Another Dracula film in all but name, "Count Yorga, Vampire" was one of quite a few early-1970s reworkings of Bram Stoker's novel. 1970 alone includes two Dracula sequels from Hammer Films, a Jesús Franco Dracula and a Dracula-esque picture called "Jonathan." "Count Yorga" doesn't distinguish itself in any interesting ways from this pack. A low-budget production, it updates its bare-bones reworking of Stoker's story to the then-present of about 1970 and resets the action in Southern California. That's preferable compared to Franco's pitiful attempt to remain faithful to the source despite a lack of funds.
Although made and set during the Sexual Revolution, the film is more misogynistic than Stoker's Victorian-age novel, as the film treats women as victims, and men perform the action and do most of the talking. One of the women goes on for a while about how much she likes the Count and is defensive about the size of her posterior. Another one becomes hysterical during a séance, and then she's hypnotized by the Count into submission. The producers also submitted the film to several cuts to receive a more favorable MPAA rating, and the result is a film that is tame in blood and sex compared to its contemporaries, including the Hammer series and Franco's films, especially, as for sex, his tellingly-titled "Vapyros Lesbos" (1971).
The dead cat scene, however, has been restored, and it may be the best part here. Erica is essentially the Lucy character from Stoker's novel, in which Lucy, after turning into a vampire, feasted on children. A cat gets the same point across, and it's one of the more disturbing depictions of Lucy's vampiric behavior ever filmed. The lesbian scene while the Count watches and the implied rape by Yorga's servant are cut too short to be as shocking.
A blood transfusion, like in the novel, is also performed. The doctor here plays both Stoker's Seward and Van Helsing types. Roger Perry's performance is off-putting. He plays with Erica's hair in her medical appointment with him, but he's not otherwise presented as creepy or perverted in the way, say, Anthony Hopkins's Van Helsing is in the 1992 Dracula movie. And, he's otherwise conceited and stupid. When arguing for the possibility of the existence of vampires, he haughtily shouts, "But can you prove that vampires don't exist?" I don't care if he smokes a lot and has some naked, randomly-introduced and quickly-forgotten clingy chick in his bed, he's not cool. Meanwhile, Robert Quarry's Count is almost too suave in the tradition of Bela Lugosi (as opposed to the more anti-social Dracula from Stoker's book); his disdain for rudeness nearly prevents him from avoiding the sunrise in one scene.
Instead of any wolves, there's Rin Tin Tin, although it's not laughable as with the use of German Shepherds in the more faithful adaptations of Franco's 1970 film and the 1974 TV movie by Dan Curtis. The audio includes some bad ADR, including an extensive sequence of long shots where two of the guys walk the streets talking. Worst of all is the candle-lit, non-explicit erotica in a van. It's even worse than the love scene in the 1979 dime-romance-novel "Dracula." The ending isn't bad, though. Although the Count isn't as smart as he pretends, and he's weak for a vampire, at least crosses are less effective here than in the Hammer series; the Count laughs maniacally when the Doctor tries to hold him off with one.
Although made and set during the Sexual Revolution, the film is more misogynistic than Stoker's Victorian-age novel, as the film treats women as victims, and men perform the action and do most of the talking. One of the women goes on for a while about how much she likes the Count and is defensive about the size of her posterior. Another one becomes hysterical during a séance, and then she's hypnotized by the Count into submission. The producers also submitted the film to several cuts to receive a more favorable MPAA rating, and the result is a film that is tame in blood and sex compared to its contemporaries, including the Hammer series and Franco's films, especially, as for sex, his tellingly-titled "Vapyros Lesbos" (1971).
The dead cat scene, however, has been restored, and it may be the best part here. Erica is essentially the Lucy character from Stoker's novel, in which Lucy, after turning into a vampire, feasted on children. A cat gets the same point across, and it's one of the more disturbing depictions of Lucy's vampiric behavior ever filmed. The lesbian scene while the Count watches and the implied rape by Yorga's servant are cut too short to be as shocking.
A blood transfusion, like in the novel, is also performed. The doctor here plays both Stoker's Seward and Van Helsing types. Roger Perry's performance is off-putting. He plays with Erica's hair in her medical appointment with him, but he's not otherwise presented as creepy or perverted in the way, say, Anthony Hopkins's Van Helsing is in the 1992 Dracula movie. And, he's otherwise conceited and stupid. When arguing for the possibility of the existence of vampires, he haughtily shouts, "But can you prove that vampires don't exist?" I don't care if he smokes a lot and has some naked, randomly-introduced and quickly-forgotten clingy chick in his bed, he's not cool. Meanwhile, Robert Quarry's Count is almost too suave in the tradition of Bela Lugosi (as opposed to the more anti-social Dracula from Stoker's book); his disdain for rudeness nearly prevents him from avoiding the sunrise in one scene.
Instead of any wolves, there's Rin Tin Tin, although it's not laughable as with the use of German Shepherds in the more faithful adaptations of Franco's 1970 film and the 1974 TV movie by Dan Curtis. The audio includes some bad ADR, including an extensive sequence of long shots where two of the guys walk the streets talking. Worst of all is the candle-lit, non-explicit erotica in a van. It's even worse than the love scene in the 1979 dime-romance-novel "Dracula." The ending isn't bad, though. Although the Count isn't as smart as he pretends, and he's weak for a vampire, at least crosses are less effective here than in the Hammer series; the Count laughs maniacally when the Doctor tries to hold him off with one.