The Magnificent Seven (2016)

It’s easy to be cynical about remakes, but occasionally they do succeed in putting a new slant on an old story. Films like A Fistful of Dollars (1964), Scarface (1983), and Cape Fear (1991) are great examples of remakes that used the original films as a springboard for new ideas. This iteration of The Magnificent Seven is, interestingly, a remake of a remake, the 1960 version being an adaptation of the Japanese film Seven Samurai (1954). But I'm rambling: the point is, it’s perhaps best to think of remakes as being similar to the tradition of folk songs and stories, retellings for different times. But does this retelling of The Magnificent Seven have anything new to say?

The film opens with a small town being ransacked and taken over by the nefarious industrialist Bartholomew Bogue (Peter Sarsgaard). Tired of living in fear, the townspeople recruit nomadic warrant officer Chisolm (Denzel Washington) to help them reclaim their town. Aware that he stands no chance alone, Chisolm sets about putting together a miniature army of gunslingers, and then sets about readying the townsfolk for a showdown with Bogue’s men.

The story is simple and straightforward, but sadly the characterisation of the titular seven is somewhat lacking, and there are several members of the team who we don’t really get to know. However, the quality of the actors involved means that some of them are able to make an impression despite their underwritten roles. Denzel anchors the film as the mysterious Chisolm, one of those characters who is engaging precisely because we don’t know much about him. Vincent D’Onofrio, a great character actor, gets his teeth into the role of mountain-man Jack Horne, and Chris Pratt remains a charming and likeable screen presence as Joshua Faraday, although his character is very similar to his Guardians of the Galaxy role. Ethan Hawke has an interesting yet under-developed character arc as Goodnight Robicheaux, while Peter Sarsgaard’s Bogue is menacing but strangely absent for most of the film.

Despite the script issues, The Magnificent Seven benefits from spectacular American scenery which, although we don’t see quite enough of it, still provides a great backdrop for the action. Speaking of action, the action sequences are handled extremely well by director Antoine Fuqua (particularly the climactic shootout, which does a good job of keeping track of what all seven characters are doing), although the film could perhaps have done with one more action set-piece at some stage. The photography is done well without drawing too much attention to itself; I particularly like the contrast between the bright outdoor scenes and the shadowy interiors of log cabins and saloons, which are reminiscent of Clint Eastwood’s westerns.

So does this version of The Magnificent Seven bring anything new to the table? Not really, no. However, it’s very difficult to ruin a good story, and even if the telling of the tale is a little garbled this time around, it remains a good story, and one that I am glad to hear told one more time.

Dracula (1958)

Although Hammer Films had been in existence since 1934, it was not until the release of The Curse of Frankenstein in 1957 that the studio found its niche as the masters of horror. While the film was technically a remake of Universal’s Frankenstein (1931), it bore no resemblance to the earlier picture; Hammer’s Frankenstein was shot in vivid, sickly colour, and revelled in its violence and salaciousness so much that it made Universal’s film seem quaint by comparison. Buoyed by the success of Frankenstein – which featured Peter Cushing as Baron Frankenstein and Christopher Lee as the Creature – Hammer turned their attention to remaking another Universal horror film: Dracula.

The novel Dracula is a hefty, awkwardly structured tome that does not lend itself to cinematic adaptation, so scriptwriter Jimmy Sangster was handed the task of turning the book into a workable screenplay. Sangster streamlined the plot considerably, removing unnecessary characters and confining the action to a single, vaguely European town. The new story was lean and fast-paced: Jonathan Harker (John Van Eyssen) has travelled to Castle Dracula to destroy the infamous Count (Christopher Lee) once and for all. When he fails to return, his colleague – and master vampire hunter – Dr Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) sets out in search of his friend, only to discover that Harker has been turned into a vampire. After reluctantly killing Harker, Van Helsing learns that Dracula has set his sights on Harker’s fiancée Lucy (Carol Marsh) and her sister-in-law Mina (Melissa Stribling). Enlisting the help of Mina’s husband Arthur (Michael Gough), Van Helsing attempts to put an end to Dracula’s reign of terror.

A fascinating aspect of Dracula is the presentation of the Count compared with earlier versions. At this point, the role had already received two iconic portrayals: Max Shreck in Nosferatu (1922) and Bela Lugosi in the aforementioned Dracula (1931). Christopher Lee’s portrayal is very different from both, but no less iconic. When we first meet him he comes across as a perfect gentleman, greeting Harker to his castle and even carrying Harker’s luggage for him (what a charming host!). However, at the first sign of a threat, the real Dracula is revealed; a hissing, snarling, red-eyed monster. Interestingly, Van Helsing refers to Dracula as ‘it’ rather than ‘him’ throughout the film, and it’s entirely appropriate, as this Dracula is a wild, feral animal that has become dangerous and needs to be put down. It should be stressed that Lee’s performance is by no means one-dimensional; he somehow communicates to the audience that this terrible creature was once human, imbuing the character with a palpable sense of tragedy.

Despite the magnificence of Lee’s performance, his role in the film is actually fairly brief (an early example of ‘The Jaws Principle’ – keeping the monster off-screen to build suspense). The real star of the show is Peter Cushing as Van Helsing. The quietly intense Cushing was a remarkably gifted actor who was an asset to every film in which he starred, and his performance here is as good as any he ever gave.

But Dracula is about much more than the performances; the people behind the camera were also doing fantastic work. Along with Terence Fisher’s assured direction, we have Jack Asher’s striking cinematography and James Bernard’s thunderous score. Asher’s clever use of the colour red creates the illusion that the film is bloodier than it really is, while Bernard’s music lets you know, right from the start, that bad things are about to happen. Dracula has a great overall ‘look’ (which would become Hammer’s signature), and is a must-see for anyone interested in lighting, set design and shot composition.

Like all Hammer films, Dracula isn’t perfect; there are some misguided attempts at comic relief, and the film does drag slightly towards the end of the second act (although this makes it all the more thrilling when it suddenly speeds up again). As a whole, however, Dracula remains a shining example of filmmaking at its best; a team of masters of their respective crafts working together to produce a timeless motion picture.