day Draculas and, for their own 1974 release, a Kung Fu cross over Dracula - weren't doing Hammer any good.  The genre was tipping over into self-parody, so why not make a film which was a deliberate parody?  The problem with Vampira, however, is that its script simply lacks the wit and finesse to carry off this idea. While the initial scenario of the hard up Dracula renting out his castle as a theme hotel is fine, the gags are obvious a hoary and it quickly becomes clear that the writer, (Jeremy Lloyd, who also co-wrote sitcoms including Are You Being Served and 'Allo 'Allo), simply doesn't know where to take it, so instead starts doing the same thing as Hammer had been doing: bringing in elements of other genres).  The arrival of a bevy of busty photographic models at the castle, managed by Bernard Bresslaw and accompanied by writer Nicky Henson and the requisite camp photographer, could have come from a Carry On film or similar British sex comedy, or even a continental horror film of the type where the castle's former evil owner is resurrected and puts his miraculously preserved torture dungeon to good use.  Naturally, a leering Dracula sees this as an opportunity to gather some fresh blood - but not, as it turns out, to satisfy hi own bloodlust, rather to try and revive his dead wife Vampira.

At which point, the film makes the fateful decision to cross over with another genre: Blaxploitation.  Again, this must have seemed like an obvious idea at the time: not only were Blaxploitation films doing well at the box office, but the Blacula films had been especially popular.  So, Vampira's plot takes a turn into Blaxploitation as the blood transfusion brings Vampira back to life, but as a black woman, played by Theresa Graves.  Now, this is a situation which has considerable comic potential, but instead of satirically exploring the whole area of race relations, attitudes to mixed marriages and so on, the film instead opts for crude stereotypes and obvious 'colour' gags.  To be fair, at first it looks as if it might tackle these issues, with Dracula assuring his butler that the colour change doesn't bother him, but the neighbours might not understand, but quickly abandons this in favour of sub-plot involving Graves' becoming more stereotypically 'black' after watching a Blaxploitation film (Black Gunn, a 1972 British produced entry in the genre) and beginning to spout black slang, including calling Niven's Count a 'jive ass turkey'.  Whilst Niven's bemused reactions to these developments are mildly amusing, the whole scenario just isn't as funny as the film makers seem to think that it is, coming off as patronising and more than mildly offensive.  Now, to be absolutely fair, here the film is being merely typical of its era.  Indeed, by trying to make comedic capital of these aspects of 'black culture' and race relations, the film makers undoubtedly thought that they were being incredibly liberal and progressive.  They didn't set out to be racist but, unfortunately, their entire knowledge of 'black culture' (like Vampira's) seemed to have been gleaned entirely from Blaxploitation films.

Interestingly, from this point, the film shies away from the racial aspects of Dracula and Vampira's relationship, instead focusing on the age gap aspects, with Vampira clearly several decades younger than Niven's Dracula.  The bulk of the plot involves Dracula, Vampira and the butler following the models back to London, in the hope of procuring further blood from them, in the hope that it might turn Vampira back to her 'normal' white complexion, (the film makers seemingly oblivious to how racist this sounds). To this end, Henson's writer is coerced via Dracula's bite into doing the Count's bidding, making love to the various models and collecting blood samples using a set of hollow fake fangs.  Much British farce-style hilarity ensues as his girlfriend suspects something is going on and ends up kidnapped by Dracula.  Eventually breaking free of Niven's influence, Henson rescues his girlfriend and they confront Dracula and Vampira at Heathrow airport, where they are preparing to board a flight to South America.  Unbeknown to Henson, however, Vampira has bitten Dracula, turning him black.  A startled Henson is unable to stake the vampire and is arrested as Dracula and Vampira jet off to new adventures.

What's clear watching the film today, is the reason for its disappearance for many years:  the racial aspects of the plot.  Quite frankly, these make Vampira an extremely uncomfortable watch nowadays.  As already noted, it isn't that the film is overtly racist, but rather the patronising sub-text, which treats what it sees a 'black culture' as being obviously inferior to 'white culture' and therefore a suitable subject for ridicule.  For the film makers a sassy beautiful and empowered black woman is clearly an unsuitable partner for a sophisticated white man of class like Niven - the only solution is for her to turn white, as this whiteness will clearly also confer class and social acceptability.  Either that, or Niven has to become black himself, for, obviously, black is black, white is white and never the twain shall meet.  In seventies British sex/horror comedies, at least.  The sad thing is that the film has excellent production values and cinematography.  Unfortunately, it is undone by Lloyd's leaden script - which, even setting aside its racial overtones, rarely rises above the level of the average sitcom - and Clive Donner's plodding direction.  The cast do what they can with the material: Niven struggles gamely to remain dignified and Graves is charming and beautiful in a thankless role, while the film wastes both Linda Hayden and Freddie Jones in ephemeral, throwaway roles, but it is all in vain.  After failing to set the box office on fire in the UK, the film was re-titled Old Dracula by AIP for its US release, in a vain attempt to cash in on the success Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein (1974).  The film's failure is hardly surprising as it fails to function as either sex comedy, horror film or Blaxploitation, let alone integrate any of these elements.  Oh, and the sight of David Niven with, quite literally, boot polish on his face at the movie's climax, has to be one of the most depressing sights in the history of British cinema, representing a huge fall from the heights of A Matter of Life and Death (1945).