Vamps, or: So, the funny thing about satire is...

Vamps (2012)

Directed by Amy Heckerling

***SPOILERS***

I LOOOOooooOOOoooooOOOOve Eric Henderson for all of eternity, beyond my simple and minuscule life into my next reincarnation or journey through the universe as a strand of energy or whatever the fuck happens to me, all because of this line from his review of Showgirls:

“Most prefer satire when it's dealing with the distant past to the extent that one can feel morally superior to the subject of ridicule without recognizing oneself in the mix."

This isn’t even restrictedly in regards to satire—this snippet pretty much captures why I love movies…and why I hate people (well, amongst the reasons). Most prefer to view Showgirls from a distance, recognizing its campy nature and cornball dialogue, but never treating it with anything more than contempt and snobbery. And this, to me, is a major problem in the cinematic realm. Not being able to open up your mind enough to recognize that Showgirls is a giant satire of the “rise-and-fall in Hollywood story” is a spectacular failure on moviegoers’ part, as you can visit any movie-rating or critic-gathering website and find it to be amongst the lowest of the low. It’s like those people who hate Juno because, “Hey! People don’t talk like that!” Assessing dialogue is an art form and a legitimate form of critique, but it’s severely abused by anyone who’s quick to judge. Dialogue is the result of a film’s intentions and execution—both of which should be dissected and understood before attacking dialogue/style that doesn’t quite match your taste. Showgirls is a satire, thus its dialogue/style is meant to be conveyed/viewed in such a manner. And really, it all comes down to the above quote. Showgirls isn’t in the business of tooting the viewer’s horn—we are part of the problem. We are the reason the films Showgirls satirizes exist. And we’re not comfortable with that. When films don’t cater to our delicate sensibilities, we lash out.

I’d love to live in a world where Showgirls receives as much respect as The Godfather. A world where emotional resonance and execution can be rewarded no matter the absurd level it exists on. A world where art is actually allowed to blossom and flourish, instead of stomped upon and ridiculed.

A world that doesn’t hate Vamps.

Yup. It’s also receiving horrible ratings on the Internet (from both critics and moviegoers) and being ridiculed for the most frustrating reasons. Despite the reservations I hold for Vamps (which I’ll get to), I can honestly say that no film this year has fascinated me more than Vamps, other than, perhaps, The Turin Horse (there’s a comparison to wrap your mind around). 

There are a couple of groups that will watch Vamps. The first (these are all assumptions here) is the Sex and the City crowd, all of whom probably don’t appreciate the level of ludicrousness being associated with their beloved (and incredibly stagnate) movie tropes. The second group contains the James Berardinellis of the world (one day I’ll give that poor guy a break), where the battle of good vs. bad begins and ends with “how much it made me laugh!/how believable the dialogue is!/whatever vague argument I can muster to register the level of enjoyment I felt during a film!” Both of these groups echo the core reason Showgirls stood a snowball’s chance in Hell, as one’s comfort level associated with a film ultimately determines its “quality” and the argument to follow. It’s not a matter of people recognizing Showgirls or Vamps as cinematic masterpieces—it’s a matter of being fair to all films.

The reason most won’t recognize Vamps as satire (as many did with Showgirls) is because of its distance to the material it is satirizing. People love The Artist because the film makes it so blatantly obvious that it's recycling silent film stereotypes, to the point where silent film virgins are in on the joke. People love Airplane because of how monstrously far it strays from the subjects it spoofs/satirizes. They love being part of the crew that stands back, points its fingers and laughs. From the get-go—as Goody (Alicia Silverstone) and Stacy (Krysten Ritter) emerge from their coffins and begin applying makeup for their “night out”—it’s clear Vamps has no intentions of doing so, because this distance simply doesn’t exist. Like Showgirls, Vamps is a complete embrace of the “girls going out and finding men” style that has become quite popular in the last decade or two. It’s not standing back and making fun of Sex in the City by employing a 170-year-old vampire self-conscious about her age—it’s taking those tragic elements and forming something exaggerated, honest, and entirely unique.

I’m trying really, REALLY hard not to dip into my old Cinema Beans/Berardinelli-inspired ways and just write about how clever director/writer Amy Heckerling’s dialogue and pop culture references are (have you seen Clueless?), or how much this movie made me LOLOLOLOLOLOL in front of my apathetic and bored brother. But I’ll discuss the dialogue as much as I can—not because of how it fits snugly into my comfort zone, but for how strikingly it keeps in line with Vamps’ level of satire.

“Jeans mark your age more than a birth certificate,” Stacy remarks early on, instantly producing a line that’s practically straight from your average rom-com (sans the vampiristic reference). Age constantly toes the line between acceptance and rejection in these types of films, where women who deny their age in regards to their glamorous lifestyle are viewed as delusional by surrounding characters (and us). Perhaps there’s a more tragically dissenting angle here than we care to admit, where an audience is unable to recognize the dire situation of a film’s protagonist. Much of it has to do with a film’s embrace of such an individual, which would lead one of these “delusional” vampires to respond to, “I’ve been looking for you, you lifeless bitch,” with, “The undead is not unfeeling.” On top of it all, Goody struggles to hide her actual age to the 40-year-old Stacy—an age that is often jeered at regarding these types of films. As they would say (sort of): "200 is the new 80."

Also abundant within your typical “girls night out” film are the pop culture references GALORE, which often are ridiculed for their cheap, hackneyed delivery and placement. Sometimes this is true, but really, such dialogue shouldn’t be regarded as outlandish. I mean, do you know anybody who speaks like the characters from Pulp Fiction? Vamps is on another level, however. In satirizing these types of films, the rapid-fire onslaught of back-and-forth dialogue ends up combining Nosferatu nudges with pornos featuring the pizza delivery guy, or referring to the classic and well-established actor Paul Newman as “Oh, the salad dressing guy!” Goody constantly hides behind the History Channel when she accidentally and nonchalantly mentions events from the 19^th Century, marking a strange connection between the present’s constant need to recognize the past with a thin veil of parody (hell, I’m guilty of it). It plays directly into Goody’s (and any character’s) denial of age, as she constantly must equip herself to new fads, new celebrities, and new witty references in order to keep up with the ever-evolving city nightlife. These are all problems that plague female protagonists in dozens of films, but the context they exist within in Vamps is simply unmanageable in less fantastic formats.

These women are also expected to adapt to new forms of dating and romance, as Goody maturely realizes when she abandons Danny (Richard Lewis). Stacy is forced to deal with Goody’s realization firsthand, both in her decision to become human and through her blossoming relationship with Joey (Dan Stevens). The stereotypes and conventions associated with women by their male counterparts often deter women in these films, challenging them to cater to others’ needs in order to be accepted.  This is no different in Vamps, but because this is satire, it is exaggerated to the point where it’s practically unrecognizable and incomparable. So when Joey angrily questions if Stacy is or is not a vampire, this can be seen as a man’s level of comfort in relation to a woman’s personality or state of being. He questions why Stacy was unable to eat garlic as he holds out a cross, and she hilariously responds, “Yeah, because I’ve always hated garlic.” This line defines “comedy”, because it just works so well in context, where Stacy’s response to Dr. Van Hesling’s (Wallace Shawn) belief that she “plans to suck the life out of him,” is, “No more than any other girlfriend.” 

My fascination with Vamps certainly lies with how fucking entertaining it is, but more so in regards to how self-aware Heckerling is during her satire. All of these lines listed above are subtle indications of a genre’s most extreme attributes, intricately worked into the story via a sledgehammer. It's this line between extreme embellishment and inconspicuous integration that must be toed so carefully, in order to avoid becoming a preachy mess. This is why a small part of me doesn’t especially enjoy when Heckerling feels the need to recognize her source material so brazenly, such as when Stacy says to her horny boyfriend while watching The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, “Could you please focus on symbolism?” That small part of me doesn’t want to believe this is a direct attack on the audience that sought out Vamps looking for a blasé girls-night-out film—I guess I’ll never know for sure. But keeping in line with my previous point, this would mark a moment where Heckerling steps back from her embracement of a stagnate genre and feels the need to ridicule it.

But does it have to be so cynical? Let’s face it: there’s a large section of the public that simply is not going to challenge themselves while watching a movie. They are simply looking for surface material pleasures that cater to their needs. Isn’t Stacy’s plea directly in line with her character in regards to these people? It’s not an attack, but instead a welcoming invitation to attempt a deeper appreciation of film. For both Showgirls and Vamps really are full-on satires, whether we’re willing to accept it or not. Their individual embracement of their respective genres is every bit as beautiful, authentic, and conscientious as your average Orson Welles or Jean-Pierre Melville outing. Contrary to my earlier rant, we actually do live in a world where these movies receive a fair shot and have the chance to be every bit as good as whatever film the Sight & Sound poll ranked in its top ten. And as a lover of film, I can honestly say: this is one of the most gloriously liberating realizations I’ve ever made.

Remember, Cinema Beans' and Modigliani Movie Inquiries' 2011 book is available on laptops, tablets, and smart phones. It's a collection of our analyses of 2011 films, and a 2012 edition is coming soon. You can also rent it for free, or you can buy it for $2.99. Think of it as a donation. Thanks!