The 15 Best Vampire Movies Ever Made

15. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (Fran Rubel Kuzui, 1992)

Though it has been eclipsed by its hornier smash hit television counterpart, the original “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” 1992 movie remains an undisputed classic in its own right. After all, you don’t reach the darker WB version’s cult status without a little divine — or shall we say demonic — inspiration.

With a script by Joss Whedon himself, the movie hewed closer to comedy than Whedon initially intended, which inspired him to eventually pitch the darker TV series. Boasting a grab bag of a cast that includes Kristy Swanson, Donald Sutherland, Paul Reubens, Rutger Hauer, Luke Perry, David Arquette, and Hilary Swank, the movie introduced the now iconic ditzy teenage vampire hunter with a mix of “Heathers” darkness and a pre-“Clueless” Cher Horowitz.

Though the film was mostly panned by critics, it performed fairly well at the box office and has since fared better in the short memory of cultural discourse. Talks of a remake have been floating for years, but it is prophesied that only one slayer can rule them all.
Stream on Hulu via Starz; stream on Amazon via Starz; rent or buy on Amazon.

14. “The Addiction” (Abel Ferrara, 1995)

Abel Ferrara’s lo-fi, gritty, black-and-white spin on the vampire myth, “The Addiction” deftly juxtaposes high art with filth, embracing the inherent sleaziness of the horror genre to build a psychological portrait of a New York University philosophy student’s (a low-key and creepy Lili Taylor) descent into madness.

After she’s attacked by a mysterious and dubiously European woman who looks like an opera singer, the introverted Kathleen inexplicably acquires a growing thirst for blood, which she sates first through encounters with the city’s drug addicts and lowlives, followed by increasingly more ambitious conquests. That’s when her journey takes a more cerebral turn once she meets Peina (Christopher Walker), a vampire who’s fought his addiction long enough to start approximating humanness.

Think of “The Addiction” as the New Wave version of a vampire story, jazzy and slick with the rhythms of mid-1990s New York City, But that also means the shadow of the AIDS epidemic still hovers over all in this unsettling riff on trauma and self-destruction through the lens of horror.

13. “Near Dark” (Kathryn Bigelow, 1987)

Kathryn Bigelow couldn’t get her revisionist Western funded, so she rode the 1980s vampire wave to make this unique genre-hybrid. A gorgeous, gory, and (romantically) gooey film set in small midwestern town, “Near Dark” is a complicated love story about a vampire Mae (Jenny Wright) and Caleb (Adrian Pasdar), the boy she falls in love with and bites one very eventful evening, but whose essence proves to be non-violent, making her fall for him that much more.

Bigelow’s nomadic vampire tribe, however, is violent and the director brings the visceral brutality in a bar scene that is anything but romantic. All of this, capped off with one of those ’80s-inflected Tangerine Dream scores that transports audiences to an entirely different headspace. For those who wish Bigelow never left genre for prestige, this film is a reminder of how dense her “less serious” films were right from the start. —Chris O’Falt

12. “Thirst” (Park Chan-wook, 2009)

South Korean, genre-juggling master Park Chan-wook has fearlessly tackled lesbian psychodrama (“The Handmaiden”), incest (“Stoker” and “Oldboy”), and sweet, sweet revenge (“Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance”). With “Thirst,” he turned the vampire genre into an erotic supernatural horror film that follows Sang-hyun (Korean screen legend Song Kang-ho, starring in this year’s “Parasite”), a Roman Catholic priest who, after a busted medical experiment, becomes possessed by an insatiable lust for blood.

Like many of Park’s films, “Thirst” pivots on a bizarre love triangle, here involving the priest and his married friend’s wife who, once she learns of her lover’s condition, goes all in. There’s nothing ordinary about Park’s vampire — he’s not well-dressed, erudite, or romantic. He doesn’t run amok sinking his fangs into unwitting necks but is, instead, a bit of a sad sack who’s just looking for a connection. Park dials up the ick factor with every exaggerated slurp of blood, and naturally, he drives his film into a gloriously bloody conclusion. —Ryan Lattanzio

11. “Daughters of Darkness” (Harry Kümel, 1971)

This high Gothic horror was inspired by the real-life figure of Hungarian Countess Elisabeth Bathory, thought by many to be the most prolific female serial killer in history. Belgian director Harry Kümel modeled his Sapphic vampire, played by “Jeanne Dielman” star Delphine Seyrig, after Marlene Dietrich, and dressed her in Nazi colors to emphasize her demagogue-like qualities.

Arriving at a seaside resort hotel accompanied by her “assistant,” the Countess becomes obsessed with a pair of innocent honeymooners (John Karlen and Danielle Ouimet), bewitching them with provocative tales of kink, seduction, and violence. Little do they know, she is speaking from experience. Marrying lesbian vampire pulp with European arthouse fare, “Daughters of Darkness” is a highbrow take on a bloodthirsty classic. —Jude Dry

10. “Ganja & Hess” (Bill Gunn, 1973)

Anthropologist Hess Green is stabbed with an ancient ceremonial dagger by his unstable assistant, George Meda, endowing him with the blessing of immortality and the curse of an unquenchable thirst for blood. When George’s wife Ganja comes searching for her missing husband, she and Hess develop an improbable, macabre romance.

An original treatise on sex, religion, and African-American identity, iconoclast filmmaker Bill Gunn’s 1973 oddity subverts the vampire genre, using vampirism as a proxy for addiction. But the complexity of the plot makes it nearly impossible to reduce it to any simple metaphor or allegory. Shelved by its initial distributor because they were unhappy with Gunn’s highly stylized version, the film was later sold to another company (Heritage), who drastically recut (without Gunn’s involvement) and released it under a number of different titles.

And for many years, a bastardized version of the film was all that was available. More than 40 years later, Kino Lorber made the film gods happy by re-releasing “Ganja & Hess,” restored to Gunn’s original vision. Selected for the Critics’ Week at the 1973 Cannes Film Festival, it was remade by Spike Lee in 2014’s “Da Sweet Blood of Jesus.” —Tambay Obenson

9. “What We Do in the Shadows” (Jemaine Clement, Taika Waititi, 2014)

Vampires, they’re just like us. Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement’s darkly hilarious “What We Do in the Shadows” — now a hit series on FX — takes the mockumentary approach to the vampire demimonde to essentially humanize the bloodsuckers who haunt our imaginations, making their day to day feel as mundane as our own. The documentary crew drops in on four roommates possessed with all manner of magical powers, from levitation to transmogrification. One is a nazi, another a dandy, another likes knitting, and so on.

Though they’re all well over 100 years old, their struggles feel all too relatably millennial, from making rent to navigating the dating game, all as they deal with pain-in-the-ass roommates. Even for vampires, the chore wheel isn’t easily enforced. “What We Do in the Shadows” is a refreshing reminder of how a shopworn genre, when turned upside down, can feel entirely new again. —Ryan Lattanzio

8. “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” (Francis Ford Coppola, 1992)

Francis Ford Coppola unleashes the sexuality that was always lurking underneath Bram Stoker’s original “Dracula” in sumptuous color and delicious visuals. Created on a soundstage with no visual effects, the film has been criticized for its mannered performances and ornate extravagance, but few films in Hollywood’s modern era have used color and costume so expressively, as designer Eiko Ishioka’s work takes center stage in revealing the burning internal emotions of the characters. As 26 years have passed, it’s impossible to not feel the film’s heartbeat come pouring through Coppola’s precision, as the film has aged like a fine a wine. —Chris O’Falt

7. “Isle Of The Dead” (Mark Robson, 1945)

“Vorvolaka! Full of evil, sinful and corrupt. Your hands are bloody with violence. Your mouth bitter with taste of sin and corruption. You are guilty and abhorred. Vorvolaka! Vorvolaka!” “Isle of the Dead” is like “The Witch” but with the “energy vampire” from the TV version of “What We Do in the Shadows” as the supernatural threat. From 1945 and the RKO horror factory of Val Lewton, this 71-minute cheapie concerns a group of people quarantined on a remote Greek island in 1912 due to a plague. Among them is an army general (Boris Karloff), cut off from his troops fighting in the First Balkan War (Lewton loved distinctive settings that literally no other Hollywood producer would think of), and a young, beautiful woman named Thea (Ellen Drew) whom a hatefully pious older woman accuses of being the cause of the plague – and of their impending deaths. The old woman believes Thea is a vorvolaka, a kind of vampire from Greek legend that drains the energy of others until they die so that they themselves can remain ever young and vital.

Do you ever fear that the worst thing about yourself might come true one day? You may be as woke as anyone right now, but who knows if you’ll be wearing the equivalent of a MAGA hat 40 years from now? (How many of the “make love not war” attendees at Woodstock 50 years ago went on to vote for Trump?) Well, that’s what happens with Karloff’s army general. He thinks he’s a man of science, of reason. But what we really wants is control. And as his companions on the island start dying one by one he abandons his reason for superstition — the vorvolaka must be killed.

Just like Robert Eggers’ “The Witch,” in this film what you think is mythic nonsense may actually be real. Yet the darkest threat of all may not be evil beings that will do horrible things to you — it’s those that will awaken the horrible impulses inside you that you think don’t exist. It’s only fitting then that “Isle of the Dead” is lit in shadows worthy of the most crepuscular film noir — a testament to the extraordinary skill of director Mark Robson, who, along with Lewton, took inspiration from Arnold Böcklin’s late 19th Century paintings of the same name. High art has rarely met B-movies more successfully. —Christian Blauvelt

6. “A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night” (Ana Lily Amirpour, 2014)

Sheila Vand stars as a young vampire who prowls the streets of the fictional Bad City in this black-and-white-genre mashup from writer-director Ana Lily Amirpour, once described as the first ever Iranian vampire Western. Hunting for food, and eventually meeting a struggling man named Arash (Arash Marandi), the unnamed girl subverts the title “A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night” with a self-possessed knowingness that’s at once menacing in its exacting nature and melancholic in its apparent loneliness. The fantastical backdrop proves an especially effective space for a feminist exploration identity and independence. —AF

5. “Cronos” (Guillermo Del Toro, 1993)

Guillermo del Toro’s first feature as a director, following short film and television work, is a visually audacious tale of immortality’s illusory, yet powerful pull — and it announced one of our most boldly unorthodox cinematic talents. In terms of the special makeup effects that would come to define del Toro’s career, “Cronos” was way ahead of its time, accomplishing grotesque feats in-camera that would now be relegated to post-production. When an antiques dealer (Federico Luppi) stumbles upon an ancient scarab-like device, you know you’re in for it, as he soon becomes possessed by its everlasting powers — and winds up hunted by Ron Perlman as a devious mystery man named Angel who has a sinister agenda all his own. Cinematographer Guillermo Navarro (an Oscar winner for “Pan’s Labyrinth”) and composer Javier Álvarez add freaky dimensions to this unconventional vampire tale, currently streaming on The Criterion Channel. —Ryan Lattanzio

4. “Only Lovers Left Alive” (Jim Jarmusch, 2013)

If the fashionable bloodsuckers of the “Twilight” movies traded their frantic stares for expressions of ennui, they might have something in common with Adam (Tom Hiddleston) and Eve (Tilda Swinton), the retro cool vampires at the heart of Jim Jarmusch’s “Only Lovers Left Alive.” Removed from the supernatural context, Jarmusch’s protagonists in this agreeably light, witty sketch of a movie fall in line with the bored, retro cool outsiders found throughout his oeuvre.

It’s refreshing to see that, in Jarmusch’s world, even the undead have a lust for life and the capacity to complain about it with soul. If you can groove with Jarmusch’s patient, philosophical indulgences and his characters’ wooden expressions, the movie rewards with a savvy emotional payoff about moving forward even when the motivation to do so has gone. “It’s over for us, isn’t it?” Swinton’s vampire sighs when thinking about the past. But “Only Lovers Left Alive” is the latest suggestion that one of America’s great modern auteurs has plenty left to say. —Eric Kohn

3. “The Hunger” (Tony Scott, 1983)

Reflecting on the inspiration behind 1994’s surprise Sundance hit “Go Fish,” filmmakers Rose Troche and Guinever Turner famously said they were sick and tired of seeing “The Hunger” play on repeat at every lesbian bar. That should offer some indication as to just how influential this sultry erotic thriller was to the lesbian community — starved as it was for any meaningful representation back in 1983 — an influence that helped usher it into the unimpeachable cult classic status “The Hunger” enjoys today. The lesbian vampire tradition dates as far back as 1936’s “Dracula’s Daughter.” (The Sapphic bloodsucker appears in literature beginning in the late 19th century).

Upping the ante significantly on the now-classic trope, “The Hunger” starred Catherine Deneuve as a seductive temptress dealing with the death of her longtime lover (David Bowie), who becomes ensnared with a young doctor played by Susan Sarandon. With its cool ’80s color palette and slow but steady burn toward its bloody conclusion, “The Hunger” is a delicious snack to satisfy your Sapphic vampire craving. —Jude Dry

2. “Let the Right One In” (Tomas Alfredson, 2008)

Vampires got hot on the big screen in 2008 with the first entry in the “Twilight” franchise, but they had some delightfully creepy company from Tomas Alfredson’s Swedish gothic romance, the atmospheric look at a 12-year-old boy and the vampire girl who befriends him. Anchored by the chemistry of young actors Kare Hedebrant and Lina Leandersson, the movie comes this close to gnerating an erotic tension between its adolescent leads, but never breaks its eerie poetic spell.

The snowy setting underscores the prevalent isolation that defines the young protagonist’s life and the mystery that emerges from the discovery of his new companion, who becomes an unexpected resource against neighborhood bullies. Merging a Spielbergian sense of childhood awe with the dread of a darker world just outside the frame, Alfredson’s approach to gradual approach hints at menacing forces while leaving just enough up to the imagination of the viewer to fill in the gaps. Alfredson displays an extraordinary ability to use suggestive details about the nature of the vampire — in addition to the contrast between her morbid powers and the face of an innocent child—to maintain a horrific foundation thick with possibilities. (“I’m 12,” the stone-faced Eli tells Oskar, “but I’ve been 12 for a long time.”)

Matt Reeves’ 2010 remake did a solid job of tapping into the original’s best attributes, but the Alfredson original remains a seminal horror achievement so exacting that every pregnant pause comes equipped with the frightening anticipation of what might happen next. —Eric Kohn

1. “Nosferatu” (F.W. Murnau, 1922)

The godfather of vampire cinema, F. W. Murnau’s “Nosferatu” began as an unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel “Dracula” and ended has one of the most influential horror movies ever made. Max Schreck gives one of the genre’s great silent performances as Count Orlok, a vampire in Transylvania whose blossoming feelings for a real estate agent’s wife have terrifying and tragic consequences.

Murnau filtered Stoker’s vampire story through his own lens of German Expressionism, creating an atmosphere rich with shadows and a stark contrast between light and dark spaces. The visuals of Orlock’s shadow creeping up a wall or the camera looking up at Orlock, his frame and limbs elongated even more by the angle, will forever be iconic touchstones of the horror genre. The movie’s terror is built into its craft, making it the rare silent film that continues to frighten. —Zack Sharf