Review
Vampire’s Kiss (1988)
image: MGM
Director: Robert Bierman
Writer: Joseph Minion
Cast: Nicolas Cage, Maria Conchita Alonso, Elizabeth Ashley, Jennifer Beals
Run Time: 1h 43m
UK Rating: 18
7/10
There’s an episode of the television sitcom Community in which one of its characters Abed (Danny Pudi) whose grasp on reality is always tenuous, takes a class on Nicolas Cage and tries to determine whether Nic Cage is a good or bad actor. The professor tries to dissuade him from binary conclusions, stating there is no definitive answer but Abed immerses himself in Cage and suffers a nervous breakdown. He emulates the actor's distinctive mannerisms and more over the top performances. The story line concludes with the observation that Cage’s nature is to be “inscrutable” and mysterious, capable of greatness but also bafflingly misjudged performances. It’s difficult to watch Vampire’s Kiss without recalling the show’s astute assessment of Cage’s varied career and parallel Abed and Cage’s character’s descent into exaggerated madness. Despite what the memes would have you believe, Vampire’s Kiss is a good film. It’s overwhelming and uncomfortable but for people who may have only seen it in isolated, out of context GIFs of Nicholas Cage (admittedly extreme) performance, the film is far more aware and astute to be dismissed completely.
Peter Loew (Cage) is a literary agent, self obsessed with an affected, pretentious way of speaking that drops out depending on who he’s speaking to and how much Loew wants to impress them. He’s awful to his secretary Alva (Maria Conchita Alonso), sending her on a seemingly herculean task of finding a lost contract and deriding her intelligence at every opportunity. He’s drifting through a revolving door of one night stands whilst bemoaning to his long suffering therapist Dr. Glaser (Elizabeth Ashley) about his lack of connection. When he takes home Jackie (Kasi Lemmons) they are interrupted by a bat that finds itself trapped in the apartment. When explaining what happened to Dr. Glaser, Loew admits he became aroused by this winged encounter which he later tries to deny. It’s in the wake of this, that Loew meets Rachel (Jennifer Beals) in a nightclub. Taking her home she reveals herself to be a vampire who during their tryst feasts on his blood. From this encounter Loew believes that he’s transforming into a vampire, becoming increasingly volatile and subjecting Alva to his unhinged behaviour. Though it’s unclear whether his actions are his undead metamorphosis or simply the results of a man losing his sanity.
image: MGM
The films writer Joseph Minion found the inspiration for the script in his disintegrating relationship with producer Barbara Zitwer who had encouraged Minion to write something set in Barbados whilst the pair were there on holiday. The writer admits that he was in a bad place mentally and wasn’t inspired by the tropical paradise, choosing to set his film in New York. Like his first film from 1985 After Hours (another cult classic), which was directed by Martin Scorsese, Vampire Kiss would deal with the empty, materialistic malaise that had become emblematic of the yuppie lifestyle. Vampire’s Kiss would make it truly monstrous, an emptiness inside the heart of that culture that can only be satiated by inhuman impulses. The film is a comedy that never shies away from the horror of Loew’s actions, never tries to make him sympathetic or relatable. A difficult prospect when you consider the film needed investors but everyone who encountered the script loved it.
Director Robert Bierman (with his debut feature film) was signed on only due to his enthusiasm for the story. Vampire’s Kiss is beautifully shot, with deep, looming shadows that are reminiscent of German expressionist cinema (specifically Nosferatu which Loew watches shortly after beginning his transformation). Cinematographer Stefan Czapsky would go on to work with Tim Burton on Edward Scissorhands, Ed Wood and Batman Returns and it’s clear why Burton would want to work with Czapsky. There’s a brutality to the film’s locations that reinforces the sense of film’s isolation, from the Loew’s apartment which lacks any discernable personality or the cold sterility of Dr. Glaser’s office. There’s a detachment that permeates every frame making the film feel unsettling in even the most mundane situations. It makes New York feel empty and devoid of any warmth or sense of connection.
image: MGM
The film is deeply uncomfortable, funny in its willingness to present a truly awful protagonist. Even when you begin to pity Loew’s plight, he’s still too reprehensible and repellent to sympathise with. Alonso’s Alva is at turns terrified and repulsed by her boss while his male colleagues joke about it. Dismissing him chasing his beleaguered secretary through the office, as boys being boys. It’s a damning indictment of the toxic masculinity of corporate culture, especially given how obviously unhinged his behaviour is. Even Alva’s family makes excuses telling her that everyone hates their bosses. Watching it today, it's horrifying how many people are willing to make excuses for Loew. It’s one of the most darkly comic films I’ve seen, so unpleasant that many people missed the humour completely. It does take some time to acclimatise to Cage’s performance which is a full frontal assault on the senses. He moves and gestures like a silent movie actor, theatrically gesturing with flamboyant hand moves even as he talks to his therapist. It’s clear that Cage had carefully choreographed each movement and expression, making what begins as a typical yuppie into a grotesque, loathsome creature. As over the top and ridiculous the performance seems at times, Cage is always committed to his vision of Loew. He's magnetic, a mesmerising creature you simply can't look away from. His strange, arbitrary rhythms and volumes make the simplest sentences feel unnatural and unsettling.
Vampire Kiss’ progression from darkly humorous satire to genuinely disturbing is measured against the escalating extremes of Cage’s performance. There’s elements of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks (1990-1991) or Blue Velvet (1986) in how the horror is anchored in the ordinary and mundane, the squalid grim reality of the film’s last act only works because of its believability. The eighties were a decade in which the actor experimented with style and form at times giving performances that felt tonally inconsistent with the film he was starring in but here it feels completely earned. It was not a success (it does seem to have unfairly damaged Minion and Bierman’s careers) but its influence is clear in films like Park Chan-wook’s Thirst (2009) or the biting satire of Shadow of the Vampire (2000).
After years of unavailability in the UK, Transmission (a new imprint of Radiance) has thankfully released an comprehensive 4K transfer of the film. It’s packed with exhaustive extras (including an archival commentary from Bierman and Cage) and with fantastic cover art.
Watched on Transmission 4k Blu-ray
Published 18th August 2026