Dracula

Its aspirations and its execution are perfectly in sync; there is no way that Meyers could overact, or, indeed, not act enough, that would not suit the material.

Watching this conspiracy, class warfare and romantic indiscretion collide makes for a hugely engaging show, all the more so because of the lushly photographed Victorian settings and droll dialogue.

The show has a knack for Godfather-style plots and counter­plots, as well as for sixties Hammer-horror violence that doles out gore and suffering strategically: a dollop of blood here, a severed head there. There’s a bracing wantonness to the writers’ inventions here.

Rhys Meyers already has his fans, but he’s likely to win over skeptics as this new Dracula makes a seduction out of death.

All dark shadows and gloom, there's a comic-book vigor to the series, and the narrative contortion of a soap.

Grayson/Dracula and his pals sound closer to characters from a '30s film than a 21st century TV series. But over time, as our modern ears adjust to the melodramatically declarative style, the antiquated dialogue enhances the other-worldly tone of the series.

The show has a lot going on and it isn’t always easy to follow, but for the most part it’s stylish, sexy and smart.

Nothing in Dracula is as unique or as wonderfully weird as "Twin Peaks," and Dracula plows through plot more quickly, introducing and then writing off several intriguing plots and characters within its first three episodes. It's too soon to say whether that will turn out to be wise or foolhardy, but Dracula at least gets off to a mildly promising start.

Like “Hannibal” (another NBC drama built around an antihero with a peculiar diet), this series pushes boundaries in terms of gore, torture and sex, flourishes that feel both organic and perhaps a bit less jarring given the fantastic setting and situations.

Lead writer Daniel Knauf, who created HBO’s “Carnivale,” has tweaked Bram Stoker’s classic tale in delightful, if heavy-handed ways.

The first five episodes of Dracula, although unwieldy and murky at times, flex just enough storytelling power to keep the juices flowing.

Dracula shows a lot of skill when it comes to launching a swift-paced series and weaving together several taut story lines and characters; at times it even finds an undiscovered sweet spot between 'Downton Abbey' and Bela Lugosi. ... Only one crucial piece is missing: Dracula isn’t scary.

It's often dull and heavy-handed. Rhys Meyers is burdened with purposefully heightened dialogue that sounds silly at times. His Dracula is meant to be irresistible, but he's just plain creepy.

Directed by Steve Shill, Dracula intrigues but it may not have staying power. It doesn’t look as elegant as it should; it isn’t necessarily cast with an eye toward immortality.

An overabundance of ingredients hurts both Dracula and its Dracula, the latter of which is constructed from the discarded bits of characters within and without the public domain.

This supernatural thriller is much more attuned to the times than PBS’ costume period piece “Downton Abbey,” which filters such hot topics as women’s rights and homosexuality through a modern lens.... Mina’s aspirations to become a surgeon are publicly disparaged by the person closest to her next week in a moment that hits harder than the onscreen horror. Dracula’s visit to an under­ground gay club next week is well, bizarre, but it captures how homosexuals dwelled in the shadows, terrified of exposure. Those moments are far more biting than any of the so-called scares.

Meyers' Dracula is in line with the seductive, brooding bloodsuckers we've become used to lately, sipping fine whiskey as often as he does blood. The pilot moves very slowly, but the production values are outstanding.

Rhys Meyers is mostly effective during such inserting, exuding exotic appeal and sensitive yearning—at least when he’s gazing on his object of desire from afar. When he speaks, his appeal is dulled by his flattened, put-on American accent, which makes him sound like Chris Pine.

There’s nothing overtly bad about the first two episodes of Dracula but neither was there anything compelling.

Watching NBC’s Dracula isn’t always easy, and not only because its Dublin-born star, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, is often compelled to speak with a cartoonish American accent.... The biggest distraction of all may be the series’ sociopolitical construct, seemingly ripped from the headlines about Occupy Wall Street, as told to climate-change zealots and written up by Dalton Trumbo.... To its credit, this one isn’t camp and doesn’t clown around.

Turning Dracula into a fanged insurgent battling ruthless oligarchs is a nifty idea, and the electricity plot allows for diverting steampunk-meets-“Bride of Frankenstein” visuals. But nothing about the show is as much fun as it should be. The storytelling is slow and anemic, spelling everything out at length.

Unfortunately, this Dracula isn’t fun at all. It’s not really scary, either, although it does spill a lot of blood.

NBC sent critics five episodes of the 10-episode season. Bored, I bowed out after three [episodes].

Dracula flirts with camp, without quite committing. Unlike Fox’s Sleepy Hollow, in which Ichabod Crane finds himself alive in the present day, Dracula does not seem to be in on the joke of itself.

While several subplots swirl around, Drac’s mission will be driving this story, which means we need a commanding presence at the center. Rhys Meyers plays it more subtly. That’s a valid acting choice. It just doesn’t make the story as bloody good as it might be.

Dracula is exhaustingly, confusingly silly, and deadly dull, to boot, which is one thing Dracula has seldom been.

Strip away the name and this is the story of a man trying to tear apart an oil monopoly, which makes Dracula every bit as scary and sexy as the Sherman Antitrust Act.

Dracula is meant to be powerful and alluring, but this version of him feels stilted and withdrawn.

Dracula features solid performances from the principals, lovely lighting, and evocative cinematography. Shame it's so thoroughly, utterly, irredeemably potty.

Underneath the shallow brooding, everything feels like build-up to a massive climactic event, every maneuver directed, written, and acted as if it were yet another crucial move toward some terribly violent, bad end. The tactic is meant to drum up suspense, which it doesn't do particularly well, and the series loses any sense of humanity, shirking the very pulse of life the titular vampire hungers for.

Not funny enough to be campy, not smart enough to be serious, NBC's Dracula is an incomprehensible mishmash in period costumes.