Photograph: Album/Alamy
Did Radu Jude just invent pop-up cinema? The Romanian director’s movies have a wildly improvised, no-budget theatricality in the spirit of Brecht or Fassbinder, a make-do-and-mend cinema that looks as if it has been made up on the spot with the materials to hand, including bits of TV ads, bad AI in the service of bad porn (what he, in an earlier film, called “loony porn”) and amdram scenes with actors in ridiculous dress-up. It sometimes seems as if each Jude film is almost to be viewed once only; if you press play again, or go to the cinema to see it a second time, there will be only a blank screen, as if Jude and his ragged company have folded their tents and vanished.
This new movie is crazily stretched out to epic length with knockabout comedy and stretches of tedium redeemed (just about) with angry, pointed satire. It is – notionally – about Dracula; or rather, about a smug and supercilious film-maker (Adonis Tanta) introducing us to the cheapo film he is concocting on the subject on his iPad, using unbearable AI. We also see a rackety troupe of actors doing a floor-show routine about Dracula in what looks like a restaurant, with veteran Romanian actor Gabriel Spahiu playing the aged and delusional old thesp who once thought he really was Dracula, and Oana Maria Zaharia as Vampira, a sexy and, indeed, vampy representative of the undead. This group encourages its audience to have sexual encounters with the cast-members; it also offers families a more wholesome kind of hide-and-seek romp where the audience chase the vampire actors out into the street.
