He could be poised to become another Renfield, collapsing into horrified enthrallment as he sees that even a shovel's edge slammed down on the day-drowsing Count's face over and over elicits nothing more than a lazy blink of shark-flat, all-scarlet eyes and the same faint, inhuman trace of a smile, utterly undisturbed, recomposing itself for sleep.

See, the thing about reading your reviews is that it's **exciting**. I can't say it's like experiencing the film itself, because it's not quite that--but it's just, you bring such drama to what you're saying. I love it.

He's not a giggling maniac; he's a haunted man who wishes he were possessed. That's an excellent distinction.