Leave it to Guy Maddin to delve into another realm, that of classical ballet, and come up with yet another film so novel it challenges categorization. The Canadian filmmaker, whose previous offbeat achievements include Twilight of the Ice Nymphs, Careful, and Tales from the Gimli Hospital, uses his extraordinarily fertile imagination to sculpt the Winnipeg Royal Ballet's performance of Dracula into a film full of frenzied energy and enchantment.
At once elegant and extravagant, the familiar story is buoyed with new life and infused with dance. The black and white cinematography, washed in monochromatic tones of sepia, blue, green, or purple, and punctuated by an occasional splash of blood red, serves the vision to perfection. This visual style and use of color layered over the black and white, as in the rosy blush of Lucy's cheek, after she has been revived with life-restoring transfusions from suitors in competition for her hand, drive the story along with the dance. The addition of economical inter-titles and a pounding orchestral score combine to yield a spirited payoff. With his penchant for the intensely visual cinematic language of early silent cinema (such as Georges Méliès' Voyage to the Moon, 1902) and German expressionism, Maddin tweaks and bends the stage production by Mark Godden into something quite different from what the theatre audience sees. It is also distinguished from other film versions of the Dracula legend.
Surprisingly little footwork is on display in many of the scenes, but the grace and movement of classically trained ballet dancers using their hands, arms, and faces accentuates other aspects of dance. The focus here renders a unique treatment of an old tale, with the ballet and Maddin's characteristic eccentric outlook as its foundations. Highly stylized close ups of the dancers' heavily made up stage faces, complete with flying sweat, furnish a perspective not possible to see from a traditional audience seat. A visual style that includes double exposures, superimposed images and Maddin's self-described "rip-and paste editing" merge for a riveting spectacle.
Some of the liberties taken with Bram Stoker's archetypal, undead anti-hero include a socio-economic aspect, where dollar bills are lusted over and a Count who bleeds gold coins. Although anyone who moves with as much grace as does this count (Zhang Wei-Qiang), all swirling pirouettes and tondue stance, is by definition not as menacing as the Dracula of Gary Oldman or Christopher Lee, but is closer to the smooth, seductive Frank Langella.
It is probably a good thing that everyone knows the basic ghoulish story of the count and his thirst for the blood of virgins, because Maddin takes it from there and makes it his own. Delicacies such as babies for snacking on by the harem back at the castle, plays like speed dating for the count.
The otherworldly interludes where Dracula dances with Lucy or Nina in a nightmare graveyard fantasy, provide the primary showcase for the choreography and skill of the dancers, also on display as the demon gargoyles frolic over the devil's playground. There is no denying his limitless creativity, and according to Maddin, the Winnipeg dance company was intensely curious (read a little nervous) about how this project would look on screen. His creative vision does not disappoint.
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