Has Radu Jude pioneered the concept of pop-up cinema? The Romanian filmmaker’s works embody a spontaneous, low-budget theatricality reminiscent of Brecht and Fassbinder, presenting a resourceful style that appears to be created on the fly using available materials, including snippets from television advertisements, subpar AI generating questionable adult content (which he previously termed “loony porn”), and amateur dramatics featuring actors in absurd costumes. It often feels as though each film by Jude is meant to be experienced only once; upon replaying or revisiting it in a theater, one might encounter nothing but a blank screen, as though Jude and his eclectic ensemble have packed up and disappeared.
This latest film is an ambitious endeavor, stretched to an epic duration, blending slapstick humor with prolonged moments of tedium, ultimately salvaged by sharp, incisive satire. The narrative ostensibly revolves around Dracula; more accurately, it centers on an arrogant filmmaker (Adonis Tanta) who introduces his low-budget project about the iconic figure, crafted on his iPad with exasperating AI assistance. Alongside this, we observe a chaotic group of performers staging a Dracula-themed floor show in what resembles a restaurant, featuring seasoned Romanian actor Gabriel Spahiu as a confused and aging performer who once believed he was Dracula, and Oana Maria Zaharia as Vampira, a seductive and alluring embodiment of the undead. This troupe invites the audience to engage in sexual interactions with the cast, as well as offering families a playful version of hide-and-seek where spectators chase the vampire actors into the streets.
The film is punctuated by a series of mini-narratives related to Dracula, with one of the standout segments depicting a communist-era story about a truck driver who becomes infatuated with a local woman. During a ride, he shocks her by revealing his marriage, prompting her to leap from the vehicle and, in a dramatic twist, impale herself. Overall, this portrayal serves as a whimsical yet critical commentary on Romania’s historical ties to its infamous figure, which also reflects persistent issues of fascism, antisemitism, clerical hubris, and a troubling service economy. The film notably references a proposed Dracula theme park from the late 1990s that led to significant financial losses for many Romanian citizens who invested their savings.
While the film may test viewers’ endurance, it lacks the dynamism and clarity found in Jude’s earlier works like Kontinental ’25 or Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World. Moreover, despite its effort to steer clear of vampire clichés, the overexposed character of Dracula remains somewhat of a stereotype. I foresee that one day, Jude may explore the political vampirism epitomized by one of Romania’s most significant figures: Nicolae and Elena Ceaușescu. Regardless, there are instances of profound absurdity throughout the film.
Dracula will be showcased at the ICA in London starting April 10.
