The 15 Most Underrated Vampire Movies

Director: Guillermo del Toro
Stars: Federico Luppi, Ron Perlman, Claudio Brook, Margarita Isabel, Tamara Shanath

Fan-boys worship at the altar of Guillermo del Toro, and for good reason: Incredibly friendly and an outspoken horror/fantasy know-it-all, the jolly Mexican writer-director-producer is always forthcoming to his fans and has no plans of directing a romantic comedy any time soon. He’s their dude, a respected filmmaker whose sole purpose is to enhance genre movies into artistically credible works (see: the spellbinding Pan’s Labyrinth).

And it all started with Cronos, del Toro’s strikingly assured feature film debut. For his introductory flick, del Toro chose to dabble in vampire lore, tweaking the genre’s previously established mythology to his own imaginative liking. Rather than a bite to the neck, the catalyst for vampirism in Cronos is an ancient amulet that latches onto whomever is unlucky enough to find it; in this case, the poor fool is an elderly antique dealer whose closest companion is his eight-year-old granddaughter.

Cronos has its sicker moments (a mouth that’s sewn closed opens without a doctor’s assistance, for example), as well as Ron Perlman hamming it up as a thug tasked with retrieving the amulet. But del Toro’s primary concern is the loving camaraderie between grandpa and little princess, an emotional anchor that gives Cronos a broader appeal—you don’t have to love horror to appreciate its gifts. Though such an affinity certainly helps one smile at the sight of an old man lustfully slurping blood off of bathroom floor.

Director: David Slade
Stars: Josh Hartnett, Melissa George, Danny Huston, Ben Foster, Mark Boone Junior, Mark Rendall

Talk about a genius concept for a vampire story: When the town of Barrow, Alaska, succumbs to its yearly stretch of 30 sunless days, a pack of ferocious blood-drinkers feasts upon those dumb enough to hang around while everyone else bails for the month. The brainchild of comic book writer Steve Niles, 30 Days Of Night is the kind of source material that’s custom-made for a big screen interpretation, and, thankfully, director David Slade (Hard Candy) didn’t fuck the whole thing up.

OK, so he did cast the out-of-his-element Josh Hartnett as the movie’s heroic leading man, but at least Slade and company had the good sense to play the horror components intensely straight. Hitting theaters right at the beginning of Twilight mania, Slade’s 30 Days Of Night justifies its R-rating with legitimately disturbing violence (his overhead, bird’s-eye-view shot of the town being decimated by vamps is a showstopper), badass monsters (Danny Huston kills it as alpha vamp Marlow), and a pitch-black mood that’s strengthened by a haunting score and shadowy cinematography.

30 Days Of Night is immensely better than its Hartnett-spoiled legacy might hint at, and it’s certainly leagues above Slade’s undead follow-up, 2010’s…wait for it…The Twilight Saga: Eclipse. Hey, we never said that David Slade has all that much integrity.

Director: David Cronenberg
Stars: Marilyn Chambers, Frank Moore, Joe Silver, Howard Ryshpan, Patricia Gage

For his latest movie, A Dangerous Method (opening in limited release on November 23), iconic filmmaker David Cronenberg has constructed a dual biopic analyzing the complicated friendship between psychiatrist Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) and psychologist Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen); based on a popular stage play, A Dangerous Method is expectedly ripe with long stretches of dialogue, and it’s signature Cronenbergian touches are evident in scenes of kinky bondage. But it’s a far cry from the Cronenberg of old, the horror visionary obsessed with the deconstruction and perversion of the human body.

The Canadian writer-director’s most heralded examples of grotesquery-driven flicks are The Brood, Videodrome, The Fly, and Dead Ringers, exceptional works that have unstoppably overshadowed his lesser talked about (creative) successes, such as 1977’s fascinating take on vampirism, Rabid. Adult film beauty Marilyn Chambers stars as woman subjected to heinous surgeries after a motorcycle accident, the freakiest of which implants a phallic stinger that reaches out from her armpit and sucks out a person’s blood. And, in turn, her victims become blood-craving zombies.

Only Cronenberg’s second feature film, Rabid exists within his canon as a tell-tale exhibition of his raw talents and deftness at inflicting nasty horrors on the human body. And, for our bucks, that’s much more interesting than a talky biopic.

Director: Chan-wook Park
Stars: Kang-ho Song, Ok-bin Kim, Hae-sook Kim, Ha-kyun Shin

Really, it shouldn’t take much more than the following sentence to entice heads to give Thirst a look: Its director and co-writer, Chan-wook Park, previously made the gory and emotionally hefty South Korean flicks Oldboy and Sympathy For Lady Vengeance. So just imagine what he can do with an uncensored vampire tale.

In Thirst, Park capitalized on all of that potential. Plot wise, the darkly funny and sexually twisty flick concerns a priest who takes part in a medical experiment thinking he’s helping to discover a cure for disease but inadvertently develops a taste for blood. The clergyman also gets entangled in a love triangle, which powers Thirst into a lane that’s not strictly horror—though it’s hard to categorize a character breaking a woman’s neck, sipping her blood, and then feeding the female corpse her own blood to revive her as anything else. Well, aside from "totally romantic."

Director: Jesus Franco
Stars: Soledad Miranda, Ewa Stromberg, Dennis Price, Peter Paul Muller, Jesus Franco

Spanish filmmaker Jesus Franco’s schlocky 1970 exploitation flick Vampyros Lesbos finds interesting ways to adapt Dracula author Bram Stoker’s lesser-hailed short story “Dracula’s Guest” into a trippy, B-movie oddity. And what are those “interesting ways,” one might ask? Take another look at the film’s title, friend.

In a perverted masterstroke, Franco remodeled Stoker’s tale into softcore erotica, re-imagining the story’s central characters as sexy lesbians—a brilliant mind, that guy Franco had. The luscious Soledad Miranda plays an evil Countess whose seductive powers (and exposed curves) lure a beautiful American blonde (Ewa Stromberg) into trysts slathered with blood. It’s worth mentioning that Stromberg prefaces her girl-on-girl with Miranda by dreaming about tonguing her down. Just because.

On its shallow horndog terms, Vampyros Lesbos should easily nestle its way into the hearts of men, though, fortunately, Franco’s bizarre soundtrack choices and trancelike atmosphere bestow the proceedings with non-sexual merits. But, yeah, Miranda and Stromberg as exceptionally hot. Case closed.

Director: Larry Fessenden
Stars: Larry Fessenden, Aaron Beall, Heather Woodbury, Meredith Snaider, Patricia Coleman

Independent horror cinema is all the better for calling Larry Fessenden its own. The New York City native is one of the genre’s hardest-working, below-the-radar magnates, acting as President of Glass Eye Pix—the company responsible for such low-budget winners as The House Of The Devil and I Sell The Dead—and directing the occasional crowd-pleaser of his own.

Fessenden’s best movie, as director, is a little vampire subversion known as Habit, about an alcoholic (played by Fessenden himself) unfortunate enough to hook up with a freaky chick who drinks the blood from his hand-wound and causes the drunk to form an addiction to the human body’s liquid-of-choice.

Transporting the vampire mythos from goth-y Transylvania to the dirty streets of New York City’s seediest areas, Habit dismisses old-school gothic, instead depicting its vamps as enablers to weak-willed characters’ deadliest vices, namely booze.

Director: Jim Mickle
Stars: Connor Paolo, Nick Damici, Danielle Harris, Sean Nelson, Kelly McGillis

In many ways, this year’s independently made homer Stake Land can be looked at as the anti-Twilight, a gritty and refreshingly ambitious 2011 vampire flick that’s lean, mean, and devoid of any sparkling bloodsuckers. Jim Mickle’s shoestring production looks like a big-dollar Hollywood effort, a real testament to the director’s chops; having co-written the screenplay with star Nick Damici, Mickle is also worthy of praise for his desire to reinvent a classic horror subgenre.

Fashioned as a post-apocalyptic road movie, Stake Land follows two hardened survivors as they travel across an American wasteland terrorized by fast-moving and rotting vampires that attack victims with the supercharged vigor of wild animals.

The beauty of Stake Land is that the script pays careful attention to its characters, spending plenty of time getting to know their quirks and seemingly incompatible personalities as they graphically mow down ghouls in sufficiently gory ways.

Packed with nifty ideas (such as god-fearing cultists dropping vampires into unsuspecting crowds from helicopters) and impressive makeup effects, Stake Land is a rarity in today’s horror market: a vampire movie that’s original, steeped in the genre’s roots, and altogether compelling. So, naturally, it’s not even a blip on the mainstream’s radar.

Director: Werner Herzog
Stars: Klaus Kinski, Isabelle Adjani, Bruno Ganz, Roland Topor

These days, Werner Herzog is acknowledged for his repeatedly stunning and powerful documentaries, as well as his oddball personality and unpredictably quotable interviews. Looking back on his filmography, though, is a revelatory endeavor, reminding whomever’s on their Herzog shit that the eccentric German shot-caller has made a slew of great movies that aren’t celebrated nearly as much as they should be.

One such film is 1979’s Nosferatu The Vampyre, Herzog’s terrific remake of German predecessor F.W. Murnau’s 1922 classic Nosferatu. Herzog made the film as a loving homage to Murnau, his favorite German director, and the appreciation shows; quite a few scenes are staged exactly like those in the 1922 version, and Herzog had his vampire—played magnificently by Klaus Kinski—resemble Nosferatu’s Max Schreck almost to the tee.

Unlike Jan De Bont’s dull and utterly pointless redo of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, Nosferatu The Vampyre justifies its reason for existence through sheer filmmaking prowess. If Hollywood’s deal-makers had any smarts, they’d pay top dollar to have Herzog control their next, inevitable, sure-to-piss-off-the-purists horror remake—imagine Herzog’s Carnival Of Souls, for example.

Director: John Llewellyn Moxey
Stars: Darren McGavin, Carol Lynley, Simon Oakland, Ralph Meeker, Claude Akins, Charles McGraw

If you’re going to attempt to make a TV movie that’s actually scary and, well, good, you can’t do much better than hiring writer Richard Matheson, one of horror’s all-time greatest scribes, known for landmark novels (such as I Am Legend and The Legend Of Hell House) and numerous grade-A Twilight Zone episodes. And, back in the ’70s, Matheson was in his prime.

Wisely, the suits at ABC called upon Matheson to adapt novelist Jeffrey Grant Rice’s vampire-heavy text into a small-screen feature; the results, as evidenced by The Night Stalker’s ability to spawn a full-blown TV series (the short-lived Kolchak: The Night Stalker). ABC was also smart enough to cast Darren McGavin as the protagonist, Carl Kolchak, a sarcastic newspaper reporter working in Las Vegas who uncovers a blood-sucking murderer on the loose. His unassigned investigation is, much to Matheson’s credit, an entertaining romp capable of inducing laughter and causing squinty-eyed cringing.

Director: Carl Theodor Dreyer
Stars: Julian West, Maurice Schutz, Rena Mandel, Sybille Schmitz

“Underrated” might not be the most apt word to describe Carl Dreyer’s Vampyr, a film universally regarded as a superlative horror experience, if not one of the best scary movies ever made. In the Danish director’s crowning achievement of strange terror, the semblance of a plot revolves around a serial killer with ties to a female vampire, and that’s about as far as a coherent synopsis will go for this one.

Less about story and more about mood, Vampyr, at times, feels the model on which the avant-garde video footage seen in The Ring was based upon. One dream sequence, for instance, shows the protagonist discovering himself inside a coffin, for no particular reason; one victim gets smothered to death by flour; and several characters only exist as shadows. It’s the quintessential watch-with-the-lights-off movie, replete with haunting imagery and a grainy sound design comparable to the emissions of a beat-up Walkman left on “Play” in hell.

Director: Matt Reeves
Stars: Kodie Smit-McPhee, Chloe Moretz, Richard Jenkins, Elias Koteas

How about the most underrated horror film of 2010? Having earned a tainted reputation thanks to abysmal box office performance, director Matt Reeves’ (Cloverfield) adaptation of Swedish author John Ajvide Lindqvist’s novel Let The Right One In (which had already been translated into a critically adored, 2008 made-in-Sweden masterwork) remains a thorn in any passionate genre head’s side—how can such a great movie brick so hard when inept bullshit like nearly every Saw sequel makes serious bank?

Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Those who have seen Let Me In, though, should be privy to its massive strengths, not the least of which is its phenomenal kid acting. Kodie Smit-McPhee plays Owen, a bullied middle-school student who befriends a mysterious little girl, Abby, who has recently moved into his apartment complex.

Turns out, she’s an ageless vampire. And through the confidence Owen slowly accumulates via Abby’s odd affections, little man stands up to his tormentors; meanwhile, Abby’s lust for blood sends her creepy guardian (the great Richard Jenkins) on routine murder missions to get her some red stuff. But dude’s too old to perform, and Abby needs a replacement errand boy.

With admirable patience and a tangible concern for story, Reeves develops the characters of Owen and Abby so well that their budding love pierces the viewer’s heart, and just when you’re ready to start feeling all emo, Let Me In erupts into its sporadic and consistently brutal violence. The perfect marriage of storytelling and efficient horror, Reeves’ overlooked knockout of a vampire movie begs for more eyes. It’s time you say “Fuck an Edward Cullen” and kick it with our girl Abby.

Director: Terence Fisher
Stars: Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Michael Gough, Melissa Stribling, Carol Marsh

When the casual person hears the name “Dracula,” chances are that Bela Lugosi’s version of author Bram Stoker’s legendary character is what they see; hardcore horror nerds, on the other hand, envision Christopher Lee in 1958’s Horror Of Dracula, the first of several British, Hammer-produced vampire movies of higher quality.

The key difference between Lee’s Count Drac and that of Lugosi is that the former has no interest in coming across as suave, or making those around him want to grab a drink in his presence—he’s a bloodthirsty, humorless monster. And it’s that straightforward sense of terror generation, coupled with Hammer’s grandiose set designs and Peter Cushing’s stellar turn as Van Helsing, that justify the pro-Horror Of Dracula argument against Lugosi’s 1931 classic. More folks needs to feel the same way.

Director: John D. Hancock
Stars: Zohra Lampert, Kevin O’Connor, Mariclare Costello, Barton Heyman

Similar to batshit horror favorites like Suspiria and The Beyond, the obscure creepshow Let’s Scare Jessica To Death adheres to a certain “nightmare logic”; meaning, it makes very little sense, but its bewilderingly obtuse script only heightens director John D. Hancock’s overall presentation of dreamlike menace.

An exercise in dread-soaked mood, Let’s Scare Jessica To Death, aside from having one hell of a kick-ass yet totally unrelated title, centers on a mental patient, Jessica (Zohra Lampert) who relocates to a quiet farm with her hubby and a close friend; there, they encounter a cute redhead drifter, who starts off acting all cordial but slowly reveals herself to be the vampiric ghost of a drowning victim. Not to mention, the harbinger of the local elders’ zombie attack moves.

The intent is to blur the line between reality and Jessica’s crumbling sanity. Is Hancock’s film entirely successful at that? Not quite, yet whatever lapses in sense Let’s Scare Jessica To Death exhibits are far less important than the flick’s omnipresent eeriness.

Director: E. Elias Merhige
Stars: John Malkovich, Willem Dafoe, Udo Kier, Cary Elwes, Catherine McCormack, Eddie Izzard

Shadow Of The Vampire has, at its center, a truly brilliant concept: Max Schreck, the enigmatic star of F.W. Murnau’s silent film classic Nosferatu, was in fact a real vampire. Having tons of fun with Schreck’s reputation for being the ultimate method actor, director E. Elias Merhige and screenwriter Steven Katz envision what could’ve happened if Murnau’s set were plagued by the world’s most dangerous leading man, and how Murnau’s by-any-means-necessary approach to staging effective horror could’ve given Schreck free reign to drain his co-stars’ necks.

As funny as it is genuinely macabre, Shadow Of The Vampire boasts a pair of knockout performances from John Malkovich (as Murnau) and an unrecognizable Willem Dafoe (as Schreck). The latter was justifiably nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor, and critics swooned over Merhige’s flick, but, sadly, Shadow Of The Vampire is rarely, if ever, mentioned in casual film-heavy conversations. Cleverly staged and gamely performed, this Nosferatu remix deserves a bigger spotlight.

Director: George A. Romero
Stars: John Amplas, Lincoln Maazel, Christine Forrest, Elyane Nadeau, Tom Savini

Rightfully so, George A. Romero is considered to be the godfather of zombie cinema—that’s what writing and directing the whole trinity of Night Of The Living Dead (1968), Dawn Of The Dead (1978), and Day Of The Dead will do for a filmmaker. Outside of the flesh-eater world, though, the Pittsburgh native’s catalog isn’t as classic-filled, yet there’s one non-walker Romero flick that’s inarguably one of horror’s all-time greatly overlooked gems: the subversive and ambiguous vampire send-up Martin.

John Amplas, with sneaky charm and even sneakier creepiness, plays the titular character, a lonely dude who injects victims with a syringe before slurping on their blood—so he’s not your traditional vampire, though, for all intents and purposes, he is a red-drinking creature of the night. He’s even got his own quasi Van Helsing in the form of his highly religious uncle, who’s understandably not in favor of Martin’s penchant for slicing women’s wrists with a razor and sucking the ensuing liquid.

Mixing dark humor with satisfactory gore, Romero approaches the undead genre with sharp wit and blindsiding force. For its first two-thirds, Martin unsettles while provoking several uncomfortable chuckles, but once the relentlessly gruesome finale kicks in, Romero’s slept-on triumph shows its true fangs.