original production:

EL VAMPIRO

Cast: German Robles (Count Karol de Lavud/Duval), Abel Salazar (Dr. Enrique/Henry), Ariadna Welter (as "Adriadna Welter")(Marta/Martha), Carmen Montejo (Eloisa), Jose Luis Jimenez (Emilio), Mercedes Soler, Alicia Montoya (Maria Teresa), Jose Chavez, Julio Daneri, Amado Zumaya, Margarito Luna, Dick Barker, Edward Tucker, Lydia Mellon

PLOT OUTLINE:
(From IMDb): Called to a laboratory where experiments have been performed on bats and other animals, Dr. Beecher is given a bottle of pills by a dying scientist. Taking the pills by mistake, Beecher finds out that at night his body regresses into a savage, monstruous state and he unknowingly kills several acquaintences on succesive nights, biting them in the neck and drinking their blood. Buck Donnelly, the local sheriff, figures out his friend Beecher is the killer and must try to stop him before he kills his next victim, Beecher's nurse, Carol Butler, whom Donnelly has fallen in love with. (!)

(From AFI): In contemporary Mexico the vampire Count Duval and his descendants scheme to steal the beautiful Marta's fortune. The count quickly dominates Marta's aunt. Marta, although buried alive, is rescued, and a stake is driven through the vampire's heart.

GUEST SYNOPSIS:
by Brendan O'Brien
As the opening credits roll, a vampire in a courtyard observes a woman preparing for bed. He transforms into a bat, flies into her room, and attacks her.

A toy train pulls into the Sierra Negra Station. A crate is unloaded, addressed to M. Duval and full of dirt from Hungary. A girl disembarks from the train; her name is Martha and her uncle Ambrose has summoned her to the family estate, the Sycamores. At the station she meets a man who speaks as if he's auditioning badly for a hardboiled detective film; they discover that they are both stuck without a ride. According to the station master, no one in the locale likes to go out after dark. He also says that Duval, the man for whom the dirt is addressed, is crazy. A man on a horse drawn cart arrives to pick up the crate of dirt. Martha and the man hitch a ride with him.

Cut to a torch led funeral procession. After it passes through, a woman in black with a long veil appears. The procession descends into a crypt; the mourners cross themselves while passing a grave marked "Karol, Count Lavud". Before the casket is interred, the dead woman's brother asks to see her one more time. A woman takes a rosary from the body. The mourners leave and Anselmo, the caretaker, begins to seal up the grave. The woman reads a note she found in the rosary and shows Anselmo. He looks shocked and glances back at the grave.

Cut back to the cart. The man drops off his passengers in the middle of the woods. Martha and her traveling companion set off for the Sycamores on foot. The man introduces himself; he's Henry, a traveling salesman. They are followed by the mysterious woman in black. They trade life histories and arrive at the Sycamores. Anselmo lets them in and we see that the estate is in ruins. They are welcomed by uncle Ambrose. Outside, the woman in black changes into a bat. Inside, she reveals herself to be Martha's aunt Eloise. Martha notes that her aunt doesn't seem to have aged in years. Eloise tells her that her aunt Mary, who she came to see, died yesterday. Henry tries to leave but is convinced to stay. Ambrose and Eloise tell Martha that Mary had become insane in her last months; raving about vampires. A book teeters on a shelf. Eloise shows Martha to her room and Henry reveals his true identity: a doctor sent for by Ambrose to tend to Mary.

The vampire from the opening sequence rises from his casket. He checks in on his henchmen, who are receiving the dirt delivery. Inside the crate is a casket filled with dirt; dirt which will be used to resurrect Count Lavud, who is this vampire's brother. Back at the Sycamores, Eloise and Martha discuss ownership of the estate. Aunt Mary left her part to Martha in her will. Two of the three owners must agree in order for the Sycamores to sell, and Eloise knows a potential buyer.

On his way to the Sycamores, Duval attacks a boy. As he is about to arrive, Eloise communicates with him telepathically, warning him about Henry. When he arrives, they discuss things in the study. The teetering book finally falls to the ground. Henry discovers that it is a written account of the death of Karol Lavud and surmises that Lavud and Duval are countrymen. The housekeeper then shows Henry to his room, where he questions her about the dead aunt. They have the obligatory "native explaining superstition to skeptic" conversation. Henry settles down to read the book, but is interrupted by a ghostly lullaby. He then hears Martha crying out on the landing and goes out to comfort her with a silly cheer-up talk. She explains that she is distraught over her aunt and the deterioration of the estate, to which he gives an even sillier cheer-up talk. She goes to bed and Henry continues reading the book.

In Martha's room, a secret passageway opens and the woman who had been buried comes into the room. She places a cross on the pillow next to Martha's head. Good thinking on her part, because Martha's next visitor is Duval. But first Eloise appears in Henry's room and goes through his belongings; discovering his true identity. We see that she casts no reflection. She reports her findings to Duval, who shrugs it off, delivers a vampire empowerment speech, and flies off to vampirize Martha. When he arrives he is repulsed by the cross, but luckily Martha knocks it off of the bed. He nibbles her and returns to his coffin.

The next morning Martha tells Henry that she dreamt of her encounter with Duval, except she saw him as a man who attempted to kiss her. They notice the door to Martha's old room, where her Aunt Mary sang her a secret lullaby. Martha sings it to Henry, and of course it is the song that Henry heard the night before. He goes into the room to find it covered in dust and cobwebs. Martha goes into the room to see the woman who had been buried; whom she recognizes as her Aunt Mary. After a hysterical Martha has been calmed down, Eloise announces the impending arrival of Duval. Martha notices Eloise's lack of reflection. Eloise tells Duval that Martha noticed and he orders her to "use the ring". Everybody gets together for drinks and Eloise drugs Martha's. Henry unwittingly explains Duval's entire M.O. as read in the book. Eloise and Duval noticeably shrink from Anselmo's cross, but Martha spazzes at an opportune moment. They take Martha to her room, where Henry pronounces her dead.

They lay Martha out and Anselmo strikes a strange pose at the foot of the bed. Henry smokes outside the room. He enters, and Anselmo sees Martha's little finger twitch. Henry detects Martha's breath on a mirror and they realize she's alive. So of course they leave her alone and unconscious and go check Mary's grave, which is empty. Marilyn tells them about the note she found in the rosary which said, in so many words, "I'm not dead, dig me up". Which Anselmo did, and Mary decided to live as a ghoul in tunnels beneath the Sycamores instead of reveal the circumstances of her near death, which she does to the group as soon as they find her. She had been drugged by Duval and Eloise in hopes that they could gain control of her ownership of the Sycamores. Which must be what happened to Martha. Remember Martha?

Of course, by this point Duval has captured Martha. Henry pursues them and is in turn followed by Eloise, who is set upon and killed by Mary. Henry catches up and Duval attacks him with a sword, from which Henry is able to defend himself with a damn hardy wooden torch. The torch does eventually break and set the joint on fire. Henry is pretty much screwed until the cock crows and Duval must flee. Henry cannot follow because he is set upon by the vampire's henchmen. Duval makes it safely back to his casket, but Mary is able to track him down and drives the stake home. As he dies, Martha awakes from a trance she was never in to begin with. The sun scorches Eloise down to bone.

The next day at the train station, Henry gives Martha a long winded farewell speech that is totally drowned out by passing trains.

Hug, kiss, THE END.

GUEST REVIEW:
by Brendan O'Brien
It would be easy to simply dismiss THE VAMPIRE as cheapo crap. But upon repeated viewing, one finds that there are subtleties at work that make this film more than a throwaway. There is a certain atmosphere accomplished through the sparse but effective sets, and there's no one performance that offends. But, since this is a K. Gordon Murray production, there's only so much you can infer about the acting. The dubbing is accurate most of the time, and unintentional laughs occur often enough to keep things interesting.

THE VAMPIRE, to sum up in a sentence, is a cheapie Mexican tribute to DRACULA (1931). It's not derivative; the borrowed elements don't stink of plagiarism but instead suggest humble homage. The opening sequence echoes Drac; an arrival in a strange foreign town with warnings about going out after dark, etc. A strange cart ride follows, a staple of the early vampire films (a more effective and closer-to-source cart ride shows up in Murray's THE BLOODY VAMPIRE). The theme of real estate is a central plot device, but many of the main plot elements are flimsy. Why does Duval want so badly to buy the Sycamores when he seems to be able to come and go as he pleases? All he really needs to get at is the basement crypt and his brother's grave, which could be accomplished by sneaking in with his henchmen. And why can't these vampires ever come up with anything to hide their identity that's more sophisticated than reversing their last name? Duval - Lavud. Dracula - Alucard. And why does it take people so long to figure these things out? Christ, in DRACULA A.D. 1972 Van Helsing had to spell them both out and he's supposed to be an expert on this stuff. Anyway, Duval isn't the most frightening vamp anyone's ever seen, he actually looks kinda dorky, especially in the patented vampire Halloween costume we all wore when we were seven.

The good guys are especially clueless throughout. The idea that they're up against vampires doesn't even occur to them until they find Mary. Their skepticism is almost comical. It's especially so when Henry firmly denies believing in vampires while standing right next to Duval who could be identified as a vampire by standing next to a Count Chocula box. Henry actually gets an interesting twist in his character. When he's introduced, the viewer starts counting down the minutes until he's revealed as the disguised vampire hunter. When he proves to be just as stupid as the rest, it's a refreshing curveball.

The other characters are either puzzling or ineffectual. Mary comes under the first category. Why would she rather run around the catacombs looking like Lily Munster's evil twin than expose those who attempted to murder her? Why is Ambrose so detatched from the entire situation? He hasn't noticed that his sister hasn't aged in years and he doesn't care that his house is falling into ruination. Actually, no one who actually lives there seems to care that the place is a dump. What might have something to do with the condition of the place is that no one seems to mind that visitors drive their horse-drawn carriages right into the front hall. They also don't mind that the village crypt is in their basement. They must get a damn good mortgage deal. On the plus side, the Sycamores does manage to project a palpable sense of decay and depression, essential for any good vampire flick. Also lending to the atmosphere is the almost constant smoke; at least the dry ice budget seemed to be bottomless.

As for special effects, they're pretty much what you would expect. Rubber bats, magic marker bite marks, and awkward edits representing bat transformations. Some are as smooth as such things are ever gonna get, others are laughably abrupt. Duval gets extra credit for pretending to jump right before he "takes flight". The fisticuffs are your standard Batman type stuff; marvel at the cutting-edge use of the "fist-cam" when Henry takes on that guy who was driving the cart in the beginning of the movie.

The dialogue isn't gonna blow anybody away. In contrast, the words actually appear to be coming from the speaker's lips more often than you'd expect. Most of the speeches, such as Henry's attempts to cheer Martha or Duval's statement of purpose are pretty flat. It all makes Henry's final speech to Martha at the train station into a humorously self-deprecating gesture on the parts of the writer and/or dubber.

These Mexican vampire flicks are probably the most important group of national vampire films with the obvious exception of Hammer Studios, and THE VAMPIRE is at the forefront of them. While Hammer had a lot more to work with and charismatic stars, the Mexican films are certainly better than Hammer's worst - just see the afore-mentioned A.D. 1972 for proof. Not everyone can jive with the Murray trademarks that are so endearing to his fans, but THE VAMPIRE should be seen by everyone who considers themselves a fan or student of vampire films.

GUEST SYNOPSIS/REVIEW:
by John Soister
Towards the end of his life, Bela Lugosi was frustrated by – among many other things – a complete lack of interest in his plans to remake Universal’s 1931 DRACULA in 3-D and color. While the lion’s share of the apathy was directed at Lugosi himself, Hollywood pretty much felt that tales of science fiction – fueled by notions of the mutative propensities of atomic energy and the not-so-logical progressions concerning Sputnik – had supplanted ticket-buyers’ loyalties for the “classic” monsters.

South of the border, however, horror aficionados rejoiced in local variations on the Universal classics: Kharis, the Egyptian ne’er-do-well, became Popoca, the short-fused Aztec shaman. The Frankenstein Monster was treated to any number of Jack Pierce-inspired reincarnations, although the multi-syllabic rendering of his creator’s name continually bewildered the scribes. Dracula was likewise Johnny-on-the-Spot, even if he introduced himself to eager audiences as Lavud, Frankenhausen, or Nostradamus.

Duval is the Dracula character in EL VAMPIRO, and – in Murray’s English-language rendition – the old boy is NOT a Count, an Earl, or a Baron: He’s just MISTER Duval, despite his being attired in the standard Lugosi soup and fish, and his sporting a saucer-sized medallion. Lest anyone think the democratization is a result of the translation, though, the box of earth he receives from Hungary is clearly addressed to Sr. (Señor) Duval. (Actually, the box bears the abbreviations for both Señor AND Mister; nobody’s gonna put anything over on Mexican customs.

Duval is rich, I guess: anyone who can afford to have a load of earth shipped over from the old country, not only in a packing crate, but also in a substantial – if superfluous – casket, has GOT to have some serious money. He wants to buy the Sycamores, the run-down hacienda where most of the action unfolds, but it’s anyone’s guess as to why. Anyhow, in the pre-title sequence, he vampirizes Eloise Gladdington, a thirty-ish spinster who will act as catalyst for the rest of the film’s action.

So, Martha (Adriadna Welter), a lovely young lady who works in a small store, arrives by train in Sierra Negra. She’s in town to see her Aunt Mary, who’s very sick and is dying. Having just missed her Uncle Ambrose, who left because of an avalanche or something, she has no ride to get to the Sycamores, the family’s ancestral estate where she was raised as a child by her Aunts Mary and Eloise, Ambrose’s sisters. A clever young fellow, Henry (Abel Salazar), strikes up a conversation with her, and soon the two of them are comfortably ensconced atop the crate of earth, which has been loaded onto a wagon by a guy “with a madman’s face,” a slouch hat and a black cape. The crate is heading up to the Duval place, so the young pair gets a lift most of the way, being tossed off the wagon about an hour’s walk from the Sycamores. The wagon, the crate, and the guy in the cape (Duval’s servant, Boris (!), who mouths his few lines – in the English version, at any rate - in a decent enough Bela Lugosi imitation) continue on their merry way.

In the meantime, the occupants of the Sycamores have carried Aunt Mary out to the family crypt, where she’s laid to rest. (The assembled mourners are unaware that they’re being watched by Aunt Eloise, who is now a vampire herself. We learn immediately that vampires can appear out of nowhere via supernatural jump cuts, or can occasionally opt for more fancy optical fades.) Before the casket can be walled up, Ambrose takes a last look at his poor, crazed sister – she had been tormented by the thought of vampires everywhere for four years – and grants the maidservant Marilyn’s request for Mary’s rosary. In the scapular there’s a note, however, which Marilyn shares with faithful old family retainer, Anselmo.

Martha and Henry arrive at the Sycamores (having been followed at a distance by Eloise, who is as prone to striking poses as she is to coming and going in the twinkling of an eye), where they are greeted by Anselmo, Marilyn, and Ambrose. Ambrose is genuinely surprised: despite his having waited for her all morning at the train station, he really didn’t expect her until the following day. As Martha has already revealed that Ambrose has only come back to the Sycamores recently, having spent his life traveling the world, we can only presume he’s mentally still in some other time zone.

Martha is astounded that her Aunt Eloise still looks as if she was 30, when she is really (per an earlier description) elderly! Ambrose doesn’t seem to have noticed his sister’s youthful and lusty demeanor, but, as we’ve established, the old fellow marches to the beat of a different clock. (Actually, the array of dates and timetables dropped into the viewer’s lap by Ramón Obón’s screenplay makes for some very interesting temporal confusion, a la Universal at its dizziest. More on this later.) Martha is reduced to tears at the news of Aunt Mary’s demise, and she’s walked up to her room by Eloise, who never wastes an opportunity to widen her eyes or glower importantly when no one is watching.

While Martha and Eloise unpack, two notable occurrences… errr… occur: a) Henry reveals to Ambrose that he is NOT a traveling salesman, but is the doctor Ambrose had sent for to examine poor, daft Mary. Hence, he is DOCTOR Henry, although only he and his God are aware of his last name. Ambrose cautions Henry to tell no one of this, although only Ambrose and HIS God know why. B) Over at the Duval place, Mr. Duval awakens from his unholy slumber. In a timeless homage to Bela Lugosi, the Duval hand creeps out from under the coffin lid; as this is an homage only, no one should feel compelled to ask why the crawling hand when Duval’s casket opens and shuts itself on its own. In a flash, the Mister is up and he just walks right through the closed door. (If vampires can just walk right through doors and walls, why bother to install a casket with an automatic lid anyway?)

As Duval wanders aimlessly through his holdings, Boris and a couple of henchmen bring in the crate. (At this juncture, the crate is handled as if it actually contained something of measurable weight; at the train station earlier, the crate was hoisted about on the fingertips of four teamsters. Likewise, neither Miss Welter nor Mr. Salazar manage to pull off the illusion that the baggage they lugged about during the opening reel contains anything whatsoever.) For the benefit of anyone listening, the vampire launches into a vague account of how his brother, COUNT Karol de Lavud, had been killed 100 years ago, and how – in two moons (an ambiguous phrase, if ever there was one) – Duval will bring his brother and the dirt together and then… Just watch out!

Telling the stooges to “hook up” the horses (God bless K. Gordon Murray!), Duval makes for the Sycamores. En route, he passes a young Mexican boy who appears to be out for a stroll through the desolate countryside with his mother. Stepping from the carriage, the vampire transforms into a bat, swoops onto the boy (the woman – I sincerely hope it wasn’t his mother – takes off in a flash), and has a bite to drink.

(The bat transformations in this film are many, and varied. At first, it seems that one has to scrunch down and then pop up in order to transform. Duval does this twice in the course of the picture, although the second instance is just a case of the same footage being used a second time. The resultant bats – which seem as though they’re somehow mystically connected to a network of wires – fly without flapping their wings. They do screech loudly, however, and this probably explains something to cannier folk than I. The bat that attacks the young peon is substantially smaller than the gigunda one that sailed up through Eloise’s [and, later, Martha’s] window. Later in the film, Eloise changes to bat form without scrunching/popping up, and Duval himself just disappears while talking, and then reappears as a bat, while talking. If he can talk while in bat form, why do he and Eloise persist in all that screeching?)

Duval shows up at the Sycamores to pay his respects, but Martha is too pooped to come down and meet him. She MAY have noticed from her vanity box mirror that Aunt Eloise casts no reflection, but the vagaries of the direction allow her to shrug the whole thing off. Duval plops down, cape and all, on a convenient sofa, in time to witness an old book fall mysteriously from its shelf to the floor. In another Universal moment, the book just happens to give precisely the information the still-breathing crowd needs to link Lavud (buried in the basement) with Duval (buried elsewhere, when not sprawled on the couch). But not yet. Henry begs off, heading for bed with the book under his arm.

While Henry grills Marilyn about Aunt Mary’s sanity, Duval bid good night to the remainder of the folks. The savvy maidservant lets Henry know about the mine tunnels that lay under the hacienda and reveals how it takes two bites from a vampire to create a vampire. (Duval – who has no carnal interest in her – and Eloise – who wants her signature on a sales receipt of the Sycamores to Duval – both want to make Martha a vampire. In case anybody missed Marilyn’s recitation, Duval will soon confirm that it does indeed take two nips to propagate the species. He reveals this while swooshing about in Eloise’s face, in bat-form.) Henry is distracted from his reading by the L-O-U-D crooning of a rather dreadful lullaby, but it takes the sound of obbing to get him onto the verandah. It’s Martha, who can’t sleep (apparently, SHE didn’t catch the singing that had just ended), but will give it another try after receiving a flirtatious pep talk from Henry.

Henry goes back to his book and promptly falls asleep. Eloise melts into his room, ransacks his baggage, goes through his pockets, and pauses only momentarily to strike a pose before batifying and flying over to Duval’s, where she spills the beans that the young man is a doctor. Meanwhile, Martha has managed to doze off. A secret door opens, and IN WALKS AUNT MARY, still clutching the formidable crucifix with which she was buried. Producing another cross – this one apparently constructed from cornstalk, or something – she positions it on the pillow next to Martha’s head and then scoots.

Without waiting for the horses to be hooked up, Duval flies over to the Sycamores. After the insertion of the pre-title footage, he flies up to Martha’s bedroom, but is prevented from attacking her by the cross on the pillow. The camera alternates between showing Duval cowering behind his cape and Martha moving fitfully in her sleep, and it appears as if we’re in for a long night of it when, out of dramatic necessity, Martha’s arm sweeps the little cross off the bed and onto the floor. Smirking grandeloquently, Duval is on her like fleas on a dog, and the shapely heroine is bitten for the first time…

Next morning, when Henry fails to notice the wounds on her neck (unlike most gorgeous vampiric victims, Martha does not demurely conceal her punctures with a scarf or a bit of frou-frou), the veteran Dracula aficionado begins to doubt whether the psychiatrist is in over his head. After a bit of give and take, Martha is urged to peek into the room which was her childhood nursery; she does, only to let out some sustained screeching of her own – there, dead center, behind all the cobwebs, stands AUNT MARY (again)! Martha is sedated and placed abed, Henry runs to the nursery and can find nothing, and Ambrose – not the brightest light on the tree – begins to think that maybe Martha DID see Mary, as the now slumbering young gal had described to a tee the way the old lady had been arrayed in the casket. Henry’s all for getting outta there, but Ambrose appeals that he stay until Martha recovers from the shock.

That night, Duval and Eloise are forced to put Routine 2 into play: the drug-that-simulates-death-in-the-poison-ring ploy. Martha, who knows for a FACT that Eloise casts no reflection – she and her aunt had engaged in prolonged eye-widening and nostril-flaring only moments before – doesn’t tell Henry, nor does she tell him that Duval – whom she espies now for the first time ever – was the man who visited her bedroom and tried to kiss her “in her dream.” Henry reports on the book he sort of read, informing everyone that

“If the vampire is not allowed to rest in the location where he met his death, then, with the passage of time, another has to appear. Another in that vampire’s family, who wants vengeance. He does this so his relative that’s underground can find peace and tranquility in his tomb.”

As Karol de Lavud HAS been lying, peacefully and tranquilly, in the spot where he was killed 100 years ago, it devolves to Duval to tell Henry that he and his book are full of mierde. He doesn’t, however, and – as there isn’t enough of the death-simulating drug handy with which to dose Henry as well – Eloise slips the mickey to Martha. Within moments, Martha has collapsed. Carrying the ample young beauty up to her room, Henry pronounces her dead with all the pent up emotion of a man who’s realized he’s left his wallet at home on the piano.

Cut to Martha on her funeral bed, enormous candles burning at the four corners, a jumbo crucifix adorning her chest. Anselmo prayers at the foot of the bier, Ambrose and Marilyn stare listlessly at the pretty cadaver, and Henry saunters into the room, no bothering to toss the cigarette he’s been sucking on in his grief. It’s Anselmo – not Dr. Henry – who notices that the girl’s still alive. Henry grabs a mirror (!) from his medical bag, surprising the cast and audience members who would’ve sworn the bag had been empty, save for a stethoscope.

The men make for the crypt, as Ambrose fears that Mary may have been drugged like Martha, and has been buried alive. The coffin is empty, and it remains for Marilyn – who has followed the men, leaving Martha as alone as a ham at a Seder supper – who has Anselmo tell what he knows. Mary – found alive and NOT CRAZY (although seriously upset) in yet another secret passage – HAD been buried alive by the vampires. She’s all for getting even. Leaving HER alone (at casual glance, the house appears strewn with unattended women), everyone hies for Martha’s room, although they pause to note (in Henry’s microscopic mirror) that Lavud spelled backwards is Duval.

Before they can make it to the heroine’s bedroom, however, Mister Duval has shown up again and is wrestling mightily with the husky damsel. As they are forced to hesitate several times by dramatic convention, the men arrive too late; Martha has (finally) been overcome by the vampire and is being carried off to her doom through the mineshafts. Henry and Ambrose find the secret door; Ambrose goes looking for a flashlight, while Henry – bearing a stumpy candle bit, bravely enters the tunnel. He then shuts the secret door behind him. No one knows why he does this, not even God.

Uncle Ambrose is ambushed by Aunt Eloise, who bites his neck but takes off when Anselmo and Marilyn come to the old man’s aid. The vampires, dogging Henry’s steps as he follows Duval, fails to remember her NOT CRAZY sister, Mary, who sneaks up behind her undead sibling and – with the strength of the not insane – strangles the evil bloodsucker. Henry catches up with Duval jus before the second bite can be delivered, and the two men begin to fence (!), with our hero using the torch he found inside the mineshaft.

After the torch is dashed from his hands and the curtains catch fire, Henry is knocked to the floor. Before Duval can perform the coup de grace, the sun rises in one remarkable fell swoop, a cock crows, and the vampire unerringly thrusts his sword deep into the floor alongside the supine Henry. Duval then makes a mad dash for his casket (which – doubtless in an hommage to John Carradine in House of Dracula – lies under a window); he gets there in the knick of time. The box closes atop him.

Aunt Mary, however, brings up the rear. Putting her crucifix down reverently, she arms herself with a handy broken table-leg, and pushes the casket lid back up. Into Duval goes the makeshift stake; upstairs, Martha leaps awake, as if she’d been stuck by a pin. Noticing the room in flames, she begins to shriek mightily. Gracias a Dios, Henry rushes in, having just decked Boris and another of the henchmen. Snatching up the beautiful señorita into his arms, he heads for the exit. Back in the shaft, somewhere, Aunt Eloise begins to decompose.

Los vampiros están muertos.

It’s impossible to watch EL VAMPIRO and not be struck by the film’s stylistic similarity to the great Universal horror programmers of the ‘40s. One might quibble about the bat effects, sure, but they are carried out with an admirable élan. Pausing to note that the scene in Henry’s bedroom is over-lit – at one point, he casts THREE separate shadows - ignores the fact that virtually every other scene is lit and photographed by Rosalio Solano in an atmospheric fashion worthy of Woody Bredell. Apart from the flanking sequences at the train station, the entire production is studio-bound, but Gunther Gerszo’s art direction aptly downplays that. Gustavo César Carrión’s pulse-pounding music grows dreadfully repetitious after the first few reels, although initially, the main theme – with its insistent three beats – drives home the relentless horror of the situation.

All of Universal’s vampire accoutrements are present; capes, coffins, and crosses proliferate. As it has always been easier to relieve the undead of their reflections than their shadows, there’s a spirited bit of business involving Henry’s jacket and a nearby mirror. Shadows, after all, add to the ambience, no? It is only mildly disconcerting to recall how only a wooden stake through the heart of a dormant bloodsucker will bring eternal peace, and then witness Mary choking the stuffing out of her sister. Perhaps, as Monty Python would aver, she was only stunned.

Universal made continuity – or the lack of it – an art form, especially with regard to the ‘40s Kharis saga. Viewing EL VAMPIRO, the audience is left bewildered by disparate timelines and pronouncements. Duval maintains that his mingling Hungarian earth with his brother’s remains on the precise centennial anniversary of the elder vampire’s destruction will restore el Conde Karol to his full powers. The book that Henry read – you know, the only shoved out of the case and onto the floor by persons or forces unknown – describes how the vampire will never find tranquility in his grave UNLESS he’s left the hell alone for 100 years. Or something.

Count Karol was killed in Mexico a century ago; his brother, Mr. No First Name Duval, moved into the neighborhood (if we can trust the stationmaster) about 10 years ago. Per the family timetable, he arrived a decade earlier than was necessary. He did put the bite on Eloise some time ago (she still appears to be about 30, remember?); but, why? The two don’t, ahem, live together. Did he vampirize her to get her vote as to the ultimate sale of the Sycamores? If so, why did he wait ten years to get rid of Mary? Was he waiting for Ambrose to get home? Since that book maintains that Karol de Lavud founded the Sycamores, why doesn’t Duval get a vote as his brother? Or is the book wrong about that, too? Why the hell do vampires want TWO broken down, God-forsaken haciendas, anyhow?

As with the Universal features, EL VAMPIRO doesn’t hold up when scrutinized closely and/or logically. But it wasn’t meant to be scrutinized, merely enjoyed. On that level, the picture scores highly as one of the most purely enjoyable pieces of genre hoakum to come out of Mexico or Hollywood. The acting is uneven, with even the best of the performers (sometimes Salazar, sometimes Welter) never more than adequate, but the picture doesn’t require great acting. It does require the willful suspension of belief on the part of the audience, as well as a wholehearted commitment (again, on the audience’s part) to give the intermittent logical lapses whatever boast it takes to keep the machinery in operation.

A ton of fun, even if no classic in its own right, EL VAMPIRO is requisite viewing for fans of Universal horrors in any of their incarnations.

REVIEW:
THE VAMPIRE, one of Mexican horror cinema's crown jewels, is indeed a most interesting take on Universal's DRACULA, albeit forty years after the fact, perhaps spawned by one of its many rereleases, or first apperance on Mexican television.

Subdued (for a Mexican horror film), and dripping with effective goth atmosphere, THE VAMPIRE is quite accomplished in many ways. It boasts some more-than-adequate performances and, although saddled with an ultra-simplistic script, actually manages to create a sense of dread and wonder.

The main credits roll over an action scene (vampire bites chick in neck), most unusual for a Murray release, in which credits almost always are superimposed over cheesy graphics or a still shot from the photoplay.

There's the typical, and pleasant, sense of anachronism which haunts most movies of this period and genre, and we get to see some fantastic real-life footage of the rural Mexican countryside, as well as some wistful scenes of the national railway. In fact, the train could be from the previous century, until one sees the modern passenger coach, from which disembarks our lovely heroine.

And lovely she is, Ariadna Welter in one of her first horror roles, looking especially chompable.

We soon settle in for a predictable, yet not uninteresting, stew of old ghosts, rubber bats and gentleman vampires, reminding us of Mr. Lugosi and Mr. Stoker, and all that beloved jazz.

In fact, perhaps as homage, one of the Count's footmen is dubbed by the Soundlab gang as if he were Bela Lugosi at voiceover camp!

The title ghoul is dubbed by super-voice Paul Nagel, is his best seducer-as-car salesman pitch. But when vampire becomes bat, it is dubbed as if it were a crow! Why?

There is a special treat in THE VAMPIRE for Murray enthusiasts; a dubbed song! "Go to Sleep Now" is a spooky mini-dirge, sung twice, by two different women, and very very precious.

The subplot about the "dead" ghost woman is quite fun, and when we first see her standing in the shadows in Martha's room, we jump as she does, not bad for a late-night chiller.

The vampire Duval is sophisticated, double-dealing, and apparantly double-jointed: he sits bolt upright in his coffin in a springy move that would be tough for Jack LaLanne!

There are other nice touches here, not the least of which is the general run-down condition of "The Sycamores", the estate Martha is due to inherit. It evokes a true old-world malignancy which is successful in creating a palette for terror.

THE VAMPIRE is an impressive and effective attempt at gothic horror in the grand old tradition.

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COMMENTS:
* (updated 02-14-06) Thanks to a terrific new book we just received, "Ghouls, Gimmicks and Gold" by Kevin Heffernan, (2004, Duke University Press), we have been able to update the U.S. television release date for this Murray horror title to 1965. The appendices to this study of the horror film in America, circa 1955-1968, include complete listings of syndication feature film packages from many distributors, including American International Television, who subleased the K. Gordon Murray film catalog under the title THRILLERS FROM ANOTHER WORLD. It seems that 1965 was the watershed year for genre film sold to television, with a veritable flood of titles released by both domestic and foreign distribs.

* (effective 05-01-03) After a very brief window of availability, this long-sought K. Gordon Murray title is once again out of print, due to international copyright issues. Used video tapes of this title may be found on online video dealers and auction sites. Stay tuned for further developments!

* THE VAMPIRE beget an equally memorable sequel: THE VAMPIRE'S COFFIN!

* According to AFI, THE VAMPIRE had its US premiere on March 2, 1968, in Jacksonville, Florida.

* Murray released THE VAMPIRE on a terrific theatrical double bill with THE CURSE OF THE DOLL PEOPLE, with the wonderful tagline: "A psychedelic trip into the 5th dimension!"

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