The Haven String Quartet (HSQ) plays Philip Glass' score to Tod Browning’s 1931 Dracula. Nelani Mejias Photo.
Deep, drawling strings played in the ominous creak of a coffin lid, as one finger at a time crept out of the side. On screen, a monster was emerging, ready to feast on human blood. Off screen, four musicians fervently pulled and plucked at their instruments as they tracked the caped man. Around them, ivory columns draped in velvet curtains made the space feel like an old vaudeville cabaret.
Lyric Hall was ready for spooky season, and so was the audience that filled its theater.
The Haven String Quartet (HSQ), in collaboration with Best Video Film & Cultural Center (BVFCC) and Lyric Hall, rang in the beginning of October last Thursday with a live performance of Philip Glass’ hair-raising score to Tod Browning’s 1931 film Dracula. Glass, who composed the work for the Kronos Quartet in 1998, opted for scaled-down strings to mirror the film’s intimate, interior spaces. It’s since gained something of a cult following, including a performance from the Haven String Quartet at Armada Brewing around Halloween last year.
The HSQ features Philip Boulanger on cello, Linda Numagami on viola, and Yaira Matyakubova and Patrick Doane on violin. All are also resident teaching artists at the arts nonprofit Music Haven, which offers free lessons in violin, viola, cello, piano, and now choir, to close to 100 students across New Haven. Matyakubova, who has been with Music Haven since its inception, is now the organization’s artistic director.
“We do things from Brahms to Beethoven to Dracula,” said Boulanger when asked about the range of music the quartet plays. After realizing how much fun Glass’ score was to play with the film last year, members of the quartet knew they wanted to bring it back. Lyric Hall, which has recently reopened its doors and rolled out a new film series with BVFCC, seemed like the perfect place to do it.
As the concert began, the audience could see and hear why. Lyric Hall, with its antique light fixtures, scalloped stage decorations and velvet curtains, feels like an old timey theater, a credit to owner John Cavaliere. As the lights dimmed, a blend of soft, low and whining voices came from the front of the space, not quite human.
They came from the four silhouetted musicians sitting on stage in front of the black and white film. Metronomes balanced on their music stands, they faced one another and silently communicated cues, checking their sheet music before looking back over at one another and beginning the music for the next scene.
“My best teachers were also performers—you are given something to carry and give to the next person,” Doane said during a break in the evening, reflecting on what it means to both teach and give concerts like Thursday’s. “As a performer I’m always learning and growing and I’m more inspired to teach what I’m learning too. We’re all in it together.”
That approach is exactly what attracts listeners like Jack Gambardella, a New Haven resident and longtime follower of the HSQ. Like both musicians and Cavaliere, he also noted that Lyric Hall was the perfect venue for the film, in which Bela Lugosi plays a fearsome version of Bram Stoker’s nineteenth-century monster.
“We like them because they do a lot of different things,” said Gambardella, “You get to experience two different genres—it’s very similar to the theaters back then.”
The HSQ blended the mediums of film and music and showcased a specific era in time. The sorrowful wails of violin mixed with rich cello, before a moment of rest and a shift to the silly bouncing of notes in the next scene. The vigorous rocking of bows created edge-of-seat suspense as the sharp metallic bursts shadowed the confrontation of Dracula and Van Helsings. The waves of lustrous notes end with an abrupt halt, four bows in the air, and laughter scattered throughout the room.
Halfway through the film there was a short intermission, where the rumbles of conversation and creaking of the wooden floor took over the room. Strangers introduced themselves to one another, friends said hello, and cups got refilled before the bouncing plunking of strings lulled patrons back to their seats.
With the end of the film nearing, the suspense reached its peak, and the eager crunch of popcorn held tempo behind the vibrant cello, piercing viola, and menacing violins. As the last note rang out, the gothic font reading “The End” took over the screen. The warm lights came back on as the musicians packed up, and audience members dug for keys, finished intermission-started conversations, and slowly filed out of the door.