John Chard

Zoltan, Hound of Dracula (1977) Tail from the Kennel. Unfortunately I never caught this pic as a youngster, to have that nostalgia glow, the memory bank igniting to recall a time when Zoltan scared one to tears. I have plenty of those type of movies, where I ask understanding about why a cheese laden film from my formative years still holds a piece of my psyche in the grip of fear. So watching Zoltan now as a middle aged adult, for the first time ever, is just painful. It’s a simply awful film, the film makers dragging the dead carcass of the Dracula name through a sewer of foul smelling waste. Nothing happens really, some bloke and his dog is awoken by an explosion, they search for the last remaining Dracula descendant and find him in the big modern America. Lots of people stand around talking, dogs come and go, bark a lot, Zoltan’s eyes glow and a camping trip gets ruined. The End! I don’t mock or pour scorn on anyone who has that childhood jolt to look back on fondly, I have them myself. However, for those not avowed to Zoltan’s fangy nostalgia? Stay away! 2/10