Khooni Dracula (1992)

Khooni Dracula is an utterly atrocious excuse for a movie and perfectly illustrates the depths to which Bollywood horror had plunged by the late 1990s. The production values are virtually non-existent, with bit comedian Birbal being the only remotely recognizable name in the cast. They couldn’t even afford an Anil Dhawan, a Navin Nischal or a Deepak Parashar.

To even attempt to explain the plot is flattering the film considerably, but for the record it concerns an evil, corpulent uncle who rapes and murders his maid after having had rather too much to drink one dark and stormy night. The blood flowing from the unfortunate woman’s wounds somehow trickles directly into the waiting mouth of Dracula, who by sheer coincidence happens to be buried immediately beneath her. This revives the ghastly rubber-faced vampire who thereafter behaves rather like a bottled genie, becoming the obedient servant of his murderous master.

The villain promptly puts his newly acquired monster to work and dispatches him to rape and murder on command.

The film thereafter unfolds as a succession of cheaply staged set pieces involving dowdy women preparing for beauty baths. Time and again some unfortunate plain Jane begins disrobing, or at least as much as local censorship permits. As is customary in these productions, all desi women apparently bathe fully clothed, and the audience is consequently treated to endless shots of undergarments, dubious camera angles and close-ups of anatomy that nobody in their right mind would wish to examine so closely.

Rubber-Face Dracula invariably arrives at precisely the moment these bathing rituals commence and proceeds to paw his victims enthusiastically before plunging his plastic fangs into their leathery skin.

Various subplots attempt to give the film some semblance of structure. There is a wastrel brother whose family is starving while he fritters away his days gambling with equally useless friends. One stern lecture from his sister instantly reforms him and he thereafter strides purposefully through life, albeit still unemployed. There is a heroic young police officer determined to stop Khooni Dracula, though he relies heavily upon his girlfriend’s encyclopaedic knowledge of vampires in order to do so. Then there is the fat, villainous uncle himself, harbouring dark secrets and ultimately responsible for a growing body count of bathing beauties throughout the region.

Finally there is Khooni Dracula.

A sight for sore eyes indeed.

The creature wanders about in a ridiculous rubber mask, flowing black cloak and a distinguished, if somewhat moth-eaten, top hat. Particularly noteworthy are the immaculate white slip-on shoes which lend him an air of unexpected sophistication and suggest that despite his bloodlust he remains something of a dedicated follower of fashion.

The film possesses only a single redeeming feature: a surprisingly effective theme song that accompanies Dracula whenever he is out stalking victims. The tune is oddly catchy and the lyrics possess a certain demented charm. It is comforting to know that our vampire has enough taste to appreciate decent footwear and a memorable musical motif even if little else in the production displays similar standards.

The acting throughout is appalling. Nobody acquits themselves with any distinction and it comes as no surprise that most of the cast appear to have vanished into obscurity shortly afterwards. The songs are equally dreadful, though there is one astonishingly cheap “Kudiye” party number featuring youngsters apparently enjoying themselves at what may be the least convincing party ever committed to film. Naturally Khooni Dracula eventually gatecrashes proceedings and ruins the festivities.

Bollywood horror rarely sinks much lower than this, though it is probably no worse than the output of similarly tawdry directors such as Jitendra Chawda and company.

Khooni Dracula is so cheap and tacky that it could almost be mistaken for a low-budget Pashto horror film, except that the leading ladies are considerably less robust than their counterparts from that particular industry.

The film is utterly devoid of merit apart from its theme song and is so consistently dreadful that one is forced to wonder who actually watches such productions voluntarily.

Other than sick, twisted and hopelessly warped individuals such as ourselves, of course.

The sheer awfulness of Khooni Dracula is genuinely astonishing. More astonishing still is the discovery that films of this calibre actually managed to make money. Little wonder horror films developed such a poor reputation in certain circles when productions like this were being offered as representative examples of the genre.

Awful, lamentable and truly wretched.

The only remaining question is whether Bollywood horror could possibly get any worse.

The answer, sadly, is yes.

Just try watching something by Jitendra Chawda and friends.

The film has, unsurprisingly gone on to become a worldwide cult favourite and the theme song given heavy rotation during my stint at CityFM89 back the day has borne fruit as the song is now one of the most celebrated theme songs in cinema history.  Harinam Singh, an enigma, has gone on to cement his place as one of the truly magnificent film makers of cinema history and has followed up with some of the most spectacular atrocities that make Ed Wood seem like Orson Welles.  Such are the magnificent ways and joys of Cult Cinema.  The world needs a 4K Blu Ray Box set of Harinam Singhs incredible contribution to the world of Cult Cinema.  He also merits India’s Tagore Award for Cultural Harmony at the very least.