Before the world was introduced to the savage zombies of Night of the Living Dead or the ferocious undead of Dawn of the Dead, George A. Romero decided to sink his teeth into a slightly less undead kind of horror in Martin (1977). This oddball vampire movie is less about fangs and more about the psychological chaos that comes with believing you’re a creature of the night. You know, typical everyday horror: a man who may or may not be a vampire, combined with a dash of Catholic guilt and family drama. But who needs real vampires when you’ve got Martin—a man who may or may not just be your weird neighbor?
Romero, trying his hand at something a little different, came up with a movie that isn’t quite as satisfying as a blood-spattered, zombie-munching binge, but it’s a heck of a lot more unsettling. As a vampire story, Martin is about as appetizing as day-old communion wafers—tough, dry, and full of weird undertones. But it sure does make for an interesting night of watching a young man not get invited to any dinner parties anytime soon.
The Plot: A Melancholic Vampire (Maybe)
Martin Mathias (John Amplas) believes he’s a vampire. Or maybe he doesn’t. The film keeps us guessing as to whether Martin is an actual vampire or if he’s just a deeply troubled young man who can’t stop sexually assaulting women and drinking their blood. It’s a delightful mix of confusion and moral decay—like your favorite depressing indie film with a twist of supernatural nonsense thrown in for good measure.
The movie opens with Martin on a train, where he drugged and raped a woman, because, well, that’s what any good vampire wannabe does, right? He then proceeds to go back to live with his elderly cousin, Tata Cuda (Lincoln Maazel), who’s a Lithuanian Catholic convinced that Martin is a real vampire. And by “real,” I mean “a 70-year-old man who still thinks garlic and crucifixes will work on someone who has never read Twilight.”
While living with Tata, Martin is not only surrounded by wildly contradictory ideas about what it means to be a vampire but also a cast of characters that seem to be plucked from every b-movie cliché. You’ve got the disapproving, melodramatic father figure, the skeptical love interest, and of course, the woman who falls for his “charming” personality. But as it turns out, Martin isn’t exactly charming—he’s just super weird and believes he has to drink blood, so… better buckle up, folks. It’s a strange ride.
The Strangely Slow Burn of Vampire Drama
Unlike most vampire stories where the protagonist is a suave, bloodsucking seducer, Martin is more like your awkward, creepy cousin who lingers a little too long at the family barbecue. Sure, he’s got the teeth, but he doesn’t have the finesse. Romero crafts a slow, plodding descent into madness that doesn’t feature all that much gore but still makes you squirm. What you won’t find in Martin are the classic tropes of seductive, romanticized vampires—no, instead you’re treated to a character who literally stabs a woman with a syringe and sucks her blood while she’s knocked out. This is no Twilight love story, folks. This is a weird, sad, and uncomfortable exploration of how someone might believe they’re a vampire—without all the glamor.
At times, the film tries to set up a semi-genuine psychological study of the vampire mythology, creating a more grounded narrative about how someone’s mind could break and create such a delusion. And that’s where things get interesting—maybe. Is Martin a creature of the night? Or is he just a deranged man who’s been raised in a world of old-world superstition? Romero leaves it largely unanswered, leaving us to contemplate whether we care to know the answer.
The Acting: Performances So Good, You’ll Wish They Were Melting Vampires Instead
John Amplas as Martin is about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. His portrayal of Martin’s inner turmoil is as perplexing as his love for stabbing women with syringes. Seriously, if there was an award for “Best Performance in a Film Where the Actor Needs Therapy,” Amplas would be a shoe-in. He embodies a character so detached and emotionally stunted, you almost feel bad for him—until he starts tearing people’s throats out. His lack of remorse makes Martin a deeply unsettling character, but not in the way Romero likely intended. You won’t be scared of Martin; you’ll just wonder why he’s in your house asking to borrow a glass of blood, but you know, in a weird, uninvited kind of way.
As for Tata Cuda, played by Lincoln Maazel, his over-the-top attempts to save Martin by invoking Eastern European witchcraft and slapping garlic all over the house are simultaneously hilarious and tragic. His performance is straight out of an old-school monster movie, but in the context of this slow, psychological vampire tale, it feels a little too quaint. Cuda’s obsession with turning Martin into a creature of myth makes him the perfect “deranged relative” to contrast with Martin’s much more confused mental state.
Christine Forrest’s role as Martin’s love interest is painfully predictable. She’s the skeptical woman who thinks Martin needs psychiatric help, which, spoiler alert: he does. And the less said about her inevitable romantic involvement with Martin, the better. It’s so unconvincing, you’ll wonder if anyone in this town should ever be trusted with a relationship—maybe everyone should be getting a one-way ticket to therapy.
The Horror: More Squirming Than Screaming
Let’s not kid ourselves—Martin isn’t scary in the conventional sense. There are no jump scares, no creepy monster hiding under the bed. Instead, the true horror lies in the deep discomfort you feel while watching Martin’s self-destructive actions. The film never gives you the sweet satisfaction of a definitive answer as to whether Martin is really a vampire or not. Instead, you’re left wondering if all this could have been avoided if Martin had just gotten some help. Oh wait, he does get help—but it’s mostly just more tragedy and confusion.
The film’s attempt to make us sympathize with Martin is equal parts successful and frustrating. His loneliness, mental instability, and twisted idea of what love is—or could be—almost feels tragic… until he starts dismembering people in his search for blood. There are moments where you think, “Hey, this movie is actually a thought-provoking exploration of mental illness!” And then the next thing you know, he’s snacking on someone’s jugular. It’s a classic bait-and-switch that somehow leaves you even more confused than when you started.
The Final Verdict: Why You’ll Watch This Movie
You should watch Martin if you’re a fan of bizarre, off-kilter horror that doesn’t quite follow the standard rules. It’s like eating a weird sandwich where you’re not sure if you should take another bite, but you do because you’re already halfway through. Is it a vampire film? Who knows. Is it about isolation, madness, and the boundaries between myth and reality? Maybe. Is it the perfect film to watch at 2 a.m. when you don’t have work the next day? Absolutely. But be warned: you’ll need therapy after it.
If you’re looking for romance and fangs, look elsewhere. But if you want to watch a deeply unsettling, occasionally creepy film that makes you question everything about your own sanity, Martin is your jam. You’ll laugh, you’ll cringe, and you’ll wonder why you ever decided to watch a movie about a vampire who probably needs more help than his cousin’s ridiculous superstitions can offer.
