'Dracula' Review
- Josh Davis
- 3 minutes ago
- 3 min read
Release Date: 02/06/26 [Cinemas]
Genre: Fantasy. Horror. Romance.
MPAA: Rated R.
Distributor: Vertical Entertainment.
The Verdict: A Maybe
By now, you know the story: boy loves girl, boy must lead a holy war, girl dies, boy forsakes God and becomes the father of vampires.
Writer-director Luc Besson’s latest film is a fairly standard Dracula adaptation for its first 40 minutes. There’s a lavish castle, some truly gnarly suits of armor, and a battle scene full of blood and fire. We get the traditional origin story told and retold countless times since Bram Stoker first penned it – and then later Dracula invents magic perfume, and suddenly there’s some dancing set to electro beats.
A beat later, Dracula entering a nunnery to feed isn’t exactly a musical number, but it’s weirdly choreographed all the same, ending with The Count standing atop a pyramid of nuns like they’re staging a demonic halftime show.
Also worth noting: Dracula’s minions are a squad of three-foot-tall gargoyles, disconcerting at first, and then mostly distracting.
There are elements here of a solid adaptation. The costuming is exquisite. The sets and scenery are lush. Danny Elfman’s score keeps things moving. The blood is red.
Caleb Landry Jones is delightfully unhinged in the lead role, and he hits all the requisite beats: lover, warrior, devastated husband, and finally an undying demon with an unquenchable hunger.
Jones plays it big, but not unlike Gary Oldman in Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula or Bill Skarsgård in Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu. Where his version maybe falters is in the extended fight scenes, which, after decades of Marvel movies and five John Wick films, feel a little too generic. Still, Jones brings distinctive timing and plenty of panache.
Christoph Waltz as the Priest (this film’s Van Helsing analogue) sounds promising on paper, but the execution is less successful. Like many of Waltz's performances, it’s quirky, intellectual, and slightly ironic. Here, that tone doesn’t quite land.
Zoë Bleu is solid as Elizabeth: a ball of passion in her original incarnation, then buttoned-up and reserved 400 years later, before melting back toward something familiar. But she’s no Lily-Rose Depp, who gave an Oscar-worthy performance as essentially the same character less than two years ago.
Ewens Abid is utterly forgettable as Jonathan – wooden, dull, and doing little to stand out. Matilda De Angelis, however, has fun as Maria, Elizabeth’s new best friend – and also a vampire. She’s cunning, conniving, and playful in ways the rest of the film often forgets to be.
For the most part, the cast isn’t the problem, and the movie isn’t terrible. But the traditional elements have all been done better elsewhere, and when the film strays from established mythology, it doesn’t do anything interesting or memorable enough to justify the detour.
And then there’s the dialogue:
“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like blood. Even if yours has a delicious taste to it. Without it, I would only be a repulsive old man whom you would hardly deign to look at,” Dracula says.
“These are just words – charming words,” Elizabeth replies, betwixt, bewildered, and maybe a little horny.
Jones and Bleu have some chemistry, at least, and Besson clearly wants us to buy into the sweaty, tragic love story at the film’s core.
But Besson has always been an uneven filmmaker. His highs – The Fifth Element, Léon: The Professional – are singular and strange in all the right ways. His misses – Valerian, we’re looking at you – can feel oddly soulless, packed with bizarre imagery, flat performances, wooden dialogue, and choices that seem pulled from a hat.
Dracula lands somewhere in between those two extremes. It’s handsomely made, with flashes of strong performances and occasional high notes, but the sum of its parts never quite adds up to greatness.
This Dracula isn’t toothless – it just doesn’t really have a voice. And with Eggers’ version barely cold in its grave, the competition feels especially unforgiving.
For long-time fans and vampire stans, there are far better versions on celluloid. Or, you know, just read the bloody book.
