There have been more than sixty screen adaptations of Dracula over the last century. With so many versions already staking their claim, the natural question arises: do we really need another one? Luc Besson’s Dracula: A Love Tale, with music by Danny Elfman, certainly sounded like a dream pairing of filmmaker and composer. On paper, the project promised a bold, romantic reimagining of a timeless Gothic tale. In practice, it’s a muddled experiment that satisfies neither longtime fans nor newcomers.

As a lifelong admirer of both Besson and Elfman, I genuinely wanted to love this film. The score has the expected haunting flourishes, and there are flashes of visual flair. Yet the execution falters almost everywhere else. The film never seems sure of its intended audience. Die-hard Bram Stoker enthusiasts will likely recoil at the wholesale rewrites: the story uprooted to Paris, Van Helsing replaced with a generic priest, and the bizarre addition of living gargoyles, later revealed, inexplicably, to be children. Equally jarring are the awkward action sequences staged within Dracula’s castle and the clumsy stabs at black comedy, including a running gag in which Dracula repeatedly tries to end his cursed existence by leaping out a window.

For viewers unfamiliar with the source material, the film offers little clarity. Key story beats are left dangling, motivations go unexplained, and characters are introduced without context. Why Jonathan Harker is summoned to Dracula’s castle, one of the essential engines of the original novel, is barely established here. Stripped of that foundation, the narrative plays like a patchwork of disconnected episodes.

What’s most disappointing is the absence of mystique. Where Stoker’s novel drips with dread and atmosphere, Besson’s film feels hastily assembled and oddly flat. The central love story - recasting Mina as the literal reincarnation of Dracula’s lost wife, Elisabeta - lands as both forced and unconvincing, stripping away the tension that makes their connection in other adaptations intriguing.

As a devoted fan of Dracula, of Danny Elfman’s scores, and of Besson’s best work, I found myself not only underwhelmed but often bored. Dracula: A Love Tale is neither a compelling gothic romance nor a chilling horror film. It’s a missed opportunity that, in the end, raises the question it never answers: why tell this story again if you have so little new - or worthwhile - to say?