Drácula de Bram Stoker

Coppola's take on one of horror's sacred texts was divisive at the time of release; well, I say divisive ... but I'm the only person I remember loving it. But time plays tricks. It's faithful to the text - at least more than most adaptations; in and of itself that's not necessarily a good or bad thing. But Coppola's high-wire act of excess makes it work brilliantly, and it's aged very well ... who knew that the man who made The Godfather could make a good film?

Hopkins and Reeves excepted (whose idea were their interpretations?), there are some terrific performances, and I seriously doubt if Gary Oldman has ever had more fun as an actor than he does here. The almost entirely in-camera approach to visual effects lends the film an otherworldly, chilling air; there are some dazzlingly brilliant transitions that speak to the film's technical mastery. It's not afraid to be many things; camp, funny, exciting, disturbing, erotic, and romantic, all in the right proportions and at the right times. It's also unafraid to make Dracula himself, ultimately, something of the story's romantic hero and to see the events of the story through the female gaze as much as the male.

Ultimately it's one of those films that's imperfect and all the better for it; it has hopelessly high ambitions, but its failure to reach some of them (but by no means all) is still thrilling. You can't possibly be bored.