Friday, 29 December 2006

I am Dracula, welcome to my fiasco

I only watched half of the BBC's absurd Christmas production of Dracula. 45 minutes or so was quite enough. It's one thing to play fast and loose with Stoker's plot, which does have a few holes. It's another to add more holes...
So we are supposed to believe that poor Lord Holmwood, having inherited his dad's syphilis along with his estate, decides to recruit a bunch of Satanic loons in black mitres to 'cleanse his blood'. Said loons tell clap-ridden lord to bring their beloved Count to England. Lord Holmwood does not seem to have inquired into the precise method whereby the medical miracle is to be performed. Give me a break. And then we get the Buffy stuff, with Drac lifting up his lordship by the throat, one handed, and slamming him against his bookshelves. And I gave up because it wasn't going to get any better.
It's not as if it was particularly well played. What is it about modern actors? They are totally incapable of conveying a true to sense of period - the effect is of modern people dressed up. At some points the dialogue also smacked of the dressing up box, with unmistakeably modern phrases and rhythms of speech. Oh dear, oh dear.