I'm watching Bram Stoker's Dracula, a movie I have enjoyed a couple of times before. The effect of the shadows moving independently from Gary Oldham is still quite amazing, over ten years later.
Many years ago, and I can't remember whether I saw this person in Toronto, Pasadena, or Cambridge, I met a man who was doing research on Bram Stoker and his writings. The researcher was from Boston College or University, and was a very tall, gaunt, greying Romanian. From Transylvania, in fact. One had to wonder, but those unfortunate suspicions were quickly dispelled by his friendly demeanour.
He told a story of travelling through England, tracing Bram Stoker's steps and trying to find what materials Stoker had gathered to put together the story that forever changed Europe's perception of his homeland (and raised suspicions in everyone he met). He was interested in this particular issue, because prior to the publishing of Dracula, there was very little known about the fears and traditions of central Europe. In one particular library, this researcher was able to find a book of about the right age, and when he went to check it out, he found that the person who had previously taken this book out was indeed... Bram Stoker.
Coincidence? No, of course not. You know what I think of that from my May 6 2003 post.
A handwritten post sent wirelessly from my Newton as I sat on the sofa.