To celebrate the imminent release of Dracula (1958) we’ll be focussing on different aspects of the film over the next few weeks, including what we can expect from this exciting new restoration and why the movie represents such a milestone in British cinema. We’re starting with a fresh look at the iconic work itself, glancing away from the eponymous vampire and his would-be slayers as we shine a light on the women of Dracula…

The sexual aspects of Dracula have fascinated commentators from day one. Even before the film was released the BBFC began wringing their hands about ‘the sex aspect of the story’ and fretting over the ‘transparent nightdresses’ they imagined would be worn in the movie, although to be fair, its erotic undertones (and occasionally overtones) are hard to ignore, meaning debate about them becomes inevitable.

But the women who play such a vital role in Hammer’s adaptation don’t exist purely as sexual ciphers. Their motives, vulnerabilities and strengths are as significant as those displayed by the male characters, and so for once, we’re focussing on other aspects of their narrative importance and examining how four females are essential to the story which Dracula tells.

‘Terry, how should I play the scene?’ Director Terence Fisher’s reply to Melissa Stribling is detailed later in this feature…

Screenplay writer Jimmy Sangster took a Victorian novel that stretches to about 400 pages and distilled it into a script for a work that runs less than 90 minutes. He achieved this alchemy by deftly cutting most of the book’s characters and omitting huge swathes of its plotline, condensing an epic journey of an adventure into an urgent, galloping ride through the night. A great deal has been made of his pragmatic lack of sentimentality for the source material and the budgetary constraints that informed his writing, but arguably, his greatest achievement was to take Bram Stoker’s lengthy tale, told through a series of letters, newspaper articles and diary entries, and transform it into a fast-paced thriller.

More specifically, Hammer’s Dracula constantly surprises the audience by subverting expectations and delivering a succession of twists that ramp up the jeopardy and ensure the audience remains both hooked and horrified. Or to put it another way, there’s always something happening, and director Terence Fisher and Jimmy Sangster constantly pull the rug from under the audience’s feet. Think you’re watching one thing? Wrong! Here’s what’s really happening…

Crucially, this misdirection is usually enabled through the women in the film, and it’s telling that the characters Sangster changes most liberally from Stoker’s vision are Lucy (played by Carol Marsh), Mina (Melissa Stibling) and the so-called ‘brides of Dracula’, here unified into one figure known as Vampire Woman, played by Valerie Gaunt. Her inclusion early on in the picture is a masterful touch and sets the tone for what will follow.

She arrives around the 6-minute mark, and at this early point we’ve no reason to suspect that Harker, whom she begs for help, is more than he claims to be. As the yarn gets underway he’s masquerading as a somewhat ineffective librarian, whereas in reality he’s a very ineffective vampire slayer. When Gaunt’s character approaches him, her presence might be a surprise, but her opening words are anything but. ‘You will help me,’ she simpers. ‘Won’t you?’

Valerie Gaunt became the first woman to feature in two of Hammer’s classic gothic horrors, appearing here as Vampire Woman after her role as Justine in The Curse of Frankenstein (1957).

It feels as if we’re being shepherded into familiar territory: a beautiful ‘damsel in distress’ needs the upstanding hero to rescue her. It’s an assumption that’s backed up by the apparent narrative situation. As Peter Hutchings noted in Dracula: A British Film Guide, at this juncture the ‘unsuspecting audience [is] made to feel superior to Harker’ because we’re well aware the young man’s ‘client’ is the personification of evil. So what could be more natural than to find he’s holding someone prisoner in his castle? And why wouldn’t the captive plead for help when a potential saviour arrives?

The audience is being manipulated in exactly the same way as Harker, and Gaunt’s performance adds to the misdirection. When she looks at the newcomer there’s pity in her eyes, as if she genuinely fears for him, and her reaction to Dracula’s arrival is sagely underplayed. Gaunt performs the scene without any hint of vampiric intent and Harker’s gentleness with her character seems entirely plausible.

When we (along with Harker) encounter her after Dracula’s introduction, the truth remains hidden for a little while longer. We’re back in ‘damsel in distress’ territory as she urges him, ‘Mr Harker, you will help me?’ And with every desperate request, with every anguished turn of her head and lowering of her eyes, she’s reeling in her prey. When she declares, ‘You’re my only hope! You must [help me]! You must!’ Harker understandably caves in, nudging aside his earlier caution and replying unambiguously, ‘I’ll help you.’ As he embraces her, he even adds, ‘Please don’t distress yourself,’ as if his decision to assist removes any causes of concern she may have been feeling.

It’s only now, when she’s thoroughly conned Harker and manoeuvred herself into striking distance of her target, that the reality of this mysterious figure is revealed. ‘Thank you,’ she sobs, ‘Thank you…’ and buries her head into the visitor’s upper body. In a fabulously executed reveal, she finally looks up and at that moment two things happen simultaneously. James Bernard’s score changes from a gentle, almost romantic air, to a noticeably louder, tension-building cue. At the same time, Valerie Gaunt telegraphs her character’s true face with a look of coldness, confidence and murderous intent.

Gaunt graduated from RADA in 1951 but Dracula proved to be her final film. She retired from acting shortly after the production wrapped, but even today she’s remembered as the first Hammer vampire to show those iconic fangs…

The next second, a moment of cinematic history as for the first time in a Technicolor movie, a vampire bares their dagger-sharp teeth. The distinction goes to Gaunt, and the bridge is crossed as she raises her head, languorously opening her mouth to reveal the now-famous fangs. She leans hungrily into his throat…

Dracula’s unexpected arrival kick starts a more frenzied attack. He literally leaps into the action, obviously unconcerned with the would-be assassin who’s inveigled his way into the castle. Instead, Vampire Woman is prioritised and immediately set-upon whilst her victim is ignored. Harker then attempts to seize Dracula but is easily dealt with. Seconds later he again tries to grapple with the man he came to kill, but once more he’s swatted away, proving to be little more than a minor irritation.

The scene makes it clear that Dracula focusses on the woman, not due to any carnal instinct, but through an awareness that she represents the more worthy opponent. He finally carries her from the chamber, sparing Harker nothing more than a cursory look over his shoulder.

In that brief passage the audience has been served notice that all bets are off. The old assumptions based on gender and apparent vulnerability are no longer on the table. In this thrilling new retelling of Dracula the women can be as sly and duplicitous as any male protagonist, and they’ll be more than a match for any ‘hero’ who tries to stand in their way.

Inge was played by Barbara Archer who appeared as Betty in Model for Murder (1959) the year after her brush with vampirism. That movie also featured Dracula star Michael Gough along with Hammer legend, Hazel Court.

The sense that the women in this Dracula mythology can be more effective than the men is swiftly backed up through an unlikely figure. After the death of Gaunt’s character, the next woman we encounter is Inge, the waitress/cook in the inn where Van Helsing rocks up, looking for clues as to what happened to the hapless Harker. As with Vampire Woman, her appearance turns out to be deceptive. Sangster and Fisher’s treatment of Inge leads the audience into another trap based on preconceptions. She appears to be the put-upon ‘skivvy’, all nervous nods and automatic compliance, trying to avoid the wrath of her boss, the innkeeper, who’s quickly revealed to be a study in fear and antipathy.

He believes in vampires, as evinced by the garlic that hangs overhead, and remains too frightened of their power to help even a solitary stranger. ‘Some things are best left alone, such as interfering in things which are beyond our powers…’ he warns. Even when Van Helsing counters that his work could benefit the entire world, it makes little difference. ‘When you’ve eaten, I ask you to go and leave us in peace.’

There's something distasteful about the innkeeper’s abject fear of the undead as it’s juxtaposed with his surliness towards Inge, whom he believes he can dominate and intimidate. Yet aside from the doctor, she’s the only person in the bar who isn’t too scared to act. It transpires she came into possession of Harker’s journal, and disobeyed her orders to destroy it, simply because she felt the stranger, ‘…was such a nice gentleman’. By standing up to the innkeeper and then taking the risk of passing the book to Van Helsing, this seemingly inconsequential barmaid becomes a vital, if low key, part of the narrative. The journal will bring Van Helsing up-to-speed and ultimately form the proof that convinces Arthur Holmwood of what’s been happening in Klausenburg. Make no mistake, without Inge’s brave actions, the battle against Dracula would have been a tougher proposition.

And thus the first two women whom we meet in Dracula both fool men, Vampire Woman pulling the wool over Harker’s eyes, and Inge deceiving the cowardly innkeeper.

The crucifix worn by Inge suggests she has a fear of vampirism, but she’s brave enough to gift the crucial journal to Van Helsing, surreptitiously passing him the book during his visit to the inn.

As with the Vampire Woman, Lucy Holmwood’s introduction is characterised by dialogue that feels gender stereotypical: she appears too physically feeble to even stand, and her words to Mina and her brother, Arthur, sound borderline pathetic. ‘Jonathan will be home soon,’ she predicts, ‘I know it. Then I’ll get better… I won’t be a trouble to Doctor Seward or any of you.’

This is the Carol Marsh of Brighton Rock (1947) in which she played the unshakeably innocent Rose, Pinkie’s girlfriend. Sort of. (It’s complicated…) As the gangster’s love interest she’s believable and likeable despite her character’s incredibly frustrating naivety, and in later years Marsh admitted catching sight of herself in the flick and reflecting, ‘My God what a sweet little girl. So naturally sweet.’

She brings the exact same essence to Lucy in Dracula, and during her first moments she’s presented as another unthreatening figure. But by this stage we’re onto the filmmakers’ ploys and misdirection, meaning it’s inevitable the audience is immediately suspicious of her status. Therefore, to reassure us of her ‘goodness’ there’s a crucifix hanging limply around her neck, prominent enough for it to be unmissable. It lies across the top of her demure, buttoned-up nightdress, close to her throat. An indication that she’s untouched by vampirism. That Van Helsing and the Holmwoods can still protect her, and that for once, here is a female figure who’s precisely whom she appears to be.

Carol Marsh shot to fame when she was selected from more than 3000 hopefuls to play the pivotal part of Rose in Brighton Rock. Here she demonstrates a greater, subtler range as she brings Lucy to life (and death).

That supposition is turned on its head the moment Mina and her husband leave her bedroom. Again, James Bernard’s music teases the truth as a haunting, dreamlike melody accompanies Lucy’s preparations, and Carol Marsh achieves a curious ambiguity as the scene unfolds. She moves as if in a trance, yet there’s an intent to her actions and her movements are swift and precise, a fact that suggests that on one level, at least, she’s acting of her own volition. This is underlined when she removes the crucifix she’s wearing; she gives the slightest hint of smile, but it’s the kind of smile that chills. Lucy might be in the grip of some kind of supernatural force, but there’s an eagerness to her behaviour that signals she’s eager for whatever it’ll lead to.

The sight of the puncture marks on her throat simply confirms what we’d already guessed and by the time Fisher shows us the bedroom’s open door, we know exactly who her nocturnal visitor will be.

And so Lucy becomes Dracula’s first victim in this new environment. He’s already attacked prey in his castle, of course, but by shifting his hunting ground to this domestic, more identifiable setting, his potency increases. Lucy’s vulnerability is our vulnerability. Even a woman surrounded by a loving family and apparently safe due to the crucifix around her neck, is not only vulnerable to the Count, she’s already been ‘seduced’ by him.

Lucy again demonstrates that you should never trust a wooded area in a Hammer film…

Lucy later uses Gerda’s misplaced kindness to ensure her bedroom becomes defenceless and hours later she’s dead. As the newly undead she rises from her tomb, but any lingering sympathy we may have for her vanishes when she targets Tania, the maid’s child who regards her as an aunt. Once again Lucy sets out to deceive, this time exploiting the youngster’s natural inclinations. ‘I know somewhere nice and quiet,’ she assures the girl as she takes her hand, adding ominously, ‘…where we can play.’

Another disturbing element of her new vampiric self presents itself when she meets Arthur. As reviewer Gene Phillips pointed out for Numm Theory, ‘When Lucy rises from the dead, Sangster’s script again invokes incestuous tones very briefly, as Lucy offers to give her horrified brother Arthur a “kiss.”’

Overall, Lucy represents Dracula’s greatest triumph within the film. He has found the fiancée of the man who sought to destroy him, and he has poisoned her, not simply in a physical sense by rendering her a vampire, but in terms of perverting her impulses and morality. As the freshly minted ‘creature of the night’ leads Tania into the thick, moonlight woods we know there may be hope for the child, but Lucy is lost in every meaningful sense of the word.

Nevertheless, when Van Helsing hammers a stake into her chest, the act is surely Dracula’s most successful act of revenge. The effect the action has upon her brother, Arthur, is painful to watch and when her corpse reverts to its pre-bite state moments later, the transformation merely reminds us of what Dracula took. The Count’s complete victory with Lucy helps to establish the jeopardy his opponents now face. Had she escaped, the threat levelled at Mina and her friends would have felt tepid, but Lucy’s fate emphasizes the power of Dracula and subtly warns the audience that a character’s innocence offers no guarantee they’ll be standing when the credits roll.

It may look as if Mina is concerned with her needlework, but in reality she’s following the thread of the men’s conversation.

In fact, of the three main female characters, Mina alone makes it to the finishing line, although despite this she’s been given a hard time by many reviewers. In Franchises: Hammer's Dracula Series, Cody states, ‘Mina Holmwood (Melissa Stribling), while a bit more significant to the story than Elizabeth was in The Curse of Frankenstein, is still not one of the stronger characters in Dracula. Her role is very minimal during the second act of the movie, as the only significant thing she does is inform Van Helsing of Lucy’s illness, leading him to examine her and discover that she’s falling under Dracula’s influence.’

It could equally be argued that her character in Hammer’s Dracula is an intellectual downgrade on the Mina found in the original novel where she’s written as a much more independent person. A sharp and savvy schoolteacher, she’s the subject of Van Helsing’s notorious attempt at positivity when in Chapter 18 of the book he proclaims, ‘Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina! She has a man's brain, a brain that a man should have were he much gifted, and a woman's heart. The good God fashioned her for a purpose, believe me, when He made that so good combination.’

But to claim that the movie’s Mina has no agency in terms of the events as they spin out of control is to do her a disservice. Her opening scene is an instructive one. Van Helsing is visiting Arthur and Mina to deliver his woefully incomplete account of Harker’s fate. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Holmwood,’ he says with no hint of apology in his voice, ‘but I really cannot tell you any more about how he died.’

Arthur snaps back, ‘Cannot or will not?’

And the doctor replies with the self-satisfied air of a chess player queening a pawn. ‘Whichever you wish.’

‘Set design is sumptuous, costuming is of course a key feature…the female characters all look brilliant…’ - Rodney Twelftree writing for Fernby Films.

As the two men bicker and bark at each other, Mina utters less than half a dozen words. But throughout the exchange, Fisher makes sure Melissa Stribling is central within the mise-en-scène, strongly implying Mina’s centrality to the proceedings. She listens, watches, waits and analyses, and asks the only truly pertinent question in the back-and-forth when she queries when Harker died.

After Van Helsing leaves she takes control of the situation, gently and unobtrusively, to the extent that her guiding influence is often overlooked. Whereas Arthur makes it clear he wants nothing more to do with Van Helsing, it’s Mina that stresses his attributes and lays the foundation for the collaboration which later becomes vital. ‘Whatever his motives,’ she says of the enigmatic scientist, ‘you can be sure he has a good reason for them.’

Interestingly, when they’re alone, Arthur shows that he needs his wife. Now he asks for her opinion and allows himself to be guided by her. She’s unfazed by this role and quickly shows her wise and practical nature. For instance, having defended Van Helsing she reminds her husband, ‘We can’t help poor Jonathan now… Lucy is the one we must think of…’ Stribling plays the conversation beautifully. Coaxing and comforting, but always in command. The scene began with two men arguing about the past and ends with a woman establishing the present situation and planning for the future. ‘She’s got to be told some time,’ she informs Arthur as he worries about what Lucy should and shouldn’t know, concluding with, ‘We’ll see how she is this evening.’

Much has been made of her sexual relationship with Dracula, and rightly so. As K Wadsworth recalled in The Movie Crash Course, ‘…when filming one scene, in which Mina comes home after having been lured out by Dracula, Fisher advised Stribling to play it as if she’d just come home from one hell of a one-night stand.’ These undercurrents were plainly deliberate and conspicuous, but there’s more to the character.

Promotional material featuring Olga Dickie as Gerda. The housemaid and her daughter are treated with warmth and affection by the Holmwoods, further fostering the notion of an innocent family being under attack. Dickie later appeared in the Hammer horrors, Kiss of the Vampire (1962) and The Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb (1964).

In one wry and memorable scene, for example, Van Helsing and Holmwood plot their counter-attack on Dracula whilst Mina (already ‘converted’ by the Count) quietly continues with her embroidery, only paces behind them. The men don’t suspect her as being one of their enemy’s ‘agents’ for a second (‘We’ll be with you in a moment, my darling…’) as she sews away, stitching them both up by simply listening to their schemes, ready to report their plan to the character they’re conspiring against.

Ultimately, Mina is the film’s ‘final girl’ decades before the phrase was first termed, and after surviving Dracula’s attempts to claim her, we leave her ‘restored’ and untainted by vampirism. If Lucy was his greatest triumph, Mina represents his most costly failure and ultimately her actions lead to his downfall at the hands (and candlesticks) of Van Helsing.

Although not present for that battling finale, like Inge before her and however indirectly, the doomed Lucy, Mina is one of the women who make Dracula’s destruction possible. As such, their significance in the narrative cannot be overstated. As characters they may lack the blood spattered, full-throated drama of the Count, and the more obvious heroism of Van Helsing, but without their presence, the narrative of Dracula would totally collapse, dissolving as completely as a vampire in sunlight.

You can read more about Hammer’s long awaited restoration and release of Dracula, including how to order your copy, by visiting the online store now!