Dracula (2025) Review: Another Bite at the Classic That Doesn’t Quite Draw Blood

Dracula will be released in theaters on February 6, and once again, the world’s most famous vampire rises from his coffin for another big-screen outing. At this point, it almost feels like a running joke: every time you blink, there’s a new Dracula movie. But with so many recent adaptations and spin-offs, any new version really has to justify its existence. Luc Besson’s Dracula doesn’t quite do that. It’s not bad—it’s actually weirdly entertaining at times—but in a crowded field of Dracula-inspired projects, “fine” just isn’t enough.

The Oversaturated Era of Dracula Movies

In the last couple of years alone, we’ve had an onslaught of Dracula-adjacent films and shows. Since 2023, genre fans have gotten:

Renfield
The Last Voyage of the Demeter
Abigail
Nosferatu
Abraham’s Boys

Each of these projects taps into the Dracula mythos in some way—whether it’s reimagining side characters, expanding specific chapters of the novel, or spinning out entirely new sequel scenarios. Against that backdrop, Luc Besson stepping into the ring with a straightforwardly titled Dracula faces a real uphill battle.

With this much vampire content packed together, audiences are no longer just asking, “Is it good?” They’re asking, “Why this story again?” and “What makes this version different?”

Besson’s answer is a mix of familiar romance, gonzo humor, and stylistic homage. The problem is, a lot of it feels like someone else’s take done with less conviction.

A Direct Adaptation That Owes a Big Debt to 1992

Besson’s Dracula is, on paper, closer to Bram Stoker’s original novel than a lot of recent adaptations. Caleb Landry Jones plays the Count, and the film follows the basic structure of Jonathan Harker (Ewens Abid) traveling to Dracula’s castle, Mina becoming the vampire’s new obsession, and a group of humans rallying to stop him.

But anyone who’s seen Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 Bram Stoker’s Dracula will immediately notice just how much this new film borrows from that version—particularly its romantic framing.

The reincarnated love interest concept, in which Mina is the reborn form of Dracula’s lost human wife, didn’t come from Stoker’s original text; it was popularized by Coppola and screenwriter James V. Hart. Besson builds his entire emotional core on that idea. Like the 1992 film, this Dracula opens with a pre-vampire Vlad returning from war only to face a tragic loss involving his beloved Elizabeth (Zoë Bleu, who also plays Mina). The details are tweaked, but the emotional blueprint is very familiar.

Visually, the movie also wears its influences loudly. The decrepit Dracula who greets Jonathan in the castle is clearly modeled on Gary Oldman’s iconic old-man version from the Coppola film: pale, heavily made up, and topped with an instantly recognizable white mane. It’s a look that was bold and fresh in 1992; here, it feels more like cosplay.

So instead of standing apart as a bold new vision of the Count, Besson’s Dracula often seems like it’s borrowing another filmmaker’s distinct, already-beloved take and trying to ride that wave.

A Weird Tonal Cocktail: Horror, Romance, and Slapstick

Where Besson’s film does carve out some identity is in its tone. This Dracula is aggressively weird at times, leaning into comedy and heightened absurdity in ways you might not expect from an allegedly more faithful adaptation.

A lot of this works best in Dracula’s interactions with Jonathan Harker. Jonathan bumbles around as a very human, very clueless lawyer, fumbling paperwork and missing glaring red flags that he’s dealing with a monster. Meanwhile, the Count casually:

Kills a mouse and drains its blood into a cup to drink in front of him
Uses telekinesis to discreetly remove potential weapons from Jonathan’s reach

These scenes blend tension with offbeat humor, and Jones thrives in them, especially when Dracula unleashes a wild, wheezing extended laugh after Jonathan unintentionally amuses him.

There’s also a standout decapitation gag that veers full-on into Evil Dead territory—a burst of cartoonish physical comedy mixed with gore that feels like Sam Raimi snuck into the edit bay. Moments like this give the movie a scrappy, anything-can-happen vibe that’s legitimately fun.

The issue is that Besson never fully commits to that tone.

The Love Story That Never Lands

For all its goofiness, Dracula is also clearly aiming for a grand, tragic love story. Dracula’s centuries-long devotion to Elizabeth, and his fixation on Mina as her reincarnation, is meant to be the film’s emotional spine. We’re supposed to feel the ache of this cursed romance and invest in his tortured longing.

But the execution undercuts the intention.

From the start, the film’s portrayal of Vlad and Elizabeth’s pre-war relationship is so over-the-top that it feels like parody. The opening montage is all grinning, frolicking, and hyper-cheery domestic bliss:

They’re leaping around like they’re in a slapstick comedy.
They’re having a playful food fight.
They’re so happy it crosses the line into The Naked Gun territory.

Because the romance is played at such a silly, heightened pitch early on, it’s hard to later accept it as this deep, solemn, centuries-spanning bond. The movie wants us to laugh at its weirdness and also swoon over its tragic love story, but those two goals keep tripping over each other.

Caleb Landry Jones: Brilliant, But Miscast?

Casting Caleb Landry Jones as Dracula is one of the film’s boldest and strangest choices. Jones has proved his talent many times over in projects like Get Out, Nitram, and Twin Peaks: The Return. He has a unique, often unsettling presence that makes him perfect for off-kilter, intense roles.

But does that translate to Dracula as conceived here? Not entirely.

In the early flashbacks, we’re expected to believe Jones as a legendary warrior, a fearsome force on the battlefield. Little about his physicality or aura sells that fantasy; he still reads as wiry, haunted, and almost boyish, not as an unstoppable medieval tank.

Later, when we shift to the suave, seductive version of the Count trying to win Mina’s heart, the mismatch continues. Dracula is traditionally a figure of commanding charisma and dark allure; Jones instead feels like an eccentric outsider who never quite becomes convincingly debonair.

That said, when the film leans into his oddness—especially in those scenes with Jonathan—Jones is magnetic. His line deliveries, bizarre laughter, and unpredictable energy anchor some of the movie’s best, strangest moments. You can see why Besson, reportedly so impressed with him after working together on Dogman, wrote this version of Dracula with him in mind.

The Visuals: Stylish Sparks on a Tight Budget

Luc Besson was once known for ambitious, visually striking films like La Femme Nikita, The Professional, and The Fifth Element. Dracula occasionally reminds you of that filmmaker.

There are sequences that show off a strong eye for composition and mood, like the striking image of an army standing silhouetted across a burning horizon. Certain shots and stylistic flourishes manage to feel operatic, even with limited resources.

But those limitations do show. The movie often looks smaller than it wants to be, like it’s straining against a restricted budget. Some settings feel a bit sparse, some effects a bit cheap.

And then there are the CGI gargoyles that serve as Dracula’s minions, which are likely to be divisive at best and baffling at worst. They add to the film’s oddball tone but not always in a good way; they feel like they wandered in from a different, more cartoonish movie.

The Perfume Power and Dance Montage: Inspired or Just Random?

One of the wildest new additions to Dracula lore here is the introduction of a magical perfume. Instead of relying solely on vampiric hypnosis or supernatural charm, this Dracula uses a special scent to put women under his spell.

This power culminates in a full-blown dance number montage of entranced women swooning over him. It plays like a surreal music video jammed into the middle of a gothic horror romance.

Is it fun? Kind of.
Is it dumb? Also kind of.

Depending on your tolerance for randomness, this might be where you either fall in love with the movie’s audacity or completely check out. The perfume and the musical-style montage fit with the film’s overall tendency toward weird, high-concept ideas that aren’t always integrated into a cohesive whole.

Christoph Waltz as Van Helsing (Sort Of)

The supporting cast generally does solid work, with Christoph Waltz standing out as this film’s Van Helsing analog. Here, he’s a nameless priest who’s clearly seen every kind of evil the world can throw at him and has very little patience left for any of it.

Waltz doesn’t get a particularly complex role, but he’s given a steady stream of dry, semi-snarky lines he can deliver with ease. This isn’t him stretching his range; it’s him doing his thing—and for the kind of movie this is, that’s not a bad thing.

It’s also amusing, in a meta sense, that Waltz has now appeared in new takes on both Frankenstein and Dracula within a short stretch, quietly becoming a recurring figure in modern monster revivals.

Does This Dracula Justify Its Existence?

At this point, Dracula is practically its own subgenre. We’ve had the gothic original, the romantic tragedy, the action reimagining, the comedic riff, the character-focused spin-off, and everything in between.

So where does Luc Besson’s Dracula fit?

It’s:

Heavily indebted to Coppola’s 1992 version, especially in its central love story
Goofier and more overtly comedic than its romantic ambitions can comfortably support
Occasionally inventive visually, but hampered by budget constraints and some odd CG choices
Carried at times by Caleb Landry Jones’ offbeat performance and Christoph Waltz’s effortless charm

For hardcore Dracula completists or fans who genuinely enjoy seeing every possible spin on the Count, this movie has its charms. The weirdness alone may be enough to make it worth a watch, and certain scenes—especially the Jonathan-Dracula interactions and the Evil Dead-style decapitation gag—are destined to stick in your brain.

But for everyone else, especially given how crowded the Dracula landscape has become since 2023, this version doesn’t do enough to stand out. It’s too indebted to better, bolder interpretations and too tonally conflicted to carve out a truly unique identity.

As another entry in the endless parade of vampire cinema, Besson’s Dracula isn’t a disaster. It’s just another bite that doesn’t quite draw blood.

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