There’s just enough at stake in Besson’s ‘Dracula’
Luc Besson has never one to play it safe. Even at the age of 66, the French director is showing no signs of going conventional, evidenced by his bizarre take on Bram Stoker’s “Dracula.” This, of course, means he takes broad liberties with Stoker’s text, adapting it more as a Gothic romance than a gorefest. Strangely enough, it sorta works, abetted by high production values, captivating performances and a typically catchy Danny Elfman score.
Cast as the titular character, Caleb Landry Jones chews the scenery with abandon, sucking the blood out of every line of dialogue and then spitting it out with a raspy Gru-like accent that is so over the top, you have no choice but to laugh. Normally, I’d take such hammy acting to task, but it proves to complement Besson’s slightly satirical bent, while signaling that none of this bawdiness is to be taken seriously.
In that respect, the tone is very much in tune with Robert Eggers’ 2024 Oscar-nominated remake of “Nosferatu,” albeit nowhere near as satisfying. But it does have Christoph Waltz, serving as the piece’s de facto Abraham Van Helsing. Known only as “Priest,” the preacher, sporting a snazzy Cappello Romano bonnet, reveals himself to be a fully vested vampire hunter with sights set on slaying the most elusive bloodsucker of them all, Jones’ 400-year-old Vlad, aka Count Dracula.
Veering closer to Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 epic, “Bram Stoker’s Dracula,” more than the novel, Besson (“Lucy,” “The Professional”) begins in 1460 with Vlad and his beloved Elisabeta (Zoë Bleu) engaging in acrobatic sex. But the lust will be short-lived. Vlad, a ruthless warrior famous for wearing bunny-earred armor into battle, soon learns Elizabeta has been taken hostage by a band of marauders from the Ottoman Empire. While attempting a rescue, he witnesses her murder during a visually spectacular set piece in which all participants must negotiate a frozen field in which bear traps are hidden like landmines beneath a thick blanket of snow.
In response, the grief-stricken Vlad disassociates himself from God, literally driving home the point by thrusting a snapped-off wooden crucifix into the torso of the bishop who promised him the Lord would spare Elizabeta. God, in turn, damns Vlad to eternal life. Cue the hilarious sequence in which Vlad repeatedly leaps from his castle tower without sustaining a scratch.
The story then shifts to 1889 Paris – yes, Paris – where the city prepares for the centennial of the Revolution. But excuse the Count if he’s not in a celebratory mood. Now aged to the max with a lion’s mane of heavily engineered twists of 5-feet-long hair wrapped around his wrinkly noggin, Vlad shows every one of his 400-plus years, most of them spent futilely searching for the reincarnated version of Elizabeta.
But that’s all about to change. On a dark and stormy night, the dweebish barrister, Jonathan (Ewens Abid), comes knocking at the door of Vlad’s ominous castle. After devouring a lavish spread, Jonathan, who has come to secure a land deal, manages to irk Vlad and his army of CGI gargoyles, who take him prisoner in hopes of feasting on his blood. But just as the letting is about to begin, the Count catches a glimpse of a locket containing a photo of Jonathan’s fiancée, Mina (Bleu again), a dead ringer for Elizabeta. This not only buys Jonathan time but also allows Besson to resort to a cheesy device: having Vlad recount his life story to the barrister – and us.
Most of these blasts from the past are a blast, often quite humorous, such as Vlad being seduced by a convent full of horny nuns and the Count luring all the women of Florence with a magnetic perfume he himself whipped up in the lab. This robust display includes a dazzlingly choreographed montage in which the adoring damsels break into a series of dance steps sure to please Busby Berkeley.
It’s flamboyant and thoroughly in keeping with a film that thrives on coloring outside the lines. Some of it works, a lot of it doesn’t, but you appreciate Besson’s commitment toward freshening up a tale as stale as the vampire genre.
It’s a fearlessness shared by Besson’s talented ensemble, with Matilda De Angelis in particular, using her rendering of Maria, one of Vlad’s “disciples,” stealing every scene as a sexy banshee whose hunger for blood cannot be contained by the chains placed on her in the madhouse run by the demure Dr. Dumont (Guillaume de Tonquedec). She so consistently outshines Bleu, the gorgeous but less than dynamic daughter of Rosanna Arquette, that you wish Besson had switched their roles.
Bleu, in a word, is blah, unable to come close to convincing us that Elisabeta is the only person capable of sating the Count’s insatiable desires. But she sure looks fabulous in Corinne Bruand’s beautifully designed costumes. Kudos, too, to Hughes Tissandier’s creepy sets and Colin Wandersman’s scrumptious cinematography. Their contributions, along with those of their fellow craftsman, go a long way in preventing this “Dracula” from sucking.
Still, it’s not for everyone. Traditionalists will no doubt be clutching their pearls and brandishing their silver stakes. But if, like me, you long for something so completely bonkers that you can’t help being intrigued, Besson’s zany “Dracula” offers just enough to sink your teeth into. Go on! Take a bite!
Movie review
Dracula
Rated: R for violence, some gore, sexuality
Cast: Caleb Landry Jones, Christoph Waltz, Zoë Bleu, Guillaume de Tonquedec, Matilda De Angelis, Ewens Abid and Raphael Luce
Director: Luc Besson
Writer: Luc Besson
Runtime: 129 minutes
Where: In theaters Feb. 6
Grade: B-
