Countess Dracula is a 1971 Hammer horror film based on the legends surrounding the “Blood Countess” Elizabeth Báthory. It is in many ways atypical of Hammer’s canon, attempting to broaden Hammer’s output from Dracula and Frankenstein sequels. The film was produced by Alexander Paal and directed by Peter Sasdy, Hungarian émigrés working in England. The original music score was composed by Harry Robertson.
In 17th Century Hungary, Countess Elisabeth Nádasdy (Ingrid Pitt) and her bed companion and steward, Captain Dobi (Nigel Green), are snubbed in a will at the expense of the young and the too old to benefit. The Countess takes it rather better than Dobi as she has recently discovered the secret to ever-lasting youth, a quick bath in the blood of murdered young girls. Alas, the fridge is empty of such commodities and the effect is disappointingly short-lasting, so she keeps her hold on Dobi whilst enlisting him to furnish her with the required local young ladies. Her rejuvenated young self takes advantage yet further of the situation and embarks on a sexual affair with simpering Lieutenant Toth (Sandor Elès), the son of a famous general who is eager to similarly make his mark.
To stay in her youthful state, it begins to require ever more victims and the trail or bloodless corpses is beginning to arouse suspicion. To throw locals off the scent, she assumes the identity of her daughter, Ilona (Lesley-Anne Down) who has been absent for some time, squirreled away by her mother in a hut in the forest, lest anyone find it odd that they are surprisingly similar age – but not before the resident of the castle library, Fabio (Maurice Denham), begins to suspect something dodgy is afoot, not least when he nearly stumbles upon an unfortunate meeting between local busty prostitute, Ziza (Andrea Lawrence), Toth and the Countess, an encounter which Ziza doesn’t fare well in.
Upon finding that actually only virgins prolong the youthful appearance, yet more attacks take place but it’s all too much for Fabio who realises he must inform Toth – alas, too slow and he meets his end at the hands of Dobi who has been blackmailed into protecting the Countess any way he can. A slightly hurried marriage is arranged between Toth and Elisabeth but lo’! Ilona makes a surprise appearance. The congregation can only stand aghast as Elisabeth’s ageing/marrying/slaying dilemma begins to unravel before them.
A particularly strange entry into Hammer’s canon, at a time when their star was still shining brightly. Playing rather more like a historical yarn (more-so than the likes of Rasputin) than a horror film, let alone a vampire film, there is much to admire here but it’s ultimately a disappointing, unsatisfying experience. Director, Sasdy, proved himself to be a director of some style in Hammer’s own Hands of the Ripper from the same year but Countess Dracula suffers from being overly ponderous, seemingly unable to decide on historical accuracy, breasts or geysers of blood – eventually it panics but too late for a discernible resolution.
Those expecting fangs, fog and fluttering bats will certainly be disappointed – this concentrates on the Countess’ plight, as she sees it, giving all the characters a decent fist of stating their moral standpoint but it becomes unnecessarily wordy and redundant relatively early. It’s difficult to root for the Countess, killing and preening; Dobi shows real promise as a character but is reduced to a stooge; Toth is a sap of the highest order and needs a good telling off leaving only a librarian and a prostitute as characters of real interest.
Though an exotic vision and alluring mysterious both on-screen and in ‘real life’, only the truly brave of heart would call Ingrid Pitt a great actress, though she is served well by good ageing effects courtesy of Tom Smith, who worked on several Hammer films and onto the likes of The Shining and Return of the Jedi. Indeed, Pitt herself was a replacement for Diana Rigg who ultimately declined the role. Elès (Evil of Frankenstein) presumably makes the cut due to being Hungarian, whilst Green (The Masque of the Red Death) shows real promise but was sadly cut down at the age of only 47 the following year. Denham essentially channels Merlin and Lesley Anne-Down ultimately has very little to do – far more interesting is ravishing Andrea Lawrence, who hopped, skipped and jumped from On the Buses to I’m Not Feeling Myself Tonight to Frankenstein and the Monster From Hell.
The rather unconvincing mountains of Eastern Europe are, of course, Pinewood Studios, but the interiors are perhaps the film’s greatest achievement, a feast for the eyes of a believable castle and various castes of life that exist in and around – it’s a real shame that the fascinating world they live in is still somehow bland, despite gory murders and sumptuous sets. Though there is,naturally, a reasonable amount of nudity, the murders are relatively few on-screen though there are some juicy moments involving a hair-pin and a nicely judged scene of Elisabeth bathing which is more wistful than gratuitous.
Harry Robertson’s (here as Harry Robinson) score plays well alongside the relative drama on-screen, a mix of studious orchestral sweeps and the use of a Hungarian cymbalom (same ball-park as a harpsichord) to add some flavours of the unknown environment. The dialogue is largely forgettable, aside from some ‘common slut from the whorehouse’ chat and Ziza uttering a barely credible ‘juicy pair’ line but there is something about the film which lingers in the memory and, though not especially a success, a mark of Hammer’s bravery that this appeared when it did.
Daz Lawrence, Horrorpedia
