EXCLUSIVE: Danny Elfman on His Horror Homecoming With ‘Dracula’ and His Monstrous Influences
Few composers have shaped the sound of modern genre filmmaking as profoundly as Danny Elfman. His fingerprints are everywhere: the gothic swell of Batman, the mischievous oddity of Beetlejuice, the aching melancholy of Edward Scissorhands, the playful darkness of The Nightmare Before Christmas. For generations of Monster Kids, his music has become a kind of emotional shorthand — whimsical, eerie, romantic, and unmistakably Elfman.
Beyond scoring some of the most influential films ever made, Elfman tours with multimedia performances, writes for major symphony orchestras, and brings his sensibilities to theme parks, from Disney’s Haunted Mansion to Universal Orlando’s new Dark Universe land.
For his latest project, Elfman reunites with director Luc Besson for Dracula: A Love Tale, a sweeping gothic romance steeped in horror, loss, and longing. In this exclusive conversation with Dread Central, he speaks with rising Dread Central star writer Anastasia Elfman — who also just happens to be his sister-in-law — about how monster movies shaped his childhood, how horror guided his creative life, and why he still thinks like the Monster Kid he once was.
Dread Central: How has horror helped define your life?
Danny Elfman: Well, it’s had a huge effect. To begin with, my older brother Richard gave me his Famous Monsters magazines as a kid — those magazines were my life. I still have every copy from the ’60s. And amazingly, I don’t just remember the pictures and the articles, I remember the things for sale in the back — the novelties, the models, the weird little toys. I’d save up and order something, then wait four, five, six weeks, staring at the mailbox every day for my Frankenstein model or Creature from the Black Lagoon.
Growing up, those things were huge for me and my brother. We spent just about every weekend at the movie theater, which catered to kids. And honestly, I can say that of all the weeks I went, I never saw an adult in the theater. If they were playing a Disney movie or a musical, we’d boycott — nothing against Disney, we just wanted monsters, aliens, zombies. That’s what we lived for.
I remember my brother walking me to the theater for Children of the Damned. It’d start with just us, then two boys following, then four, then six, then eight — suddenly a whole little horror gang heading to the show. Never a parent in sight. Our parents didn’t even ask what we were watching. There was a new double feature every weekend and a bunch of shorts before it. They loved it because we were gone all afternoon.
I didn’t realize then that I was seeing films from all different eras and countries — French, Mexican, Italian — dubbed and tossed into weekend kid bills. The Day the Earth Stood Still was one of my favorites, and I had no idea it came out before I was born. I just saw it as “the new monster movie.”
Horror movies were a huge part of my life. No offense to anyone, but it was basically my version of church, because that’s where I was every Sunday. If one theater had Mary Poppins, we just found whichever other theater was showing monster films.
DC: Your frequent collaborator Tim Burton has said he was similarly shaped by monster movies.
Danny Elfman: Yes. When I first met Tim, we started talking about influences immediately. Vincent Price was his idol; Peter Lorre was mine. The first horror movie I ever saw on television was The Beast with Five Fingers with Peter Lorre. That gave me my lifelong infatuation with hands.
I used to have recurring dreams about a severed hand scrambling around the house after me. I’d be sitting with my family watching TV, and the hand would come toward me. “Mom! Dad!” I’d yell. And they’d say, “Just ignore it. If you ignore it, it will ignore you.” But it never did.
DC: How did all this horror influence your career?
Danny Elfman: In the most obvious way — although I had no idea at the time — I became a film music fan because of The Day the Earth Stood Still. It was the first time I noticed a composer’s name: Bernard Herrmann. Then I started seeing his name on Jason and the Argonauts, The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, Mysterious Island.
If I saw Herrmann and Harryhausen together, that was automatically my favorite movie of the year. That combination was unbeatable for me.
I also had very specific fears: amputations, broken dolls. The ad for Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? terrified me — just that cracked doll head. I’d flip two pages at once in Famous Monsters to avoid seeing something too scary. My brother figured out what I couldn’t look at.
Once he cut out a photo of a severed head from a magazine and taped it to the wall next to where I was talking on the phone. I turned and saw it and freaked out. He was laughing from the other room. But I remember thinking, “I’m going to beat this.”
I took the picture, taped it to my own wall facing my bed, and forced myself to look at it every night. Eventually the fear drained out — like pulling the juju from it. That was a defining moment. I learned I could face a fear until it had no power over me.
DC: Your childhood horror fandom also exposed you to great horror scores. Was there a moment you realized music would be your life?
Danny Elfman: I became a film music fan and stuck with it. I was proud when I learned to recognize composers — Steiner, Korngold, Herrmann, Goldsmith. I was like a sports fan who suddenly finds themselves pulled onto the team.
I’ve often said: imagine Jack Nicholson courtside at every Lakers game, and suddenly a player gets injured, and the ref tosses the ball to Jack and says, “Get in there.” That was me getting called into film scoring.
But I never intended to be a musician. I loved film and imagined maybe becoming a cinematographer or editor — anything but acting or music. I thought music required lessons I never had. So the fact that scoring became my profession is deeply ironic. But those early monster films absolutely shaped that destiny.
DC: Your last gothic horror scores were Sleepy Hollow (1999), Corpse Bride (2005), and The Wolfman (2010). What was it like returning to the genre?
Danny Elfman: I’m always happy to return to horror. I haven’t done nearly as many horror films as you’d expect — considering my background — but that’s just how the jobs fell. Working on Dracula: A Love Tale with Luc Besson was a blast. Crazy gothic, really fun. I wish I could do more horror films.
DC: The Dracula soundtrack feels like a rollercoaster — opening with a haunting music box motif and pivoting through tracks like “Asylum,” “Detective Work,” “The Dance,” and my personal favorite, “A Bloody Meal.”
Danny Elfman: Glad you like them!
DC: The score has an underlying heartbeat feel. Was that intentional?
Danny Elfman: Completely unintentional. I never thought about it until you mentioned it. When I score, there’s rarely a conceptual through-line. I look at scenes and hear things in my head.
What Luc cared about most was the romantic theme — Dracula’s 400-year search for his lost love. He trusted me with the dark and wild stuff. The emotional spine was the most delicate part.
It’s funny — Dracula is basically a story about monogamy. He’s dragged into vampirism against his will, loses his wife, and spends centuries searching for her reincarnation. This version is far more romantic than villainous.
DC: The score has deep, eerie synth textures. Did you use any unusual instruments?
Danny Elfman: I did a lot of synth programming. I mostly use digital synths for film work because movies keep changing. You finish a cue and three weeks later there’s a new cut. Analog synths are fun but hard to replicate exactly if you need the same sound again.
The great thing about modern digital synths is that I can emulate those classic ’70s analog sounds. I was a big fan of Wendy Carlos — her late ’60s and early ’70s work. That grindy early-synth sound is still a favorite of mine. New tech lets you turn back the clock when you want that retro flavor.
DC: Did you revisit any classic horror scores — or any of your own — for inspiration?
Danny Elfman: Never. I never revisit anything unless it’s a sequel. Out of 110 films, maybe four or five times. If I’m doing a sequel, I have to hear what I did before. Otherwise, once something’s recorded, mastered, approved — I never listen again.
Although when preparing for live concerts, I sometimes dig up old scores to arrange them for performance.
DC: Having just finished composing for Universal’s Dark Universe land at Epic Universe, was it difficult to separate the two horror projects?
Danny Elfman: No, totally different. Dark Universe is rooted in the classic monsters, so I wanted something exciting but retro. One creative lead asked me to use electric guitars — I tried it expecting him to hate it, but he said, “More of that.” So there’s one guitar-heavy track.
With Dracula: A Love Tale, I wasn’t thinking about that at all. Film scoring is always about characters, scenes, emotions. The theme park work is world-building.
DC: With your ability to capture darkness, did you feel compelled to add whimsy to Dracula, or did it happen naturally?
Danny Elfman: I always go where the movie goes. And with Luc, you’re going to get darkness and whimsy. He loves odd shifts in tone. There’s even a dance sequence in the middle of the film — very unexpected for Dracula, but classic Luc. If he goes left, I go left.
DC: Dracula has had so many interpretations. Where does this version land?
Danny Elfman: If anything, it’s closest to Frank Langella’s Dracula — very romantic in its dark way. My mother, author Blossom Elfman — may she rest in peace — thought Langella was the sexiest man alive. That movie really tapped into a certain romanticism.
Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula also had a romantic side, even though Gary Oldman could be vicious when he wanted to be. So this version sits somewhere in that lineage: seductive, tragic, yearning.
DC: Luc’s sets are incredible. Were you able to visit during filming?
Danny Elfman: Yes, and it was great. Luc brought me to France for three days. Hanging out with him is always fun, but having lunch with Christoph Waltz was a treat.
And Caleb Landry Jones, who plays Dracula — he never broke character. I only heard him in his Transylvanian accent. Months later at Luc’s birthday dinner, he spoke in his normal voice and it shocked me because I’d never heard it.
When I met Danny DeVito on Batman Returns, he also stayed in the Penguin voice the whole time. Actors really protect their dialect and physicality during a shoot.
DC: What does your creative process look like?
Danny Elfman: It’s simple. I watch the movie. Even if I’ve read the script, I try to keep my mind blank until the first cut. Anything I imagine beforehand often gets thrown out anyway. I try to come in clean so the film can tell me what it needs.
DC: Now that you’ve scored Dracula and The Wolfman, what other classic monsters would you like to tackle?
Danny Elfman: I’ll take any monster, any day.
DC: Any upcoming projects or events you’re excited about?
Danny Elfman: A lot. Gus Van Sant’s Dead Man’s Wire, which I scored, premiered in Venice and was well received. I just finished Sam Raimi’s new film Send Help. I’ve got concerts through the rest of the year, including The Nightmare Before Christmas at the Hollywood Bowl and the Elfman/Burton symphonic tour.
I’m recording my Cello Concerto in December with Gautier Capuçon in London, and hopefully heading to Sofia, Bulgaria for a new performance of my Percussion Concerto. And we just announced Sick New World in Las Vegas — a wild lineup.
DC: Final question for the Monster Kids: favorite classic monster, and favorite horror film?
Danny Elfman: That’s tough. Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolfman — they all have qualities I love. Frankenstein is tragic, Dracula is cunning, the Wolfman is visceral.
As for films:
- Classic: Bride of Frankenstein
- Modern classic: The Shining
- Recent: Hereditary
Interviewing Danny for this piece offered a rare look at the roots of his creativity — not the surface anecdotes fans already know, but the early fears, fascinations, and monster-movie rituals that still echo through his work today. It’s the kind of conversation that unfolds only when the walls drop a little, and I’m grateful to bring that to Dread Central’s readers.
His passion for horror remains as sharp and unruly as ever, and hearing him trace that line from childhood matinees to Dracula: A Love Tale is a reminder of how deeply this genre can shape a life. Sharing that perspective, from someone I’ve known both inside and outside the industry, has been a privilege — and I hope readers can feel the same spark I did while hearing him revisit the monsters that made him.
Dracula: A Love Tale is in theaters February 6 from Vertical.
Categorized: Interviews News
