Kat Ellinger, Author at Diabolique Magazine

One thing that really annoys me when it comes to vampire cinema is the dominance of the male form when it comes to filmic interpretations of the myth. Don't get me wrong, I love vampires in all guises, be it found in books or film, poetry or music; my never ending quest to consume as much bloodsucking action has been a lifelong passion, which was provoked by an accidental viewing of Hammer's Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966) when I was just six years old. For years, just like many people growing up in Britain in the seventies and eighties, my main staple diet of horror consisted of Hammer. It was through Hammer films that ironically (given my opening statement) Dracula came to be, and still remains, one of my greatest cinematic loves. I mean, who can resist the fiery menace, and pure sexualized power of Christopher Lee with his glowing red eyes? I know I can't, even now. Through Lee, Hammer Studios resurrected the myth to convey the Count as a sexualized predator, which was a bold move for its day. But sex has always been a part of vampire lore when it comes to fiction, and the Count hasn't always dominated. Yet still, when we think of vampires in cinema, it is always to Dracula that we first tend to look. Historically, female vampires were cast out to the shadows or portrayed as acolytes to a dominant male leader; just like the banshees locked up in Dracula's crusty old castle. What is also often ignored when it shouldn't be, and not to take power away from Stoker, is the fact that prior to his seminal text vampires already existed in literary form. John William Polidori's The Vampyre (1819) is widely credited as one of the first works of Gothic fiction to focus on the idea; although the legend is much older, hailing back through the ages in various disguises, in folklore and legend. In literature, especially poetry, we see the first seeds of Gothic vampirism hiding its ghoulish soul within the Romantic period. It was from here that Irish writer Sheridan Le Fanu was inspired to create his own vampire for his groundbreaking novella: Carmilla (1871-2), featuring a female vampire that predates Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897) by 26 years; in a lesbian tinged tale played out on a strictly feminine playing field. It is fair to say Carmilla has been marginalised in cinema compared to her male counterpart with adaptations of the Count outnumbering the Countess tenfold at least. And this is why I have decided to focus on this topic specifically to kick off our new theme at Diabolique this month: 30 Days of Night, which is an entire season devoted to all manner of undead bloodsuckers. Le Fanu followed in the footsteps of poetic work like Goethe's Bride of Corinth (1859) , which was a chilling story featuring a man who is seduced, fed upon and killed by a female apparition that visits him in the night; or Johann Ludwig Tieck's Wake Not the Dead (1800), where a husband, bored with his good (but mundane) wife, wishes to resurrect a dead love, only to find in doing so the returning revenant feasts on his children and servants, before attacking and drinking his blood as he lies asleep one night. The Irish scribe Fanu took the female focused formula found in these glorious beginnings, while ramping up the sexual connotations for his own work. The tale of Carmilla is told, with a subversive lesbian undertone, while it examines the deadly relationship which develops between the lonely motherless Laura, living on an isolated estate with only her distant father, and governess for company, and an age old vampire Carmilla Karnstein. Le Fanu's vampire infiltrates an innocent family, posing as a damsel in distress and after encouraging Laura to develop an infatuation with her, feeds on the girl during the night, penetrating her nightmares, and draining her lifeforce by drinking her blood. Carmilla comes with some really interesting readings in the subtext; such as the concept of immortality and loneliness, repressed sexuality and a Freudian dream element. Le Fanu is said to have been directly inspired by Samuel Taylor Coleridge's unfinished poem Christabel (1797); within which a young girl finds a helpless maiden named Geraldine thought to have been attacked while out in the woods at night. Once Geraldine is taken in, a strange atmosphere develops, and although notstated in concrete terms, the sinister connotations, and slight flavor of lesbian love, ebb and flow throughout the prose. There are obvious connections between the two, although Le Fanu developed the ideas Coleridge left hanging in the ether of unfinished ideas, to flesh out a fully Gothic story. When it comes to film the earliest hints of Carmilla Karnstein are said to be found in Dreyer's Vampyr (1932), but are not obvious at all, even by stretching the imagination. Where we find the first real taste of Le Fanu is in a film that ironically falls under the namesake of Carmilla's rival: Dracula's Daughter (1936). Universal's follow-up to Dracula (1931). Dracula’s Daughter, took the similar route to Frankenstein (1931) and its sequel Bride of Frankenstein (1935), by giving matters a female focused slant. Although the screenplay is said to have been based on Stoker's Dracula's Guest (1914), the main protagonist Countess Marya Zaleska (played by the enchanting Gloria Holden) also carries some Carmilla-esque qualities, especially in her penchant for female victims; shown in a scene where she preys upon a young artist's model who she asks to partially undress before the attack, and also through the main theme of loneliness carried by the Countess and she longs to be mortal. The train of thought that immortality is a void of suffering harks back to Carmilla, and from Dracula's Daughter was carried forward into many of the films dealing with female vampires that followed. Usually, in the case of the male variety, vampirism is depicted as a source of power, or energy. By contrast, for women it is often seen as a curse. A true adaptation woudn't arrive until 1960, with Roger Vadim's highly underrated, and achingly beautiful Blood and Roses, or Et mourir de plaisir (Le sang et la rose). Updated to contemporary times, Vadim manages to sneak in a period themed masqued ball (complete with a firework display), really embracing the Gothic aspect of the original story, the Karnstein curse is resurrected by modern day ancestor Carmilla (Annette Vadim) when she puts on an old wedding dress and accidently stumbles into the family tomb. Possessed, or possibly mad with the grief that her beloved cousin Leopoldo (Mel Ferrer) is about to marry her best friend Georgia (Elsa Martinelli), Carmilla begins to act as if under the influence of a supernatural force; with a servant girl killed while out walking in the woods happening soon after. The film sets a benchmark in spelling out what Dracula's Daughter was only able to whisper in hushed tones, bringing the lesbian angle to the foreground, and showing Carmilla seduce Georgia with an explicit kiss. However, despite this edge, the emphasis of Vadim's interpretation becomes Carmilla's obsession with Leopoldo, and the relationship with Georgia nothing more than a pivot for the woman to get closer to her desired (male) mate. If she can possess Georgia, she can have what she really wants. The film also indulges Le Fanu's dreamscape aspect with an exquisitely surreal exploration into Georgia's nightmares. The imagery in this haunting set piece contains some of the most fantastically artful visions to exist within the entire female vampire cannon (echoes of which are found in Tobe Hooper's Salem's Lot (1979) with the infamous Danny Glick window tapping scene). Just four years later and it Camillo Mastrocinque's turn to dabble with Le Fanu's text, in the Italian/Spanish co-production Crypt of the Vampire (La Cripta e l'incubo, 1964). Following a distinctly Italian Gothic vibe this shot in black-and-white little number, which incidentally was scripted by Ernesto Gastaldi; a writer responsible for some prime Italian Gothics such as The Vampire and the Ballerina (1960), The Horrible Dr Hichcock (1962) The Whip and the Body (1963) and The Long Hair of Death (1964), throws just about everything into the melting pot (including a satanic nurse, complete with black magic ceremonies), but keeps the original elements surprisingly intact. Christopher Lee appears as Count Karnstein, sporting a magnificent smoking jacket adorned with the letter K. The Count isn't a vampire, but he is a very concerned father, who dotes on his daughter Laura (Adriana Ambesi), constantly worrying about her mental health given she spends so much time alone in their castle (with only her nurse for company). Karnstein's plan to get Laura a suitor, by luring a young man Frederick on the pretense of research, is interrupted by the arrival of Ljuba (Ursula Davis), the film's Carmilla character. Shortly after the two girls are wrapped up in what seems like a heady infatuation with each other, with questions arising around who is seducing whom, and Laura looking like the sexually dominant of the pair. Things didn't really become explicit for Carmilla until 1970. When Hammer Studios, desperately looking to inject a fresh angle to their vampire themed flicks, looked to the novella for inspiration, eventually producing not just one, but three films off the back of the central idea, dubbing the result The Karnstein Trilogy. Tudor Gates' script keeps most of the elements in place for the first in the series, 1970's The Vampire Lovers ,with the film simultaneously hotting up the lesbian action, while trying to keep things in line with Le Fanu's subtler tone. Director Roy Ward Baker is on record saying he had a lot of respect for the literary source. In light of this, even though American producers at AIP pushed for a sexed up rendition, the director was adamant that even though he would deliver on that score, it would be on his terms and with a certain amount of reverence to Le Fanu's vision. In...