With the release of Only Lovers Left Alive, it looks like vampires are finally going to become cool again.
This is great news for me, because vampire fiction has been one of my specialist subjects for as long as I can remember, and I refer to the Twilight years as ‘The Dark Times’. So, in celebration of both this film and the upcoming Halloween, I present to you my ten favourite works of vampire fiction.
In the 80's, vampires were often linked with the rebellious youth in many ways. The Lost Boys is one of the most significant examples from that era, where Kiefer Sutherland’s clan on bloodsuckers wore leather jackets, had multiple piercings and dyed their hair, basically becoming the archetypal bad boy. Sutherland basically pioneered the “vampires dressing like Billy Idol” look an entire decade before Spike from Buffy. The Lost Boys is all a metaphor for high school cliques. Our protagonist, Michael, is lured into the gang of cool kids by the beautiful Star, but these cool kids feast on blood instead of smoke under the bleachers. Meanwhile, his nerdier younger brother, Sam, meats teenage vampire hunters Edgar and Alan Frog in a comic book store. Because Michael only drank blood from a wine bottle, and hadn’t killed anyone, he can be saved upon the death of the head vampire, Kiefer Sutherland. It’s a not very subtle metaphor for high school life (basically, Michael can still turn out a nice young man if he gets away from those no-good punks) but one that works when you’re watching The Lost Boys as a teenager yourself. You still appreciate how cool the vampires are, but eventually all you want is for Sam to save his brother. It also has one of the best closing lines in modern cinema.
Vampires in cinema, since the days of Dracula’s Daughter, have long been associated with ‘alternate sexuality’ and specifically lesbianism. Maybe it’s because the bite is an inherently sexual act, and lesbians are an easier sell in Hollywood than gay men for titillation purposes (which isn’t right, but there you go). Therefore, I give you The Hunger, a film in which Catherine Deneuvre are vampire lesbian lovers that also co-stars David Bowie. It’s dark, it’s sexy, and its opening number is Bauhaus’ Bela Lugosi’s Dead. Like The Lost Boys, these vampires are dark, dangerous, seductive outcasts with a penchant for gothic punk music.
Richard Matheson’s seminal novella I Am Legend has been adapted three times, the first here, then in Charlton Heston’s The Omega Man, and finally in the Will Smith vehicle of the same name. All three have something going for them (the scene with the dog in Will Smith’s version nearly destroyed me), but it is The Last Man On Earth which remains the most loyal to the book, and for this and many other reason, it is the greatest of the three films.
That said, it does diverge from the source material, and Matheson eventually was dissatisfied with the project. I understand some of the criticisms, but it takes less liberties with the stellar novella ending than the other adaptations, and is led by a charismatic central performance by Vincent Price. Maybe if Smith’s film had stuck with the original ending instead of caving to test audiences, it would be listed here instead, but as it stands, The Last Man on Earth is so far the greatest cinematic testament to Matheson’s greatest work.
(Technically, there is a fourth I Am Legend adaptation, as it was the main inspiration for Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. I could argue until I’m blue in the face that this film could be included in a list of vampire cinema, but I’m afraif we’ll be here all day.)
The first film in what is supposed to be a trilogy, based on a book series that is supposed to be a trilogy, but in both cases the final instalment hasn’t yet been completed, Night Watch is a Russian story with an interesting new take on the vampire mythos. Way, way back in medieval times, humans with special powers called The Others, split into the forces of Light or Dark were at war with each other. Knowing they would eventually destroy each other, it was resolved with the establishment of the Night Watch and the Day Watch. The Night Watch are warriors of Light who police the Dark, and vice versa. In the modern day, ordinary human Anton realises that he is an Other and joins the Night Watch. Members of the Night Watch only drink blood to hunt vampires like themselves, and he must work to protect a young boy, Yegor, who has heard a psychic call from a Dark Other who intends to feed on him.
Writing that synopsis was rather difficult, because there’s a lot going on in this film series, but I promise that it is a lot less complex when watching. While the sequel Day Watch is an equally fine film, I love Night Watch because it exposed me to a take on the vampire myth that I’d never considered before, and I think that is entirely down to the Russian production. That said, Hollywood vampirism is explicitly referenced throughout, such as a scene in which an episode of Buffy (the one where she fights Dracula) is showing on a TV screen, dubbed in Russian, of course.
When I say Fright Night, I’m talking about the original from the 80s starring Chris Sarandon. The remake annoyed me for quite a few reasons, chief among them was the casting of David Tennant as Peter Vincent. Without going on too much of a rant about it, an explanation: Peter Vincent is supposed to be a parody of characters played in Hammer films, and is named after Peter Cushing and Vincent Price. The whole point of him is that he’s an old dude who used to make horror films, not the pseudo-Russell Brand they styled Tennant as. Anyway, back to the original film. I love Fright Night chiefly because it’s hilarious, but also has enough body horror and great special effects to be scary when it wants to be, kind of like Shaun of the Dead but with vampires and in the 80s. The teenage protagonist and old sidekick employed so well in films like Back to the Future is in full effect, with great back and forth between Charlie and Peter Vincent. As the villain Jerry Dandridge, Chris Sarandon perfectly walks the tightrope between charm and smarmy, just as brilliantly as he did with Prince Humperdinck in The Princess Bride. Also great is how, even though Chris Sarandon is an attractive man, the actual vampire faces are utterly monstrous. Refreshing in a post-Edward Cullen world.
There are plenty of Dracula adaptations I could have chosen for this post, and I considered both Bela Lugosi and Gary Oldman’s unique portrayals of the Count rather a lot before settling on my final choices. But I am such a blatant Christopher Lee fangirl that it couldn’t be anything other than Hammer’s interpretation, really. I also just really enjoy this adaptation. Rather than Lugosi’s iconic accent, Lee’s Dracula sounds like an English aristocrat, is at first friendly to Jonathan Harker, and for some reason, that makes him even more terrifying. Lee’s towering height also adds to the visual dynamics of the scene, and unlike Oldman’s Dracula (who I do love, don’t get me wrong), Lee’s Dracula never appears weak. He’s a predatory, seductive, imposing force, and it is a great struggle to take him down. Peter Cushing’s Van Helsing is equally impressive, while the slightly camp horror of the Hammer production make for exciting, fun viewing, regardless of whether or not you scare easily.
Cited by George A Romero as the favourite film he ever made, Martin is an exercise in doubt and audience deception. Throughout the film, both the other characters and the audience are left to question whether Martin is an actual vampire or a psychotic young man harbouring an obsession with Bela Lugosi. Either way, he’s a murderer. It’s this that makes Martin such a real and unnerving threat. He may be an undead creature compelled to drink blood to survive, or he may just be a sadistic killer with a fetish. Each point of view is equally valid, and both give the film’s powerful ending a different, but distressing poignancy.
Tomas Alfredson’s adaptation of the book of the same name (with an inferior US adaptation, Let Me In) is not just a vampire story. It’s the story of a lonely, bullied young boy finding a kindred spirit. It’s the story of an old, tired woman trapped for eternity in a body that should not belong to her. It’s a chaste love story, a horror tale, and a Scandinavian depress-fest all in one. The performances of the young leads are remarkable, with Oskar’s loneliness palpable and Eli a true enigma. There is so much to question about Eli (while played by a young girl, her gender is called into question, as if her age and motivation) that every watch of the film remains utterly fascinating.
The only downside to Let the Right One In comes if you have also read the book, and it’s purely that there’s so much more in the novel that could be explored given time. I would have liked more of an explanation of Håkan, Eli’s paedophilic carer, because even that is ambiguous, calling into question whether Håkan’s devotion to Eli is wrong as she has a child’s body, even though her soul is older than his own. The cinematography is as gloomy and yet a beautiful as we’ve come to expect from Scandinavian film and television, an atmospheric style Alfredson masterfully brought to Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.
I wrote about my love for Nosferatu only a few weeks ago in an article onGerman Expressionism, so I’m conscious of repeating myself. This film is basically just the Dracula story but with the names changed, as the book was still in copyright at the time. Dracula has since been done many times, but it is this first adaptation that stays in the mind, thanks to the intimidating, towering presence of Max Schreck’s Count Orlok, the atmospheric cinematography, and the wildly inventive use of shadow.
I’ll be honest, I’m a bit in love with Kathryn Bigelow and her work, from Point Break to The Hurt Locker, so it should come as no surprise that Bigelow’s vampire western tops my list. Her flair for directing action scenes shows, but she also combines this with an emotional punch, and the combination of the vampire and Western genres work in her favour here. Small town boy Caleb (played by Adrian Pasdar of Heroes fame) meets a young drifter named Mae one night, and the two are instantly attracted to each other. Before sunrise, Mae bites Caleb on the neck, and the next morning, his flesh begins to burn. Joining Mae’s group of roaming vampires, including the psychotic Severen, Caleb refuses to kill to feed, leading to him drinking from Mae’s wrist after she kills for him. Meanwhile, group leader Homer, an adult in a child’s body, has set his sights on making Caleb’s sister Sarah his companion. Caleb’s struggle to hold onto his own morality and save his sister, while at the same time falling for Mae, drives much of the plot, while Bigelow’s deft touch behind the camera combines an excellent story with stunning visuals. Her use of silhouettes and her choices of scenery are straight out of the greatest Western, but she’s not afraid to employ outrageous, bloody thrills in her action scenes. It’s gory enough for horror audiences, “doomed young love”-y enough for teenage audiences, and beautiful enough for cinephiles to appreciate.
Honourable Mentions
The Tarantino-penned From Dusk ‘til Dawn, the sublimely homoerotic Interview With the Vampire, the excellent Korean film Thirst, and numerous other adaptations of Dracula.
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