Drácula

I love it from beginning to end. A different perspective than the one we're used to, it kept me engaged the whole time, a romantic movie like the ones from the old days. If you don't like romance movies, this movie isn't for you. But if so, you'll enjoy it from beginning to end, and Dracula's dark touch is perfect.

It takes real nerve to tackle Bram Stoker's most-filmed anti-hero in 2025. First, the role has already been immortalised by everyone from Bela Lugosi to Gary Oldman, so comparisons are savage. Second, gothic horror sits miles away from Luc Besson's usual playground of kinetic sci-fi (The Fifth Element) and neon crime capers (Léon). Walking in, I honestly wasn't sure whether we'd get an idiosyncratic triumph or a beautiful train wreck.

Happily, it's closer to the former. Visually, the film is a feast: swirling Carpathian blizzards bleed into candle-lit castle corridors, while Besson's trademark flair for colour and movement gives the vampire myth a fresh, almost operatic sheen. The cast meet the challenge head-on-Dracula himself is equal parts seductively reptilian and heartbreakingly lonely, and the supporting ensemble never drops the ball. I found myself grinning at several sly nods to past adaptations yet never felt trapped in pastiche.

Where the film stumbles is in the marrow of its story. The plot beats are solid but seldom surprising, and a mid-act detour about Dracula's centuries-old heartbreak lingers a few crimson drops too long. Trim twenty minutes, sharpen a couple of character arcs, and we might be talking instant classic. As it stands, Dracula is a very good film-bold, stylistically sumptuous, thoroughly entertaining-but not quite the genre-redefining masterpiece its ambition hints at.

Verdict: 7.5 / 10. Worth the ticket for the imagery and performances alone; just don't expect it to eclipse Coppola's fang-print on the legend.

Luc Besson's Dracula is not a traditional horror film. Instead, it's a dark romantic epic that reimagines the Dracula legend through a poetic and psychological lens. Set in a brooding, visually stunning atmosphere, the film explores eternal longing, forbidden love, and the isolation of immortality.

Rather than focusing on gore or action, Besson's take is intimate and character-driven. Dracula is portrayed as a tragic, timeless figure, torn between his monstrous nature and a deep, lingering humanity. The story unfolds with elegance, blending gothic elements, haunting visuals, and emotional depth - all wrapped in Besson's signature cinematic flair.

Before giving me a thumbs down. Read at least what I have to say :)

Luc Besson's Dracula is a visually arresting, emotionally charged, and hauntingly original take on the iconic legend. From the very first frame, it's clear that this is not just another vampire film-this is Besson in full command of his craft, blending gothic horror, art-house style, and deeply human storytelling into something truly unforgettable.

The cinematography is stunning-moody shadows, rich textures, and bold color contrasts create a dreamlike atmosphere that pulls you into Dracula's cursed world. The pacing is masterful, slowly building tension while allowing the characters to breathe and evolve. And the music? A hypnotic blend of classical and modern that adds a visceral pulse to every scene.

The performances are outstanding. The lead actor's portrayal of Dracula is both terrifying and tragic, capturing the eternal conflict between monstrous hunger and lost humanity. The supporting cast adds layers of depth, especially the heroine, whose chemistry with Dracula gives the film a beating heart.

What sets this Dracula apart is its ambition. Besson doesn't just retell the story-he reimagines it, fusing romance, philosophy, and horror into a mythic, poetic experience. There are echoes of The Fifth Element in its stylization, but this is darker, more mature, and grounded in emotional truth.

This is a Dracula for the 21st century-mysterious, seductive, and deeply cinematic. Highly recommended for fans of intelligent horror and visionary filmmaking.

Verdict: A modern gothic masterpiece.

Besson grabs hold of Dracula and tries to give it a romantic spin-think Romeo + Juliet drenched in hemoglobin. On paper, fine. On screen? It feels more like a Wattpad fanfic crossed with a Cartier commercial. The prince of darkness loses his wife, renounces God, and becomes a vampire... except instead of being a vicious, tormented predator, he spends the film whining like Anakin Skywalker every time he loses Padmé.

Caleb Landry-Jones as Dracula is like casting Michel Drucker as Conan the Barbarian: it makes absolutely no damn sense. He's got the face of a guy selling metro tickets, not an unholy lord of the night. Christoph Waltz does his usual Waltz routine, but in "Friday paycheck mode," while the actress playing Dracula's eternal love overacts so much you'd think she graduated from the Shia LaBeouf School of Overdoing It.

Between the photo being tossed around like a soccer ball and the random gargoyles popping up with zero explanation, you can tell Besson dropped the pen after three coffees and finished the script freestyle, like a teenager on a Red Bull binge. At this point it's less a vampire's curse and more a Ubisoft glitch.

To be fair, visually there are a few sparks. The horseback ride in the snow, the shots of a decrepit old Dracula-you can tell the cinematographer put in work. But copying Coppola with nice makeup is like cosplaying Darth Vader with a mask from Wish: it impresses for two seconds before everyone realizes it's reheated leftovers.

The real issue? Dracula has zero darkness. The guy is supposed to embody sin, lust, the demonic... and here he's got all the charisma of a Twilight extra. Even Edward Cullen, sparkling like a disco ball, had more bite than this neutered immortal. Besson pulled off the impossible: he made Dracula boring.

In the end, Dracula: A Love Tale is like a kebab without sauce: it looks appetizing, but leaves you unsatisfied. Besson wanted to reinvent the myth; he just watered it down. A few shots keep it from collapsing completely, but with a botched cast, grotesque inconsistencies, and a Dracula stripped of menace, the result reeks of roadkill. Honestly, just rewatch Coppola's classic-or even Netflix's Castlevania. At least there, you feel the vampire's hunger.