Ah, Embrace of the Vampire. A movie less remembered for its gothic horror than for the fact that it marked the long-awaited moment when Alyssa Milano, forever burned into our collective consciousness as wholesome Samantha from Who’s the Boss?, finally threw off the shackles of primetime chastity. Yes, in 1995, boys of the Clinton era dropped their Super Soakers, set aside their Pearl Jam CDs, and sprinted to Blockbuster to witness “Alyssa Milano’s boobs, at long last.” Forget the vampire plot—this was puberty’s Criterion Collection.
Plot? What Plot?
The movie technically has a storyline, but calling it “plot” feels generous. Charlotte (Milano) is a sweet, virginal college student (what else would she be?) who is plagued by erotic dreams featuring a bad-breathed vampire (Martin Kemp, best known for being in the band Spandau Ballet, which is about as terrifying as a scented candle). He insists Charlotte is the reincarnation of his long-dead princess lover. Naturally, he needs her to fall in love with him before his supernatural egg timer runs out.
So Charlotte is torn: keep her boring but safe boyfriend Chris, or give in to the undead Eurotrash dude with better hair than half the female cast. Along the way, she gets drunk, wears borrowed slutwear, makes out with randos, and basically turns her college experience into a Skinemax subscription with occasional philosophy class interruptions.
But all of this is just filler. The movie exists for one reason and one reason only: to get Alyssa Milano out of the Who’s the Boss? cardigan and into a world of lace, leather, and strategic candlelight.
Alyssa Milano: From Sitcom Princess to Midnight Fantasy
Milano deserves credit. She didn’t just dip a toe into risqué cinema—she cannonballed into the deep end. The transformation is stunning: one minute she’s clutching textbooks and crossing her legs like a nun, the next she’s writhing in silk sheets under the hypnotic influence of Spandau Dracula.
And yes, her boobs deserve their own screen credit. These weren’t just boobs, they were a cultural event. They launched magazine spreads, countless late-night dorm conversations, and probably half the internet forums of the late ‘90s. Alyssa Milano didn’t just shed her good-girl image, she set it on fire, doused it with absinthe, and let a vampire lick the ashes off the floor.
Supporting Cast: Jennifer Tilly, Rachel True, and a Parade of Cheesy Characters
The movie sprinkles in side characters like sprigs of parsley on a microwaved steak. Jennifer Tilly shows up as a sexually liberated photography professor, chewing scenery like she’s starving. Rachel True and Charlotte Lewis play the “worldly” contrasts to Milano’s sheltered college girl. Jordan Ladd as Eliza gives us the quintessential ‘90s mean-girl-slut archetype, whose sole purpose is to add someone to the body count.
None of them matter. Their collective job is to orbit Alyssa Milano like horny moons around a hormonal sun.
The Vampire: Spandau Suck Ballet
Martin Kemp plays “The Vampire” (seriously, he doesn’t even get a proper name) and he has the menace of a Calvin Klein billboard. His idea of seduction is whispering vaguely European nothings while standing in shadowy corners, like a perfume ad that somehow wandered into a horror movie.
By the time he’s explaining reincarnation, curses, and eternal love, he’s basically morphed from predator of the night into “hot girl’s vaguely gay BFF”.
Erotic Horror or Horror of Erotica?
The film tries to balance gothic romance with horror, but the horror is about as scary as a glowstick. The vampire doesn’t even do much biting; mostly he pouts, broods, and occasionally licks blood off walls like a weirdo. The “horror” boils down to dimly lit dream sequences, random bursts of violence, and a few shots of Charlotte clutching her sheets like she’s auditioning for Red Shoe Diaries.
But the erotic part? Oh, it’s there. Every scene is designed to showcase Alyssa Milano being corrupted, tempted, or ogled. It’s like watching a Victoria’s Secret catalog with occasional jump scares. There’s no subtlety—just a constant barrage of soft-focus nudity, sheer blouses, and Milano biting her lip like she’s reading Twilight fanfiction before it existed.
Production Values: Bargain Bin Gothic
You can tell the film was shot on the kind of budget where the director had to choose between good lighting or enough fog machine juice. Sets alternate between “gothic castle dream sequence” and “generic college dorm,” which clash like Dracula crashing a frat party. The soundtrack is all moody synths and breathy whispers, as if Enigma got hired to score a Cinemax after-dark special.
The editing is disjointed, dream logic mixing with low-budget reality. Is Charlotte hallucinating? Dreaming? Actually making out with her undead lover? Who cares—her top is off again. That’s the editing philosophy.
The Ending: Love Conquers Goth Hair
Eventually, Charlotte is brought to the vampire’s tower. He’s about to bite her, but she calls out Chris’s name like she’s about to order him a pizza. This ruins the vampire’s vibe completely, because nothing kills erotic tension faster than your girlfriend yelling another guy’s name during foreplay. The vampire sulks, combusts, and dies like a jilted prom date.
Legacy: VHS Shelf of Legends
Embrace of the Vampire will go down in history as that movie where Alyssa Milano got naked. For an entire generation of hormonal teenagers, it was less a horror film and more a rite of passage. The VHS tape probably wore out in half the dorm rooms in America by 1996.
Alyssa Milano herself would later express mixed feelings about the film, which is understandable. But in a way, it did exactly what she wanted: obliterated the “child star” stigma and announced to Hollywood, “I am not your sitcom daughter anymore.” And she did it with style, confidence, and yes—her boobs.
Final Thoughts: The Real Embrace
So is Embrace of the Vampire a good movie? No. Is it a great bad movie? Absolutely. And thanks to Alyssa Milano, it’s forever a cult classic in the way these things matter.
