Somehow, Dracula relocated to the Hudson Valley, so Van Helsing duly followed. As the unusually long prologue establishes, Van Helsing managed to kill the vampire, but as usual, he wasn’t sufficiently dead. At least the good doctor realizes the monster will rise again, so he trains his son Alexandru to be ready. To protect his identity, Van Helsing changes their family name to something very rock & roll sounding, which represents the graphic novel’s cleverest bit.
Fast forward thirtysome years, at which point Dracula has rejuvenated enough strength to start settling some old grudges. Meanwhile, Jon Harper and his girlfriend Nina Murray are bound for Woodstock. She just wants to enjoy the show, but he is preoccupied with scoring a Hendrix interview for his rock ‘zine. Dracula is coming too—to feed.
The timing for Woodstake is somewhat unfortunate, because it compares rather unfavorably to Herik Hanna’s Altamont, which also followed a group of friends trying to find each other amid the chaos of another notorious hippy-era rock concert happening. However, Altamont is a much more compelling horror story, even though it is completely grounded in real-life events.
Frankly, Woodstake largely lacks the ironic bite of Altamont. Although it is arguably revealing to hear Harper’s friend Artie constantly refer to U.S. servicemen as “baby killers,” it is unclear Cape understands how profoundly offensive that sounds, especially to the children and grandchildren of Vietnam vets. As a rsult, a whole lot of potential readers will root for Dracule to exsanguinate Artie and take possession of his nasty soul.
Cape started with a promising concept, but the execution falls flat. Even Kroll’s figures appear weirdly soulless. If you want to read a 1960s rock & roll horror graphic novel—with a genuinely shocking twist—check out Hanna’s Altamont instead. Not recommended, Woodstake is now on-sale at book and comic retailers.
