Werner Herzog's dreamlike take on the vampire myth gets a proper big-screen showing at The Beverly Theater. Klaus Kinski stars as the pale, rat-toothed Count Dracula, stalking through fog-drenched sets and crumbling castles in a film that trades jump scares for something slower and stranger—a mood of dread that seeps in rather than jolts you. Isabelle Adjani plays the woman drawn into his orbit, and the whole thing carries that particular grain and hush of late-1970s European art-horror.

Watching it in The Beverly's intimate main theater feels right for this kind of film—the kind that rewards close attention to shadow and silence rather than spectacle. With just 150 seats and acoustics built for this sort of thing, the space lets Popol Vuh's eerie score and Herzog's long, patient shots settle over the room. Afterward, the theater's lounge and terrace make for a good spot to sit with the film's strange afterimages before heading back out into the desert night.