There’s just enough of a movie here to sustain the working out of its splendid central dynamic: the sick relationship between a bad man and a devoted enabler. The bad man in question is very bad indeed, the self-described “Lord of Death” Dracula (Nicolas Cage, deadpanning Bela Lugosi to great effect). And the enabler, of course, is trusty servant Renfield, here embodied with curious sweetness by Nicholas Hoult. It seems that several centuries of obtaining victims for his bloodsucker of a boss haven’t quite drained his humanity — even now, hiding out in present-day New Orleans, he makes a point of only going after bad guys, the sort that drive people to attend support groups for co-dependents. But it seems that bad men have bad blood, and an impatient, recuperating Dracula demands something purer and sweeter: “happy couples, nuns, a busful of cheerleaders.” That sets up Renfield’s meeting with frustrated cop Rebecca (Awkwafina, doing what she can with an overwritten part), a woman willing to stand up to a bully, even if it kills her. She is our hero’s inspiration, but their fledgling relationship cannot compare, dramatically or comedically, with the one he’s already got going on. Robert Kirkman’s story takes its pop psychology seriously, which is what makes its application here so much fun. When Cage bellows, “I’m the real victim here!” anyone who’s ever known a narcissist may find themselves wincing through the grin. Alas, the scaffold built to support the central conflict — having to do with a nasty gang that Dracula decides to recruit to aid in his plan for world domination — is just that, a much less engaging framework. Director Chris McKay seems to know it, and opts to cover his dramatic sins with gloopy, gory, and graphic (but still comic) action-movie violence. But where action movies often leave the viewer waiting through the dialogue for the next dustup, Renfield is just the opposite. (2023) — Matthew Lickona