''I haven't eaten in centuries,'' says the stooped, wrinkled man knocking at a convent door, seeking food and shelter.
LOL! It's a funny line, given that this is a disguised Count Dracula — who indeed has not eaten in centuries, unless you count human blood. And it's especially funny given that ''Dracula'' is not now, nor has ever been, a comedy.
But the humor's a nice touch, as are the splashes of color, the lovely 19th-century gowns, the rendering of Parisian salons and vivid street celebrations that are part of Luc Besson's reimagining of the oft-told tale (more like the told-all-the-time tale), starring Caleb Landry Jones. And yes, the story of Dracula is not usually set in Paris. There's a lot that's familiar in this version, but enough variety, panache and bravado to raise it up a notch and give it, well, a raison d'être.
Writer-director Besson's calling card is romance — the original title was ''Dracula: A Love Tale'' — and, maybe more to the point, sex. Unlike Robert Eggers' 2024 ''Nosferatu,'' which was beautiful but bleak to look at and featured an ugly, fearsome vampire, Besson imbues his main character with a swashbuckling sexiness that suits his star's craggy appeal.
Which is why, even when he's aged four whole centuries, a pack of nuns at the convent can't resist climbing all over Dracula, presenting their necks for the taking. He may be wrinkled, but he's wearing a homemade scent they can't resist — no women can, even nuns.
But we begin back in the year 1480, in a remote castle, where a handsome prince — Vlad's his name, for now — is frolicking in the bedroom with beautiful bride Elisabeta (Zoë Bleu). Their playtime is stopped suddenly by Vlad's men: War is at hand, and it's time to fight.
Vlad's main concern is his wife. He asks the Orthodox priest to swear that God will protect the life of Elisabeta — after all, they're fighting in God's name. Alas, escaping through the forest in the snow, Elisabeta is killed in an ambush. A grief-stricken Vlad returns to kill the priest with his cross, renounce God, damn heaven — and is thus cursed with immortal life. A life he will spend trying to find his wife, reincarnated.
Four hundred years later, Vlad, now Count Dracula, resides — shriveled but stylish, with an incredible flowing, white wig that looks like something Elvis might have worn if he were a 400-year-old vampire — in the Carpathian Mountains. But the action shifts to Paris, mainly just because Besson loves Paris, where citizens are joyously celebrating the centenary of the French Revolution.