Lennig's lifelong worship of his subject adds an intensely personal flavor to this biography of the complex horror king, which shines in its ability to respect Lugosi's talent, regardless of personality flaws. A ladies' man and opportunist, Lugosi married his first wife for money, later rewriting her as a great love. After triumphing in Broadway's Dracula, Lugosi (1882–1956) solidified his image with the 1931 film version: as he told the New York Times, "every producer in Hollywood had definitely set me down as a 'type.'... I was both amused and bitterly disappointed." Lennig details the key creative tragedy of Lugosi's life: turning down the part of Frankenstein, which enabled Boris Karloff to win it. Lugosi sank permanently to second position in the horror hall of fame. Lennig knowledgeably analyzes every important Lugosi film, and those who don't adore the genre may skim some of the voluminous commentary. But the character details are always engrossing, and Lugosi's declaration that "[e]very actor is somewhat mad, or else he'd be a plumber or a bookkeeper or a salesman" is in keeping with his tormented psyche. Lennig describes the star's last years without maudlin excess, as Lugosi struggles with unemployment, financial problems, depression, drinking and drugs. Like many underappreciated geniuses, Lugosi had to cope with vitriolic reviews; it's heartening that he surmounted them and attained classic status after death. Lennig lucidly illustrates through Lugosi's words why his reputation has continued to grow: "You can't make people believe in you if you play a horror part with your tongue in your cheek... you must believe in it while you are playing it." 75 b&w photos. (July)
