A Taste of Blood

Of all the horror directors to ever tackle a Dracula movie, 'godfather of gore' Herschell Gordon Lewis has got to be one of the most unlikely, his previous stock-in-trade being nudie cutie features and trashy splatter flicks—pure exploitation with a side order of schlock. For A Taste of Blood, Lewis tones down his usual boobs and blood technique for a more sedate, considered approach, the emphasis being on character development and atmosphere; the result is quite possibly the most boring Dracula movie I've ever seen.

Technically, the film is fairly accomplished for a Lewis film, the director coaxing bearable performances from his better than usual cast, managing to keep most of his shots in focus, and even experimenting with lighting; however, at almost two hours long, A Taste of Blood is an endurance test even for Lewis aficionados, with only curvaceous blonde star Elizabeth Wilkinson's impressive cleavage and the occasional unintentionally funny moment to alleviate the extreme monotony.

For those brave souls who intend to stay the distance, here's my I-Spy checklist of amusing/interesting details to help keep you awake: director Herschell Gordon Lewis providing what must be the worst ever London accent in the history of film; the world's largest letter knife; John's lighter, set to 'flamethrower' mode, his 'beautiful' ring, and his remarkable ability to memorise a telephone number and address; Mrs. Stone's extraordinary large knocker (the one on her door!), her scary drawn on eyebrows, and her inability to repeat everything as ordered; repetitive music on a constant loop; the letter supposedly sent from London that uses the US convention for setting out a date.

2.5 out of 10, rounded up to 3 for Elizabeth Wilkinson's big old knockers (the ones straining to stay inside her dress!).