Category Archives: musings

Musings. Brain dump. Uncategorized.

The Other Spanish Dracula: Enrique Rambal

Enrique Rambal as Dracula
Enrique Rambal as Dracula

Of the 200+ films and dozens of plays adapting Dracula, one relatively lost to history is Spanish actor Enrique Rambal’s 1942 stage production. A little over a decade after Universal’s successful and influential Spanish-language Drácula starring Carlos Villarías, Rambal, a well-known innovator in the area of stage production, tackled the novel for stage. Using many elements that can be traced back to the Deane / Balderston stageplay of 1924 (upon which the Universal movies are based),  Rambal’s version is particularly notable for its use of numerous screen paintings that filled the stage, as well as dramatic stage effects (not to mention the addition of an opening in Translvania at Dracula’s castle which was absent from the Deane / Balderston script but was essential to the novel). Playing the role of Dracula was Rambal himself, in rather unusually grotesque makeup that was more Nosferatu crossed with a kabuki mask than Bela Lugosi in his tie and tails.

Enrique Rambal, by Manuel Tovar, in La Novela Teatral (March 30, 1919)

Performing in Franco’s Spain must not have been easy for an artist, yet Rambal seemed to have little trouble with the government. Other than having to cut back on the cleavage shown in his actresses’ costumes, Spain’s censors had no problem with his production. He traveled freely outside of Madrid, and performed all over Spain, for his was a popular theatre — not one with pretensions of high art or subverting culture. Indeed, he is not written about much at all among literary historians. A 2012 article by Ferrer Gimeno (downloadable as a Spanish PDF) published in the now defunct Stycomithia magazine (from the University of Valencia) is the best, and perhaps only source for detailed information about the play. It is the document upon which I take most of my summary and images.

Poster for Enrique Rambal's Dracula
Poster for Enrique Rambal’s Dracula

The play’s translated title is comically specific: Dracula, a Free Adaptation of the Fantastic Novel of the Same Title, by Bram Stocker, Made in a Prologue and Two Parts, Divided into Twenty-Five Tables.  Rambal apparently had quite elaborate paintings made for each of the sections (or tables), with sensational titles on each (among them “Night of horror!”, “The Shadow That Kills”, “They come out of the graves!” and “Pleasure of eternity”!). These backdrops could act like curtains to open, rise, and separate, allowing characters to move in front of and behind them to heighten the drama.

There were 33 characters, with Rambal’s own son playing Jonatán Harker. His daughter, Enriqueta Rambal Sacía, was Lucía Westenra. Indeed, many of Rambal’s productions used his son and daughter, along with a troupe that regularly performed Rambal’s work.

Sound effects and stage tricks played a large part in establishing atmosphere. There were screaming animals, crashing coffin lids, and creepy off-stage voices. Both a pressurized water tube dotted with tiny holes, and a combustion engine that belched smoke, provided mist and swirls of smoke.

Rambal’s combustion engine used to make smoke for his production of Dracula

To add to the suspense, actors came and went through hatches and trap doors called “English traps” (interestingly enough referred to in the English theater as the “vampire door” or “grave trap”). Gas lamps served as “magic lanterns,” projecting light that made scenes all the more theatrical.

Unfortunately, all we have are a few photos of Rambal in his makeup, a picture of the combustion engine, and descriptions of the play from Gimeno’s article.

Still, Rambal’s production should be remembered, if only for its novelty. It is strangely absent from many a record of adaptions of Dracula, and even the vast expanse of the internet bears little trace of it. A decade after Universal’s seminal film, and a decade before Hammer Studios would reinvent the character, Rambal brought to Spain a unique interpretation the deserves its place in the history of adaptations of Bram Stoker’s novel. Perhaps one lone blog entry can help make that happen.



Leaving a Marc (1977)

Marc Bolan, on tour in 1977 with The Damned

In early 1977, Marc Bolan — enigmatic English singer, songwriter, and charismatic leader of one of glam rock’s seminal bands, T. Rex — was past his prime. The success that came with UK #1 hits like “Bang a Gong (Get it On),” from 1971’s Electric Warrior and “Telegram Sam” from 1972’s The Slider, was largely behind him. Tax problems found him in exile for a while in the early seventies, T. Rex’s lineup of musicians kept changing, and his marriage had fallen apart due to his infidelity. But with a new band and a new tour supported by popular young punks, The Damned, Bolan was making a comeback in 1977. He had gotten a new band together, and, later that year, Granada Television gave him his very own show — a daytime variety hour simply titled Marc.

Marc ran in the late summer / early autumn of 1977, and gave Bolan the opportunity to showcase his music for a new audience. Daytime television was primarily aimed at teens and tweens — an audience for whom glam rock meant little. But new music — punk and new wave — was starting to chart, and Bolan (or his producers) smartly took advantage of mixing up his hits (often oddly lip-synced with guitars rarely even plugged in) with exciting new acts like Generation X, Radio Stars, and The Jam.

Other than Bolan performing “Show Me a Song” to start things off, The Jam were the first band to perform on Marc. Call them punks or mods revivalist, The Jam were a far cry from glam rock — a band born of the early seventies, but unlike anything else from the pop scene of the period. Bolan seemed somewhat uncomfortable, or at least unorganized, as he sat against the stage in a leopard jump suit reading the band’s name from a tiny promotional badge. It is as if the past of pop music was confronting its future in a way only possible in the turbulent nineteen seventies. But, instead of conflict, there was confusion. Bolan seemed lost in front of the camera. Drugs and alcohol were reputedly not to blame (Bolan had kicked his addictions by 1977). No, this confusion seemed more like a man trying to find his place in a music landscape that had changed on him. Immediately after The Jam, out came a cadre of female dancers awkwardly choreographed to Bolan lip-syncing “I Love to Boogie.”

Many believed that Bolan truly embraced the new music. Captain Sensible, guitarist for The Damned, spoke highly of him. But others thought he was an opportunist.  “Marc would’ve embraced any movement as long as it reflected well among the gullible,” said Steve Harley of Cockney Rebel. “I say this with no criticism and no malice,” he added. “Marc was a fully paid-up member of the Fantasy Island Club.” (for more on this and more, read this great article by noted music journalist Geoff Barton).

In denial, or simply an opportunist, Bolan was still a full-fledged rock star — in every sense of the word. Bigger than life. Flashy. Always entertaining, and forever “other” — no matter how silly the costumes or the posturing became.

He would inspire countless musicians. Early on it was The New York Dolls and The Ramones. Then came the post-punks: Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Bauhaus (the latter whose cover of Telegram Sam is arguably better than the original). Later in the nineteen eighties came The Power Station. Their “Get It On (Bang a Gong)” would chart even higher in the US than the original. Oasis‘s guitarist, Noel Gallagher and Joey Santiago of The Pixies both cite Bolan as an influence on their style. Both Morrissey and Nick Cave have covered “Cosmic Dancer.” The list goes on and on.

But the artist whose work is most associated with Bolan is not one who covered him, but a contemporary. A friend. Even a competitor. It was David Bowie.

Faces on the Mt. Rushmore of Glam Rock, Bowie and Bolan met in 1964, when David was still David Jones. Their careers developed in parallel ways throughout the early seventies, and by the time of Bowie’s massive “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars” album, there was conjecture that Bowie’s “Lady Stardust,” was even a tribute to Bolan. After retiring Ziggy, Bowie would abandon glam, and embrace first American R&B, then later, influences like Kraftwerk and Brian Eno. Bolan, however, remained the quintessential guitar-based glam rock star. It arguable hurt his career— with television’s Marc as his last hurrah.

David Bowie performed “Heroes” on the final episode of Marc Bolan’s show

Fitting then that David Bowie was the last performer on the show. Singing “Heroes,” Bowie seems somewhat cold and distant — both from his past, and from Bolan. Bowie reputedly directed and orchestrated his own performance, not involving Bolan’s input at all. This didn’t sit well with Bolan, whose sole and final interaction with Bowie would be a jam session at the end of the last Marc show — one than ended with a humorous, and almost prophetic fall from the stage. Bowie smiles, and that’s the end of the show (for more details, see Roger Griffin’s day by day Bowie biography).

Curiously, Bowie would go on the following month to record his now famous Christmas duet with Bing Crosby. Ever the chameleon, Bowie learned to adapt to changing times; and Bolan, unable to shed the leopard tights and feather boas, was the equivalent of a green peacock — flashy and nearly extinct.

A little over a week after filming the Marc show with Bowie, Bolan would be dead. With his girlfriend Gloria Jones at the wheel, driving the couple home early in the morning of 16 September, Bolan’s purple Mini Cooper slammed into a tree. Bolan died on impact. The final episode of Marc (with Bowie) ran posthumously. The show had ended after only six episodes.

Leaving a definitive mark on rock and roll, Bolan has become a rare thing in pop music: part iconoclast, and part icon. He left behind over a decade’s worth of material.  Songs like the infectious “20th Century Boy” continue to get used in all manner of movies and television commercials, and, this year, he will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (as a member of T. Rex).

The recognition is long overdue.