“Renfield” has fine, crafty actors in its corner. The reliable Nicolas Cage, a guy who always gives 110%, is in there, sprinkling delightful expressions of enthusiasm (“wooo!”) under his Dracula breath. Awkwafina plays an honest New Orleans cop amid a sea of corrupt, mobbed-up toadies, with her sharp instincts for both punchlines and heart-tugs. Throw in Nicholas Hoult as the title’s put-upon “familiar,” Renfield, and there you have it: the least lousy of the three recent Universal Pictures forays into wisecracking ultraviolence.
The earlier two in this particular movie cycle, “Violent Night” and “Cocaine Bear,” I kind of hated; the filmmaking wasn’t good enough to make sense of their heartwarming one minute, entrails the next approach to horror comedy. “Renfield” has a few laughs, at least. But if it were as much fun as its production stills, with Cage’s bejeweled and divinely decadent Dracula (he’s like a male Sally Bowles, with fangs) whooping it up with Hoult’s miserably exploited Renfield, we’d have the comic mayhem we deserve.
The idea here is that “Dracula” author Bram Stoker’s tasty side character, Renfield, who procures humans for their blood and for his master’s next meal, has had enough. What a way to make a living! Screenwriter Ryan Ridley introduces Renfield at a relationship support group where others discuss abusive husbands and manipulative partners. Renfield can relate, but he’s not ready to reveal just how difficult his last century has been, under the sway of his master.
