We know D.C. Get our free newsletter to stay in the know.
Perhaps your New Year’s resolution was to help those less fortunate than you. If so, then start scraping your loose change together: Christopher Plummer, who a mere year ago became Mike Wallace in the all-around superbly acted The Insider, is obviously in desperate need of some cash. Such an actor shouldn’t have to attach himself to dreck like Wes Craven Presents: Dracula 2000 (though maybe he was inspired by Geoffrey Rush’s turn in House on Haunted Hill). Plummer plays Abraham Van Helsing, an antiques dealer with some badass James Bond-style weapons and an occasional European accent who’s hiding not riches in his elaborate subterranean vault but a deep, dark secret. A gang of thieves breaks into the vault to find only dusty old furniture and a seemingly impenetrable coffin. After a couple of the robbers are impaled trying to open the thing, those left alive figure that the smartest thing to do is steal the coffin and work on it aboard their convenient private jet. While on the plane, a seemingly dormant Dracula perks up and starts bitin’ everyone in sight, and the usual mayhem ensues—though in most vampire movies, the usual mayhem is a lot more interesting. This particular Dracula (Gerard Butler) has battled Van Helsing in the past, but his current obsession is a pretty young thing who dreams of the dark, violent, sucking type: Van Helsing’s daughter, who’s linked to the original Nosferatu through tainted blood (don’t ask). Mixed into this mess is Van Helsing’s dim, suspicious assistant, Simon (Jonny Lee Miller—what did Angelina Jolie ever see in this guy?); a big-boobed, tank-top-wearing newscaster who’s also Dracula’s type; and a twist on the old tale claiming that Dracula reviles crucifixes because he’s really Judas Iscariot, betrayer of Christ. Yeah. By the end of the flick, simple Simon (“You knew this? And you’re all right with this?” he asks Van Helsing) becomes a veritable vampire-slayer, cuttin’ off heads and driving stakes through hearts—or thereabouts—like nobody’s business, and nearly the whole town’s thirsting for blood. Must I go on? Suffice it to say that although PYT finally gets bitten, she does end up saving the day (apparently, if you concentrate real hard, you can resist becoming one of the undead), and Wes Craven goes back to being known as a purveyor of really bad horror movies. —Tricia Olszewski