monster mash.

Been recovering from an annoying hearing loss of late so thought I'd cheer myself up with this fantastic Franco favourite seeing as it minimal dialogue.

And minimal plot.

Tho' it does have a ginger woman singing whilst flashing her pants.

Thems the breaks.

Dracula, Prisoner of Frankenstein (AKA Drácula contra Frankenstein, 1972).

Dir: Jesus Franco.

Cast: Dennis Price, Howard Vernon, Paca Gabaldón, Alberto Dalbés, Britt Nichols (AKA Carmen Yazalde), Josyane Gilbert, Luis Barboo, Brandy and Fernando Bilbao.

 

They have awakened... and they are the sound of terror!

 

Evil bloodsucker Count Brian Dracula (Genre God Vernon, star of my fave ever lake based zombie movie Zombie Lake, the terrifying Orloff And The Invisible Man and latter day angry Chihuahua Ren Hoek) rules over the small Romanian village of Spent with a rod of iron (and teeth like clothes-pegs), spending his nights either draining local virgins of blood or pushing pensioners down the stairs.

With the villagers are too frightened to fight back and local gypsy witch Amira's (Geneviève Robert who was married to Ivan Reitman, no idea how that's relevant tho') spells seemingly powerless against the Count it's left to the local GP, the studly Dr. Jonathan Seward (hunky beef-treat Dalbés star of Tendre et perverse Emanuelle and The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein) to challenge the creepy count and rid the village of his evil ways

 

Fancy trainers not shown.

.

Jumping into/onto his deluxe horse-drawn carriage (which is an odd choice of transport seeing the sheer amount of modern days cars, TV aerials, phones and fashions around the place) Seward makes his way to Castle Dracula and almost without any effort enters the crypt and quickly pounds a stake into Dracula's heart.

Sorted.

This has the bizarre effect tho' of not only transforming Dracula into a tiny stuffed bat but turning the massive wooden stake into a cocktail stick which is now poking out of the bats arse.

Which is nice.

And with that Seward heads back to work.

And by work I mean spending the day 'studying' the dusky, Amazon-thighed María (Gabaldón) his - seemingly - only patient who spends her days wearing only a mans red shirt whilst crayoning on the walls.

Feminine perfection I'm sure you'll agree.

Maria: Thighs.

Being only 20 minutes into the film (tho' to be fair it does seem like longer) there's no way that's the last we'll see of Dracula and soon enough a sinister black hearse trundles into town driven by the boss-eyed hunchback Morpho (Barboo who readers may recognise from Franco's The Demons and from his top turns in Supersonic Man, Conan The Barbarian - yes really - and as Alberic in The Loreley's Grasp), humble servant of the infamous - and oh so slightly pissed - Dr. Rainier Frankenstein (Dennis - my gin soaked career - Price. From Kind Hearts and Coronets to this and with only Horror Hospital to look forward to, poor sod).

Seriously you can smell the booze thru' the screen.

It appears that the pair have stopped to ask for directions to Dracula's castle (as you do), well Morpho has stopped to ask as I'm pretty sure by the look of things that Price can barely stand unaided let alone speak.

Which is probably why the movie has literally no dialogue.

And when anyone does speak it's a voice-over.

Artistic eh?

Or just cheap?

YOU decide.

Anyway it turns out that Frankenstein has purchased the castle at a knock down price and reckons it's just the place for him to continue his work.

Plus it has a really fucking well stocked wine cellar and a handy off-licence nearby.

And with that the pair unpack the car and set up the lab.

They've even got a monster (Bilbao from the frankly fantastic The Vampires Night Orgy), packed carefully into a big box and are all set to go.

Sorted.  

But whilst searching for extra extension cords to plug all his fancy electrical gadgets into Frankenstein stumbles (literally) upon Dracula’s coffin in the crypt, complete with the arse-impaled bat lying inside.

 

Surmising that this must be the infamous Count Dracula himself, the doctor decides to try and reanimate him.

 

As you do.

 

Meanwhile back in town, copper-topped temptress Estela (Gilbert, best known for her roles in Confessions of the Sex Slaves and A Rope for a Bastard as well as editing A Virgin Among the Living Dead and co-writing Nightmares Come at Night) is busy entertaining the locals with her saucy French cabaret act which involves her singing sad love songs whilst shoving her arse into the faces of anyone sitting near the front.

 

Just like your Nan did during the war.

 

 

Strumpet.

 

Luckily we only get to see her perform one song (Jess doesn't need to stretch the running time that much) so she's soon off to her dressing room for a fag and a poo before heading home. Unfortunately she's interrupted by Frankenstein’s monster, who's been hiding behind the wardrobe ready to pounce.

 

And pounce he does, scooping Estela into his arms and beating the remaining clientele to death before stomping off to the castle.

It appears that only the blood from a third-rate, over the hill cabaret performer can revive the prince of darkness so Frankenstein straps Estela to a decorating table and begins draining her blood into an old jam jar wherein lies a visibly terrified bat flapping about as it tries not to drown whilst director Franco pours Ribena over it.

Surprisingly this actually works and thanks to the power of stop/start filming techniques the bat is quickly replaced with a sleeping Howard Vernon (tho' they've not tried to squeeze him into a jar unfortunately) - minus a stake up his arse obviously.

For some unknown reason tho' Dracula is now almost catatonic and unable to function without orders from Frankenstein. 

And what are those orders?

To head into town and kidnap folk to turn into an army of the undead and take over the world.

And he's going to start with Maria.

Probably because Seward is less likely to try and stick his wood into her if she goes all vampy but mainly because the cast is so small.

Look I didn't write this.

As in I didn't write the script.

I mean I wrote (well typed) this obviously.

And this.

But you know what I mean.

 

"Fiona! Where's mah lunch?"

Anyway I digress.

So whilst all this blood draining and kidnapping is going on Frankenstein sends his monster to deal with Seward but being a bit shit it totally fails to kill the good doctor but does leave him incapacitated in a ditch, unable to save Maria from her fate.

Luckily Amira and her Gypsies come across him and nurse Seward back to health much to Frankenstein's chagrin.

Phew, glad that bit of jeopardy was dealt with so quickly, the film almost became exciting for a minute.

With Frankenstein's plan in full flow and Seward out of action recovering on a stinky camp bed no-one seems to have noticed that there was, in fact, another vampire in the castle and this time it's a sexy blonde one (Brit Nichols AKA Carmen Yazalde - best known around here as the uncredited sacrificial maiden in Tombs of The Blind Dead) and she too wants a wee bit of bitey action.

Cue many scenes of her and Vernon breaking into peoples houses and sucking jam off their necks.

I fang you.

 An ever growing gang of vicious vamps isn't all a quickly recovered Seward has to deal with tho' as Amira's spooky spirit guide has warned her that a werewolf (played by the enigmatic Spanish stuntman Brandy and not the American singer, songwriter, dancer, model and actress of the same name no matter what Google says, pity) is fast approaching town with a score to settle with Frankenstein....

For fans of the late, great Jess Franco, Dracula, Prisoner of Frankenstein is a wee bit of an oddity featuring none of the nudity, sexy sadism and erotica (plus copious amounts of 60s/70s bush) we associate with the great man.

Which is a shame really as all we're left with is a threadbare basis of a plot, a barely conscious lead villain, joke shop make-up and a pace that, if any more leisurely with be catatonic.

And don't get me started on the piss poor editing and hit and miss attempts a keeping things in focus.

But as a plus point, the usual Franco crash zooms are always welcome and Paca Gabaldón does have a smashing blouse so swings and roundabouts really.

 

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas? MONSTA!"

 

 

Scarily tho' despite its (painfully) obvious shortcomings it's actually a fairly enjoyable little film, especially late at night with a drink in you.

Plus Howard Vernon is always worth a watch, even when he's as horribly miscast as he is here, all poppy-eyed and cherry-lipped sneaking around various folks bedrooms with an ill-fitting top hat perched precariously on his tiny pinhead.

Like most folk here he's doing his best with what he's been given, which is more than Paca Gabaldón got seeing as she's emoting with only a shirt and a box of crayons but whilst everyone seems to be giving it their all you can't help but feel slightly uncomfortable every time Dennis Price is onscreen as he stumbles around the uneven castle floors, obviously trying his best to walk in a straight line as the booze sweat glistens on his brow.

And to think he'd be dead a year later at the (relatively) young age of 58.

So don't drink kids.

Fucking Hell that's a depressing note to end on.

Sorry.