An exploration of sexuality and romance portrayed in vampire media
By JULIE HUANG – arts@theaggie.org
As the recent release of “Nosferatu” proves, the vampire continues to fascinate the human mind, whether onscreen for modern-day audiences or in pages thumbed through by 19th-century readers. Originating in Slavic folklore and made popular through gothic literature of the 1800s, centuries of portrayal have cultivated different interpretations of the vampire, but some core traits have shone through in each variation to be passed onto the next.
Now, due to wildly popular teen franchises like “Twilight” and its slew of contemporaries, everyone knows vampires are supernatural monsters, dangerously alluring and if not good, at least interesting candidates for love interests.
Although often mocked and derided, and equally celebrated and idealized, the association of vampirism with forbidden but sexy romance has its roots in the archetype’s gothic origins. The first few instances of the vampire as a literary character took place in the Victorian era, well known for its sexually repressive values. In those strict societal conditions, while simultaneously condemning social transgressions through the vampire’s otherworldly nature.
One of the first examples of literary vampires can be found in Joseph Sheridan le Fanu’s 1872 novella “Carmilla,” featuring the titular female vampire who reveals herself to be a beautiful yet dangerous predator of innocent young women. Portraying destructive passion alongside corruption of innocence, the descriptions of Carmilla feeding upon young women feature queer undertones, ultimately tying into the vampire’s overall reputation as associated with taboo notions of sexuality.
At some point, Carmilla expresses something similar to regret for her need for blood, stating that she “cannot help it,” yet she remains a stark antagonist. She can only be an antagonist, as her plain existence is a threat to the dominant social order, perhaps shedding light on why vampirism remains an apt metaphor for non-conforming identity that transcends Victorian-era repression.
Decades after “Carmilla” came out, Bram Stoker’s more well-known “Dracula” was published in 1897, gripping the public imagination and not letting go ever since. Count Dracula follows similar shades of characterization as Carmilla — an ancient vampire who derives strength and beauty from feeding on human beings, especially innocent and lovely young women.
Interactions between Dracula and human women are similarly conspicuously sexualized, as sucking blood becomes a clear metaphor for intimacy. Women who initially possess the appropriate amount of purity and innocence lose these traits after unnatural encounters with Dracula and consequently being turned into vampires. All of the female vampires associated with Dracula in the novel are characterized as coquettish at best, and at worst — sexually deviant — an obvious warning on how overt female sexuality is unnatural and twisted.
As two of the leading gothic examples of vampires, “Carmilla” and “Dracula” have aligned vampires with alluring passion, corruption, destruction and loss of innocence, inspiring a tradition of vampire stories with sexually and socially transgressive themes.
Following in this vein, the 2024 release of “Nosferatu” is itself a remake of the earlier “Nosferatu” film released in 1922, which was intended as a film adaptation of “Dracula,” that was refused copyright and subsequently passed off as an “original story.” Thus, Dracula became “Orlok,” but the central plotline of preying on young women remains.
In the 2024 release, Orlok’s years-long obsession with Ellen Hutter and his unwelcome advances makes the traditional theme of sexuality as horrific more explicit. Rather than condemning raw sexuality itself, the nonconsensual aspect of the vampiric relationship is emphasized, highlighting the violation of Ellen’s physical boundaries as a personal tragedy that affects her for life. The remake translates the supernatural horror of the vampire into solemn commentary on the enduring struggle for bodily autonomy and the horror of having it ripped away — an issue that is far from otherworldly.
The “Nosferatu” remake, leading back to the trope’s 19th-century origins, features a vampire so clearly villainous that it seems like a breath of fresh air, partially due to an influx of media in recent decades that have lightened the reputation of vampires.
In particular, Anne Rice’s “The Vampire Chronicles” book series, beginning with “Interview with the Vampire” in 1976, left behind the heavy themes of nonconsensual sexual activity and predation previously associated with vampirism. Instead, the novel characterized its vampires through more straightforward sex appeal. This resulted in the now familiar depiction of vampires as tortured but beautiful, lonely but not beyond redemption.
Rice’s portrayal of vampires has massively influenced the modern-day conception of vampires in popular culture and media. The more palatable reworking of the archetype has led to vampires becoming a popular choice for romances and love stories that require a bit of an edge, but not too much.
The most well-known and influential of these stories is, of course, Stephenie Meyer’s “Twilight” series, a collection of young adult novels as well as a billion-dollar film franchise featuring the romance between self-loathing but ultimately good vampire Edward Cullen and somewhat-normal human Bella Swan.
Meyer’s famous take on the vampire love story has become one of the hallmarks of 2010s pop culture, spawning waves of imitators in the forbidden love department. Yet, the element of alluring but dangerous love is a noticeably diluted variant of the vampire’s original alignment with taboo expressions of sexuality.
Depictions of vampires have clearly evolved over time, building off of previous iterations. However, even when not explicitly discussed as such, the vampire persists as a haunting symbol of sexuality in its most challenging and dangerous forms.
Written by: Julie Huang — arts@theaggie.org
