Bram Stoker’s DraculaWell, you can never count me as one that doesn’t go against the grain. Bram Stoker’s Dracula is ranking at a whopping 85% over at Rotten Tomatoes. I, of course, managed to head in the opposite direction of the bulk of the critical consensus. It seems to be a delicious and unintentional trend lately, as my Bewitched review located below demonstrates. Honestly, Bram Stoker’s Dracula (if we can even attach Stoker’s name to it without cringing) is such a convoluted and bloated mess of a film that I can’t fathom how it received such positive reviews.

It should be noted that my wife is currently reading the book, so I had her pointing out the nuances of the film that were being grossly missed or grossly glossed over or just grossly fouled up. The problem arrives when a film attaches the name of the original author of the work to the film. It implies a certain sense of directorial license, as if Bram Stoker’s work is somehow going to be more accurately translated to the screen. When Peter Jackson did Lord of the Rings, the title cards never once read “JRR Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings”. But here was, specifically, Bram Stoker’s Dracula. So why, then, does this film deviate so drastically from the original piece?

Francis Ford Coppola, the master behind The Godfather films and the epic Apocalypse Now (not to mention The Conversation), directs this film with such a flair for the immense that you forget he was ever responsible for two or three of the best films in history. As the scenes unfold, it becomes unclear as to his directorial vision. Some scenes seem ripe for camp value, intentionally, while others seem prepped for grand scale mysticism and erotic horror. The film appears to walk a tightrope between being blissfully self-aware of its own overabundance of camp and being hopelessly unaware of its own consistent misfiring on almost all of the levels that could make a film like this worthwhile. Coppola’s directorial confusion is apparent in the climax of the film, as we are thrust into such an awkward series of events that any rise in the action becomes laughable.

In terms of performances, we end up with one masterful performance that saves the film from utter despair and a slew of other performances that so grossly miss the mark with their portrayals that one starts to long for John Carpenter’s Vampires by the time the credits roll. The masterful performance is, of course, Gary Oldman as Dracula. He brings a class and dignity to Dracula that is often lost in a ghastly script and some strange sequences that are totally unnecessary. Still, Oldman is obviously trying his best and it shows. He brings the character some form of continuity despite all of the bloated confusion around him. Winona Ryder is Mina Harker, a character that is so bland in the opening moments and so overdone with moaning and cleavage-grabbing “action” in the final sequences that it becomes frightening. She doesn’t capture a transformation insomuch as she captures the confusion of the whole ordeal. If that was her goal, bravo for pulling off the performance of the century. Then there’s Keanu Reeves…..yep, Keanu Reeves.

The film elects to give Dracula a significant stake (pun intended) in the plot by giving him a backstory and constructing a new depth to his character while almost callously discarding any potential for depth through performance of the originally intended character. Part of the power of the character of Dracula lies in the mystery of the character, but that mystery is grossly and openly displayed like a magician revealing his trick to the audience before doing the trick. This is probably the most problematic deviation of Stoker’s work as it really only adds to the mess of the film and doesn’t really accomplish anything that couldn’t have been done better by electing to take a different course, ie. stick with the source material.

The whole Mina aspect of the film is delivered as a different path for the storyline to take, which in my opinion is also drastically convoluted and eerily arrogant in light of naming the film “Bram Stoker’s Dracula“. A lot of different “modern” depth is added to characters, too, as some are turned into erotic sexpots and others are turned into raving lunatics. Anthony Hopkins’ Van Helsing becomes all sorts of wrong in comparison to the character in the novel. I was hoping for more from that character, to be sure. The film’s obsession with Stoker’s lightly tread erotic elements also becomes paramount and likely drives the film’s success, but I found it to be schlocky and moronic. So be it.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula really doesn’t deserve the namesake because it does little to keep it. Coppola’s vision is often awkward and weird, always bloated and guided by problematic character changes and idiotic performances (save one) and so over-directed that it loses any and all primal focus. Instead, it’s a film that can’t make up its mind, doesn’t age well and feels silly in many moments. It is overacted and underacted, all at once, and scripted terribly. Only Gary Oldman saves this film from utter despair.

3/10

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