Translation: Joanna Brun Diaz
To take on Dracula, after the milestone set by Francis Ford Coppola in 1992, is almost an act of daring. In an era of revivals, we have recently seen a new version of Nosferatu (Robert Eggers, 2024), and these days one can also see Frankenstein (Guillermo del Toro, 2025). Luc Besson now joins this wave with his own interpretation of the vampire myth.
The major novelty of this Dracula is the relocation of the action from London to Paris. This is evident from the very beginning of the film, when we see an aerial view of the Eiffel Tower and, seconds later, a mental sanatorium that could well allude to the Salpêtrière and Dr. Charcot. This geographical shift is not merely aesthetic: it allows Besson to present a baroque, sensual Dracula, steeped in the Parisian joie de vivre that emerges in the capital’s dissolute scenes. Where Coppola’s Dracula embraced Pre-Raphaelitism, here we find Fragonard’s The Swing embodied in young women eager to enjoy themselves and to seduce. To recreate Dracula’s castle, Besson chose the Bastion of the Catholic Monarchs in Almería, a sixteenth-century fortress that provides the monumentality and historical weight required for the count’s lair.

Besson introduces references to other films that enrich his proposal. The most obvious is Interview with the Vampire (Neil Jordan, 1994), based on Anne Rice’s novel: Dracula tells his story to someone who wants to know what a vampire’s life is like, in a metanarrative device that functions as the framework of the narrative. Another notable homage is Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (Tom Tykwer, 2006), adapted from Patrick Süskind’s novel. Perfume is in fact one of the brand-new elements introduced by Besson that is not present in Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897), and it becomes a recurring motif throughout the count’s journey.
The music, composed by Danny Elfman, is one of the film’s greatest strengths. It masterfully accompanies each scene and stands as a reliable asset that does not disappoint, elevating the overall quality of the film.
However, the dialogue feels somewhat weak. At times I find it hard to fully accept the profound love between Dracula and his reincarnated beloved. Something is missing to understand how love can return after four centuries, an issue that might have been remedied with more profound and emotionally charged dialogue.
Finally, the great novelty of this film compared to previous versions of Dracula is redemption: Dracula repents before God in order to die, to save his beloved from wandering eternally among the shadows, and in some way to be forgiven for his sins and undo the curse that possesses him.
The fact is that the film has passed largely unnoticed, at least in Spain, both by critics and by the general public. But when it comes to Dracula, I don’t want to miss the chance to talk about him. It strikes me as a bold bet by Luc Besson, who also produces the film. It does not reach the level of Coppola’s aforementioned Dracula, but it offers enough new elements—the decadent Paris, perfume as a guiding thread, the cinephile homages, the final redemption—to consider it a new Dracula worth taking into account. Time will tell.
OpenEdition le sugiere que cite este post de la siguiente manera:
Dr. Pedro Ortega (27 de enero de 2026). Del Drácula gótico al Drácula barroco. El blog de Tartalo. Recuperado 14 de abril de 2026 de https://doi.org/10.58079/15kwx

