Frame Analysis: “Dracula”

While kooky and understandably campy by modern filmmaking standards, Tod Browning’s 1931 Dracula adaptation is not only historically significant (reportedly selected by the United States Library of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry) but a personal favourite of mine. It is relatively short with a 75-minute run time and deviates greatly from the original source material, but I never forgo an opportunity to watch Bela Lugosi in his most iconic role.

The film famously follows the sordid machinations of the eponymous Transylvanian count as he emigrates to England for fresh air and fresh blood. Gothic scenery and captivating mise en scène abound in Dracula, which is why for this post I have decided to analyse a total of three frames. The first is standalone and occurs early in the film, while I have paired the second and third for their obvious but interesting parallels.

Spoiler warning: I will be referring to how elements of these frames reflect character and plot, so I’d recommend reading only if you’ve seen the film in its entirety.

“Dracula.” Directed by Tod Browning. Universal Pictures, 1931.

Approximately sixteen minutes into the film, Dracula has received estate agent Renfield at his castle, shown him to his room, and offered him a cup of wine. In the frame above, he watches his guest drink, his eyes illuminated with non-diegetic light – that is, light not originating from the world of the film. This time-honoured classic Hollywood technique serves to convey malintent by accentuating the most expressive and most honest facial feature. This bar of light also conveniently shadows the bottom half of Dracula’s face, disguising his ominous smile; here we see the predator surveying his victim perform the same action that will later be performed on him, for the Count never drinks wine.

The totality of the darkness which surrounds him conveys his relation to shadows both literal and figurative, and further shrouds him in mystery by eliminating any clues lurking in the background. The lines between Dracula and the dark are blurred, as his black hair and jacket create the uncanny effect of only a pale face looming out of the gloom. Darkness, as the absence of light, also connotes emptiness; throughout the film it becomes obvious to the viewer that the Count is hollow both emotionally (as an undead creature isolated in rural Transylvania) and physically (needing to consume others’ blood to survive).

The camera angle confers upon the viewer an uncomfortable sense of complicity, as we can see what Renfield presumably cannot. At eye-level with Dracula, we can see through the shadow to the smile that portends the other man’s misfortune. This privileged view also creates a sense of dread surrounding the mouth, which is a vampire’s distinguishing feature and greatest asset.

“Dracula.” Directed by Tod Browning. Universal Pictures, 1931.

The frame above occurs towards the end of Dracula, and features Renfield intercepting the Count as he escorts a hypnotised Mina down the steps of Carfax Abbey. The servant begs that his master understand his innocence regarding the proximity of Professor Van Helsing and Jonathan Harker. Although Renfield occupies the centre of the frame, the gaze of the viewer encompasses both him and Mina. Dressed respectively in black and white, together they evoke the binary opposition of good and evil as well as the complementary dualism inherent in yin and yang. Renfield here could be seen to represent yin, his clothing dark but his face light. Contrariwise, Mina’s skin and hair appear slightly dimmer than her luminescent white nightgown, making her yang. In Ancient Chinese philosophy, yin and yang describes how opposite forces may be interrelational and interdependent in the natural world, an idea which is certainly applicable to these characters. The parallelism between yin and yang and Renfield and Mina suggests that this situation, presided over by the crepuscular Count, is in some way natural. Mina is predominantly good (yet subject to evil) and Renfield is predominantly wicked (yet prone to moments of virtue), just as everyone contains within them elements of both.

“Dracula.” Directed by Tod Browning. Universal Pictures, 1931.

The third frame comes a mere five minutes later, and is from the final scene in the film. In it, we see Jonathan guiding Mina back up the steps of the abbey after Van Helsing has killed Dracula. There is both literal and latent significance to this: Jonathan leads his fiancée home after her ordeal, and in taking her up he ushers Mina back to the land of the living and the virtuous. However, at least for Mina, this may not ensure a happy ending; because her betrothed walks her up the steps as Dracula had walked her down, we may infer that Mina has passed from one man’s control into another’s.

Additionally, both the positioning within the frame and the camera angle could predict an imperfect future for the Harkers. In the shot, the couple emerge from behind the pillar and proceed up only a few steps before the screen fades to black. By deserting the couple before they reach freedom at the top, the camera may be seen to insinuate a short-lived happiness. Although the wide shot here enables the audience to relate somewhat to the pair – in contrast to the alienating extreme wide shot in the second frame – the absence of a medium or close-up shot prevents the viewer from following the couple out of Carfax Abbey. Instead, we remain inside with Van Helsing and Dracula, and the uneasy feeling that while the Count has been defeated other deadly creatures might roam the night.

Nevertheless, Browning leaves the audience with a sense of optimism with the dawn light that beams onto Mina and Jonathan through the triangular window in the top right corner of the frame. The ethereal light coupled with their ascension possibly hints that the pair are heaven-bound in both literal and figurative terms: free of Dracula’s evil, the couple will go to heaven when they die, and are currently on their way back to the heaven of the human world after glimpsing Dracula’s damnatory depravity.

Ultimately, all’s well that ends well. The heroes are happy and the villains are dead. The diegetic sound of church bells foreshadows Jonathan and Mina’s wedding and imbues the final scene with hope. We can rest assured that Van Helsing has dispatched the Count correctly and prohibited him from ever returning to bite them in the back…

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