Francis Yamamoto – Miller, Horror Comedy, and Vampire’s Kiss

As an acknowledged bias of mine, I have never found myself too attached to the horror genre in itself when comparing it to other film genres – the best horror movies, I have often (again, through a biased opinion) found, lie between the borders of differing genres – such films as Hereditary (2018), I Saw The Devil (2011), and now The Evil Dead 2 (1987) offered me experiences which removed themselves from the dogmatic and sometimes overtly dull fixations of the directors of standalone-horror films. Cynthia Miller elaborated specifically upon the hybrid uses of the genres of horror and comedy, and highlighted the fact that whilst these two disciplines, whilst fundamentally opposite of one another, actually perform using similar mechanics – at the most basic level, in the subversion of one’s expectations. Miller went on further, describing a kind of ‘cumulative effect’ of layering complications onto the protagonist which the genres of horror and comedy particularly find themselves to be parallel in, due to their shared tendency of over-encumbering their protagonists to their last breath on screen. (xv) The overall outcome of these tendencies, either as distinct approaches or as part of a hybrid genre – often “dissolve their characters’ everyday realities so thoroughly and so extravagantly […] that they announce themselves as fantasy.” (xvi)

This reminded me of a great amount of films I could talk about – Scary Movie, The Menu, Shaun of The Dead, but Miller had mentioned Bierman’s Vampire’s Kiss (1989) and I wanted to elaborate on its simultaneous satirising of corporate America, vampire films, and its overall use of campy acting in Nicolas Cage as the protagonist. Bierman plays with the inherent conceptions of the vampire film, subverting the vampiric tropes of ultimate control and authority – Cage is often relegated ironically to positions of powerlessness in his rise to immortality, and the only times he is allowed a modicum of authority comes from his corporate authority over his assistant, Alma. Further, the film’s placement of Nicolas Cage as a yuppie corporate executive who clearly takes himself as a man of respect, juxtaposed with his performance, advances this narrative of denigrating the image of Corporate America, robbing it of its legitimacy and authority. The relevant narrative concerning the downward spiral of humanity in becoming a vampire is mercilessly mocked here, as opposed to being dramatically framed, instead giving us a kind of character study of a deeply mentally-ill man that one cannot help in laughing at when watching, especially when the film will cheekily insist that it is taking itself seriously.