If you’ve ever wanted to watch Dracula reimagined as a Florida man slowly becoming a vampire through imported booze, Taste of Blood is here to disappoint you—slowly, clumsily, and with all the gothic menace of a DMV line in Hialeah.
Directed by Herschell Gordon Lewis (who proudly called it his masterpiece, in what we can only assume was a moment of profound confusion), Taste of Blood is less Hammer horror and more hangover horror. It’s a vampire movie where the fangs are optional and the thrills are in witness protection.
Plot: A Toast to Poor Decisions
Our bloodsucker-to-be is John Stone, a Miami businessman who drinks two bottles of Slivovitz brandy shipped from England—because apparently that’s how vampirism works now. No bites. No bats. Just downing some cursed plum liquor like it’s spring break and waking up with a desire to wear a cape and murder Van Helsings.
Instead of going full creature of the night, John Stone walks around looking mildly annoyed, like someone just told him they forgot his fries. He hypnotizes his wife Helene into a passive stupor (we all relate, Helene), then hops on a transatlantic vendetta tour to take out the descendants of the people who offed Dracula. Meanwhile, Howard Helsing—the least intimidating Helsing in cinematic history—tries to stop him, mostly by talking a lot and being terrible at his job.
Performances: From Wooden to Comatose
Bill Rogers as John Stone delivers a performance so stiff it should be sold next to patio furniture. His transformation from businessman to vampire is conveyed mostly through squinting and wearing black. Elizabeth Wilkinson’s Helene is under a trance for most of the movie, which is probably just a clever way to avoid having to act in it.
William Kerwin plays Dr. Hank Tyson, who seems to be here solely to explain the plot and remind us how much more fun a real vampire movie would be. The rest of the cast either mumble through their scenes or die in ways that are supposed to be spooky but mostly look like accidental naps.
Special mention goes to Otto Schlessinger as Howard Helsing, a man so ineffectual he makes the Scooby-Doo gang look like elite monster hunters. He spends most of the movie playing catch-up and explaining why he’s not doing anything useful.
Direction & Pacing: Herschell Gordon Lewis vs. Vampires
Herschell Gordon Lewis was a master of gore, but here he trades in his buckets of blood for teaspoons of lethargy. The pacing is glacial—this movie somehow makes drinking brandy look like a plot twist. It’s full of dimly lit rooms, long silent stares, and people walking slowly toward things. It’s a vampire movie with all the urgency of a PBS fundraiser.
Instead of atmosphere, we get echoey dialogue, awkward edits, and the kind of sets that look like someone borrowed their uncle’s den and threw up some cobwebs. The climactic scenes are less “pulse-pounding” and more “reminder to check your watch.”
Final Bite: More Sludge Than Slaughter
Taste of Blood is a film that dares to ask, what if Dracula had a pension and a timeshare in Boca Raton? It’s a vampire story stripped of horror, suspense, or even basic coherence. The title promises flavor, but the movie delivers something closer to the metallic tang of disappointment.
Rating: 1.5 out of 5 Transylvanian travel brochures.
For vampire completists only—or those who enjoy watching ancient bottles of liquor do more damage than any actual fangs.
