Lorna Irvine reviews the production from Mark Bruce Company, recently seen at the Tramway.
This Hallowe'en treat is rooted in atmosphere rather than viscera, coming on as a theatrical experience, not full ballet in the traditional sense in spite of some gorgeous Russian-inspired folk dancing and Dracula's robust flamenco-tinged solos. It's tilted more towards storytelling.
A tentative start blends the brutality of a woman set upon by wolves and her baby snatched, setting up a dark foreshadowing of things to come; with camp pastiche, facilitated by huge horses’ heads worn by the male dancers as they make for Dracula's castle, and the proposal to society beauty Lucy Westenra (Kristin McGuire) by three suitors, culminating in an ageing Lord (Nicholas Cass-Beggs) serenading her in OTT, swooning matinee idol mode. This scene is a little overwrought and could have been trimmed down a little. Dracula himself (a fine Jonathan Goddard) is lacking in menace initially, but soon develops into a lurking, predatory creep.
The second half is where it really comes into its own, with a ramped-up Gothic eroticism. Dracula's superb Vampire Brides (Grace Jabbari, Nicole Guarino and Hannah Kidd) morph into (to the delight of many men in the audience) saucy French maids who seem somewhat unconcerned with cleaning: Victorian prostitutes and nymph-like moon goddesses. Indeed, at times there seems to be a modern feminist subtext to this, where the women hold the power—an antidote to the societal fear of women's sexuality implicit in Bram Stoker's novel. Mina Harker, beautifully portrayed by Eleanor Duval, has the ultimate seduction after her wedding night and becomes insatiable- she has tasted blood from the Count and writhes with the ecstasy of it, only to become a marked woman—the 19th Century equivalent of 'slut shaming'.
There really is no (tomb)stone left unturned: puppets and masks by Pickled Image are evocative of Victorian imagery, comprising wolf and horse masks, clockwork mice and pigeons who deliver love letters. They complement Phil Eddoll's majestic fairy-lit iron gates where the Vampire Brides are left to hang as a warning and sliding coffins from whence characters spring. The soundtrack, ranging from Bruce's own gorgeous acoustic score to music hall to the dissonant soundscapes of Fred Frith, is an eclectic delight.
Yet the overall tone of Dracula is often unclear—too sexual for younger viewers, too sweet for adults. Although problematic, this re-imagining is an enjoyable, if slight, spectacle.
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