American Fable is ambitious, maybe too much so sometimes, but there's an intense pleasure in the boldness of the film's style.
The friendly folks at Hammer Films Ltd., the British specialists in horror flicks, have this thing about tiny glass vials. They’ll use a vial or two in almost every movie they make. Sometimes they have crystal vials, but mostly just your ordinary glass vial.
The vials are handy for storing dehydrated blood from Count Dracula, who left so much blood behind him when he died that, alive, he would have been a godsend to the blood bank, had his blood not been overrun with vampire germs. Has it occurred to anyone, by the way, that the new Illinois blood law distinguishes between blood that is purchased and donated, but makes no mention of blood like Dracula’s, which was ... borrowed?
Public prejudice against vampires still runs at a fairly high level, unfortunately, and that is why you never hear of a vampire donating his services when an emergency call goes out for a rare blood type. With a bit of organization and a list of rare blood donors, a competent team of vampires should be able to come back with the necessary plasma in no time. This is not the unsavory prospect it would have been in the 18th or l9th Centuries; the widespread use among vampires of toothpaste has removed one of the age-old barriers to their acceptance.
In any event, “Dracula A.D. 1972” opens with a striking testimonial to the staying power of Dracula’s blood. We remember from “Taste the Blood of Dracula,” an earlier Hammer endeavor, that when his dried blood is mixed with a little water and taken orally in medicinal amounts, the user becomes infected with the count’s evil spirit. That’s more or less what happens again this time.