Bram Stoker’s celebrated tale of the vampiric Count ‘Dracula’ has been filmed 
  numerous times, but rarely has his story been faithfully represented (the excellent 
  BBC television adaptation Count Dracula (1977) with Louis Jourdan in 
  the title role came closest). Of course, that is not to suggest that other less 
  scrupulous versions have lacked quality. Indeed, several have been outstanding; 
  Hammer’s Dracula (AKA: The Horror of Dracula) (1958) with the 
  wonderful partnership of Christopher Lee as the Count and Peter Cushing as his 
  adversary, Van Helsing, is a marvellous production, while Francis Ford Coppola’s 
  Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), though often deviating from the text, creates 
  a stylish modern variation while retaining many of the novel’s most powerful 
  elements. It’s also interesting to note that for many years actor Christopher 
  Lee has lamented the fact that no one has produced a true interpretation of 
  Stoker’s novel and so it seems very fitting that at last, if not on celluloid, 
  here we have an audio production that remains faithful to the letter of the 
  book (if in a slightly abridged version).
What impressed me most about this wonderful realisation of this timeless story, 
  was that it had all of the distinction and attention to detail of one of BBC 
  Radio Four’s estimable productions, with full cast, sound effects and well chosen 
  background music (Philip Feeney’s ‘Dracula’, Vasily Kalinnikov’s ‘Epic Poem’ 
  and Hans J. Salter and Paul Dessau score to House of Frankenstein (1944)). 
  The vocal performances are accomplished too, led by the excellent Brian Cox 
  as Van Helsing and Heathcote Williams giving a silkily menacing reading of the 
  title character. Truthfully it’s difficult to find fault with this fine production. 
  If terror, intrigue and drama are what you seek, then look no further. 
While the character of Count Dracula stands as one of the most familiar names 
  in the pantheon of horror or any other genre of literature, the equally recognisable 
  name of Frankenstein must be one of most frequently misinterpreted. For many 
  this moniker conjures a vision of a thuggish monstrosity, probably complete 
  with bolts protruding from its neck. And yet, the truth is that Frankenstein 
  is in fact the name of the man who created the monster, rather than the creature 
  itself. As with ‘Dracula’, this story too has been often plundered by film-makers 
  and just as loosely adapted. Fortunately there have still been several outstanding 
  productions based on this seminal work, from James Whale’s enduring classic 
  Frankenstein (1931) with Colin Clive in the title role and Boris Karloff 
  as the monster, through to The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) with Cushing 
  and Lee in the film that began Hammer’s vastly successful run of British horror 
  movies that lasted right through until the early seventies. Probably best of 
  all to my mind, although again not particularly true to the written word, was 
  Frankenstein: The True Story (1973), an American made-for-television 
  production with Leonard Whiting in the title role and a strong supporting cast 
  that included James Mason, Ralph Richardson and Tom Baker. Bringing things up-to-date, 
  Kenneth Branagh’s 1994 Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein with Robert De Niro 
  as the creature, while perhaps undervalued, still failed to really tackle the 
  book (despite its title) and so ultimately it is left to an audio version such 
  as this to set the record straight. Once again the standard of the production 
  is commendable (if slightly less so than Dracula) and features music 
  taken from Tchaikovsky and Debussy, with the narration well performed by Daniel 
  Philpott as Frankenstein and Jonathan Oliver as The Daemon (the name that Shelley 
  actually called the creature in her story). 
For both horror and literature fans alike this is a tremendous treat and while 
  audio books may not have the glamour of the silver screen, when well presented 
  and executed as is the case here, they are pure gold.
	  
	  
	  
        
Mark Hockley