Bloodsuckers Without Bite
By the time Vampires hit theaters in 1998, John Carpenter was already a legend coasting on fumes. The man who gave us Halloween, The Thing, and Escape from New York now served up this limp, sun-baked horror-western hybrid that plays less like a stylish reinvention of vampire lore and more like a drinking buddy’s bad D&D campaign. Adapted (very loosely) from John Steakley’s novel, it’s a film about vampire hunters working for the Catholic Church, but the real horror is how little fun Carpenter squeezes out of a premise that should’ve been ridiculous in a good way.
James Woods: Chain-Smoking Through the Apocalypse
James Woods stars as Jack Crow, a Vatican-sponsored “master slayer” who leads a team of vampire hunters. That sounds cool. In execution, Crow is basically Woods doing his standard act: chain-smoking, swearing, and leering at prostitutes. His parents were killed by vampires, which explains his gruff attitude—or maybe he’s just cranky because he realized halfway through filming that he’s in John Carpenter’s Vampires. Woods spends most of the runtime sneering at priests, punching friends, and yelling “F***!” every third word. It’s less “hardened hero” and more “guy at the bar who won’t stop telling you about his divorce.”
Daniel Baldwin: Bargain Bin Sidekick
Crow’s right-hand man is Tony Montoya, played by Daniel Baldwin—the Baldwin you get when Alec, Stephen, and even Billy are booked. Montoya is supposed to be Crow’s loyal buddy, but he spends most of the film sulking, hiding a vampire bite like it’s an embarrassing rash, and lusting after Sheryl Lee’s Katrina. His arc ends with him running off with her while James Woods sighs like he just lost his best beer pong partner. The only thing Montoya slays here is credibility.
Katrina: Psychic Prostitute, Plot Device
Sheryl Lee, forever remembered as Laura Palmer from Twin Peaks, deserved better. Here she plays Katrina, a sex worker bitten by Valek, which gives her a telepathic link to the big bad. Instead of being a character, she’s basically a bloodied GPS system, writhing on hotel beds every time Valek makes a move. She’s dragged around by Montoya like luggage, occasionally stripping or shrieking on cue. The film reduces her from promising horror heroine to psychic vampire Wi-Fi hotspot.
Valek: Eurotrash Dracula
Thomas Ian Griffith plays Jan Valek, the original vampire created from a botched exorcism. Supposedly, he’s terrifying. In practice, he’s a tall guy in a black duster who stalks around like he’s late for his goth nightclub DJ shift. His plan is to acquire a magical cross that will make him immune to sunlight. The idea is scary; the execution is about as menacing as a Blade villain audition tape. Even the climactic showdown, where Woods harpoons him into sunlight, looks like someone struggling with a heavy prop on a windy day.
The Catholic Church: Shockingly Inept, Again
The Vatican sponsors Crow’s crew to exterminate vampires, which raises several questions. Why does the Pope need foul-mouthed mercenaries instead of, say, exorcists? Why is the team made up of drunks who party with sex workers after each raid? And why, for the love of holy water, does the Church think James Woods is the best ambassador for their brand? The big “twist” is that Cardinal Alba (Maximilian Schell) betrays humanity to team up with Valek. Imagine Judas in a velvet robe, but less subtle.
Vampire Hunting: Mechanized Harpoon Fun
The hunters’ big gimmick is a crossbow attached to a winch truck that drags vampires out into the sun to burn. It should be awesome. Instead, it’s filmed with all the excitement of a lawnmower commercial. The vampires burst into flames like faulty fireworks, and Crow whoops and hollers as if this is a monster truck rally. By the third time the stunt repeats, you start rooting for Valek just to spice things up.
Carpenter’s Western Fetish, Misfiring
Carpenter clearly wanted Vampires to feel like a gritty spaghetti western, with dusty landscapes, cowboy posturing, and macho antiheroes. Instead, it feels like Young Guns III: Dracula’s Revenge. The cinematography is sun-bleached and flat, the editing clunky, and the pacing sluggish. Carpenter also composed the score, which sounds like a garage band covering ZZ Top with half the instruments missing. The music insists the film is badass. The images insist otherwise.
Gore Without Glory
Yes, Vampires is violent. People get decapitated, skewered, and torched. But the gore is neither shocking nor creative—it’s just there, slathered on like ketchup at a bad diner. Carpenter used to craft dread with precision. Here, he just shrugs and splashes blood across motel rooms like he’s painting the walls “murder red.” The horror is never suspenseful; it’s just loud.
Dialogue That Deserves to Be Staked
The script is full of macho banter so forced it sounds like parody. Woods barks gems like, “Ever seen a vampire? First they’ll seduce you, then they’ll suck you dry!” delivered with all the subtlety of a guy yelling at pigeons in the park. Montoya whines. Katrina moans. Father Guiteau (Tim Guinee), the rookie priest, gets yelled at constantly until he inexplicably becomes brave. The dialogue is equal parts misogyny, profanity, and exposition—like Tarantino if he’d been concussed.
A Legacy of Diminishing Returns
The worst part of Vampires isn’t the film itself—it’s that it spawned sequels. Vampires: Los Muertos (with Jon Bon Jovi!) and Vampires: The Turning (martial arts in Thailand!) make the original look like The Godfather by comparison. Carpenter only directed the first one, but even here, you can see the decline. Once, he redefined horror. By ’98, he was recycling clichés with James Woods yelling slurs at priests.
Final Nails in the Coffin
What should have been a pulpy, campy, over-the-top vampire action flick is instead a joyless slog of macho posturing, flat scares, and wasted talent. James Woods is insufferable, the supporting cast is sleepwalking, the vampires aren’t scary, and Carpenter seems more interested in jamming on his guitar than telling a coherent story. The film isn’t sexy, isn’t scary, and isn’t fun. For a movie about undead bloodsuckers, it sure feels lifeless.
Verdict: John Carpenter’s Vampires is less a horror-western than a horror for Carpenter fans—watching a master drain his own legacy dry.
