Joel on Film

Luc Besson promises a different treatment of the immortal Bram Stoker novel, and with Dracula, he repeatedly breaks that promise. Indeed, this new adaptation is so inconsistent about things like tone and even the atmosphere that it wants to envelop us in that the movie seems more like a parody of the character. That is, except for the handsome production values, from the meticulous and lavish art direction to the well-worn costume design to the alarming makeup prosthetics under which Caleb Landry Jones, the American actor playing the Romanian count, is forced to attempt a heavy regional dialect.

Actually, it’s worth pointing out that the makeup design and the hairstyle are so reminiscent of a previous film of Stoker’s tale (Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 version, which perfected the tragic Gothicism in every meticulous way) that one could make a pretty solid argument for plagiarism. It doesn’t matter too much if one reasons that Besson thought that the look for the ageing Vladimir of Wallachia can really only be one look. It matters a whole lot more once one takes into account the physical similarities between Jones and Gary Oldman, who played the role for Coppola, even when he looks more like himself.

Such things are important to discuss, if only because this version doesn’t inspire thought about much else. Vlad’s story is broadly tragic, as he accidentally kills his betrothed Elisabeta (Zoë Bleu) during a battle with the Ottoman Empire, denounces God, and is cursed to a lifetime of living as a vampire in his defiance. Four hundred years later, the prince is still searching for his wife, finding a certified copy of her in Mina Murray (also played by Bleu, naturally), fiancée to solicitor Jonathan Harker (Ewens Abid).

This side of the story is competently told, with that inspired Jones performance and the idiosyncrasies that it inspires: Vlad’s lengthy story is told as a fireside chat with a captive Jonathan, from whom the count initially just needs a fulfillment of blood as sustenance. Once he discovers Mina’s existence, the hunt begins in all its overtly sensual glory, and one must give Besson some credit in the department of just how much sensuality he does pump into the proceedings. Dracula as a character was always (at least partly) about the crossroads between perverse violence and sexuality, and this movie ably returns that to him.

The filmmaker also, though, brings those qualities to life with a curious inertia in every other department, as Besson’s commitment to unceasing forward motion makes us increasingly unable to simmer with its sensual and aesthetic pleasures. Its reliance upon digital effects also often limits it, with the nadir being an army of obviously computerized gargoyles who actually do the work of protecting Vlad’s astonishment of a castle. Then, there’s the sheer amount of what it’s juggling.

Concurrently with Vlad’s search for Elisabeta or some form of her, a priest (Christoph Waltz), who might as well be Abraham Van Helsing but is never named here for some reason, launches his own investigation—both scientific and religious, meaning he’s in some hot water with institutions on both sides—into the curious mental and psychotic state of a young woman named Maria (Mathilda de Angelis). Waltz could perform a role like this one, with his verbose explanations of science and faith, in his sleep, and sometimes it seems like he sort of is. This half is all about building to the final confrontation with Vlad through exposition, and every time we leave the main story to follow the priest, the entire proceeding screeches to a halt.

The result is a half-baked version of the Dracula story, notable only for some aesthetic choices and general vibes that Besson—a director who certainly knows what he’s doing most of the time—is able to cull out of it. Dracula neither sets itself apart from nor certainly above any other version of this story.

Rating: *½ (out of ****)