Notes:

• Nearly every culture has its own take on vampire folklore, which is too broad a topic to cover here. The focus of this essay is strictly vampires in film.
• There are slight spoilers for Let the Right One In and Sinners.

If vampires are your movie monster of choice, there’s a genre to suit any taste—from the creepy vibes of the Nosferatu films to the humorous take on bloodsucker lore in Vampire in Brooklyn to the action anti-hero Blade. However, over the years, the image of the vampire has changed. Why is this, and how does it reflect what’s happening in society at large?

 

Vampires of the 20th Century

While many people instantly envision Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula, before him there was Max Schreck as Count Orlok in 1922’s Nosferatu (a direct rip-off of Bram Stoker’s titular character and the most well-known among the first put to film). Orlok was ghoulish, with his ultra-long fingers and pointed ears. He also fed into antisemitic stereotypes that existed at the time and persisted for decades afterward. Lugosi, on the other hand, was suave, although a far cry from the heavily sexualized image of the vampire to come. He was sinister, with his hypnotizing glare, but these early movie monsters reflected the times.

The original Nosferatu was a German production. It exemplified Expressionist cinema of the 1920s, with its almost dreamy, otherworldly feel. By contrast, Dracula is very Hollywood-esque. Lugosi’s portrayal was heavy on quiet mystery, while other characters engaged in the dramatics typical of films during this time. Perhaps all the theatrics were a counterbalance to what was going on in the US and the world, gripped in the Great Depression, as well as the change from silent movies to talkies. Actors (including vaudeville veterans) accustomed to over-the-top facial expressions had to adjust to no longer relying solely on their features with the advent of sound pictures, where their voices pulled equal weight.

Other actors played Dracula throughout the ’30s and ’40s, but none were quite as memorable as Lugosi. Then came the unforgettable British combination of Hammer Film Productions and Christopher Lee. Like many Hammer horror movies of the 1950s–1970s, low-cut gowns and nubile female characters were a staple. These hallmarks complemented the act of feeding for a vampire, which evokes sensuality, a characteristic not seen in a werewolf or Frankenstein’s monster, for example. From Lee, it wasn’t a big leap to other handsome vampires like George Hamilton in Love at First Bite and Frank Langella in Dracula. Both of those films came out in 1979, and although the tone between them was different, the count’s image was similar.

As time went on, vampires only became more attractive. The ’80s saw the introduction of MTV, and the influence of music videos wasn’t relegated to twenty-four-hour cable television. There’s The Hunger in 1983, with its slick feel, starring Catherine Deneuve, David Bowie, and Susan Sarandon. Before Twilight, there was The Lost Boys, another ’80s entry to the genre. Instead of the smoldering older man in the castle, this film’s monsters were young surfer types prowling seaside California. The gorgeous vampire image hit a peak in 1994’s Interview with the Vampire with two of the hottest actors of the time, Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise. At least, until Twilight came along, with its sparkly vamps.

And let’s not forget style. Of all the movie monsters, vampires have always had the best wardrobes. Unlike Count Orlok, Lugosi’s count established a precedent for the well-dressed character. For Lugosi and Lee, it was a cloak. In Fright Night, Chris Sarandon spent many of his dressed hours in clothes that seemed nothing short of bespoke. Would Blade be as menacing without that black leather trench coat? And for Michael B. Jordan’s twin characters in Sinners, it was well-tailored suits and hats.

In terms of sensuality, almost all vampire films feature it, whether overt or more subtle. One prime example is Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 Bram Stoker’s Dracula, a sumptuously visual feast of gothic costumes and color. It was more ’80s in feel than the emerging grungy scene of the ’90s, but it fit the vibe of blockbuster films of the time. It was also overtly sexy, at odds with the time and setting in which it took place, Victorian England. That was an era of constricting corsets and rampant prudism. Wanton sexuality, especially for women, was a major no. And yet, Coppola’s movie is brimming with eroticism, as if completing the work that the Hammer films started (and this theme continued to 2024’s Nosferatu).

All of this sexy vampirism changed, sort of, with Robert Eggers’s remake of Nosferatu. It harkened back to an earlier version of the monster, one in which he was repulsive and looked like an actual corpse. Prior to this, it was almost easy to forget that vampires are undead creatures, cold to the touch and absolutely relentless in their thirst for blood. To cement Orlok’s grotesqueness, he doesn’t feed from the neck; the chest is his target, accompanied by disturbingly realistic sounds. While Orlok himself isn’t a sensual creature, this remake (like Coppola’s Dracula) is full of sexuality.

 

The Emergence of Black Vampires

The Blaxploitation era of the 1970s wasn’t about to miss out on this popular horror trope. While Blacula may be the most well-known of this time period’s films, even the presence of lead actor William Marshall—with his dignified baritone and imposing demeanor—couldn’t overcome the movie’s more problematic elements, such as its deeply homophobic characterizations of two victims. Yes, the vampires were Black, but they were still trapped in stereotypical representations of African Americans.

That’s where Ganja & Hess, a little-known project from this time period, takes an opposing view. In this Bill Gunn-directed cult classic, the Black leads—Marlene Clark and Duane Jones—are beautiful and sophisticated. Gunn took a lot of risks, such as the inclusion of full-frontal male nudity, almost unheard of at the time in mainstream media. The focus on African spirituality, also featured in Scream Blacula Scream (although in a more stereotypical, voodoo-centered fashion), is one aspect that sets this film apart. But unlike Blacula, instead of churning out a film that was completely exploitative—what the studio seems to have wanted—Gunn turned Ganja & Hess into a cinematic statement on Black culture, spirituality, and beauty.

Ganja isn’t the copy of so many Pam Grier-helmed movies of that decade, which typically featured Grier in skimpy attire, wielding guns, and speaking in the African American Vernacular English (AAVE) of the ’70s. Instead, Clark is portrayed as refined and elegant. Likewise, Hess isn’t the clichéd Black male character too often seen in Blaxploitation films. He’s an anthropologist, not a streetwise pimp. Although the film was well-received at Cannes, it was a different story in the States, and Gunn’s finished product was essentially buried by the studio.

And although the first Blade film was released in 1998, the character was introduced in Marvel comics during the early ’70s. The comic’s Blade was different from the movie character (British vs. American, for one), but he wasn’t the African prince of Blacula or castle-dwelling royalty, either. Wesley Snipes’s vampire hunter is a brooding, sword-wielding killer who evokes more than a little sympathy, considering his tragic background.

 

Vampires and Otherness

The theme of otherness in vampire folklore has been there since the beginning. It’s how the character is portrayed—where they’re from, what they look like, etc.—that informs what type of other they actually are. Orlok’s appearance alone makes him an other, as well as his (and Count Dracula’s) foreignness. They travel from their home country to another place, making them instant outsiders. But for more conventionally attractive vampires, how does this otherness manifest, and what does it say about the times?

Adam in Only Lovers Left Alive is a recluse, unable to reconcile with the vapidness of modern society. You might say that he and Eve have also othered themselves from the vampire myth because they don’t drink directly from humans. Instead, they sip blood from tiny cordials, and after they dine, they look as if they’re in a drug-induced high. Adam is wealthy and rockstar-elegant but still exists on the margins because he has no desire to be surrounded by mortals. Who can blame him? He refers to the living around him as “zombies,” a great metaphor for the times, when people seem to be more connected to their devices than each other.

In Let the Right One In (and the US version Let Me In), the vampire is a preteen. The original, Swedish version featured a more androgynous-looking female actor in the role of Eli, while in the US version, the vampire looks like a girl. However, Eli started their life long ago as a boy. Eli even states that they aren’t a girl. Maybe they meant they aren’t a girl because they’re actually a vampire, or perhaps they’re referring to their gender. While neither film dives too deeply into the traumatic incident that changed Eli, their gender expression is not only part of their otherness, it was also forced upon them.

And now, there’s Sinners, which combines typical vampire lore with modern day nuance. It’s literally a multicultural bloodbath, in the best way possible for horror fans. When discussing vampires who are marginalized in some way, there’s an added layer of “otherness,” and that’s where Sinners stands out.

In the Jim Crow South, Black people were always the other, rooted in American society while being held at arm’s length from enjoying the privileges of first-class citizenship. Remmick, the Irish vampire who’s shown running from a group of Choctaw men intent on killing him, is the flip side of that “other” coin.

Why is Remmick’s Irish background so relevant in terms of marginalization? From their earliest arrival to the United States, the Irish were treated similarly to immigrants from Italy. Irish immigrants in the 1800s were “othered” due to their poverty and Catholicism, despite being white. They fled a homeland that had been under oppressive rule for centuries, and it was only with time that Irish and Italians assimilated into white American culture.

The parallels between how immigrants were treated in the 1800s and how so many of them are being treated today are chilling. Those in the past were discriminated against for their native language, culture, and (especially in the case of southern Italians who were typically darker-skinned than their northern counterparts) skin color. In seeking a better life, they came to the US and toiled in low-wage jobs. They were viewed as criminals and/or racially inferior. All of these same sentiments exist within a certain segment of the American population today, which explains the support for the mass deportations—including people who reside in the country legally—currently taking place.

Although Remmick is white, he hasn’t forgotten the horrible treatment the Irish suffered under British rule. It’s apparent when he refers to being stripped of his religion (a concept very familiar to enslaved people from Africa arriving in the Americas). The marginalized vampires in Sinners—Black, Irish, and Chinese—join in undead kinship with the recently turned KKK members in an ironic turn of events. Among this group of monsters, there is no more “other.” It’s horror, sure, but a melting pot of horror.

Today’s vampire lovers have a wealth of options, from the traditional European monster to the multicultural take. For fans of Stephen Graham Jones, this includes his latest novel, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, which fills a huge void, as it centers the vampire in relation to Native American history and folklore. In the wake of Sinners’ success, maybe it too could be optioned for film? If so, I’m here for all of it.

© 2025 Del Sandeen