When I was kid in elementary school I became obsessed with monster movies. My mother hated them with a firey German passion and forbid me to watch them. Of course, that made them all the more appealing.
It was the 70's, there was no sneaking in a Netflix binge in bed on a purloined iPad. I used to sneak out of bed after midnight and creep down to our shag-filled living room. I would turn on the tv with a hammering will-I-get-caught heart and watch hours of creature features until almost sunrise, curled up inches from the screen.
Those were the first movies I remember loving, I would rarely miss a weekend. I loved being scared by them. The big bad would rage and murder, die and angonizing, gruesome death and be back the next week. I watched them all, Wolfman, Creature from the Black Lagoon, the Mummy, but Dracula was king.
Christopher Lee was my favoirte Dracula. Bela was O.K.,but Christopher Lee had the right combination of gentleman and creep. I was terrified of him and still sad when he turned to dust.
I was struck with more sadness than I expected when I heard he had died this week, and then filled with such happy memories of those secret late nights. Rest in Peace Count, thank you for teaching me to love movies.