COLUMN: Vampirical woes

Thom Carter | Staff Writer

Businesses revolve around the mantra, “the customer is always right,” and the entertainment business is no exception. When people flock to a movie, studios are quick to remake the same one only with a cast that amps up sex appeal accompanied by a script that is considerably dumbed-down. They take advantage of some of mankind’s greatest weaknesses: Our tendencies.

It’s no lie that businessmen pay handsome amounts to researchers in order to gather information regarding what face is plastered on the most bedroom walls of adorning teens (and in some cases, housewives in  mid-life crisis). Today, those faces belong to the fortunate souls who portray the countless number of mind-numbingly dull supernatural beings on TV and in film. Vampire or werewolf, their characters are brooding individuals formulated to tap into a teenager’s lustful psyche. They don’t say much, and when dialogue does occur it usually amounts to cringe worthy one-liners plentiful in the “Twilight” series.

Edward Cullen: That’s what you dream about? Being a monster?

Bella Swan: I dream about being with you forever.

These lines and a monotonous series of novels birthed millions of personas that gawked at shirtless werewolves and whose mouths watered over a haircut.  Their priorities amount to eating, lusting over fantasized portrayals of vampires and sleeping whilst dreaming about these faux creatures. In actuality, the Cullens and the breed of vampire Stephenie Meyer created look like offspring of David Bowie; pale imitations with layers of makeup concealing there laughably bejeweled skin. Why can’t vampires be rough, grizzled men who have a thirst for Guinness instead of blood? Why can’t they be Irish? Why can’t they all be Colin Farrell? Alas, in “Fright Night,” released more than a month ago, Mr. Farrell personified what I fear most; that pasty-white shell of a character that gives pre-pubescent gals a reason to clutch their young hearts. Whereas Farrell’s character in “Fright Night” isn’t one of love and compassion, his casually unbuttoned Henley says otherwise. Something along the lines of: “Gaze at my patch of partially exposed chest hair as I sink my fangs into your neck and satisfy my unholy thirst for blood!”

What I miss most are the vampires of decades ago; Dracula, Nosferatu; characters who truly embodied what it meant to be immortal and the suffering it brought. Not only that, but these guys were truly horrific. No gimmicks, no tedious sexuality, only satisfyingly creepy guys who care more about eating their mate than loving them.