By: Dominic La-Viola
Not a retelling of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Radu Jude’s latest is very much a satire on modern filmmaking and the current state of technology in film — and how both have, and will continue to, shape the medium.
The film itself is incredibly meta, though not in the way most viewers might expect. When people think “meta,” they usually recall something like Scream — self-referential, tongue-in-cheek, overtly playful. Jude’s Dracula, however, operates on a different wavelength. It is untraditional, yet it draws from some of the most notable films in cinematic history, combining homage with provocation.
Jude, both the writer and director, crafts a film that will feel strange — and perhaps incoherent — to those unfamiliar with his work. There is no traditional plot structure; the narrative is intentionally fractured. The opening is a crude, bizarre animation sequence that is simultaneously funny, absurd, and brilliant, signaling immediately what viewers are about to experience. From there, the film unfolds like a series of interconnected experiments rather than a linear story.
The script is audacious. Unchecked and fearless, it allows Jude to create a once-in-a-generation style film — one that critics, audiences, and film philosophers will return to for decades. That said, it is not flawless. Many issues stem from the film’s length. The story meanders through multiple mini-narratives and short vignettes that, while entertaining and occasionally hilarious, add to the runtime in ways that could have been trimmed without sacrificing meaning or artistry.
Though the film lacks a conventional, epic storyline that demands such a length, Jude’s writing still packs a punch. His use of satire is both direct and nuanced, offering layers that comment on societal norms and cinematic taboos. This is most evident in his treatment of Dracula’s sexualized subtext — a long-standing element of the character — but also in his bold commentary on the filmmaking process itself.
One of the film’s most striking elements is its integration of AI. Not merely in aesthetic sequences, but woven into the narrative itself, AI becomes both plot device and thematic lens. It is a deliberate commentary on the challenges that technology, and AI in particular, will pose to the film industry — both creatively and ethically.
From a directing standpoint, Jude’s pacing is precise. The film may be long, but it never feels poorly managed. Even at a steady, consistent pace, however, a ten-thousand-foot marathon can feel endless. Yet what some may perceive as sloppiness — in editing, cinematography, or production design — is almost always intentional. The uneven execution often functions as satire, a deliberate contrast to the more meticulously crafted sequences. In this way, even mistakes become meaningful, reinforcing the film’s overarching commentary on art, process, and imperfection.
The cinematography mirrors the film’s structural ambitions: restrained, observational, and at times starkly contrasting. Scenes oscillate between crude animation and complex, layered setups, emphasizing both the absurdity and artistry of filmmaking. Jude’s approach to visuals and composition is part of the satire — unpolished when it’s meant to be, yet stunning when he chooses to flex cinematic skill.
Dracula is an artistic statement from a director whose films are anything but conventional. It recalls the spirit of Annie Hall in its treatment of form as subject, prioritizing style, process, and philosophical inquiry over traditional storytelling. Like that film, Jude’s work may confuse or frustrate some viewers, but its impact will likely resonate for years to come, a provocative meditation on filmmaking in the 21st century.