Dracula: What Music Does Nosferatu Make?

Why you! Yes, you! What day is today?

Unfortunately, not yet Christmas Day, when we can expect both the anniversary of the savior’s birth as well as the release of Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu (2024). Like any cultured moviegoer, I have been lighting my Advent candles, so to speak. In the lead up to the auteur’s newest release, my plan has been to watch as many adaptations of Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897) as possible. We’ve got Murnau’s 1922 silent classic; there are Herzog and Coppola’s couple of college tries. I think there was even a movie about Renfield. But today—today I’d like to talk about 1931’s Dracula.

Our vampires more-or-less descend from Bela Lugosi’s performance in this film. When a 27-year-old slaps on fangs and a cloak because he’s got nothing else going ahead of the costume party, he owes Lugosi a few minutes of ancestral veneration. The children of the night—they’re making music! Those hypnotizing eyes! The Hungarian accent.

Embarrassingly, I had never seen the film until just last week. And, I must admit, it surprised me. Not that it was bad—I rather liked it. But it was nothing at all like what I expected.

I expected something hammy, B-movie, over the top. To my mind, this would be a Hammer film, a goofy take on the Halloween vampire, a bit of Vincent Price mixed into a monster flick. I could not have been more wrong. Tod Browning’s Dracula is quiet. You really do hear the children of the night because, quite often, there’s nothing else to hear. Its famous theme only plays at the beginning (perhaps also at the end—I can’t recall). The rest is eerily silent—just the low hum of early sound capture and overlay.

It is, of course, an early-sound film, so there’s a simple reason for this. That said, it contributes to the otherworldly feel of the movie. Lugosi’s Dracula creeps in silence. His strange, slow voice and stare are hypnotic not campy. So, the film’s odd silence ends up complementing his strange affect. I wouldn’t say he’s scary. But he’s certainly unsettling, (and I use this term advisedly) foreign.

With Christmas approaching, my time (alas) for reviewing is limited. But if you haven’t seen 1931’s Dracula, I highly recommend that you do. It’s far, far stranger than you’re imagining and likely far quieter. Around Yuletide what more could one want?