Universal Pictures' Renfield isn't so much a comedic spinoff highlighting Dracula's henchman as it's an essay on toxic relationships and along with such, the admirable audacity to sustain self-esteem and somewhere along the line, autonomy.
Director Chris McKay (who I must confess, unsettled me with his blasphemous The Lego Batman Movie; yeah, I know it's a cartoon satire, but The Caped Crusader should never be portrayed as a dogmatic boob, belittled by a soft-on-crime agenda) does a pretty decent job injecting his campy, pop-cultural nudges; though perhaps the credit should go to the flick's writers, Ryan Ridley and Robert Kirkman, who present a weary R.M. (Robert Montague) Renfield, portrayed by imagi-genre favorite, Nicholas Hoult, whose nerves are shot from arduous decades of service under The Count, proffered by the phenomenal Nicolas Cage.
As fate has it, Renfield saves the day when his "employer" wishes him to corral any number of folks for ultimate feasting, but instead saves them from a mobster attack, ushered by the mother/son team of Ella and Teddy Lobo, played by Shoreh Aghdashroo and Ben Schwartz, who wish to do in a meddling, traffic cop, Rebecca Quincy, rendered with cantankerous flair by Akwafina. From there, Renfield wins much favor, in particular from the grateful Quincy, who becomes a potential lady friend, enamored by his inferred spontaneity and disinterred skills, initially failing to recognize his actual, dismal station.
After being showered in respect, Renfield seeks greater purpose, digging in ever deeper with a bad-relationship group for insight, but the results don't come without a hitch, considering The Count's supernatural disposition. As to how Renfield might sever ties with his satanic enslaver is the fable's hook, and through its underdog delineation, pathos and endurance (often staked with understandable fear and doubt) become its metaphoric angle.
The movie's exemplary performances play a huge part in why Renfield prospers. Hoult is easy to root for (and yes, he references Dwight Frye, though never to complete mimicry), and Akwafina's everywoman's audacity to make the beleaguered sap see his worth is worthy. (She cares, and because she does, so do we.)
Cage is brilliant as Dracula, sometimes taking his Lugosi-like dominance over the top as he insinuates Conrad Veidt's The Man Who Laughs: a smart formula for the amusing monster. Cage also carries the traditional chill, which if offered in a serious retelling, would have worked as well (proof bleeds through in a flashback sequence, wherein Cage and Hoult replace Lugosi and Frye in Tod Browning's 1931 classic). And Cage's presence more than holds its own with George Hamilton's in Love at First Bite, David Niven's in Vampira (aka Old Dracula) and Leslie Nielsen's in Dracula: Dead and Loving it. (Additionally, Cage's interpretation is an ironic nod to his reluctant transformation in the humorous Vampire's Kiss. It's also worth noting that Cage acted as co-producer of the droll, Nosferatu homage, Shadow of the Vampire. Yes, he's had some worthy, fang-in-cheek practice, all right.)
Renfield should sustain appeal over the long haul, but it's likely to ring loudest with those who endure disrespect for doing their best to get along or put food on the table, never receiving an iota of thanks or fulfillment in return. Renfield will be a soothing air of empathetic escape for that disgruntled lot, destined to be revisited and nestled when those livelong days tear a little too bloody close to the jugular.
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