Luc Besson’s latest cinematic venture, a sumptuous and irreverent retelling of the Dracula legend, has landed in theaters—and the critical response is as colorful and unpredictable as the film itself. Released in early February 2026, Besson’s Dracula stars Caleb Landry Jones as the infamous vampire, reimagined as a lovesick, centuries-old prince with a taste for romance, Parisian pageantry, and, of course, human blood. With a supporting cast featuring Christoph Waltz as a relentless priest-vampire hunter and Zoë Bleu as the object of Dracula’s eternal longing, the film has ignited debate among critics about whether Besson has breathed new life into the immortal story or merely added another layer of kitsch to its crowded legacy.
According to AP News, the film opens in 1480, in a remote Eastern European castle, where Prince Vlad—soon to become Dracula—enjoys a fleeting moment of happiness with his bride, Elisabeta. Their bliss is shattered when war calls Vlad away and Elisabeta is killed in an ambush. Consumed by grief, Vlad renounces God, slays a priest with his cross, and is cursed with immortality—a fate that propels him on a centuries-long quest to find his reincarnated love.
Fast-forward four centuries, and Besson’s Dracula is living in the Carpathian Mountains, shriveled and draped in a spectacular white wig that would make even Elvis jealous. His hunt for love and redemption soon leads him to Paris during the exuberant centenary celebrations of the French Revolution—a setting Besson clearly delights in, filling the screen with vibrant salons, lavish costumes, and a street carnival complete with a mermaid swimming in an aquarium.
In this Parisian chapter, Dracula’s obsession with Mina—played by Zoë Bleu, who also portrays Elisabeta—takes center stage. Convinced she is his lost love reborn, Dracula spares the life of a young solicitor (Ewens Abid) and pursues Mina through the city’s salons and masked balls, all while dodging a dogged Bavarian priest (Waltz) determined to end his reign of terror. Dracula’s loyal follower Maria (Matilda De Angelis) assists him, but even she is not immune to the film’s penchant for the macabre, meeting a grisly end in a sequence described by Variety as “splashingly gory.”
Critical reactions to Besson’s vision have been as varied as the film’s tone. Gold Derby notes that the director leans heavily into operatic emotion and dark humor, with Jordan Mintzer of The Hollywood Reporter describing the result as “watchable if totally ludicrous.” Mintzer adds, “Cheese and kitsch, with smatterings of blood and decapitated heads, are all on the menu in Dracula… At best, the movie is another showcase for the always-interesting-to-watch Caleb Landry Jones, who plays the lovestruck vampire with complete earnestness, even when his character is surrounded by goofy CG gargoyles, dancing aristocrats, horny nuns and other random things Besson tosses in front of the camera.”
Collider’s Aiden Kelley singles out Jones as the film’s “secret weapon,” praising his ability to make this Dracula “perhaps the most sympathetic version of the character ever put to screen.” But Kelley is less forgiving of the film’s narrative inconsistencies, particularly its treatment of classic vampire lore. “Luc Besson's Dracula also has some pretty glaring plot holes and inconsistencies, with the term ‘glaring’ being more literal than one may think,” Kelley writes, pointing to the film’s early emphasis on vampires’ sunlight phobia which is later conveniently ignored.
The New York Times’ Chris Azzopardi finds Besson’s ambitions ultimately fall short, describing Jones’s performance as “deliciously operatic: less villain, more virtuoso in love.” Meanwhile, Peter Bradshaw at The Guardian offers a more generous take, acknowledging that while no one may be clamoring for yet another Dracula adaptation, Besson’s version “has undeniable flair.” Bradshaw notes that humor is a key ingredient, with Mel Brooks-style farce and absurdity woven throughout, including scenes of Dracula’s repeated, futile suicide attempts and a comedic sequence in which a perfume renders him irresistible to women—even nuns.
Despite the film’s playful flourishes and self-aware absurdity, not all critics are convinced. Variety calls Besson’s approach “wan, derivative, dutifully time-period-hopping, different-but-not-really-new,” and laments that the film, like so many before it, “wants to be more ‘romantic’ than horrific.” The review draws comparisons to previous Dracula portrayals, noting that Jones’s makeup and performance echo Gary Oldman’s iconic turn in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, with Jones channeling a mix of “Oldman, Karloff’s Mummy and the Cryptkeeper, with shades of Klaus Kinski, Willem Dafoe, Heath Ledger and a grimacing carp.”
Yet even the harshest critics concede that Besson’s Dracula is not without its pleasures. The film’s production design, courtesy of Besson’s longtime penchant for visual spectacle, is on full display—from the gothic grandeur of Dracula’s castle (described as “as huge as Notre Dame”) to the riotous color of Parisian street life. Danny Elfman’s atmospheric score, which nods to the waltz theme of Rosemary’s Baby, adds another layer of operatic drama.
As for the supporting cast, Christoph Waltz’s priest is a study in understated menace, offering a “tastefully understated scenery-chewing” performance, according to Variety. The final confrontation between Dracula and the priest, staged with all the gravitas of a classic cinematic showdown, is described by AP News as “fairly satisfying,” drawing comparisons to the famous face-off between Pacino and De Niro in Heat.
In terms of content, Dracula does not shy away from violence, gore, and sexuality, earning an R rating from the Motion Picture Association. The film’s running time clocks in at 129 minutes, offering viewers ample opportunity to lose themselves in Besson’s feverish, genre-blending vision.
Ultimately, Besson’s Dracula is a film that seems to revel in its contradictions—romantic yet violent, earnest yet absurd, familiar yet flamboyantly new. Whether audiences embrace it as a bold reimagining or dismiss it as another unnecessary entry in the endless Dracula canon may depend on their appetite for spectacle, camp, and the eternal allure of the vampire’s curse. For now, as critics continue to debate its merits, one thing is clear: Dracula has risen once more, and he’s not going quietly into the night.