There have been hundreds of adaptations of Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel, most of them hoping to have you screaming. This one, which premièred Off-Broadway in 2023, does so too, though with laughter not horror.
It starts, like the book, with an epistolary format, but though it follows the broad outlines of the plot, it seems viewed through a queer lens as it reinvents relationships and omits huge chunks of the story. Jonathan Harker (estate agent / solicitor), for instance, concludes his business trip to Count Dracula’s Transylvanian castle without complication. He is now the fiancé of Lucy, daughter of Dr Westfield whose home provides asylum for lunatics, including fly-devouring Renfield, whom he employs as a butler.
Charlie Stemp is delightful as nerdish hypochondriac Harker; though he exudes a likability that has kept Lucy close since they were infants, you can see why an Oxford-educated microbiologist like her would want him to bestir himself. Safeena Ladha gives Lucy the energy of a young woman overturning Victorian ideas of the female and clearly excited by the Count’s attentions.
Dianne Pilkington, playing en travestie in a deliberately awful wig, is Dr Westfield, doubling in an even more awful one as Renfield, while Sebastien Torkia switches gender the other way with a shower of red ringlets as Lucy’s sister Mina, who can come on with a boldness worthy of Kenny Everett, and then delivers a double as Frau Doktor Von Helsing with teutonic coiffure and a Valkyrie authority while dressed in dirndl.
As vampire Count Dracula, James Daly reprises the role he played Off-Broadway: a pan-sexual hunk first appearing in a lace bolero and leather trousers before flashing a bare chest. Garlic, mirrors and sunlight may give him problems, but he has a smooth style in seduction with both Lucy and Harker. He may be a self-centred opportunist, but bemoaning his long life lacks purpose, he can take on a moral tone, and there is a neat twist to the ending.
But this is more panto than preachy, and, as director, co-author Greenberg keeps things playful. Tijana Bjelajac’s settings, which range from neon bats’ wings to dark cellars and book-lined library, hold surprises, Ristan Raines’s costumes are colourful and those wigs are designed by Betty Marini. Some foot-tapping simulation of horses’ hooves provides a snatch of tap dancing from Charlie Stemp, and there were moments when a song could have been imminent.
This seems a bit like a musical without its songs and yes, you could call it silly and complain that it lacks real bite, satyrical fangs not much in evidence, but it provides 90 lively minutes of camp fun with a sparkling cast. I enjoyed it.