The nefarious Dr. Frankenstein (Franco regular Dennis Price) seeks to expand his evil empire by enslaving the prince of darkness himself, Count Dracula (The Horrible Dr. Orlof's Howard Vernon). With the aid of his newly re-animated monster (Fernando Bilbao) and his mute assistant Morpho (Luis Barboo, an actor who would often reprise this archetypal Franco role), the doctor is able to resurrect the corpse of the Count, formerly put to rest by vampire hunter Jonathon Seward (the Argentine Alberto Dalbes) by injecting the body with the fresh blood of a young singer. However, complications arise in the form of a vengeful gypsy woman (Mary Francis) who wishes to dispatch of the mad doctor so her people may finally be at peace. Soon a monster battle royalé ensues when Frankenstein’s reluctant vampire slaves (including another Franco regular Anne Libert, lover of the film’s producer, Robert De Nestle, at the time) revolt and the gypsy summons a werewolf (Brandy) to join in the skirmish.

This entry in Franco’s endless series of films, one of his Spanish-French co-productions, is a surprisingly restrained effort. The absence of the director’s usual deluge of sinful situations and orgiastic bloodletting is especially conspicuous considering the film was released the same year as the outrageous Les Experiences Erotiques de Frankenstein (also co-produced by the French company Comptoir Francais Du Film), a very similarly themed film comprised of virtually the same cast. While the latter film picked up the sleazy slack with a multitude of jaw-dropping sexual situations, this picture treads a path of more calculated artistic integrity.

That integrity is a sum of many parts of Franco’s previous films and his labyrinthine cinematic influences. The film’s screwy, splintered plot often defies logic and closely resembles his classic 1969 film Succubus. The knotty storyline and irrational editing firmly place this film into the traditional realm of the fantastiqué. Franco’s affinity for the expressionist masterpieces of Murnau surfaces in the sundry scenes of vampires rising from their moldy, creaky coffins. The lighting in these sequences is minimal-the coffins are lightly spotlighted whereas the surrounding castle walls are bathed in oblique, brooding blackness. One particular sequence strongly resembles Caligari’s summoning of his hypnotized slave in Wiene’s classic Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari, and all of the vampiric sequences vividly recall Jean Rollin’s best vampire arrays.

The re-interpretations of Franco’s archetypal influences are most clearly apparent in his treatment of the film’s monsters. If for nothing else, the film is an excuse for Franco to gather all of his favorite monsters (Frankenstein, the Wolfman, Dracula) in a single film. It is also quite refreshing that Franco chose to leave Mary Shelly’s most hideous monster unaltered, unlike Les Experiences Erotiques de Frankenstein. Here, Franco’s monster wears the familiar bolts, scars and green skin with pride, a vast improvement over the sloppily conceived fetish Frankenstein of the latter film. What is most fascinating, however, is Dr. Frankenstein’s role. Here Frankenstein is an intriguing amalgamation of past "super criminals" and arch villains. Frankenstein is a far more treacherous character here than in previous incarnations, and he inevitably resembles Fritz Lang’s most famous character, Dr. Mabuse. This parallel rings especially true since Franco was quite fond of Mabuse, and even made an unofficial entry in the series the year prior, La Vengana del Dr. Mabuse. Also, because of the Doctor’s particularly gruesome excursions, the influence of France’s most notorious master criminal and serial killer-Fantómas-cannot be ruled out. However, Franco injects the doctor with another dimension-one of cool sophistication-by granting him a lustrous black limousine, which is especially ostentatious considering the film is set in a nineteenth century village! Finally, Frankenstein also recalls Bela Lugosi’s role in1932’s White Zombie because of his command of his vampiric slaves. Unfortunately, Franco’s wolfman doesn’t fare nearly as well. The low budget was especially unkind to this classic monster, which here more resembles an unfortunate man caught without a razor and a bad pair of gag fangs.

Although the plot is duly contrived to accommodate their presence, Franco is smart enough to let the images sell the film and shirk off any monotonous exposition. The film is plethoric with memorable images, including the aforementioned vampire sequences, Jonathon’s initial staking of Count Dracula, and Frankenstein’s fearsome resurrection. One sequence stands out as one of Franco’s best, in which Dr. Frankenstein conducts a human-to-vampire blood transfusion. The sight of a bounded, nubile victim’s blood pumped into a beaker containing a squirming bat encircled by the blinking lights of Frankenstein’s scientific apparatuses is one to behold, to be sure. Long-time Franco collaborator Bruno Nicolai’s score is quite wonderful here, effortlessly capturing the whimsical, frightful hyperbole of an old 50’s B movie shocker.

Aside from the monster "dream team", the film boasts a level of technical sophistication that few Franco films contemporary of this period possess. Cinematographer Jose Climent’s photography is professionally balanced. The various scenes of gel lighting never overstay their welcome and are tastefully employed, striking a favorable balance between a candy-colored DC Comics atmosphere and genuine poetic beauty. The various long shots of the mist-shrouded castle are quite splendid and trickle with a pervasive gothic taste. In fact, nearly all of the sequences shot inside the castle are delightfully eerie and powerful.

Unfortunately, however, the film has its blemishes, the most being Vernon’s role as the Count. Franco makes the near-fatal mistake of relegating his most versatile actor to a wooden cigar store Indian role. Vernon does not have a single line of dialogue, and thus the opportunity for a fascinating vampire such as Kinski’s in Nosferatu is lost; thus Vernon often just sucks air when he’s not sucking blood. And it is quite unfortunate that the remainder of the cast is equally uninspired. Even though Price plays a character of such fascination he too turns in only a slightly above average role. The tedious performances are further exasperated by Franco’s obsessive use of the zoom lens. Hardly a single sequence concludes without at least one extraneous zoom, providing a dead give-away to the film’s rushed schedule (not surprising, as Franco often shot a few films back-to-back during this period). Finally, while the near absence of kinky shenanigans is mostly welcome, it is undeniable that some of Franco’s best work coincides with his perverse fascinations. Because the film is nearly asexual, it does appear somewhat sterile when compared to some of his more salacious horror material. Because of this said factor the film suffers somewhat from sporadic pockets of plot padding.

Dracula, Prisoner of Frankenstein still remains one of Franco’s most assured efforts. It succeeds because it is an unusually focused film, firmly rooted in the propitious blueprints of Universal and Hammer Horror films. But what really makes it the special specimen it is is the unique graft of cinematic obsession and bizarre imagery that could only come from Franco’s oeuvre.