Commentary by Dracula vs. Frankenstein producer Sam Sherman
I’d like to thank Sgt. Andrew Borntreger, noted wit, intrepid American serviceman and all around fine fellow for providing me with the materials necessary for this article.
A few years ago I heard, of all things, that there was a laser disc edition of Dracula vs. Frankenstein that boasted a commentary track — !! — by the film’s producer. (Luckily, the commentary has been since ported over to the film’s DVD release.) I have been blessed to obtain a copy of this curio, and am more than happy to examine it here. Really, this is a thrill.
Our featured audio dissertation was provided by Sam Sherman. Mr. Sherman was a co-founder of Independent-International Pictures, the company responsible for today’s subject. (Per usual, you may wish to acquaint yourself with my full review before reading the following.)
Dracula vs. Frankenstein, Mr. Sherman notes, “is one of our best known productions.” He begins his comments with a quick rundown of the various permutations the film went through. As noted in the film review, schlock director Al Adamson was (in)famous for taking portions of a prior film and adding additional footage to create a ‘new’ movie. Here the film was originally conceived as a sequel to Adamson’s sleaze biker epic Satan’s Sadists. Hence the occasionally appearances by that film’s star Russ Tamblyn. I guess it wasn’t considered important that Tamblyn’s character died at the end of that movie.
Mr. Sherman skips over the Satan’s Sadist connection. He instead begins at the point when the film was conceived as a mad scientist movie, but still sans either of the eventual title roles. The original title for Dracula vs. Frankenstein, we’re told, was to be “Blood Freaks.” However, that was too meaty for the times, and it became “Blood Seekers.”
The mad scientist character, eventually changed to become another last descendant of Dr. Frankenstein, was originally to be offered to Francis Lederer and Paul Lukas. (Mr. Lederer, ironically enough, remains best known for playing Dracula in the 1956 Return of Dracula.) Meanwhile, the cop character played by Jim Davis, later the Ewing family patriarch on Dallas, was meant to filled by Oscar winner Broderick Crawford (!).
These musings halt as the Dracula crest ring, depicting a demonic Cyclops-type figure, appears on the screen during the opening credits. (As mentioned in my review, this is one of comparatively few Dracula pictures wherein the Count can fire deadly cartoon laser beams from his ring.)
This artifact was sculpted and cast for the film by ‘Ruzi,’ not only a famous artist, we’re told, but coincidentally the husband of Sherman’s cousin. Ruzi reportedly still owned the ring at the time when the commentary was recorded, and one can only wonder what amusingly high figure this prop would fetch on Ebay today.
Our opening scene takes place at a cemetery, where the film’s Frank Zappa-esque Dracula is unearthing the Frankenstein Monster. Discovered by a watchman, played, we’re told, by the father of the film’s star (and Adamson’s wife) Regina Carrol, the Count pounces. In this sequence we go from an establishing shot of a graveyard to an indoor set of one, where our *cough* action takes place.
Meanwhile, the guy â€“ I hesitate to use the word ‘actor’ â€“ playing Dracula wasn’t really named Zandor Vorkov, despite what the credits inform us. (Another illusion shattered.) Instead, he was an ex-stockbroker (!!) named Roger Engel. Sherman supposedly wanted John Carradine to play the Count (!!), but Adamson overruled him, thinking that ‘Vorkov’ more looked the part.
I should say here that Mr. Sherman’s statements should probably be taken with a grain of salt. I’m not impugning his honestly, but memories fade over the years and some of his tales, although undoubtedly entertaining, might well be apocryphal. For the remainder of this article, though, I’ll present his assertions as presented, unless I have knowledge to the contrary.
The following scene, we’re told, was shot for the “Blood Freaks” version of the film. It features a woman rather unwisely exiting a boardwalk carnival area to tread along a lonely beach. You’d think the anomalous banks of thick dry-ice fog would have dissuaded her, if nothing else. Instead, she soon meets up with an axe toting someone and ends up with her head landing on the beach. The close-up of the decapitated head is fairly gory, indicative of the sort of mean-spirited horror pictures produced in the wake of Night of the Living Dead.
Following, however, is the film’s most horrible sequence, Carrol’s Las Vegas revue act, which we see pretty much in its entirety. Frighteningly, we learn that this was in fact an actual act she did there — although not as a headliner, as the film suggests — and with the very two fellows we see her singing with. Boy, if that didn’t drive ’em back to the slot machines, nothing would. (Although it does suggest an alternative meaning for the phrase ‘crap tables.’)
Of course, the *cough* crowd, which obviously isn’t in the same venue as the act, applauds widely. Sherman helpfully points out Adamson as being in the crowd, pulling a bit of a Hitchcock. Hilariously, we learn that before becoming a ‘solo’ artist (insert your own joke here), Carrol was a background dancer for Elvis Presley. She apparently dated the King (!), and had a bit part in Viva Las Vegas.
Sherman continues with an affectionate description of Carrol. Despite her exotic roles as a busty bombshell in Adamson’s films, he remembers her as a shy and intelligent young woman. While game for most things, though, she refused to do nudity, presumably something of a hitch in the exploitation market of the time.
Sherman also remembers her to be a hard worker, doing production work whenever she wasn’t actually cast in an IIP movie. Adamson was also a co-founder of the firm, and apparently Carrol quite enjoyed the family atmosphere prevalent on the films they made.
Cut to Carrol conferring with cop Jim Davis. This takes place in a room that, in my review, I noted looked nothing like a police detective’s office. No wonder, for Sherman identifies it as an IIP production office, perhaps Adamson’s. Sherman also mournfully remarks on the cigarette that Carrol, an eventual victim of lung cancer, is shown smoking.
This sets off some morbid reminiscences. Co-stars Carrol and Lon Chaney Jr., also died of cancer. Meanwhile, as Sherman notes, director Al Adamson was famously murdered and buried in concrete under his home’s Jacuzzi by his building contractor. Despite the film being only around thirty years old, a surprisingly large number of its participants have already died.
We cut to the boardwalk carnival, where we meet some of our other characters. Here I was delighted to learn that the hippie character ‘Strange’ was played by none other than Greydon Clark (!). Clark went on to become a schlockmeister extraordinaire in his own right; in particular as director of Jabootu subject The Uninvited. He apparently apprenticed with Adamson, thereby learning the art of churning out cinematic crap from a master.
Next we meet Grazbo the Dwarf, played by Angelo Rossetti. Like co-stars Lon Chaney, Jr., and J. Carrol Naish, Mr. Rossetti had appeared in horror flicks of the classic era. Unlike them, however, he wasn’t cast in the more prestige Universal films. Chaney and Naish, for instance, appeared together in Universal’s The House of Frankenstein, with Lon playing Larry Talbot and Naish memorable as a murderous hunchback.
Rossetti, meanwhile, mainly appeared as a sidekick for Bela Lugosi in some of his cheesier pictures, although he predictably did have a part in Todd Browning’s Freaks. In between movie roles, Rossetti stayed solvent for decades by running a Hollywood newsstand. His roots in the community were deep, though, going back to his days as a drinking companion for legendary actor and drunk John Barrymore.
Sherman repeats an old anecdote about Rossetti, one that again has an apocryphal air about it. He wanted supposedly wanted Rossetti to play Grazbo, despite Adamson’s having a line on a dwarf actor through a casting agency. Not knowing where to contact him, Sherman sent Adamson to roam the streets of Hollywood, searching for the fellow’s newsstand. After an entire day of looking, Adamson admitted defeat. He called the agency to send their actor over, who, inevitably, was Angelo Rossetti.
We next enter Dr. Durea’s House of Horror. Sherman starts talking about the soundstage used here. Located on Santa Monica Blvd, it was still in use as of Sherman’s commentary, and was extensively used by Adamson and other IIP directors. Parts of such films as the atrociously sleazy The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant were also shot there. Future Jabootu subject Nightmare in Wax, starring the ubiquitous Cameron Mitchell, also lensed here.
We now meet the sadly debilitated Chaney and Naish. Chaney in particular, bloated and victimized by throat cancer and his years of alcoholism, stands as a mute and tragic figure. The haggard Naish, rolling around in his wheelchair, just looks worn out. Sherman notes that despite the rumors, Naish hadn’t actually lost the use of his legs. He could walk around fine, and Sherman describes the actor’s awkwardness in controlling his chair, not the sign of someone confined to one.
Naish is also noted to have been a very formal, serious man, not given to joking around. Still, despite the health problems of their leads, unknown to Sherman and Adamson when they hired them, the filmmakers were thrilled to work with such venerable pros. (Adamson inevitably also ended up working with John Carradine in another picture.)
The world of low budget films is truly a small community. Chaney’s most famous part after Larry Talbot, The Wolf Man, would be Lenny, the inadvertently murderous simpleton from Of Mice and Men. Filmmakers have been ripping off Lenny’s stroking-of-a-rabbit routine for decades (see the ending of Beast of Yucca Flats), and Adamson isn’t going to miss the opportunity. Here Chaney’s provided with a puppy that he pets whenever he’s not decapitating anyone. Said pooch, Sherman reports, was Stupie, owned by Adamson’s brother.
Oddly, Sherman mentions a student film parody of this film and then abandons the topic after one line. I don’t know if this is still extant, but it would be a terrific extra for the future DVD release. Instead, as we head into Durea/Frankenstein’s initial meeting with Dracula, he pauses to note how Naish looks older here. Remember, this scene would have been shot for the film’s final incarnation, whereas when Naish began the project it was strictly a generic Mad Scientist picture.
Sadly, we’re told that Engel’s ‘stage name’ of Zandor Vorkov was the work of fan icon Forrest J. Ackerman. One can only imagine that Uncle Forry’s connection with the film, which included a cameo appearance, must have been a source of some embarrassment when he saw the final product.
Moreover, we can only assume that it was Ackerman who contacted Kenneth Strickfadden on the film’s behalf. Strickfadden was the creator of all the elaborately sparking lab equipment used in the creation sequence of Whale and Karloff’s Frankenstein. He still owned the stuff and loaned it to Adamson, where it makes an embarrassing appearance in this film’s resurrection of the Monster. Later on, Sherman recalls his eventual realization years later that Naish had earlier used this same equipment in a 1943 Batman serial.
Another amusing bit is when Dracula, wanting the secret of the scientist’s blood serum (don’t ask), threatens Durea/Frankenstein. Durea proves a hard nut, claiming that he is ‘beyond fear.’ The mad medico then capitulates when the Count sets afire a nearby rag with his ring. (As I noted in my review, it seemed to me that a lighter and a can of gasoline would have garnered much the same effect.) In any case, Sherman explains that Naish forgot his scripted lines of defiance here and instead adlibbed to the Count that “You’re full of shit!” Personally, I’d have left that in the picture.
Let’s skip ahead to lead Regina Carrol hitting town to seek out her missing sister. She stops by a local hippie hangout to look for Rico, someone her sister reportedly hung out with. Rico is played by Russ Tamblyn and is the connection to the film’s original conception as a Satan’s Sadists knock-off.
Sherman details some of this, noting that Tamblyn’s character really doesn’t have much to do in the film as it ended up, and really just pops in and out to little purpose. He reveals that when Dracula and the Monster were added to the film, the stuff involving Tamblyn’s motorcycle gang was more or less extraneous, with most of it ending up on the cutting room floor.
Still, Sherman continues, during an earlier incarnation of the film he actually considered beefing up Tamblyn’s part. This would have allowed them to change the then current “Blood Freaks” title to “Satan’s Blood Freaks,” thus capitalizing more on the earlier film. In perhaps my favorite line of the commentary, Sherman explains that he abandoned the notion because, “I thought the idea was too farfetched.” (!!!)
The interesting factoids continue, as when our host reveals that Carrol later went on to do a ‘one woman’ show playing Isadora Duncan (!!), utilizing ‘interpretive dance.’ Now there’s something I’d pay good money to see! Moreover, Adamson and Carrol once reportedly owned the former home of silent comedy great Harold Lloyd. I’m telling you, show business is a strange little world.
Now we get the resurrection of the Monster, featuring the previously noted Strickfadden devices. Sherman notes one oddly comic piece of equipment, though, had another origin. This features a bunch of upright (“phallic,” as Sherman calls them) multi-colored glass tubes that randomly light up. Describing it as “silly,” Sherman reports that it came from a “road company of Oh, Calcutta!” (!!)
Despite providing the equipment, though, Strickfadden personally refused to lend a hand operating them. It turns out that he was still bitter about how Universal treated him (unfortunately, a rather common complaint), using footage from Frankenstein as stock shots for other pictures and not paying him anything further.
Sherman, I should report, fails to mention the score here, which does, uh, borrow heavily from some of the classic Universal scores. I can only assume that the production never paid any royalties for their use.
John Bloom, 7′ 4″ and a veteran schlock movie monster (Incredible Two-Headed Transplant, Adamson’s Brain of Blood, The Dark, etc.) plays â€“ if you can call it that — the monster here. According to Sherman, he tended to complain about the make-up process. However, it wasn’t the discomfort of the application that made him fussy. It turns out that it was tax season, and that Bloom was an accountant who had returns to work on!
Next is Forry J. Ackerman’s cameo as Dr. Beaumont, an old enemy of Durea’s. As part of Durea and Dracula’s deal, the newly revived Monster is to make Beaumont his first victim. Sherman goes on at length about how the film never explained exactly why Beaumont was considered Durea’s nemesis. “All these years later,” he notes, “I really don’t know.” This is pretty funny, because despite Sherman’s assurances, this is, in fact, spelled out at some length in the film (!).
Dracula informs Durea that it was Beaumont who set the fire that crippled him, and that he was after the Frankenstein Monster for his own purposes. Hence the line wherein The Count informs Beaumont that he’ll soon be meeting “an old friend,” just prior to the Monster appearing to reap Durea’s vengeance.
Sherman also comments on Dracula’s assertion that some “improvements” have been made to the Monster since Beaumont saw him last. This is because the original idea was to supply the Monster with his own fangs (!) which he would have used here to savage Beaumont.
However, the fangs kept falling out of Bloom’s mouth, probably because of the inches of make-up caked on his face. Still, the line works despite itself, since Beaumont himself never was able to get the Monster up and running. So the casual viewer might well assume the line to refer to the Monster’s newfound mobility.
We cut to Carrol reviving from her LSD trip at hero Anthony Eisley’s groovy hippie pad. Eisley was another B-Movie veteran who appeared in dozens of crappy movies, notably the insane King Kong rip-off The Mighty Gorga.
Sherman begins speaking of the disjointedness of the screenplay, undoubtedly the result, largely anyway, of the various profound script revisions that occurred as the film evolved to it’s ultimate plotline. He points out that Carrol’s quest to find her sister pretty much only sporadically touches on the film’s events prior to the ending, and that the Russ Tamblyn character is even more elliptical. Presumably Tamblyn’s biker gang was supposed to have some connection with Durea in the earlier plotlines.
This would be born out by the bikers appearing when the leads leave Durea’s carnival House of Horrors later in the movie. Here, however, Tamblyn and his cronies serve no real plot purpose at all. Tamblyn supplies the LSD slipped to Carrol, and later he and his underlings get axed during one of Chaney’s homicidal beachside strolls. Other than that, though, they don’t do much.
Another amusing insight into the world of exploitation films is soon provided. Sherman describes the period between when filming of the flick began and when it was actually released. The first pre-release industry ads were under the “Satan’s Blood Freaks” title.
These were eventually followed by ad work-ups for the title “Blood of Frankenstein.” (This is intriguing, as it raises the possibility that the Dracula angle was added even later than the Frankenstein Monster gimmick. Unfortunately, Mr. Sherman never addresses this.) The title proved extremely popular with distributors, who were excited about a color Frankenstein movie, but the film wasn’t actually ready yet.
Based on the response, though, Sherman screened other films, settling on one of Paul Naschy’s myriad Spanish werewolf pictures. Since the film mentioned a “Wolfstein” family, Sherman added an unrelated prolog explaining that the Wolfsteins were descendants of the Frankensteins. (!!) Based on this tenuous link, a film featuring a wolf man character and some vampires became known in the States as Frankenstein’s Bloody Terror.*[*That film is now available on DVD as well, with its own Sam Sherman commentary.]
Evidence that Dracula was indeed a Johnny-come-lately is provided when the protagonists visit Durea’s House of Horrors. Sherman notes that the scene, featuring Carrol and Company’s first run-in with Durea, remained more or less the same throughout the various permutations the film went through. The only difference from the sequence as it was originally edited was the insertion, after the fact, of close-ups of Dracula’s face.
Following the appearance of Tamblyn’s three member ‘gang,’ Sherman’s commentary goes oddly silent for about five minutes. I’m not sure if this is actually what was supposed to happen or if it was a glitch on my tape or the laserdisc it was copied from. When the film eventually comes out on DVD â€“ assuming the commentary is included as has been reported — I’ll check it against this.
In any case, a conversation between Carrol and police detective Davis and then Carrol and Eisley ‘romantic’ beach montage proceed without interruption. Sherman then makes a reappearance as we cut to Durea working in his lab.
Sherman notes that the scene here was from the original cut of the film back when it was “Blood Freaks.” (How he’s able to keep track of all this remains a mystery to me.) He describes how everyone was underwhelmed by the Mad Scientist plotline of the film.
When others suggested that the movie be scrapped, he began to examine it after work hours, trying to figure out an angle through which the picture could be saved. Working from a throwaway line of Eisley’s character, who referred to Durea by noting, “at least, that’s what he calls himself,” Sherman began to wonder who Durea might really be. Eventually he settled on the idea that he was the Last of the Frankensteinsâ„¢, paving the way for the inclusion of the Monster and Dracula.
Next comes an extremely out-of-left-field sequence where the Monster attacks the proverbial Couple Making Out in a Parked Car. While it really has nothing to do with anything, they felt the Monster needed a rampage scene. Adamson had wanted Sherman himself to play the male victim.
Sherman, however, felt he would “look like an idiot and an egomaniac” when he went around screening the film for distributors after having appeared in it. Thus Sherman avoided being cast here (I think, his wording is an little vague), although he was later embarrassed in this fashion when Adamson cornered him into appearing in Blazing Stewardesses.
Another trivia tidbit is supplied when we learn that one of the cops killed by the Monster here was portrayed by Al Cole. Cole also played the psychopath whose head was grafted onto the giant retarded character assayed by Bloom in The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant.
Sherman’s narration continues to become increasingly spotty as things progress. After some compliments on Eisley’s acting, he seems to go silent for quite some time. Eventually he comes back on, though, and starts talking about the original, truncated version of the ending. This version of events was included on the laser disc and also ported over to the later DVD release.
Eisley’s character originally survived the film (he falls to Dracula’s death ray ring in the final version) and was responsible for the demises of the various villains. More on this later. Anyway, Eisley was left out of the reshot ending, more or less because they couldn’t afford to fly him to New York for the reshoots. Only Adamson and Carrol were flown in; Engel, the guy playing Dracula, lived there, and a double was found to play the Monster. (Or so Sherman says, although many of these later scenes do seem to feature Bloom still playing the part.)
The film’s only brief piece of nudity triggers the information that more such stuff was shot for one of the earlier versions of the film. However, the decision was eventually made to garner the movie a PG rating (or ‘GP,’ as the rating was known at that time), so almost all of the nudie footage was left on the editing room floor.
Sherman also goes some length into the music for the film at this point, including the use of library music that allowed some of the classic Universal themes to be utilized here. (For instance, this film joins other schlockfests such as They Saved Hitler’s Brain and Women of the Prehistoric Planet that use riffs from the classic Creature of the Black Lagoon score.)
Sherman notes that with Chaney and Naish’s deaths the original ending completes itself. Here the movie goes “sideways,” as he calls it, with Dracula intercepting Carrol’s character. This leads into the second ending of the film, wherein Eisley comes to the rescue and brings about the two title creatures’ respective destructions. (This thus explains the weird way the secondary characters, who were just on hand, seem to just disappear from events without a trace. See my review for more on this.)
Instead, as noted, Eisley is killed. As indicated before, the actor wasn’t flown into New York for these reshoots. Instead, Adamson wore Eisley’s jacket and ran with his back to the camera for the sequence.
With the hero’s death the third ending of the film begins. Meanwhile, now that I’m looking for it, it does seem that another ‘actor’ is playing the Monster in these scenes. Most noticeable is that the new guy seems quite a bit shorter than Bloom was.
This whole remainder of the film was shot MOS (“Mitt-out Sound,” an old movie piece of jargon), with dialog and such looped in later. Sherman notes that the last ending was shot as cheaply as possible, using students and so on as crewmembers. This undoubtedly accounts for the horrible lighting throughout, especially in the climatic battle, little of which can be seen.
Sherman takes credit for the idea of Dracula literally pulling the Monster apart during their fight, which, to be fair, isn’t a half bad idea. (One concept of Donald Glut’s unused script for the sequel â€“ see below — was that the pieces were all still living and merely waiting to be reassembled!) He also notes that this was made before Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which contains the famous and quite similar scene where the Black Knight is comically hacked to bits.
Meanwhile, Adamson supposedly refused to attempt a disintegration scene for The Count when he’s hit by sunlight, due to the primitive filming conditions. Sherman felt that such effects were necessary, and he’s right. Even though the scene if largely inadequate you still need it. The idea of Dracula just keeling over dead is lame and a half.
Sherman had Engel lie on a door, whose slats could be used as markers to keep track of the actor’s positioning. Amusingly, he reports that they used dirt and stuff right off of the ground, which is exactly what the final result looks like. Since they couldn’t afford optical, they merely would stop the camera, add more crap to Engel, and restart shooting. During editing they then used intercuts of the sunrise to separate the shots of Dracula’s decay.
Sherman ends by noting that it’s amazing how post-production can save a flick. Of course, that’s an extremely dicey statement given the film as it is. Still, I suppose that, given the piecemeal way the film came about, that it remains a miracle that it came out as coherent as it did.
The laser disc and DVD include extra and alternate footage. First up is the first cut of the LSD freak out scene, filmed back when the film was to be “Blood of Frankenstein.” This isn’t especially different from the final version, though. In fact, I couldn’t see any differences at all. I guess they included it mostly for thoroughness’ sake.
Next is the first cut of the lab scene wherein the Monster is resurrected. This was also shot for the “Blood of Frankenstein” version, and it’s thus notable that the Count is present. Again, this seemed pretty much the same as in the finished film, although I think the music is different. It might also be longer, as it seems to go on for while.
Finally we get to the good stuff (in a manner of speaking), as we see the first ending of the “Blood of Frankenstein” version. Although, again, the very first version of the film was sans the Dracula/Frankenstein stuff altogether, and ended when Durea and Chaney’s character got kacked.
Here events begin as we see them in the finished film. Dracula has captured Carrol. Eisley grabs a flare and uses it to blind the Monster, who in his confusion attacks Dracula. This is where things change. Here, after an extremely abrupt tussle, Dracula uses his death ray ring to off the Monster.
He then chases after Eisley and Carrol, who are attempting to drive off. Eisley plows the car into The Count, whereupon the villain flies backward and is impaled on a pipe. (Engel’s acting here, by the way, is extraordinarily bad, even for him.) The end.
In the revised ending, Dracula disentangles himself from the Monster’s grasp and nails the retreating Eisley with his ring. Then he hauls the unconscious Carrol to an abandoned church where he and the Monster end up engaged in a somewhat more elaborate death battle. I can only assume that it was the curt nature of the original confrontation, which, after all, is the basis of the finished film’s title that caused them to reshoot a longer climatic mÃªlÃ©e between the two fiends.
However, the original ending does fix some minor holes present in the finished version. For instance, the police shoot Chaney, who’s chasing Carrol across a rooftop. Then Dracula appears next to Carrol and ties her up, with Eisley appearing soon after to confront him and the Monster. This leads one to wonder where the cops went, since they were just there a minute ago.
However, in the original version, Dracula has the hypnotized Carrol drive them away from the scene of the shooting. (They take The Count’s car, though, which is inevitably a hearse. This actually seems sillier than it really is, since Dracula would presumably have to haul his coffin around with him.) Eisley, having seen this, follows them in a stolen police car (!). This means that the following stuff occurred in an entirely different location, which makes the absence of the police a lot more logical.
To be fair, though, the second ending makes slightly more sense. Here Dracula kills the Monster with his ring, apparently to save himself. Yet given his vampiric powers, I’m not sure how the Monster really represented a threat to him. Since in this version the Monster was only attacking because he was confused, the idea that Dracula would ride things out until he snapped out of it makes more sense.
Meanwhile, in the finished film’s ending, the Monster is purposely attacking Dracula, making The Count’s actions in destroying him more credible. In case you’re wondering why Dracula didn’t shoot the Monster with his ring in the finished film, it’s because we see the Monster strip him of it early in the fight.
Also included are two comically pompous trailers for the film and a neat little still gallery with many fun behind-the-scenes shots. Sure enough, there are pictures of Naish walking around just fine.
Unfortunately, Mr. Sherman fails to mention one of the strangest ideas associated with the film, which was a projected sequel (!!). While this didn’t make it into production, uber-fan and author Donald Glut was hired to write a screenplay for the suggested projected. The projected story line, which is rather baroque, is described in Glut’s authoritative but sadly out-of-date tome The Dracula Files. The book is out of print, but can probably be accessed through your local public library