Before Dark Shadows made him a household name, Dan Curtis understood something fundamental about classic monsters: they work best when taken seriously. Universal built an empire on Dracula, Frankenstein, and Dr. Jekyll. Curtis brought those same creatures to television with surprising intelligence and style. This two-disc collection from Kino Lorber gathers three of his made-for-TV horror adaptations, and the results are more impressive than you might expect.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1968) leads the pack chronologically. Jack Palance (who would become synonymous with Curtis horror long before doing one-arm push-ups accepting his Oscar in 1992 for City Slickers) tackles the dual role with characteristic intensity. His Jekyll is a sympathetic scientist; his Hyde is pure menace. The production earned four Emmy nominations, including Outstanding Television Movie. Shot in Toronto over seven weeks, the film proves Palance could do far more than tough-guy roles.

Frankenstein (1973) adapts Mary Shelley’s novel with greater fidelity than most Hollywood versions. Robert Foxworth plays Victor Frankenstein as a genuinely obsessive scientist rather than a cackling madman. Bo Svenson brings unexpected pathos to the Creature (here called The Giant). The two-night ABC broadcast was overshadowed by the more lavish Frankenstein: The True Story later that year, but Curtis’s version deserves rediscovery. Sam Hall‘s script honors Shelley’s themes of creation and responsibility while still introducing some freaky ideas.

Dracula (1974) is the crown jewel, though. Palance returns, this time as the Count himself. Richard Matheson‘s script introduces an innovation that Francis Ford Coppola would later borrow for his 1992 version: Dracula and Vlad the Impaler are the same person, and Dracula seeks a woman who resembles his long-dead wife. Filmed in Yugoslavia and England, the production has scope that transcends its TV origins. The Marvel Comics series The Tomb of Dracula based its vampire’s appearance on Palance before he’d even played the role—artist Gene Colan drew his inspiration from the Jekyll and Hyde performance, a great bit of seeing into the future.

All three films have been transferred to Blu-ray in 1080p. Jekyll and Frankenstein are presented in 1.33:1 ration; Dracula gets 1.78:1 scope. These are TV productions, not theatrical features, so expectations should be calibrated accordingly. Still, as is often the case, Kino Lorber has delivered remarkably clean transfers for these older television projects with no digital artifacts or significant audio issues.

The extras are comprehensive. Curtis expert Jeff Thompson introduces all three films. Dracula includes two commentaries, archive interviews with Palance and Curtis, Spanish audio, and alternate footage. Frankenstein features two commentaries, including one with Foxworth. Jekyll has a commentary and an interview with esteemed makeup artist Dick Smith who was incredibly vital to this production. For Curtis devotees, this package is essential.

Sometimes the small screen captured big monsters perfectly, and no one did it quite like Dan Curtis.  Thank you, Kino, for keeping Curtis fans well fed by restoring these classic monster tales.  I can only hope more of the non-classic horror stories Curtis brought to television will make their way down the conveyor belt soon. (Let me throw out 1977’s Curse of the Black Widow as a great place to start!)