why i'm so tired of online vampire discourse
- Holly G
- 2 days ago
- 16 min read
I can admit that I’m coming at this from an extremely biased point of view. But I have been on the far ends of both sides of this debate, so I know I can make an effort to give a balanced account.
Since Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu came out in January, I have become newly obsessed with vampires. Like many others, I return to this phase often. My last vampire obsession phase was in 2022 when the autumn weather inspired a reread of Twilight and a marathon of all the movies. There’s something about the misty mornings, the changing of the leaves, and the lengthening of the night that makes people go feral for the nostalgia of the Twilight series.
I have to be honest, though. For most of my life, I was neither team Edward, nor team Jacob, and instead planted myself firmly and stubbornly in team “Twilight sucks and those who enjoy it are stupid”. When I read the first half of the series as a 12-year-old, I thought Bella was a vapid and shallow protagonist, I thought Edward was frustratingly bland and far from the image of an ideal love interest, I thought the Cullens were underdeveloped and Jacob was unfairly represented. I liked the ambiance and the environment of Forks, the small-town vibes appealed to me as someone who had only been raised in large cities. However, the plotlines of each book couldn’t keep my attention, and being stuck in Bella’s limited perspective impacted my enjoyment.
Obviously, I have seriously reconsidered these opinions since that time. Like many others, I reevaluated my staunch rejection of the series. I recognized that it was quite an internalized misogynistic point of view and as another girl in fandom culture, I really didn’t have the right to go criticizing anyone else. I can now understand and appreciate how Twilight was the perfect combination of elements to garner such praise and obsession. Of course, as with everything, there were a few things that could be critiqued (the racially insensitive depiction of the Native American werewolves, for one obvious example, is still a valid critique of the series), however, it truly didn’t deserve the amount of hatred it received. When I reread the books after high school I found that the writing wasn’t that bad. If anything, I was impressed that Stephanie Meyer had been able to hit the market at the right time to create the perfect YA story, and I respected another female author for becoming so famous and successful.
In December of 2021, I read Anne Rice’s Interview With The Vampire and became obsessed with the southern gothic environment of the story. The characters were complex, their stories intricate. The distress of eternal youth, the moral and ethical dilemmas of consuming human life, not to mention the erotic tension between Lestat and Louis, were exactly the conflicts I wanted from a vampire story, and I was finally at the right time in my life where I could appreciate it. Then came my aforementioned return to Twilight in 2022, and my most recent vampire phase was this past winter.
This leads us back to Nosferatu (2024). This film became the center of my universe. For well over a month everything reminded me of it. Like Nosferatu possessing Ellen's mind, the film crawled around in my body and kept me up at night. The dreary London winter helped in setting the scene of course. In the lifeless, colorless city in its most depressing months, I was happy to ruminate on snowy forests and cursed castles, wolves and rats, lilacs and crucifixes. I saw Nosferatu in theaters 5 times. My Instagram and Pinterest feeds were infested with Nosferatu content, edits, theories, and behind the scenes videos.
Despite what you might think about the content of the film, which we will address, one has to acknowledge the quality of the filmmaking process itself in its creation. One of the many film analysts out there could go into much more depth and detail than I could, but suffice it to say, in a world where many complain of the unoriginality and lack of quality in the American film industry at the moment, Nosferatu is a breath of fresh air. The filters placed on the film cameras beautifully highlight the colors in a way that doesn’t make it feel drab or boring, but rather in a way that sets the tone in this world. The actors move around the camera in a way that gives the feeling of a theater piece at times, where the camera represents a unique audience perspective that isn’t completely omniscient. The sets and costumes are incredible, and the detail in the chosen styles and colors make rewatches of the film very satisfying.
Filmmaking aside, the story of Nosferatu (2024) puts a contemporary spin on a tale that has existed for centuries. Lily-Rose Depp does an incredible job of adding a modern, post-Paranormal Activity quality to her impressive performance that perfectly balances the disturbing line between erotic and possessed. Meanwhile, Bill Skarsgård throws everything into his role, creating an iconic representation of Count Orlock that will be remembered throughout the rest of vampire lore (‘You must bounce on it crrrazy styleeeeee" is a meme that is arguably still relevant due to the impressive vocal training Skarsgård went through). I could go in-depth into the stellar performances of all the characters, Nicholas Hoult and Willem Defoe especially, as they inject a modern energy and attitude into these classic archetypes.
There has been so much effort and thought put into this film, the kind that is not often appreciated in this current era of filmmaking that is more interested in draining all the revenue that could possibly be made out of the horses they’ve beaten to death. And yet, while it has garnered a dedicated following and solidified its place in the gothic-indie film sphere, there has been so much pushback against it. Many audiences were not impressed by the story and were disparaging towards the film for its sexuality, its gore, and its unapologetic and shameless commitment to the dramatic gothic horror genre.
It seems as though every time a vampire narrative enters the mainstream, people forget what the genre represents entirely. The discourse around Nosferatu (2024) has been so frustrating that it has largely made me avoid Instagram entirely. What makes me more frustrated is the fact that the discourse isn’t even new, it’s literally been happening since the 1800s. But before I air out my opinions on the matter, let me describe the conflict.
On one side, you have the opinion that vampire narratives are inherently and irreversibly dangerous for female readers. This perspective argues that these stories are examples of blatant and remorseless misogyny as the outcomes, morals, and themes of the text contain inherently negative consequences for women. The female reader is in danger of absorbing the wrong lessons from the text, being seduced by its contents into immoral conduct or a dangerous situation, ironically similar to the victim of a vampire. One review of Bram Stoker’s Dracula published in the Pall Mall Gazette in 1897 reads:
“Mr. Bram Stoker should have labeled his book “For Strong Men Only,” or words to that effect. Left lying carelessly around, it might get into the hands of your maiden aunt who believes devoutly in the man under the bed, or of the new parlourmaid with unsuspected hysterical tendencies. “Dracula” to such would be manslaughter.”
While this perspective may seem hilariously outdated, it has actually continued to persevere through the decades. This has continued through the centuries and transformed into a common critique of Twilight that has persisted up until now, as seen by this review published in 2010:
Poor writing and plot structure aside, the “Twilight” novels are not appropriate for young girls. Bella, the main character, is weak, uninspiring and doesn’t portray a strong woman. Bella and Edward’s relationship is disturbing at times. Edward watches Bella while she sleeps, stares at her intently in the day time, occasionally makes Bella fearful, and has the ability to harm or kill her – if only accidentally.
... and it is a narrative that persists until well past the YA romance crazy of the late 2000s and early 2010s:
“Edward could, at any moment, murder Bella on sight. He has the power to hurt her in a very extreme way, and he chooses not to. This is what we’re supposed to think makes him such a good partner— and in actuality, what sends a terrible message to the young audiences reading or watching Twilight who are learning about how to exist in a healthy relationship. A messed up power dynamic is built into their relationship in a way that’s unavoidable.”
Over time, the same idea has continued to prevail but under different words: Women and girls need to watch out, or these vampires will jump off the page into their lives as they begin to seek out these creatures in their real lives. Not only that, but the stories themselves are dangerous, and anyone who enjoys them is being apologetic to the toxic and abusive dynamics shown on screen.
To give this perspective some foundation, I believe it comes from the time-old debate of whether or not evil has a right to be represented in complex ways in fiction, other than a force simply made to be defeated by the noble heroes. Vampires are one of the most concentrated representations of pure evil and blasphemy in literature. They literally feast on human blood. They kidnap children. They seduce, manipulate, and shapeshift their way into the beds of vulnerable people. It is logical to see characters like that and believe that it’s a good thing they are defeated in the end. It’s even logical to be weary when showing this kind of literature to young, impressionable readers. From this perspective, I can understand that it becomes dangerous when vampiric characters become redeemed or justified in their thirst for violence. What kind of message is that sending to young people?
I have to be candid here because I’m trying to give validity to a perspective I am very opposed to. I read Bram Stoker’s Dracula at age 12, and my teacher was honest with us at the time about the themes in the book, particularly the fear of female sexuality and the occult. I can imagine why people would be afraid of the effect the character of Lucy might have had on my impressionable young mind, as she gets bitten by Count Dracula and transforms from a pure, virginal newlywed into a salacious demon bent on kidnapping and drinking the blood of children. (In the 1992 film adaptation, Lucy gets turned because she is depicted as promiscuous and shameless from the beginning, and thus not only invites Dracula’s punishment but deserves it.) I can understand the connection between that concern and their fear that Bella infamously throwing herself off a cliff in an attempt to see a hallucination of Edward, might encourage other young girls to do the same. I can even understand how depictions of sensuality and violence being intertwined can cause discomfort and can be difficult to explain to younger audiences. However… I can’t take these concerns seriously at all, because the threat Dracula poses over Lucy, and the threat of Edward's dangerous appeal, is fictional.
This is the other side of the debate. It can’t be dangerous, it’s made up. In the world of literature, there is only so much danger an evil character can hold, as they are bound to the rules of their world. The pull that vampires have over innocent beings is a representation of the human impulses that plague us. Vampires are not heathens tempting us with blasphemy, it is our own desires being revealed to us. Vampires do not force us into drastic actions, that’s our own will manifesting over impossible circumstances. Vampires make us face the most uncomfortable parts of ourselves, and that’s what makes them complex and interesting.
So, this conversation has been going back and forth for ages now, it’s not new. But it has had a resurgence recently because of the release of Nosferatu (2024).
On my Instagram feed, under every Nosferatu-related post, whether it’s a theory, a filmmaking video, reposts from Twitter, or a thirst trap edit, there will inevitably be the same debate in the comments:
“Friendly reminder that Count Orlock is a groomer, he’s toxic, and took advantage of a minor.”
Listen… I think my response to this can be best captured in the words of Natalie Wynn (@Contrapoints) in her video essay on Twilight:
“I’m not necessarily disagreeing with these critics of Twilight, and of dark romance in general. I’m ‘yes, and’-ing them. Yes, Edward Cullen is creepy. He is a vampire. If Edward Cullen were real, I would log on to Twitter, and I would cancel that vampire. I’d call the police! [...] Yes, Edward is problematic. Yes, and Edward is not real. Right? He can’t hurt you.”
In Nosferatu (2024), Ellen, lost in her grief and loneliness, calls out for help and unwittingly summons a malevolent demon, who she then pledges herself to for eternity, not understanding the consequences that will have on her mortal soul and the lives around her. He then plagues her dreams for years to come, possesses her body, almost kills her husband, actually kills her best friend, and pursues her relentlessly until he forces a situation upon her in which she has no choice but to acquiesce to his desires. It is normal to watch that and think to yourself, “This is wack as hell.”
Yes, Count Orlock is a decrepit reanimated corpse bent on (literally) consuming a young woman who called upon him amid her depressive episode. Yes, he violates many boundaries, including but not limited to, gaslighting, homewrecking, manipulating, threatening, stalking, holding them hostage, causing bodily harm, and spreading the black plague.
Yes, all of this is true. Yes, and… Count Orlock is the representation of a monstrosity that has long been a part of the canon of literature and the mythology of human story-telling throughout history. When you look at it from that perspective, nothing he does is uniquely disturbing in comparison to the vampiric icons throughout history.
All arguments for why Nosferatu is a horrific narrative that shouldn’t be endorsed are based on the fact that Ellen is an innocent and unwitting victim of Nosferatu. And any attempt to reaffirm her agency is retaliated against with “but she was young, she wasn’t aware, she isn’t able to consent”. I genuinely struggle to believe how the terms of the debate are being set in those standards, setting up the argument so that those who disagree are labeled as "abuser apologists". If we return to the actual context of what we’re discussing, the relationship dynamics of a mentally ill woman in 1830s Germany and a literal undead force of evil, we have to accept that these characters can’t be described in the terms we would use to describe regular people.
To dismiss Nosferatu, or any vampire narrative, on the grounds that it is somehow glorifying dangerous and toxic relationship dynamics is to be ignorant of the role of vampires in literature, to misunderstand the role of mythology and storytelling in history, and to severely misinterpret the story itself. It goes beyond a lack of media literacy. It shows a fundamental lack of understanding of the human impulse to create art and to tell stories about subjects that are seen as taboo.
Death and desire are complicated and uncomfortable. Experiences with both of these elements can make us feel intensely vulnerable. Both are capable of disarming us, humbling us, reminding us of our mortality. They infiltrate our boundaries and cause us to act irrationally. They change us and the people close to us. They quite literally force us to relinquish our bodily autonomy and submit to forces much more powerful than ourselves.
That is why Edward watches over Bella constantly, why he draws her in until she feels she cannot live without him. That is why Carmilla infiltrates the lives of young women through intimate relationships only to feed off of them in their sleep. That is why Dracula sneaks into Jonathan and Mina Harker's chambers and "seduces" them. That is why Count Orlock infects Ellen's mind with sexual dreams. All of the victims of these vampires are grappling under the influence of intense experiences with morbid sexuality and desire.
So if you're expecting a love story where boundaries are respected by sane (living) individuals, then gothic romance is not where you're going to find it.
That is why I don't even agree with the statement that vampire narratives are inherently problematic. They can't be problematic, that's how they function.
It’s easy to point to every evil idea in literature or media in general and critique it as 'bad' by pointing out everything morally wrong in them. I’ve found that people seem to feel extremely comfortable doing so when it concerns female characters in fiction and the role of fiction for women. People do not discuss the three women vampires in Dracula and their treatment of Jonathan Harker the same as Dracula’s treatment of Mina and Lucy. No one launches the same vitriolic discourse in the comments about how male characters are being victimized when dangerous female characters take advantage of them. Regardless of who is in the role of the perpetrator or the victim, the blame always rests on the shoulders of the woman.
Many people then use the argument, but wrongful ideas in literature can be harmful. Ignorant and offensive ideas are propagated in literature all the time. Sure, but there is a vast difference between the bigoted ideas in a manifesto, or the ignorant perspectives in an autobiography, versus the fictional representations of evil in a story. I would think that at this point we should be able to engage in a discussion departing from that shared understanding.
The reason why I get so frustrated about this debate is because, after over a century, I would think we would have progressed further in the discourse by now. Instead of assigning blame to the audiences who enjoy these stories, or the makers of the film for conceiving of these ideas that have been around long before them, I feel like it would be more prudent to discuss other themes of the story. For example, the difficulties of balancing two fundamentally opposing desires that both enhance and restrain aspects of one’s femininity. Or the judgment and self-hatred that women often struggle with when it comes to experiencing and pursuing their desires without guilt, especially if they are somehow deviant from the norm. Or the revolutionary and unconventional way in which the female protagonist in Nosferatu (2024) saves the world by reaffirming her position of power by both defying evil and embracing it.
If I were to argue my interpretation of the film, it is that Ellen is just as responsible for releasing Nosferatu as he is responsible for his pursuit of her. She resists him when he finally finds her because she is afraid and ashamed of her desire, and afraid of the power within herself to summon something so horrid. She genuinely loves Thomas, but even he succumbed to Count Orlock's spell during his visit to the castle. There is something even the kindest and strongest of mortal men cannot provide for someone who is so deeply intertwined with these hungry, powerful forces. So, Ellen has the desire for both, knowing that they are somewhat mutually exclusive. She can’t have one with the other, and that’s the center of the conflict. But she knows, and Van Helsing (played by Willem Defoe) defends her in regards to this, that she has been bestowed with extraordinary power, and that is why she can defeat the evil that permeates through the shame she feels.
Luckily, I am not so much of a terrible feminist (or a toxic groomer apologist), as others seem to have followed the same trail of analysis. Alison Lanier wrote in her review of Nosferatu entitled “'The Women Are the Problem': The Enduring Mistake of 'Nosferatu' and Misogyny’:
“[S]he is not hunted by a terrible appetite of the mythic past, but by her own repression and shame. She is a “problem” in the sense that she is immensely psychically and spiritually powerful, a woman whose spirit slides back and forth between the world of the living and the supernatural. She horrifies the men with her sexual movements and ravings while wandering the spirit world; her “condition” is desire and hatred of that desire. … [S]he catalyzes it and ultimately comes to understand and control it, rescuing herself from the repression and self-hatred that she internalized from her upbringing. [...] It’s the most agency and authority within the well-worn story that the Mina Harker/Lucy (Westenra)/Ellen Hutter character has ever had, in my opinion.”
So there are those out there who also use the existing vampiric literary canon to come to a similar conclusion as my own: the archetype of the female victim is capable of having free will in a story that has historically robbed them of that agency.
The problem with the argument that vampire stories are problematic is the fact that it's not putting a stake (haha) in the debate. They're not asserting an interpretation of the text: they are completely refuting the fact it deserves to exist at all. If the female victim succumbs to the vampire, she was manipulated into seduction. If she goes with him willingly, it's a flawed representation of womanhood perpetuated by a misogynistic industry. Either way, the woman cannot win, and any argument for her agency is excused. It's honestly ironic that those claiming to dissent to the misogyny in the text are the ones refusing to see it where it lies.
While the original story of Dracula definitely has sexist associations within it, the complex ideas that vampires represent are not static, they change according to society’s attitudes towards sexuality, death, and other foreign and unknown forces. Due to the ever-adapting nature of vampiric characters, the actions of the female protagonists towards them can have a multitude of interpretations. The internalized shame that clouds our view is a fractal that reflects our opinions back at ourselves. The assumption that the taboos shown in vampire narratives are inherently misogynistic has more to do with the eyes of the reader than the content itself.
If the past 150 years of discourse are not evidence enough, this is a topic that is always generating questions. The vampire is a ingeniously complex character: all of society's worst nightmares rolled into one gothic, bloodthirsty, acutely homoerotic, noble Count. if the inspiration strikes I might write a continuation addressing some of the further questions I outlined above regarding the implications of female agency in vampiric narratives. I am interested in that debate much more than I am interested in defending my desires and opinions against those who believe that anything morally grey in fiction must come with conditions that validate its presence. But suffice it to say, for now, that I am tired of the same points being rehashed in every debate when they have been discussed for so long. Let’s dig a little deeper into the messy, gruesome, bloody layers of analysis that restlessly turn within these stories. I am yearning for a turning point when we can see these misunderstood creatures for what they truly represent.
References
1897 Literary Reviews of Dracula, Tine Hreno, (September, 2013)
"Twilight" Sets a Bad Example For Girls, The Oracle, (March 2010)
"Why Twilight Is Bad: An Analysis", Jasper Mann, (August, 2022)
"Twilight", Natalie Wynn (@Contrapoints), (March 2013)
Contrapoints' video on Twilight is a 3 hour long deepdive on sexuality, literature, and identity, using Twilight as a case study. It is one of the most well researched and well-written pieces of analysis out there, not to mention beautifully directed. It changed my life, I highly recommend watching it. (Return to text^)
'The Women are the Problem': The Enduring Mistake of 'Nosferatu' and Misogyny, Alison Lanier, Pajiba, (January, 2025)
200 Years on, 'The Vampyre' Still Thrills, William McKelvy (March, 2019)
Why Stephanie Meyer's 'Twilight' is Bad Literature, (March 2021)
Introduction, Penguin Classic's Clothbound Edition of Dracula (2011)
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