In 1988, Robert Bierman made a film, written by Joseph Minion, which would eventually see a new light in the internet era. The film has been used to make a number of memes, most of them obsolete at this point, but the film itself is funnier, crazier, and more entertaining than any number of recontextualized image templates. The film is Vampire's Kiss, starring a young Nicholas Cage who acts with such insane, impassioned, ludicrous bravado that he steals the spotlight in every scene he's in...which is nearly all of them. Nicholas Cage is well known for his deranged acting style, especially in his younger years, but Vampire's Kiss is his masterwork.
The film follows Cage as Peter Loew, a publishing executive who is bitten by a vampire. Slowly, really slowly, he's transformed into a vampire himself, and his mental acuity drastically deteriorates into hopeless, hilarious paranoia. Concurrently, Loew mentally abuses his secretary Alva, giving her the unfortunate task of finding a contract deeply buried in the file graveyard of his office.
Vampire's Kiss was ripped apart when first released, though it's not quite as bad as the reviews would have you believe. Even disregarding Cage's performance, for a moment, the film is an odd duck, tonally messy and mostly purposeless, with low stakes and little energy. Still, the sheer oddity of its premise and the bizarre juxtaposition between publishing drama and monster mash (side note: I just realized how eerily similar this film is to 1994's Wolf) is enough to sustain moderate, temporary interest. It would have been a rather limp, lifeless film, it wasn't for one of the greatest screen performances ever recorded.
Nicholas Cage is phenomenal in Vampire's Kiss. He is consistently, breathtakingly, shrewdly hilarious, and the best part is it's impossible to figure out if the film was ever supposed to be a comedy. The film itself is already atonal, not really a light, airy comedy but not really a contemplative or tense creature flick either. Vampire's Kiss doesn't know what it wants to be, but Cage knows exactly what he wants to be, which is an obnoxious, crazy-eyed, explosive, irrationally chaotic jerk, sporting an impossibly artificial accent through the entirety of the film. He is the sole focus of the camera in every scene he's in, both before and after the bite.
The greatest quality of the performance is Cage's spontaneity and conviction. He's not constantly full-throttle crazy; he's measured, even reserved at times, playing up the calm before the storm in order to seamlessly accentuate his random bursts of looniness. Peter's own mental degradation sometimes helps too. The character is inherently delirious, paranoid and hopeless in equal measure. Cage amplifies these emotions, making what Peter feels at any given point perfectly clear.
When he needs to cry, Cage doesn't actually cry; he shrilly proclaims "boo hoo! Boo hoo!" out to the world. When Peter first believes he's a vampire, Cage doesn't whisper the exclamation to passersby on the street or mumble to himself - he runs through the street shouting ad nauseum to the entire block. Again, the film doesn't seem designed to be a comedy - Cage's mannerisms are totally at odds with the mostly just bland atmosphere and dramatic events around him. It's baffling to watch one performer singlehandedly (singlehandedly) transform the film he's in. It's astounding.
Everyone else plays it straight. Elizabeth Ashley as Peter's psychiatrist, Jennifer Beals as the vampire, and Maria Conchita Alonso as Alva the secretary are all properly attuned to the film's wavelength. They're convincing and demonstrate the desired qualities. Ashley is professional, Beals is seductive and a bit campy, and Alonso is vulnerable and legitimately sympathetic. Every other element is the same; the cinematography, soundtrack, and editing all suggest a film of reasonable dignity, and the direction is simple and direct. Even the script is serviceable, if nothing special. Vampire's Kiss would be a decent to decently boring/bland film without Cage. With him, it's an engaging, surprising laugh riot, which only patters out near the end, in an extendedly dull sequence.
Vampire's Kiss is worth a watch. It's truly remarkable to witness the power one performance can have on a film, and it's difficult to think of a more quintessential example of this principle than Cage's presence in this film. To see an unremarkable, atonal, and rather bland film be transformed into a truly memorable, often hilarious one, is an experience worth sharing with a few friends. Vampire's Kiss is prime "bad/weird movie night" material, nearly comparable to The Room and Japanese horror gem House. If any of your friends love strange films, hammy performances, weird bugged-eyed hijinks, enraged alphabet recitations, or Nicholas Cage, check out Vampire's Kiss today.
The film follows Cage as Peter Loew, a publishing executive who is bitten by a vampire. Slowly, really slowly, he's transformed into a vampire himself, and his mental acuity drastically deteriorates into hopeless, hilarious paranoia. Concurrently, Loew mentally abuses his secretary Alva, giving her the unfortunate task of finding a contract deeply buried in the file graveyard of his office.
Vampire's Kiss was ripped apart when first released, though it's not quite as bad as the reviews would have you believe. Even disregarding Cage's performance, for a moment, the film is an odd duck, tonally messy and mostly purposeless, with low stakes and little energy. Still, the sheer oddity of its premise and the bizarre juxtaposition between publishing drama and monster mash (side note: I just realized how eerily similar this film is to 1994's Wolf) is enough to sustain moderate, temporary interest. It would have been a rather limp, lifeless film, it wasn't for one of the greatest screen performances ever recorded.
Nicholas Cage is phenomenal in Vampire's Kiss. He is consistently, breathtakingly, shrewdly hilarious, and the best part is it's impossible to figure out if the film was ever supposed to be a comedy. The film itself is already atonal, not really a light, airy comedy but not really a contemplative or tense creature flick either. Vampire's Kiss doesn't know what it wants to be, but Cage knows exactly what he wants to be, which is an obnoxious, crazy-eyed, explosive, irrationally chaotic jerk, sporting an impossibly artificial accent through the entirety of the film. He is the sole focus of the camera in every scene he's in, both before and after the bite.
The greatest quality of the performance is Cage's spontaneity and conviction. He's not constantly full-throttle crazy; he's measured, even reserved at times, playing up the calm before the storm in order to seamlessly accentuate his random bursts of looniness. Peter's own mental degradation sometimes helps too. The character is inherently delirious, paranoid and hopeless in equal measure. Cage amplifies these emotions, making what Peter feels at any given point perfectly clear.
When he needs to cry, Cage doesn't actually cry; he shrilly proclaims "boo hoo! Boo hoo!" out to the world. When Peter first believes he's a vampire, Cage doesn't whisper the exclamation to passersby on the street or mumble to himself - he runs through the street shouting ad nauseum to the entire block. Again, the film doesn't seem designed to be a comedy - Cage's mannerisms are totally at odds with the mostly just bland atmosphere and dramatic events around him. It's baffling to watch one performer singlehandedly (singlehandedly) transform the film he's in. It's astounding.
Everyone else plays it straight. Elizabeth Ashley as Peter's psychiatrist, Jennifer Beals as the vampire, and Maria Conchita Alonso as Alva the secretary are all properly attuned to the film's wavelength. They're convincing and demonstrate the desired qualities. Ashley is professional, Beals is seductive and a bit campy, and Alonso is vulnerable and legitimately sympathetic. Every other element is the same; the cinematography, soundtrack, and editing all suggest a film of reasonable dignity, and the direction is simple and direct. Even the script is serviceable, if nothing special. Vampire's Kiss would be a decent to decently boring/bland film without Cage. With him, it's an engaging, surprising laugh riot, which only patters out near the end, in an extendedly dull sequence.
Vampire's Kiss is worth a watch. It's truly remarkable to witness the power one performance can have on a film, and it's difficult to think of a more quintessential example of this principle than Cage's presence in this film. To see an unremarkable, atonal, and rather bland film be transformed into a truly memorable, often hilarious one, is an experience worth sharing with a few friends. Vampire's Kiss is prime "bad/weird movie night" material, nearly comparable to The Room and Japanese horror gem House. If any of your friends love strange films, hammy performances, weird bugged-eyed hijinks, enraged alphabet recitations, or Nicholas Cage, check out Vampire's Kiss today.