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Jan 01, 2020 Web Exclusive By Dustin Krcatovich

Thought plenty have done so, it’s unfair to call director Albert Band’s 1977 potboiler Zoltan… Hound of Dracula (alternate title Dracula’s Dog) a bad movie, as long as one meets it on its own level. It ain’t Citizen Kane, but it’s not supposed to be; there are more than one set of standards for what makes a work good. It’s not anything resembling a great movie, either, but it is a movie about a revived vampire Doberman Pinscher and his half-vampire master Veidt Smit (Reggie Nalder) stalking a descendent of Dracula in hopes of making him their new master. So, y’know, it’s bound to have some fun in there.

Michael Drake (Michael Pataki, who also plays Count Dracula in a flashback), a psychiatrist based in Los Angeles, is just trying to have a nice Winnebago camping vacation with his family and their dogs. For some reason, though, said dogs keep running away and getting into increasingly creepy and mysterious trouble; as it turns out, this is because Zoltan is making the family dogs into his minions, in the name of reuniting with his rightful master.

This is where the great José Ferrer swoops in as Inspector Vaclav Branco, moving through the film just as suave as you please, with the goal of helping Drake put a stop to Zoltan’s devilry. Branco’s that one guy who knows everything about dealing with vampires, where to find the best stakes, how to wear a beret, all the good stuff. Branco manages to coerce Drake into helping him stop Zoltan’s reign of campground terror.

It’s a silly setup, but that’s no problem. More of a problem is the film’s laggy pacing, especially in the family scenes; an extended driving scene, though salvaged somewhat by the excellent, warbly synth score of Andy Belling (more known for his contributions to Ralph Bakshi’s Wizards), does zero to build either tension or sympathy. By the time things start getting heavy, it’s become a bit tricky to maintain interest.

Still, the action scenes are enjoyably campy and effective, largely thanks to the contributions of practical effects legend Stan Winston. The over-the-top closeups of Zoltan aren’t his finest hour by most measures, but I’d rather have bad Stan Winston than none at all. Andy Belling’s aforementioned score elevates the entire film, but it can’t do all the heavy lifting itself.

Don’t get it twisted: there’s a lot to sell Zoltan… Hound of Dracula. I’d recommend it to any 1970s horror head. Unfortunately, even that recommendation is a somewhat cautious one, and it doesn’t extend to more casual fans, who would likely either mock it or be bored.