Classic Horror Behind the Scenes: What ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN Meant to Bela Lugosi

The proud star of DRACULA (1931) had high hopes for a revived film career when he stepped in front of the cameras in 1948. Sadly, in spite of his marvelous performance, it was not to be.

By Bill Fleck, author of the Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Awards-nominated book Chaney’s Baby (available here), and the Rondo Honorably-Mentioned Chaney’s Audition (available here).

DID YOU KNOW? Two-time Rondo Award-winning filmmaker THOMAS HAMILTON is set to release VINCENT PRICE & THE ART OF LIVING—the first in the HORROR ICONS series—in May of 2026. I’m lucky enough to be a producer on the project. Would you like to get on the HORROR ICONS EXPRESS TRAIN? Click here to see how you can help get these important documentaries made. Thank you!

[Above: Bill interviewed by Thomas Hamilton for VINCENT PRICE & THE ART OF LIVING. MONSTER BASH—Cranberry, Pennsylvania. July 20, 2024.]

See previous entries of this RONDO HONORABLY-MENTIONED BLOG here.

[Bill updated this entry on February 14, 2026.]

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Saturday, February 14, 1948. Bela Lugosi, 65, is on set at Universal-International as Dracula.

For—as it happens—Dracula, the Wolfman, and the Frankenstein monster are about to take their chances by going up against the legendary slapstick antics of Abbott and Costello…both on and off screen.

Lugosi’s graying hair is blackened, his lips are fiercely painted, and his face is thickly caked with powder. He’s just postponed a London stage revival of DRACULA to be here because the $8000 he’ll be paid by the studio—worth a little more than $106,000 when adjusted for inflation at this writing—is much better money.

And—as usual—he desperately needs money.

[Above: Makeup supervisor Bud Westmore, possibly thinking Lugosi was too old to play Dracula, had the actor made up heavily.]

What must he be thinking? Does it occur to Lugosi that early February is certainly an interesting time for him to be reprising his most famous screen role? After all, Bela is devoted to collecting clippings about his career and pasting them in scrapbooks. And it was near to this very day—February 5, 1931, seventeen years in the past—that the film version of DRACULA, featuring Lugosi in a star-making performance, was unleashed on the public. [1]

For the proud actor, it’s been a roller coaster ride on a whirling dervish ever since.

Does he recognize the significance of any of that ride as he puffs on his beloved, ever-present cigar in the few quiet moments he gets before the typical chaos erupts on the Abbott and Costello set?

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October 20, 1882. Béla Ferenc Dezsö Blasko is born in Lugos, Hungary. [2] He’s the fourth child of Istvan and Paula Blasko. Béla comes from a line of farmers, but Istvan has shaken off that occupation to become a baker. Shortly after Béla’s birth, Istvan gets a prestigious job in banking.

Istvan’s obvious ambition is well-represented in his youngest child. Béla, too, is bright and ambitious…and none too fond of being told what to do. At the age of 12, he drops out of school and hoofs it to Resita, a little less than 35 miles from home. There, he finds intermittent work as a miner and a machinist.

But his dream is to become an actor. He hooks up with a theater troupe in Resita, and before long, he’s happily performing all over Hungary. Eventually, he changes his name to Bela Lugosi in honor of his home.

Much to Lugosi’s delight, the troupe encourages the young actor to experiment, to try a wide variety of parts. Sadly, if you look up the word typecast today, Lugosi’s picture might as well be there. But such is not the case when he gets started…which is no doubt why being typecast later on in Hollywood gets him so boiling mad.

Future typecasting or no, Lugosi’s ambitions are put on hold when the Great War violently breaks out. The nearly 32-year-old actor volunteers to serve, leaves Hungary’s National Theater, and eventually becomes a captain in the ski patrol (attached to the 43rd Royal Hungarian Infantry Regiment). As such, Lugosi participates in vicious combat on both the western and eastern fronts, particularly against Russian forces in the Carpathian Mountains. He’s seriously wounded in battle three times (shot twice and concussed when a bomb explodes behind him) and is decorated for bravery.

Thanks to what we’d call PTSD, he’s discharged from the service in 1916 (after 18 months). But he’ll carry the war with him—both mentally and physically—for the rest of his life.

[Above: (Top) Lugosi’s acting career was interrupted by the Great War. Lugosi volunteered to serve, was wounded, and decorated for bravery. (Bottom) Lugosi recovering in the hospital, early 1916. The pain from his wounds would come back to haunt him in later years.]

After Lugosi is discharged, he gets back into acting. Handsome and magnetic, he scores a variety of romantic roles—some in films under the stage name Arisztid Olt. He also scores his first wife. [3]

But political turmoil ensnares Lugosi when he openly endorses the communist regime of Bela Kuhn. When Kuhn is forced out by royalist Miklos Horthy shortly after, Lugosi finds himself with a target on his back. A quick dash to Vienna, Austria leaves him without a country…and without a wife.

Crossing into Germany, the actor finds work in films. But the lure of America is strong, and a year later, Lugosi—without a passport—talks his way into a job on the Grof Tisza Istvan, a freighter.

December 5, 1920. The Graf Tisza Istvan docks in New Orleans. Lugosi reports promptly to U.S. authorities. The charming, 38-year-old actor is alone, broke, and doesn’t speak English. But he’s nothing if not confident.

By early the following year, he’s thriving in the Hungarian theater community in New York City. He’s put together his own company, and—like a prototype Orson Welles—is producing, directing, and starring in a variety of plays.

December 20, 1922. Lugosi makes his Broadway debut in THE RED POPPY. Still struggling with English, the actor has amazingly learned much of his part phonetically. He gets rave reviews, but the play doesn’t—it closes shortly thereafter.

Still, an influential exec at Fox Studios has seen it, and is more than impressed with Lugosi. He casts the tall, mysterious actor in THE SILENT COMMAND (1923). Bela continues to tread the boards as well, including THE DEVIL IS IN THE CHEESE and ARABESQUE.

But the big one will come in 1927.

[Above: Lugosi in THE RED POPPY on Broadway. A Fox executive takes notice of him and puts him in American films.]

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The novel DRACULA by Bram Stoker is released in 1897. It sells reasonably well, but doesn’t make Stoker rich. By 1923, Florence Stoker—Bram’s widow—is broke enough to offer the stage rights to Irish actor and playwright Hamilton Deane. [4]

Deane alters much of the action in the novel, and cleans up the character of Dracula, making him appear to be more at home in polite society.

Deane stages DRACULA in England. Publisher Horace Liveright sees potential, and purchases the rights for the United States. Director John D. Williams, who has seen Lugosi in THE DEVIL IN THE CHEESE, convinces Liveright to hire Bela as Dracula. [5]

“Lugosi’s your man, Horace,” Williams tells Liveright over drinks. “I saw him in OPEN HOUSE and DEVIL IN THE CHEESE and as a villain he’s superb. He has the look of a cornered beast, but he can be slick when he has to be. On and offstage, he reeks of nobility. Just the one to play a Transylvania count. Hell, I heard that he even came from Transylvania. What more could you ask for?”

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October 25, 1927. DRACULA opens at the Fulton on Broadway. It runs for thirty-three colossal weeks before heading to the West Coast and then on tour. Lugosi is a phenomenon as well.

[Above: Lugosi in the stage version of DRACULA (1927). Both the play and Lugosi were huge hits.]

Meanwhile, Hollywood—particularly Universal—has been interested in shooting DRACULA as a Talkie as early as 1928. Rumors later circulate that Lon Chaney was set to play the lead; this is one of Classic Horror’s more enduring myths. More reliable talk centers on Conrad Veidt. [6] But protracted negotiations with Florence Stoker—who wants $200,000 for the film rights—bog down until 1930.

Desperate for the role—actually, too desperate—Lugosi steps in for Universal and manages to get Florence down to $40,000. [7]

Universal producer Carl Laemmle, Jr.—whose father had famously started the company—notices. And no good deed goes unpunished…

Realizing that he can use Lugosi’s desperation against him, Junior offers him the role…at $500 a week (a bit more than $9500 at this writing). Take it or leave it.

“It was a studio power play at its baldest and nastiest,” David J. Skal will write. “In all his scraping and supplicating the actor had more than tipped his hand, and blown the poker game. Universal knew it could dictate terms, and the Dracula they desired was far too thirsty to put up a fuss.”

Lugosi is furious. He was paid $1000 per week in a supporting role for Tod Browning’s THE THIRTEENTH CHAIR (1929). He knows he’s being manipulated now. But he takes it. How can he not?

“Lugosi no doubt rationalized,” Skal says. “A financial concession, yes, but what an investment! The exposure. The acclaim. The future! Well-meaning friends surely urged him to sign. How could anyone turn down work, these days? And a starring part in a movie by the Laemmles [Best Picture Oscar winners for 1930’s ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT]! There were actors on breadlines.”

Universal spends lavishly, dropping nearly $442,000 (about $8.5 million now) making and promoting DRACULA. Lugosi gets $3500 of that—a little less than $69,000 today.

[Above: Lugosi in DRACULA (1931). In order to secure the part, he helped Universal negotiate with Frances Stoker for the film rights. Universal took advantage of his hunger for the part, paying him only $3500 for his iconic portrayal in the movie.]

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Thursday, February 5, 1931. DRACULA premieres in Portland, Maine. It makes its way to Bangor and then New London, Connecticut. On February 12, it lands at the Roxy in New York City.

It’s a smash, making at least $112,000 in its first eight days (Arthur Lennig, one of Lugosi’s biographers, says $120,000). It will be Universal’s biggest hit that year, and the ninth at the box office overall. It’s instrumental in saving Universal from bankruptcy. The suits are obviously thrilled—and immediately plan to star Lugosi in FRANKENSTEIN.

Lugosi is thrilled with the idea of FRANKENSTEIN as well. The part of a driven, brilliant scientist with a mad dream is right in his wheelhouse. Robert Florey, FRANKENSTEIN’S screenwriter and proposed director, certainly agrees with him. But Junior Laemmle does not. He sees Lugosi as a horror guy—and, at nearly 49, too old to play the doctor. Lugosi is assigned the part of the Monster.

Lugosi is appalled. In his opinion—which he doesn’t hide—anyone can play this “scarecrow.” Single again—two more wives have come and gone by now—he’s been getting bags of fan mail from willing women thanks to his sexy take on Dracula. There is no way the ladies are going to gush over him as the Monster.

In spite of his objections, a test reel is scheduled. The actor, who is used to doing his own makeup, fights with makeup artist Jack Pierce right up until cameras turn.

“Lugosi thought his ideas were better than everybody’s!” Pierce will later complain.

The test doesn’t convince Junior. Plus, he has a pet director in mind to replace Florey—James Whale. And Whale doesn’t want Lugosi.

As a result, Lugosi gets his wish—he won’t be playing the Monster. But he won’t be playing the doctor, either. He and Florey are off the film. It’ll be up to Whale and actors Colin Clive and Boris Karloff to make cinema history that summer.

(I deal with the Lugosi/FRANKENSTEIN situation in depth in my upcoming book BELA’S MONSTER. Keep your eyes open.)

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Bela Lugosi becomes a U.S. citizen. He also enjoys the high life. Parties at his digs. Expensive Havana cigars. Wine, women, song. He shares his house with Lulu Schubert, his mistress. He isn’t rich, but he spends like he is. Plus, he’s extremely generous and a soft touch; friends who need a hand-out know they can count on him.

Lillian Lugosi, Bela’s fourth wife, will tell biographer Robert Cremer that if Bela has money today, he spends it today…and let tomorrow take care of itself.

He continues to perform powerfully in films—MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE, WHITE ZOMBIE (which, according to Cremer, he largely directs), ISLAND OF LOST SOULS. But none do him as much good as DRACULA. And he himself continues to be underpaid. By October of 1932, he’s facing bankruptcy.

FRANKENSTEIN, meanwhile, is a massive hit—surpassing even DRACULA at the box office and making a star out of Boris Karloff.

And an instant professional rival for Lugosi.

“If it hadn’t been for Boris Karloff,” he’ll lament years later, “I would have had a corner on the horror market!”

Bela makes a vow. He will never turn down a part again.

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January 31, 1933. Las Vegas. Bela Lugosi marries Lillian Arch.

Lillian is the attractive daughter of a local Hungarian family. She’s been working for the actor as a general secretary and occasional chauffeur.

She’s also nearly thirty years his junior. This initially isn’t an issue for her father, who had been Bela’s good friend. But when Papa Arch finds out that Bela isn’t rich, a chill develops between them.

The marriage will last for twenty rocky years. Though he oozes Old-World charm, by his own admission, Bela is something of a control freak. He refers to himself as “Master of the House,” and picks out her clothes.

He also discourages the use of makeup or perfume.

And pushes her hair off of her ears.

“Men like natural women, I submit,” he explains. “It is a natural instinct.”

[Above: Lugosi married for a fourth time in 1933. His bride, Lillian Arch, was nearly 30 years his junior. Though Bela was often warm and friendly, he was also—by his own admission—something of a control freak at home. The marriage lasted twenty years, and yielded one child: Bela George Lugosi.]

Soon, Universal is pairing him up with Karloff—by now billed dramatically as KARLOFF—in wild films like THE BLACK CAT and THE RAVEN. Both movies are superb, and feature excellent performances by the stars. But the latter is unfairly blamed for getting horror films banned in Britain. And Hollywood—tired of battling censor Joseph Breen on this side of the pond—stops producing scary flicks altogether.

A moratorium on horror films puts a moratorium on Lugosi’s income as well. He and Lillian lose their house, their servants, their cars. When their son Bela George is born on January 5, 1938, the Motion Picture Relief Fund pays the hospital bill.

“Horror, to me, is learning that you cannot influence your Destiny,” Lugosi wisely states.

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August 5, 1938. The Beverly Hills Regina Theater books a triple: DRACULA, FRANKENSTEIN, SON OF KONG. Lugosi notices the lines forming around the block.

“I wonder what is giving away to the people?” he asks. “Maybe bacon or vegetables. But it is the comeback of horror, and I come back.”

He’s persuaded to take the stage at the Regina every night at 10 PM.

Universal—under new leadership—notices, too. They whip up fresh prints of DRACULA and FRANKENSTEIN and re-release them nationwide as a double bill. The films are massive hits all over again, putting a nearly 50-percent dent in Universal’s losses for the fiscal year.

Britain be damned! New—and, hopefully, profitable—horror flicks need to be made!

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November 9, 1938. Director Rowland V. Lee begins shooting SON OF FRANKENSTEIN. It features Basil Rathbone as the manic son, Boris Karloff—no longer KARLOFF—as the Monster, Lionel Atwill as a wily, one-armed police inspector…and Bela Lugosi as Ygor, a deranged blacksmith and keeper of the Monster.

It’s a big budget film that becomes a big box office hit, featuring big performances by big names. And Lugosi steals it. [7]

“Lugosi was an undeniably talented performer, who shone especially in ethnic or lowlife characterizations,” Skal writes years later. “His work as the demented Ygor…is a splendid example of the actor at the height of his powers.”

[Above: Bela as Ygor in SON OF FRANKENSTEIN (1939). The role as conceived was a small one—Ygor didn’t even appear in the initial draft of the script. But director Rowland V. Lee and Lugosi expanded the part considerably while shooting. The result is one of Bela’s greatest performances.]

More offers come—some with Karloff, whose parts are bigger and always better paid. But turning work down doesn’t pay the bills, so Lugosi soldiers on. He even gets to reprise Ygor—effectively—in THE GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN (1942), which features Lon Chaney, Jr. as the Monster. In the bizarre climax, Ygor’s brain is popped into the Monster’s head…causing the creature to speak in Ygor’s voice!

And then, things come full circle…

Bela is offered the part of the Monster in FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLF MAN, a sequel to Universal’s box office smash, THE WOLF MAN (1941). [10]

There is no way that 60-year-old Bela is turning down this role again. Besides, the character is more interesting now, at least in the actor’s mind. Blind, possessed of Ygor’s “sly and sinister” brain, and gifted with maniacal dialogue that invokes Hitler, this version of the Monster is a far cry from the “scarecrow” Lugosi perceived him to be back in 1931. He’s even on his best behavior with Jack Pierce.

But problems plague the production. One of them occurs when Bela collapses on the set under the heavy costume and the heat of cinematographer George Robinson’s lights. It becomes obvious to producer George Waggner that the Monster’s strenuous action scenes are going to have to be performed mainly by stunt man Gil Perkins—who, unfortunately, ends up playing the part with stiff limbs like a robot.

Then, at a screening room preview of the first cut, some of those present laugh out loud at the Monster’s lines. Screenwriter Curt Siodmak blames Lugosi’s accent, telling film historian Tom Weaver that Bela “could never act himself out of a paper bag”; others—me included—blame Siodmak’s over-the-top dialogue. Whatever the reason, Producer George Waggner orders all of Lugosi’s utterances—and any references to the Monster’s blindness—cut, dealing his performance a fatal blow.

Universal blames all of this on Lugosi.

So much so, that when Siodmak writes the story for what will become SON OF DRACULA with Lugosi in mind, studio executives ignore the idea completely and cast Lon Chaney, Jr. [9] (Lugosi instead makes RETURN OF THE VAMPIRE at Columbia, expertly playing the vicious, undead Armand Tesla.)

[Above: (TOP) Lugosi felt slighted by both Universal and Lon Chaney, Jr. when he was passed over for SON OF DRACULA (1943). (BOTTOM) Lugosi was excellent as the vicious Armand Tesla in Columbia’s RETURN OF THE VAMPIRE that same year.]

When Dracula is written into the screenplays of HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1944) and HOUSE OF DRACULA (1945), the part is given to John Carradine. There’s no hard evidence that Lugosi is even considered.

Things at home aren’t going much better. His war wounds cause horrible shooting pains in his legs. By 1944, it gets so bad that doctors prescribe shots of morphine. Sadly, he’ll become addicted…and Hollywood will cruelly take notice.

“Oh hell, yes! Everyone knew it,” Lon Chaney, Jr. will say in the late 1960s.

“He was not well at all…” Robert Wise, director of THE BODY SNATCHER (1945), also remembered years later. “I heard that he was on drugs at the time. I think he might have been drugged because he was in pain.” [11]

Add to this the fact that his daily intake of Scotch and/or boilermakers has already increased to epic levels. Plus, Lillian has left him, actually filing for divorce…though they soon reconcile.

Work in films dries up again. Lugosi advises his people to pass on DRACULA revivals, but then bows to the inevitable and takes to the road in productions of both DRACULA and ARSENIC AND OLD LACE. He charges $750 a week—worth a bit more than $13,500 today—but travels hundreds of miles. And life on the road is tough.

[Above: Bela at home, c. 1948. He enjoyed reading, Havana cigars, and Scotch whiskey. He hosted parties for friends and was known as a soft touch…when he wasn’t struggling for money himself.]

Always impatient with talent agents—he’d gone through five in the early 1940s alone, believing that they weren’t working hard enough to get him parts—Lugosi turns to his friend Don Marlowe to represent him. The actor has heard that the new Universal-International regime is planning THE BRAIN OF FRANKENSTEIN, an Abbott and Costello vehicle that features Frankenstein’s monster, the Wolf Man, and—of course—Dracula.

Lugosi wants in.

Though he’s a bit of a con man, Marlowe vows to make it happen. [12] He tells Lugosi a complicated yarn about how he’s shamed studio execs into gifting him with the part as payback for Bela’s DRACULA saving the studio in 1931.

But the facts—according to Lugosi’s biographer Arthur Lennig—are actually quite different:

“Studio records show that Lugosi had been penciled in for the part when the project first came under development in 1947,” Lennig notes, “before Marlowe visited Universal. Perhaps all that Marlowe did was help clinch the case and obtain a better salary.”

Whatever the actual circumstances, Lugosi is grateful for the job.

“I’ll be truthful,” he’ll say more than once. “The weekly paycheck is the most important thing to me.”

To that end, he’s hoping to convince the producers to make at least two more Dracula films.

“There is enough material in the original novel for half a dozen pictures,” he asserts.

[Above: ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN puts the comedians at odds with the Monster, Dracula, and the Wolfman. Though grateful for the part, A&C’s offstage antics made the shooting tough on Lugosi.]

But it’s not just money that has him worried. Bela’s homelife is in crisis. Shortly before shooting starts, he and Lillian separate again. Bela’s drinking and possessive jealousy have driven her to the brink.

“I was living in a fishbowl in my own home,” she’ll tell Cremer.

Lugosi winds up staying in Hollywood with family friend Marie Kerekjarto-Staats and her parents. He’s devastated by the thought of this marriage ending.

“Give it up, Bela,” Marie advises him. “If you stopped drinking, that would make Lillian very happy.”

But her words fall on deaf ears.

“Like clockwork every evening,” Cremer writes, “he moved out onto the porch, flanked by his bottles of beer and scotch, for his cocktail hour.”

The film becomes that much more important as a result. Bela knows how associated he is with Dracula, and he knows what a break he’s caught by securing the chance to play the part in a major motion picture once again. Perhaps this will restore his reputation with the studio and reopen doors for him?

In spite of the upheaval in his personal life, he’s certainly on his best behavior during the shoot.

“He was quite a gentleman,” co-star Jane Randolph will say. “He really liked doing Dracula. He did not hint that he felt trapped by the character. He seemed proud of it.” ​

He’s also delivering one of his greatest performances. ​

This is partially thanks to Bela’s director, Charles T. Barton. The five-foot-two, 45-year-old Sacramento native has a great respect for the actor, and has staged scenes to emphasize Lugosi’s hypnotic blue eyes. Plus, Barton is working on his fifth Abbott and Costello production, so he knows the ropes. His main appeal for Universal-International is that he gets along with Lou Costello, who has been very vocal about how much he disapproves of the project. ​

“A lot of people showed fear, and that’s what he loved, so he’d walk all over them,” Barton will tell film historian Greg Mank about Costello years later. “But for some reason, with me—and I don’t know why in the hell it was—we got along even better than brothers.”

[Above: Director Charles Barton wisely emphasized Lugosi’s hypnotic pale blue eyes in the film.]

This being an Abbott and Costello set, things are typically chaotic. 

​There’s Abbott and Costello’s paid jester Bobby Barber, bringing in pies to throw and getting eggs cracked on his bald head. The diminutive, shifty-eyed actor even scores a bit part in the film as a waiter. ​

Then, there’s Costello’s refusal to learn his lines from a script he still dislikes. ​

“He just wanted to stand up and do routines,” Barton explains. 

Several bits of business from A&C’s longtime jokemeister John Grant ameliorate Costello’s concerns a little, though fellow screenwriters Robert Lees and Frederic Rinaldo feel like such things don’t belong in the script. ​

“Grant was a problem for us,” Lees will remember in 2008. “After we’d work very hard to get a story together, Grant would come in with something and they’d put it in just because it was from Grant.” ​

These fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants antics don’t sit well with Lugosi. Initially amused, Bela’s tolerance erodes as takes are blown and time is wasted.

This isn’t the way professionals are supposed to behave.

“There were times when I thought Bela was going to have a stroke on the set,” Barton remembers. “You have to understand that working with two zanies like Abbott and Costello was not the normal Hollywood set. They never went by the script.” ​

Lugosi handles the situation by glaring at the offenders in his inimitable way.

“We should not be playing while we are working,” he’ll intone more than once. ​

Not that it does any good.

[Above: Initially amused by A&C’s between-the-scenes antics, Bela soon tired of blown takes and wasted time. “We should not be playing while we are working,” he would say. Here, Bela helps A&C torment comedian Bobby Barber.]

Though Bela and Glenn Strange as the Frankenstein monster are not fair targets in the pie wars—Strange because the Monster’s eyelids partially blind him, and Lugosi simply out of respect—that doesn’t shield them from the rest of the shenanigans.

Typical are Abbott and Costello’s on-set card games that eat up their salary as well as precious production hours. Then, there are the times when the comics go home for the night…and don’t return until what feels like days later.

As a result, the film will take a week longer than scheduled, tacking $33,000 more onto the bill. 

“All three of the ‘monsters’ were the nicest,” Barton will say. “The real monsters were Abbott and Costello!”

Sure, Lugosi is cool to Lon Chaney, Jr.—who is reprising the Wolfman—believing that Chaney’s drinking on the set is unprofessional…and still nursing a grudge over Lon’s casting as the vampire in SON OF DRACULA. (Perhaps in return, Chaney addresses Bela as “Pop.”)

But Lugosi takes comfort in the fact that Dracula is treated with care. The script includes ripe lines that are delivered by Bela with just the right touch of irony.

“There is no burlesque for me,” Lugosi will explain. “All I have to do is frighten the boys, a perfectly appropriate activity. My trademark will be unblemished.”

[Above: Lugosi on the set of ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN reading one of the four newspapers he poured through daily. According to Robert Cremer—his biographer—Bela was one of the best informed people in Hollywood.]

An unhappy Chaney certainly can’t say the same about the Wolfman. 

A scene in the woods opposite Costello is the worst. Wildly expanding on the mild slapstick indicated in the screenplay, the five-four, two-hundred-pound comic repeatedly punches and kicks the hairy, inexplicably clumsy beast stalking him in the woods, believing it to be Abbott in a mask; this completely destroys any fear Chaney might generate. ​

And though his final scenes—which involve chasing Dracula—are handled more realistically, the overall impression the film makes is that The Wolfman is a clown. So even though he’s collected $10,000 for the role—a little more than $136,000 at this writing—the film leaves a bad taste in his mouth. [13]

​“Abbott and Costello ruined the horror films,” Chaney will growl years later. “They made buffoons out of the monsters.” (To read more about Chaney’s experience on the film, click here.)

They certainly did in he Wolfman’s case, though Strange’s Frankenstein monster is treated with respect…mostly. (To read more about Strange’s experience on the film, click here.)

Meanwhile, Lugosi steals the film.

As many critics have noted, makeup supervisor Bud Westmore—who’d replaced Jack Pierce—undoubtedly thought Bela was too old for the part, and had the actor buried in obvious face powder, hair dye, and lipstick. But, as more than one critic has also noted, the heavy makeup adds something to the character.

“Though very obvious,” writes Greg Mank, “these cosmetics brought a strangely proper touch to Lugosi’s Dracula, underscoring the vanity of the ancient count.”

(I personally feel that the makeup actually enhances Dracula, giving him an otherworldly, undead look.)

Meanwhile, Lugosi himself is marvelous in exploring Dracula’s moods, which—it must be said—are more varied than in the 1931 original. Certainly, Lugosi was effective in communicating Dracula’s charm, sexual power, anger, hypnotic ability, and brief tinges of regret in the earlier film—and does so again here. But the mores of 1931 dictated more theatrical, stagey acting techniques…techniques that look antique these days.

[Above: Lugosi as Dracula in 1931 and 1948. Though iconic in 1931, the mores of the day dictated “stagey” acting. By 1948, such pretenses had been dropped. Lugosi’s dialogue flows more naturally as a result.]

Film acting had come a long way by 1948…and so had Lugosi. Gone are the long pauses in Dracula’s speech. This Dracula speaks more quickly, but with no less authority…and demonstrates a creepy, ironic humor that Lugosi perfectly embodies.

“Ah, you young people,” he muses at one point to Costello. “Making the most of life…while it lasts.”

This is only one of many expertly delivered lines. 

[Above: “Ah, you young people. Making the most of life…while it lasts.” An added aspect to Dracula’s character in 1948 is a sly, ironic sense of humor. Lugosi delivers these ripe lines perfectly.]

Certainly, there are perceived flaws in the film. A victim of the Wolfman, for example, lives…but doesn’t become a werewolf. And Dracula is glimpsed briefly in a mirror. [14] Still, none of these are Lugosi’s fault. He gives his all, as he always did, and delivers what I believe to be one of his Top Five performances. [15]

The film is released, of course, as ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN. It’s a huge hit, raking in $3.2 million—about $43.6 million at this writing. It reignites Bud and Lou’s career and gives Lugosi a great deal of hope for his future.

Sadly, he’s wrong.

Sure, Lillian takes him back when he promises her that he’ll seek help from Alcoholics Anonymous. [16]

But his hoped-for DRACULA sequels never materialize. And—in spite of how undeniably great he is in the picture—the new Universal execs take a page from the former playbook and go back to ignoring Bela Lugosi.

So, Abbott and Costello eventually meet the Invisible Man, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the Mummy, and the Killer—Boris Karloff.

But—as far as Universal is concerned—there is no room in any of this for Lugosi. What a shame this is, for Lugosi could have been a magnificent foil for A&C again in, say, the role of a mad scientist.

“Lugosi’s career declined irretrievably after his second film appearance as Dracula,” David J. Skal correctly observes. “After ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN, he would never again have a speaking role for a major studio nor was he able to interest Universal, or any other studio, in a remake of DRACULA.”

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In 1957, interest in the Universal Monsters soars once again thanks to the sale of the films to TV in the Shock Theater package.

But Lugosi misses out. Sadly, he has died on August 16, 1956 at the age of 73.

ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN should have been not only a triumph artistically for Lugosi—which it undeniably was—but a financial one as well. Studio executives should have reveled in his hypnotic, humorous, towering performance, and pushed screenwriters to develop similar projects for him posthaste. That they didn’t is one more cheap punch to the gut in a life filled with unhappy—and mostly underserved—slaps.

Still, as it stands, ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN is the gateway to the Universal Monsters for generations, mine included.

And Bela Lugosi as Dracula is a huge reason for that.

[Above: ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN is the gateway for many to the Universal Monsters and should have revived Lugosi’s career. Sadly, it was not to be. But his brilliant performance can still be savored.]

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Notes

[1] Many believe DRACULA was premiered on February 14, 1931. It wasn’t. DRACULA’S world premiere took place at Keith’s Theater in Portland, ME on February 5, 1931. See: “Portland Gets World Premiere.” Portland Press Herald. February 6, 1931, p. 4.

[2] It is now part of Romania, and is called Lugoj.

[3] Lugosi will eventually marry five times: Ilona Szmick (1917-1920), Ilona von Montagh (1921-1925), Beatrice Woodruff Weeks (1929-divorce proceedings started after four days), Lillian Arch (1933-1953), Hope Lininger (1955-his death in 1956).

[4] Florence Stoker was apoplectic when she discovered that the book had been made into a film called NOSFERATU (1922) in Germany…without her permission. She sued, but the production company was already bankrupt. She then attempted to have all prints of the film destroyed; obviously, she didn’t win that battle either.

[5] Lugosi almost turned down the part, since his character had less dialogue than he was used to. Lucky for all concerned, he changed his mind.

[6] It wasn’t likely that Chaney would ever have taken the role anyway. To begin with, he was under contract to MGM. Then, too—as David J. Skal notes—he was suffering from “a nagging bronchial complaint”—actually, the cancer that would soon cause the throat hemorrhage that killed him. Finally, Universal—in a rushed attempt to get a sound version of Chaney’s PHANTOM OF THE OPERA out in theaters—“made a legalistic end-run around Chaney’s contractual refusal to have his voice dubbed by introducing a shadowy figure, ostensibly the Phantom’s helper, who would speak the necessary dialogue and be accepted by the inattentive audience as Chaney himself. None of this could have endeared Universal to Chaney or Metro, and may well have been the nail in the coffin for Chaney’s ever acting in DRACULA…” (Skal, p. 155). Chaney biographer Michael F. Blake—who really did the heavy lifting on this issue—writes: “[T]he first choice for the role was actor Conrad Veidt, but his thick German accent put an end to his career in American sound pictures for many years. Chaney was the studio’s second choice, even though the reality was that Universal’s chances of obtaining his services were extremely slim…Chaney’s contract with MGM was not about to expire…It was also doubtful that MGM…would have loaned Chaney out to a competitor, especially Universal…MGM would have demanded a hefty fee from Universal on top of Chaney’s $3,750 weekly salary…MGM would have been legally bound to consider the loan-out as one of the four pictures made during Chaney’s contract year…[MGM] would have lost a considerable amount of money, given Chaney’s large box office popularity, and let Universal reap the benefits” (Blake, A THOUSAND FACES).

[7] A little less than $787,000 today. Interestingly, the novel DRACULA was in the public domain in the U.S.—Stoker had never filed the two required copies. But the $40,000 covered the play concerns as well, so Lugosi’s efforts were worth it…for Universal, at least.

[8] New regime or no, Universal initially plans on skimping on Bela’s salary. They instruct Lee to shoot all of his scenes in one week at a rate of $500 per. According to Lillian Lugosi, Lee was outraged. “I’m going to show those goddamn SOBs that they can’t do that to Bela,” the director tells her. “I’ll keep him on the set from the very first day of shooting to the last minute. I’ll be damned if he doesn’t make as much as Karloff from the film” (Lennig, p. 263).

[9] The plan was originally to have Chaney star in both roles. But the technical difficulties on a limited budget—and Chaney’s penchant to complain violently about Pierce’s makeup—scotch the idea.

[10] Lugosi was infuriated by this, and harbored a resentment of Chaney, allegedly believing the younger actor should have turned the part down (Wiltshire, p. 63).

[11] As Wiltshire notes, “[R]eaders and fans should consider that his dependence on drugs was about pain management, not thrills” (p. 59).

[12] “Richard Sheffield…informed [Arthur Lennig] that Marlowe was basically a con man and ‘a convincing first-class liar’ who apparently stole one of Lugosi’s scrapbooks, which he later attempted to sell for $5,000. For years Marlowe falsely claimed that he was ‘Porky’ in the OUR GANG comedies. In 1970, he offered for sale Lugosi’s 1931 screen test as the Frankenstein monster, which he claimed included footage of Carl Laemmle, James Whale, Colin Clive, and Lugosi discussing the test…In fact, [Marlowe’s claim] was almost certainly a cruel hoax” (Lennig, p. 358).

[13] I believe the treatment of his beloved character in the film contributed, at least in part, to Chaney’s nearly successful suicide attempt on April 22, 1948. See my book CHANEY’S BABY.

[14] That vampires don’t cast a reflection in a mirror is an invention of Bram Stoker’s. I’ve never cared for the idea myself, believing that if something is corporeal enough to be seen by the human eye, a mirror should be able to reflect it as well.

[15] 1. DRACULA (for importance as well as performance); 2. SON OF FRANKENSTEIN; 3. THE RAVEN; 4. THE BLACK CAT; 5. ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN. Honorable Mention: WHITE ZOMBIE. Feel free to disagree!

[16] Lillian divorced him on July 17, 1953.

Sources

Blake, Michael F. A Thousand Faces: Lon Chaney’s Unique Artistry in Motion Pictures. New York: Vestal Press, 1995. Ebook.

Cremer, Robert. Lugosi: The Man Behind the Cape. Washington, DC: Regnery, 1976. Print.

Fleck, Bill. Chaney’s Audition. Wurtsboro, NY: Just Pay the Ransom Publishing, 2024. Print.

Fleck, Bill. Chaney’s Baby. Wurtsboro, NY: Just Pay the Ransom Music, 2021. Print.

Lennig, Arthur. The Immortal Count. University of Kentucky Press, 2003. Print.

Mank, Gregory William. Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff. Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company Inc., 2009. Print.

Mank, Gregory William. It’s Alive! San Diego/New York: A.S. Barnes and Company, Inc., 1981. Print.

“Portland Gets World Premiere.” Portland Press Herald. February 6, 1931, p. 4. Print.

Skal, David J. Hollywood Gothic. New York: Faber & Faber Inc., 1990, 2004. Print.

Wiltshire, Leo. Reign of the Vampire: A Tribute to the Perseverance of Bela Lugosi. Alpha Omega Kingdom Consulting Group, 2015. Ebook.

NOTE: The photographs herein are utilized for educational purposes only. I do not own the copyrights, nor do I make any money from this website.