Sometimes a movie is so loud, so expensive, and so desperate to entertain you that you can almost hear the studio executives hyperventilating in the background. Van Helsing is that movie. It’s like somebody took every classic Universal monster, tossed them in a blender with a copy of Castlevania, hit “purée,” and then dumped the result onto a $170 million plate with the instruction: “Serve hot, extra CGI, no logic required.”
The result? A migraine with fangs.
The Opening Act: Or, How to Lose Your Audience in Ten Minutes
We open with a black-and-white prologue in which Dr. Frankenstein is busy doing what he does best: playing God with spare parts and questionable science. He’s got Dracula hanging around like a sleazy venture capitalist funding the project, Igor betraying people like it’s a Tuesday, and a mob of torch-wielding villagers outside. It’s all very gothic, very Universal Horror—except it feels less like a tribute and more like a theme park ride where the animatronics keep malfunctioning.
Then, of course, the monster flees to a windmill, which promptly burns down because villagers in these films have never heard of subtlety. Cue the dramatic music, cue the eye roll.
Enter Gabriel “Hugh Jackman” Van Helsing
Next, we’re introduced to Van Helsing himself: Hugh Jackman with flowing hair, a leather trench coat, and enough gadgets to make Batman look like a minimalist. He’s not just a vampire hunter; he’s also a werewolf wrangler, a Hyde slayer, and possibly a hair conditioner model.
Van Helsing is apparently suffering from amnesia, which the movie uses as an excuse to never explain what the hell is going on with him. He’s Gabriel, maybe an archangel, maybe just Wolverine on vacation—nobody really knows. The Vatican gives him his assignments like a supernatural temp agency, sending him after monsters while promising vague redemption.
Kate Beckinsale and the Worst Romanian Accent Ever
Then there’s Anna Valerious, played by Kate Beckinsale, armed with a corset that could strangle a horse and an accent that could start wars. She’s the last in her bloodline cursed to fight Dracula, because her ancestor apparently made a bad bet in the 1400s. Every time she speaks, it’s as if she’s auditioning for a Dracula parody sketch. By the thirty-minute mark, you half expect her to shout, “I vant to suck your contract!”
Anna exists mostly to look glamorous while dangling from ropes, falling off castles, and providing Van Helsing with a tragic love interest. She spends much of the film running in slow motion, which is impressive given that she’s wearing five pounds of leather and high heels.
Dracula and His Brides: Discount Hot Topic Mascots
Richard Roxburgh plays Count Dracula with the energy of a man who drank six espressos and then dared himself to act solely with eyebrow movements. He hisses, he laughs, he gesticulates like a malfunctioning mime—it’s exhausting.
His three brides are a cross between Victoria’s Secret models and Cirque du Soleil rejects. They swoop around shrieking like car alarms and occasionally try to eat people. One of them dies early on, which is a relief because fewer banshee screams mean fewer headaches.
Frankenstein’s Monster and the CGI Carnival
Oh yes, Frankenstein’s Monster is here too, because why not? He looks like a cross between a steampunk refrigerator and a depressed opera singer. He’s meant to be sympathetic, but the film mostly uses him as a plot device: he’s the missing battery needed to power Dracula’s giant baby-making machine.
Yes, you read that correctly. Dracula has thousands of little unborn vampire-bat-babies that need Frankenstein’s Monster to come alive. It’s like a satanic fertility clinic gone horribly wrong. The CGI babies flop around like diseased Muppets, and every time they appear, you wonder if maybe you should’ve stayed home and done literally anything else.
Werewolves, Masquerade Balls, and Other Nonsense
If you think that’s enough monsters, you’re wrong. We also get werewolves, because Dracula apparently has them on retainer. One of them bites Van Helsing, which conveniently gives him werewolf powers later, because apparently that’s how you solve third-act problems in this movie.
There’s also a masquerade ball where the guests turn out to be vampires. Imagine if Eyes Wide Shut was directed by a 12-year-old with a sugar high, and you’ll have the general idea.
The Climax: Werewolf vs. Dracula Cage Match
Everything builds to the showdown between Van Helsing (now a werewolf) and Dracula (still a caffeinated mime). It’s less of a battle and more of a CGI slap fight. Lightning crashes, castles collapse, wings flap, and the audience quietly wishes for death.
The twist is that only a werewolf can kill Dracula. Sure. Why not? At this point, the rules are so arbitrary they might as well have said Dracula can only be killed by someone who ate a ham sandwich at midnight.
Van Helsing kills Dracula, Anna dies in the process (but at least she looks good doing it), and the film ends with a funeral pyre that feels less like a tragic goodbye and more like the audience’s collective sigh of relief.
The Good, the Bad, and the Ridiculous
The good: Hugh Jackman is charming enough that you almost forgive him for signing onto this mess. The production design is lavish; if nothing else, the movie looks like a very expensive Halloween party.
The bad: Everything else. The dialogue is laughable, the pacing is erratic, and the tone is all over the place. One minute it’s gothic horror, the next it’s slapstick comedy, and then suddenly it’s an action movie where everyone’s flipping through the air like they’re auditioning for The Matrix 4: Dracula Boogaloo.
The ridiculous: Dracula’s monster-baby daycare center. Frankenstein’s opera solo. Kate Beckinsale’s corset. Take your pick.
Final Thoughts: A Monster Mash That Should’ve Stayed Buried
Van Helsing wanted to be an epic homage to Universal’s golden age of monsters. Instead, it plays like a bloated theme park ride that forgot to stop moving. It’s two hours of noise, CGI clutter, and half-baked mythology, wrapped in leather and delivered with a straight face.
It grossed over $300 million, which proves two things: people love Hugh Jackman, and audiences will forgive a lot if you throw vampires and werewolves at them. But make no mistake: this isn’t cinema—it’s Monster Soup, served lukewarm and seasoned with regret.
