If you need proof that nepotism exists in Hollywood (far-fetched, I know), look no further than the Coppola family. Like the root system of a towering oak, expanding out in a radial pattern invading every crevice of the earth and destroying city infrastructure along the way. Francis may be that towering oak, but it's his brother August Coppola who is responsible for taking full advantage of his brother's status and infiltrating the industry with as many of his offspring as possible. He is the reason we have Nicholas Cage. Proof of August's evil, if ever there was. Cage has two less successful (though similarly talented) brothers, Marc, whose career has been as a radio DJ and essentially photo bombing movies, and Christopher, who has managed to have a career as a director. Christopher's career has been all over the map with credits ranging from Full Moon's kid-friendly CLOCKMAKER (1998), an attempt to revive Hopalong Cassidy with GUNFIGHTER (1999) and this, his first film, a wild stab at a modern Dracula comedy, without the joke writing. No, really. It's a supposed to be a comedy, trust me.
Opening with bizarrely strobing footage of classic Hollywood neon signs, old fashioned homicide detective Hap Lannon (Josef Sommer) reflects in a voice over about the strange case of The Hollywood House of Wax and its "oddball owner".
For no adequately explained reason Vanessa's plan is to use Raymond as not only a handy, portable beverage, but as a pawn to help her get back to Romania so she can be with her husband Count Dracula. Great, now she's a controlling nutcase and married. Ray is forced to break the news that her hubby is kaput, which she denies and sticks to her plan to have him take her back to the old country.
Just to make sure that you know it's a comedy, we also get the grandson of Dr. Van Helsing who runs an antique shop (creatively named "Helsing's Antiques") and he damn well knows that the killings are vampire related! To protect himself from the evil, he hugs a giant crucifix, though what he should have done is fixed his floorboards, because that is what ultimately proves his undoing. Comedy gold, I tells ya.
Kristel, in what I can only be an attempt to shed her sex bomb image, actually walks around impersonating Max Shrek's stiff, claw-handed mannerisms while wearing a pinched-waist grey power-suit. Where she got this suit is never explained. Since she is alleged to have been in a coffin since before the Count's demise at the hands of Van Helsing, she must have obtained in L.A. This would seem ripe for a BEASTMASTER II (1991) style scene where Vanessa could try on clothes at a department store proudly enjoying her reflection in... oh wait, I guess there's a reason they didn't shoot that bit. Either way, in spite of what the characters say, it is not even remotely hot. I can't imagine what Coppola was thinking here. When I see her, I don't think "oooh, a girl worth dying for", I think "oooh, this bitch will kill me".
Despite of the fact that the movie is intended to be a horror comedy and utterly fails on both fronts, I kinda dig it. I remember seeing it back in the day, it was in every video store on Earth, which is either a statement about the demand for video store fodder, or the power of the Coppola name. At the time I didn't care for it much. Watching it now, in this day and age of deadly serious digital overkill, I find it reasonably entertaining. A damn sight more fun than Uncle Frank's utterly absurd BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA (1991), which was equally unfunny and unscary, but tedious and overwrought to boot.
The movie has a couple things going for it; Josef Sommer, a player in countless '80s genre films, TV movies and cop flicks like DIRTY HARRY (1971) and MAN ON A SWING (1974), has the easy old-school detective thing down cold and makes up for the shortcomings of the other actors, particularly since Lenny von Dohlen's uhhh, style, takes a little getting used to. Also in its favor, it moves at a quick clip, sports a cameo by George Stover and better still, sports lots of splattery make-up effects and creature work. Sure, it ain't the best of the '80s, but hell, it's probably the best thing to come out of one of Francis Ford's nephews and it is better than a Conrad Brooks video. I'm a simple man, I don't ask for much.
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