Meta: The Evolution of the Vampire

 Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

         I have been half in love with easeful Death

– John Keats

Earlier this year (May, to be precise) I read and watched a number of vampire stories. This month I went with friends to see Dracula performed as a ballet. Across that time, I was continually stunned to notice striking similarities between so many takes on the same subject matter, similarities which were all the more interesting because they weren’t present in the source material upon which these later adaptations were based.

Said source material is comprised of Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla (published 1871) and Bram Stoker’s Dracula (published 1897). The subsequent adaptations are Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula (1992), NBC’s short-lived Dracula (2013), Emily Harris’s Carmilla (2019) and Robert Eggers’s Nosferatu (2024). What they all have in common is that – contrary to the original texts – their vampire characters are unambiguously portrayed as alluring and inviting and erotic. Well, maybe not Nosferatu exactly, but that didn’t stop a certain segment of fans for finding him so anyway.

But what really caught my attention is that all four stories centre a young woman, one who is caught between the comfort and safety of her every-day existence, and the danger and horror inflicted upon her by the vampire’s intrusion into her life… except that this isn’t how the adaptations frame it.

Instead, each film or show creates a love triangle of sorts, one between a woman who is unsatisfied with her life, the stifling societal norms and patriarchal conventions that surround her (usually represented by her fiancé or husband) and the freedom and modernity that the vampire offers her. To one extent or another, this is the case in all four of the above-mentioned adaptations, and certainly not the case in the two stories upon which they are based.

So, why exactly has there been such a dramatic shift in how vampire-related material is interpreted? One which is apparently so pervasive that it’s appeared in several otherwise unconnected variations of the same story?

Woman of the Month: Drusilla

Drusilla from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel

As soon as I decided that 2025 would be the Year of the Villainess, I knew that Drusilla would be my choice for October. A Cockney Victorian psychic vampire who dresses like a Goth princess and talks to her dolls? That’s a perfect Halloween aesthetic.

On consideration, there were surprisingly few female villains in a show that was all about strong female characters. Glory is the standout for being the only female Big Bad, and of course we had Darla and Drusilla across the seasons… but that’s about it really. The First could take on feminine form, but was essentially genderless. Amy Madison eventually broke bad, but in a rather confusing way. There was Harmony as well, I suppose, though she was never taken particularly seriously as a threat.

The likes of Faith and Dark Willow always had redemption on the cards, while over on Angel there was Lilah Morgan and Jasmine. Apart from all that, any other female villains were just one-shot guest stars: Catherine Madison, Gwendolyn Post, Vanessa Brewer, Sunday… do you even know who I’m talking about?

But I digress, let’s get back to Drusilla. I’m happy to say on the record that Drusilla is the show’s most tragic character, bar none. Born some time in the Victorian Era, she grows up a pious Catholic girl who believes her psychic abilities are the work of the devil. This is something her sire Angelus is all too happy to take advantage of. To quote him: “It was over the moment I saw her. She was my opposite in every way. Dutiful daughter. Devout Christian. Innocent and unspoiled. I took one look at her and I knew. She’d be my masterpiece.”

After the murder of her entire family, Drusilla flees to a convent for safety, though the church ultimately offers her no safety: Angelus and Darla break in, kill all the nuns, and turn her into a vampire. Just for good measure, they have sex on the altar in front of her while she suffers a complete mental collapse.

Yeah, there are no happy endings here. In a twisted sort of way, turning her into a vampire is almost a kindness after the torture Angelus inflicted on her, as at least the loss of her soul frees her from the burden of her religious guilt. Interestingly, her psychic abilities pass with her into her new existence as a member of the undead, and between her madness and her precognitive gift, she’s one of the most captivating, terrifying and (like I said) heartbreaking characters of the entire franchise.

Although most of her history is presented to the viewer via flashbacks (most notably how she came to sire Spike), she first appears in Buffy the Vampire Slayer in quite a vulnerable state, having been badly injured in Prague. Spike has brought her to Sunnydale for mystical treatment, and the viewer is initially presented with a vampire who is certainly eerie, but not a huge physical threat – at first.

Once recovered, she’s a force to be reckoned with, and as a player in the show’s mythos, is best remembered for killing Kendra the Vampire Slayer and re-siring Darla over on Angel. Sadly, her last chronological appearance was in season five of Buffy, trying and failing to bring Spike back into the fold, after which she just disappears (though I’m led to believe she turns up again in the comics).

What Juliet Landeau brought to the role is a vibe. She’s a Gothic lady and a Victorian child, a spooky seer and a deadly monster. She’s guileless, deranged, coquettish, driven, unpredictable – truly, a compelling performance from start to finish, and given the impact she had on the show, it’s rather astounding that she appeared in only seventeen Buffy episodes and seven Angel ones (and some of these were entirely in flashback, or as a guise the First took on). She was a force to be reckoned with...