The greatest vampire film ever made

There is one vampire film to which I return time and again and find new things to appreciate each time. This is Terence Fisher's Dracula (1958, aka Horror of Dracula), Hammer Studios' first foray into the Dracula myth. And it is a fabulous film in every way.

Universal's 1931 film became a legend solely on the basis of its star, Bela Lugosi. It is a beloved classic because Lugosi was unforgettable in the title role - but as a film, the final two thirds are pedestrian after a haunting, deftly crafted first third. With Hammer's version, however, every element works, and the brilliance is sustained until the very end.

The Hammer film opens with the foreboding image of a stone eagle mounted on a pillar of Castle Dracula. James Bernard's pounding main theme adds to the sense of dreadful anticipation as the camera descends past the castle entrance and into Dracula's crypt, where blood splashes onto the tomb of the eponymous vampire.

It is hard, 50 years on, to appreciate the freshness of Hammer's vision. For one thing, this was the first time Dracula had been seen in colour. But Fisher admitted he had not gone to the 1931 film for inspiration, and yet the image of Lugosi had dominated the public's conception of Dracula for almost three decades. Imagine, then, the sense of unease when Jonathan Harker (John van Eyssen) steps not into a dank, cobwebbed, haunted castle, but into the palatial, almost exotic surrounds of Hammer's castle, designed by Bernard Robinson. (His designs for the castle were so radical, Hammer considered firing him; fortunately, he went on to work with the studio for another fifteen years.)

The first section of the film, in which Harker arrives at Dracula's castle, is full of surprises which are perhaps lost on modern audiences, or at least on those who (like myself) have watched the movie dozens of times. One of the earliest is the arrival of Dracula himself. Like Lugosi, Christopher Lee arrives sinisterly at the top of a staircase (with jarring cymbal clash), but we are disarmed after the initial shiver of fright. He descends the staircase swiftly and steps into the light, where he welcomes Harker courteously and with charm. He is not Lugosi's strange and dusty creature, but a young, dashingly handsome host.

The next surprise is when Harker writes in his diary, and reveals that he is already fully aware of the truth about Dracula, and is on a mission to destroy him and "forever end his reign of terror". There follows the scene in which Harker ventures into the library, where a young girl begs him to save her from the clutches of the Count. In one of the film's most terrifyingly fantastic images, Dracula appears in the doorway, his mouth dripping with blood, and instantly these two formerly elegant creatures become feral monsters, hissing and encircling each other like animals fighting each other for their lives.

By the end of the first third of the film, we have been introduced to two of the film's greatest assets: Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, who now makes his arrival as Van Helsing. This was not their first pairing; they were co-stars in the previous year's The Curse of Frankenstein, but this was the film that was truly to make Lee's name.

The rest of the film is awash with more fabulous and mesmerizing imagery, thanks largely to the lighting and camerawork of Jack Asher, and Bernard Robinson's designs. Over the course of the next hour we will witness Dracula's mysterious and sensual appearance amid swirling autumn leaves outside the bedroom of his female victim; we will watch him cross the castle moat, his cape flowing majestically behind him; we will watch him ascend the staircase toward the camera, and we will watch as he seduces his victim with kisses before disappearing out of view to feed on her flesh.

At the end of the film, we will see the most enduring images of all, as Count Dracula meets his demise in rays of morning sun. Here Lee's performance not only captures Dracula's demonic rage, but evokes a certain pathos, with an unforgettable sadness in his eyes as his last breaths leave his rapidly decaying body. It was not often Lee was given the chance to give a performance of this magnitude.

And it was perhaps never again that Hammer would combine all the elements of a production - script, acting, direction, music, camerawork, design - so perfectly. The Devil Rides Out (1968) might come close. And I cannot think of a film before or since that brings the imagery of vampirism to the screen with such mastery.