I am Horror and I am Metal

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Featured Lifestyle

Horror films and metal music were made for each other, born together in the fiery pits of human suffering as means of expressing its darkest urges and emotions. It can be hard to think of one without the other, and even harder to give credit to either without acknowledging the influence of its counterpart. In the flower-power era of the 1960s where heavy metal began, one of its founding fathers, the mighty Black Sabbath, named after Mario Bava’s 1963 horror anthology, set about bringing a new wave of pessimistic jams that arguably drew out an entire culture from dormancy. 

While both metal and horror are spectrums within themselves, similar sensibilities are needed to enjoy both. It’s hard to be exposed to either entity without coming into contact with themes of death and misanthropy, often reaching levels of depravity that more mainstream art and media wouldn’t touch with a ten foot chainsaw

Metal has evolved alongside horror, thematically and with people’s tolerance for gruesome violence and psychological intensity. While bands like Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden might be perfect cousins of classic horror such as The Devil Rides Out (1968) or House on Haunted Hill (1959), more modern subgenres such as Brutal Death Metal, Goregrind and Grindcore often include heavily morbid, shock-value themes and content in the same vein as old video nasties like Nightmares in a Damaged Brain (1981) or films considered ‘Torture Porn’ such as Hostel (2006). Indeed, these subgenres act as torture porn within themselves, often sporting lo-fi recordings of borderline-unintelligible blast-beats and gutteral screaming decorated with grotesquely gory artwork. 

Necronomicon Evil book Cover from horror movie the Evil Dead

Death Metal has, since the baby steps of Death and Morbid Angel, been a particularly malevolent force in the metal world. Death’s The Sound of Perseverance (1998) and Morbid Angel’s Gateways to Annihilation (2000) both feature artwork of a Lovecraftian cosmic-horror calibre and deal lyrically, as Death Metal often does, with the negatives of mankind in epic and existential passages. Death Metal prominently features post-apocalyptic and subversive themes that draw huge influence from real world political and socio-economic issues and, while frequently fantastical and grandiose, always stays rooted in the nitty-gritty truths of the matter. Horror films most comparable to this include zombie flicks, tales of ancient gods and the balls-to-the-wall chaos of the Evil Dead series. 

Early Black Metal bands of Norway seemed intent on bringing horror into the real world. Much of the subgenre is sadly nowadays tainted by stories of neo-naziism, church burnings and suicides, primiarily regarding the band Mayhem and the usage of a photograph of one member’s suicide as a bootleg album cover by another member. Those who do Black Metal well can invoke layer upon layer of suffocating auditory darkness; modern Black Metal bands such as Sxuperion and Darkspace match the cold vast of space in their harsh soundscapes while others stick to sounding as if they were recorded on an 8-track in a graveyard. Many urban legends have surfaced and rotated regarding Black Metal but one thing is for certain, the scene is a breeding ground for questionable moral frameworks and should be taken with a pinch of salt. 

Black Sabbath Album Cover with monsters and humans all in red

Sludge and Doom metal, while sonically similar in their abrasive walls of guitar fuzz and pounding drums, generally steer in far different directions of negativity. Sludge, regarding bands such as Grief and Resent generally keeps things in the real world, acting as the lethargically hateful younger brother of punk and expressing grounded societal fears and anguish, themes of war, famine and global disgust. Doom Metal shares in Sludge’s love for the overdriven riff, though it’s themes settle more in echoing the early days of Black Sabbath and its contemporaries. A classic Doom Metal album without sounds of church bells and wind howling, and artwork depicting graveyards and cult sacrifices, would be a rare find indeed. 

One of the best chances to bring horror films into the metal world is through music videos. Bands like Meshuggah and Tool create unsettling stop-motion and live-action videos of almost Hellraiser-level creativity, with ambiguity reflecting the uncanny and eerie nature of their music. More extreme bands such as Aborted and Cattle Decapitation naturally lean towards more extreme music videos, often featuring levels of gore that would make Olaf Ittenbach blush. Many smaller, heavier bands have used the music video as an excuse for their own miniature horror movies, often with some of the best soundtracks. 

While a wide range of horror films feature metal music, including Paganini Horror (1989), The Gate (1987), Black Roses (1988), Deathgasm (2015), Resident Evil (2002) and Dracula 2000 (2000), recent years see the inclusion of metal musicians in the creation of original soundtracks and even sound design within the films. The Devil’s Candy (2017) and Mandy (2018) both feature musician Stephen O’ Malley of Sunn 0))) (pronounced ‘sun’) in their heavy drone soundtracks, while he also provided the demonic voices circling the head of The Devil’s Candy’s lead antagonist. Indeed both of these films, along with the likes of Deathgasm can be seen as love-letters to metal in return for all of its generous tributes over the years. 

The bond between metal and horror will only strengthen in our exploration of both areas. As long as there is negativity in the world, metal and horror will be there to comment, subvert and disgust where needs be.

Ice Cream Man, Volume 1

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Comics and Graphic Novels Featured Horror Books Reviews

Your average storybook monster is, to be sure, frightening. Your vampires, zombies, bogeymen, ghosts and ghouls are often horrifying and quite deadly. But beyond these classic creeps, I believe there’s a particularly unsettling perversion when one takes something playful or innocent and twists it to evil. When comical clowns become stalking killers. When staring dolls begin haunting households. At this point it’s an overused trope to be sure, but still one that I find truly chilling. And Ice Cream Man Volume 1 is chilling!

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Ice Cream Man vol 1 horror comic cover
Ice Cream Man, Vol 1 horror comic cover

Yet even more disturbing and dangerous are the horrors that lurk in plain sight, hiding behind false smiles or inside the people we trust. In the real world the metaphor of “monster” drops away and the true ugliness of humanity is revealed. Murderers, rapists, pedophiles, psychopaths – even the scariest of creations don’t hold a candle to these that are both frightening and frightfully real. Give me Bigfoot over Bateman and Bates, Dracula over Dahmer and Bundy, Wendigo over Weinstein…you get the idea. 

So now we come to Ice Cream Man, Volume 1. The setting is suburban, idyllic, a 1950s American Dreamland (but with more racial tolerance). Up drives the titular treat seller, playing the tune we all have engraved in our ears from when we were kids. He’s full of pleasantries and colloquialisms as he hands out all the favorite flavors. Yet something is off. There is rot beneath the sugar sweet veneer. A shadow passes over his face. The eyes turn menacing, the grin sinister. And suddenly this harmless character from our youth transforms into something much more nightmarish.

ice cream man art from Ice Cream Man horror comic
“Lickety Split”

I really enjoyed my reading of this first volume in the Ice Cream Man series. Writer W. Maxwell Prince has structured it as a collection of short stories, varying in their plots yet tethered together by themes and the enigmatic Ice Cream Man. “Raspberry Surprise” is about a boy whose venomous spider has killed his parents, but he doesn’t tell anyone. “Rainbow Sprinkles” is about a pair of doped up lovers, one dying and the other distraught yet still hankering for her next fix. In “Good Ol’ Fashioned Vanilla” we see the washed up one-hit wonder Bud Hickey journey to a fantasy world full of rock legends who need his help. And finally, the last story “Every Good Boy Does Fine” is about a man giving the eulogy at his best friend’s funeral while his friend is trapped in an ever-changing hellscape. 

I love how different the stories are, and yet how connected they all feel. Each story has a self-contained arc, but pervasive in all the characters is a sense of immense suffering, whether from emotional pain, boredom, regret, or loneliness. And of course there’s the otherworldly Ice Cream Man who, whether he is a main character or mostly in the background, plays some important part in each tale. He is certainly not one to be overlooked, and he doesn’t let you forget that. It’s also difficult to pin down exactly who or what he is, as he seems to shift from friend to foe and from god to demon. Regardless, what is clear is that he enjoys playing a cosmic, and often deadly, role in the lives of these suburbanites. 

The art is a little different from most horror comics I’ve read, but it seems to fit the vintage-meets-surreal style the series is going for. The characters in particular are drawn in an interesting manner, with faces and features that are slightly Mike Judge meets Junji Ito

sweet place art from Ice Cream Man horror comic
Stuck in the Sweet Place

I will say that Martin Morazzo’s sharp-lined illustrations and Chris O’Halloran’s bold colors work well together in bringing these twisted tales to life. I also particularly like the design of the pages, which usually include a full image background broken up by smaller panels of action and dialogue. It’s a fluid and integrative composition that helps give a sense of immediacy and intimacy to the story.

Ok, I’ll admit it: I’m hooked. I’ve heard the off-kilter jingle and tasted the sickly-sweet treats, and I want more. Ice Cream Man, Volume 1 is a fun and frightening collection of intertwined short stories, full of lifelike characters experiencing bizarre and unnerving turns of events. If the rest of the series is this good then we have a new pop culture icon in the making, and I need to get my hands on the next volume. Lickety Split.


Ice Cream Man, Volume 1 is available now from Image Comics.

In Search of Darkness – A Must See Horror Documentary Series

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Best Of Best of Movies Featured Horror Movie Reviews Scary Movies and Series

When I came across CreatorVC Studios’ In Search of Darkness (2019) and it’s sequel my mind instantly split itself into two warring factions. While one side revelled in the idea of two documentaries totalling around nine hours of in-depth exploration of 80s horror films, the other side focused more on the fact that it hadn’t hitherto sat through more than the ninety-or-so minutes of Blackfish (2013) or Jesus Camp (2006). To the latter side, this was an intimidating feat, though a pure love of the horror genre prevailed and to the joy and reconciliation of both sides I sat glued to the screen for the entire duration of both parts. 

A documentary this lengthy has to be informative and, equally as importantly, entertaining. In Search of Darkness: Part II (2021) boasts a wide array of guests from all corners of the horror world, some returning from Part 1, others seemingly jumping on board after its success. From pace-breaking spotlights on gore-effects legend Tom Savini to insights from the nightmare-mongering Robert Englund and the prolific Barbara Crampton to name a few, stories from backstage tidbits to production revelations lurk around every corner. A variety of perspectives are included on most matters ensuring diversity and political correctness throughout, along with some very interesting and thought-provoking takes on different events and (the many) controversies of 80s horror production. 

In search of Darkness Movie poster featuring a child watching 80s horror movies

While paying respectful tribute to the stars and the brains behind each picture, In Search Of Darkness 2 offers detailed, chronological and spoiler-free looks into a positive maelstrom of b-movies, video nasties, cult classics and creature features. The sheer volume of films I had previously glimpsed but never deemed worth my time, only to have In Search of Darkness instantly sell me on is astounding. Not only are films featured and referenced but they are explored equally on a social and ethical level, which is often surreal when such films as Cannibal Holocaust (1980) and Nightmare in a Damaged Brain (1981) are made subject. Not only did I, as expected, add many titles to my IMDB watchlist throughout, I also had my perspective widened on more than one occasion. 

In Search of Darkness Indiegogo Trailer

Creator VC Studios built this epic series through the use of crowd funding and fan support. VC studies are self described as. “An independent producer of community-powered entertainment: long-form factual content that is funded, inspired, and shaped by a dedicated community of fans.”

Everything about In Search of Darkness is packaged brilliantly, from it’s neon look to its atmospheric synth soundtrack that combine to draw viewers into the hyper-nostalgic glow of the 80s, perfectly embodying a full decade of filmmaking. All bases are covered, from the Italian ‘Giallo’ pictures of Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci to full dives into longer series such as A Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday 13th. Though rather than simply acting as a grisly encyclopedic list it treats viewers to several actor spotlights, squashings of undesirable misnomers such as the reductive ‘scream queen’ moniker and conversations into several of horror’s dirtier and more questionable past avenues. Where Part 1 began the discussion, Part 2 picks up right where it left off and proves that ‘more of the same’ is not always a bad thing. 

In Search of Darkness proves unequivocally that I need to make more time for documentaries; I only hope that others can summon the same electrical interest that these two did for me. One thing is for sure: other documentaries will have to wait for the extensive list of eighties horror movies I now have on my plate. 

In Search Of Darkness Part 3

In search of Darkness part 3 coming soon poster with a skeleton and dark graveyard imagery

Subscribe here to follow the 3rd films progress.

Infernal

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Featured Indie Horror Indie Horror Creation Indie horror writers Short Horror Stories

Looking into the mirror, my eyes were bloodshot. Of course they were bloodshot, what did I expect having only slept four hours in the last three days? It was getting to be a pattern and it was starting to take a toll on me. My fluff of a ragdoll cat, Jekyll, stopped midway through weaving himself around my ankles and looked up lovingly at me—his soft mew broke my trance.

“I’m coming Jekyll, you’ve got to let me brush my teeth!” My toothbrush hung lazily in my mouth and I found it difficult to keep from drooling on my clean pajama top—thank god I was single. I caught my eyes again in the mirror before I turned the hot water handle, rinsed off my toothbrush, and spit. There was blood in the sink again, Jesus—was I falling apart? My toothbrush made a hollow clunk as it hit the bottom of the toothbrush holder. When I opened the medicine cabinet, I was greeted by the same rainbow of pill bottles that was waiting for me every night. I emptied Tuesday’s compartment into my hand and tossed the array of antidepressants, vitamins, and sleeping pills back with a handful of water that I splashed up from the spigot. Here I was thinking that these were supposed to make me feel better, but the last few days had proven they weren’t working.

The water splashed down on Jekyll—that was when he let out a pitiful cry and jetted out of the bathroom. I sighed, it was laborious and made my back creak; my shoulders stung with the pain of exhaustion. For a moment, I could have sworn I caught a whiff of smoke, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. I hastily closed the medicine cabinet, but as the mirror swung closed with a snap, I looked back up at my reflection and my eyes succumbed to my exhaustion. It lived on my face as the puffy purpling bags under my eyes—a desperation for sleep, filled the void within me. When I finally opened my eyes again, I caught a glimpse of something over my shoulder in the mirror, I felt myself start, but before I could even think I had spun around to face—nothing. Just empty space. It felt like the entirety of the Kentucky Derby was stampeding across my chest, the wind was knocked clean out of me. There wasn’t anything there. You’re seeing things, Lorna. Dr. Mason said hallucinations were a possible side effect. Calm down.

I shuffled out of the bathroom and flicked the light switch off behind me. Just seeing things. My feet scuffed the floor in my outrageously fluffy panda slippers and I flopped down into the tangled mass of plush blankets and nest of pillows I had made for myself. Jekyll made his usual rounds after hopping up on the bed, being sure to step down with what seemed the weight of a small child on my stomach before he settled contentedly between my ankles and I drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

It couldn’t have been more than a few hours later when I jerked awake, my tangled hair at the back of my neck soaked in sweat. I had been startled awake by a loud crash that had come from my bathroom. I yelled out at Jekyll, with what I’m sure was more than a few choice swear words, but he stood up at my feet, stretched, and answered me with a trill. My breath caught uncomfortably in my chest and it churned relentlessly with the loud thud of my accelerated pulse. My eyes burned with exhaustion as I made a feeble attempt to see through the inky blackness of my room. I still hadn’t let out that breath. It didn’t feel safe to, not yet.

“Hello?” I heard how shaky my voice was as it came out of me. Yes, Lorna—the killer stalking around your house is totally going to answer you and tell you that they’re there. I reached over to my bedside lamp—CLICKwhatCLICK, CLICKwhy isn’t my lamp turning on? Rummaging through my nightstand drawer revealed a dusty flashlight, prayer aided it being brought back to life despite the likelihood of corroded batteries. If I was going to be murdered in my own home, I would rather see it coming. My bare feet met the cold laminate flooring, a shudder ran through my body, and I felt around for my slippers. My spotlight was fixed on the open bathroom door and I felt as if my eyes were bulging right out of my skull. Any moment, I was sure that I would see someone dashing from the shadows and persistent nausea met that paranoia with gusto.

By the time I had padded silently over to the bathroom door, I felt silly—the emptiness glared back at me like an innocuous April Fool’s joke. I don’t know what I had expected to be there, or what I would have done if there had been something there, for that matter. My exasperation gave me a false confidence and I was just about to turn to go back to bed when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shower curtain rustle and heard the rings clatter against the tension rod. If I had known how to juggle, I might have caught the flashlight as it leaped out of my hand. I rolled my eyes at my apprehension and snatched the flashlight off of the floor. You’re way too high strung for your own good. It had to be the meds playing tricks on me. None of this was happening; no doubt, waking up in the morning would have me feeling foolish.

Just then, another calamitous crash came from down the hall and any renewed spirit I had gathered drained from me altogether. My knuckles must have turned white due to my vice-grip on the flashlight. Get it together Lorna. My other hand felt for the baseball bat that I had stashed behind my bedroom door. My palms were so sweaty that it felt as if they had been slicked with butter; suffice it to say, it made gripping the bat with any security quite difficult. After abandoning the flashlight on the dresser, I hefted the baseball bat over my shoulder and peeked out of my bedroom around the corner. Without the benefit of the flashlight in my hand, I struggled to see through the darkness of the hallway, but I had decided that if there was someone in my home they were going to get a fight.

I stepped down the hallway in silent trepidation, the clatter of drawers opening, closing, then opening again, and then a cacophony of silverware clattering to the floor. Each step brought me closer to the sinister orange glow that bathed the walls with flickering shadows. Another step and a sudden crash of my metal barstools caused me to jump so high I could have sworn my head brushed the ceiling. Paralyzed in fear, I grasped the baseball bat tightly to my chest and pressed myself against the wall, as if trying to make myself smaller. Go, Lorna, just go! I forced myself off of the wall and gripped the bat with new conviction, a surge of adrenaline propelled me forward and into the kitchen.

What I saw myself come face to face with was enough to elicit the kind of scream that clawed its way out from my gut. A figure of a man being devoured in flames stood hunched amid the destruction and spreading fire in my kitchen—wherever the flames danced upon his skin, the flesh hung off of him in charred strips. His black eyeless sockets turned to me, but my eyes were fixated on his twisted features, where the fire had melted his face it sagged off his jaw and exposed the charred bone beneath. I clutched the bat feebly as he rose to stand upright and began to slowly amble toward me.

My feet carried me backward, mirroring his footsteps and I saw that each step revealed scorched floorboards; I continued stepping back, unblinking, the heat dried my eyes, they began to burn. I heard a hiss at my feet but stumbled over Jekyll before I could register he was even there. The man lunged toward me and in a knee-jerk reaction, I swung the bat off of my shoulder with as much force as I could muster. I was stunned to find it only caught air on its way through the man’s form and adopted a fast-burning flame. The baseball bat burned like a torch as it sunk into the drywall on the other side of the figure. The flames spread up as if fed by gasoline and rage and before I knew it they blanketed the ceiling above me.

The man was unfazed by my assault, his arms still reached for me. Without hesitation, I scooped up a growling Jekyll and scrambled clumsily back through my bedroom door and slammed it behind me. He was squirming violently in my arms, his fearful anticipation brought his claws down hard into my shoulder, but I held him tighter as I witnessed that same orange glow filter in under the gap of my door. Shit, shit, shit… Smoke rose from under the door, flames soon followed and I felt the sharp edge of my bedside table bite the back of my bare thigh.

Fire consumed my door as if it was comprised of nitrate film—what the fuck—I couldn’t open my window fast enough and doing so while holding on to my wrathful ragdoll was practically impossible. He spit angrily at the combusting monstrosity that stepped through the curtain of fire that used to be my door. Fuck this. I gave my window a good shove and it let out a loud whine. Jekyll was the first through, but before I could follow an excruciating pain shot through my leg—and then I fell and everything went black.

When I came to, I was laying on my back and could feel the hard chill of the sidewalk beneath me. I could hear someone call, “she’s awake,” but I could only see blackness and the outlines of two people above me.

“Miss—,” I heard a deep husky voice and I knew it was addressing me, but I didn’t know how to make my body respond to it. “Miss—Jones?” Another figure appeared above me, and they all slowly came into focus. A police officer was addressing me abreast the two EMTs who then disappeared from my view—when I tried to sit up, they jumped to help me, and the dull ache in the back of my head became more pronounced.

Ten minutes went by and my eyes were still dry from being overwhelmed with smoke. I mindlessly clutched my singed and shaken blackened mop of a cat, his claws clung tentatively to the blanket I had draped over my shoulders. I was surprised they had found him at all. The cold curb bit at my exposed legs, but the heat radiating from the blaze behind me reminded me that I much preferred the cold at this very instant. I could hear as my roof cracked and caved in under the burden of the fast-moving fire. The insurance company is never going to believe this… I’m so screwed.

“Are you alright to speak with me now, Miss Jones?” The police officer was back to ask his questions. He probably thinks I did this myself. I blinked repeatedly until I was able to break my gaze away from the darkness across the street. When I finally was able to look up at him, I saw he was looking at me as if I were an escaped mental patient—the 911 operator had sent everything but the kitchen sink after a neighbor had called to report a scream and smoke coming from my home. I’ll have to find out who it was so I can thank them.

“What was it you said was the cause of the blaze?”

“I—I’m not sure.” It wasn’t entirely a lie if I didn’t know what the hell I had just seen in my home, was it?

“What happened right before the blaze broke out?”

“Sleep, I was sleeping, my cat woke me up and I was headed to the kitchen.” I still wasn’t technically lying.

“The ambulance is going to take you to the hospital to treat you for smoke inhalation and those burns on your ankles.” I had already had enough strange eyes on me tonight, so the idea of being under the watchful eye of strangers made me shiver. Even though I knew I would soon be laying in a hospital bed with a nurse dressing my wounds, I started to feel sick. It was a deep, relentless, twisting anxiety that told me the burning man may have gone up in flames with my home, but that it wouldn’t be the last time I saw him.

Inspiration for Van Helsing and Vampire Hunters

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Featured Horror Books
Van Helsing
Van Helsing by BagoGames

This week, for the third installment of our Dead Author Dedication in honor of Bram Stoker. We’re going to be discussing one of his characters who doesn’t get quite as much attention as the vampire king Dracula, but is still a character that blossomed beyond the original story by Stoker. The mysteriously knowledgeable and most famous vampire hunter, Dracula’s nemesis, Abraham Van Helsing.

Polish journalist Adam Węgłowski has claimed he has finally solved the mystery of our favorite good guy and that the Stoker character is actually based on the real-life of a historically documented vampire hunter. While it has been understood that Stoker may have originally modeled Van Helsing after a real individual, it wasn’t until Węgłowski’s research that a name could actually be attributed as the main source of inspiration.

Who Was the Inspiration for Van Helsing?

Born December 14, 1666, in Angerburg (known as Węgorzewo today)–Georg Andreas Helwing (or Helwig in some places), was a part of the Duchy of Prussia–a fief of the Crown of Poland. Helwing was an incredibly learned man of letters and a reportedly brilliant scientist. In Koenigsberg, Helwing studied philosophy and theology and pursued his education while traveling; eventually, Helwing ended up in Venice and Leida where he collaborated very closely with Herman Boerhaave, a Dutch Botanist.

Georg Andreas Helwing
Georg Andreas Helwing

It wasn’t until 1691 that he returned to his hometown; shortly following his father’s death, Helwing took up employment as a Lutheran pastor. Aside from his religious line of work, he was also a physician who took a great deal of interest in studying botany and other natural sciences while doing his duty as a clergyman. What is really interesting about Helwing though, is that despite his fairly mundane line of work, he was also a student of the paranormal and supernatural. This, of course, led him to study vampires and werewolves in particular and even went so far as to talk about how the inhabitants of Masuria fought supposed vampires by decapitating them during the bubonic plague epidemic. Węgłowski’s research shows that peasants of the time also had a “habit of stabbing the corpses with stakes.”

From Helwing to Van Helsing

So with what we now know about Georg Andreas Helwing and the little we know of the mythology of Van Helsing, are the two really connected in a meaningful way? Well, within the books and papers that Helwing wrote, many of those had to do with vampires; Węgłowski makes the link not only with the similarity of surnames but also with the kinds of education that both Helwing and Van Helsing pursued. Scholars believe that Stoker also had the fortune to find out about Vlad the Impaler–his inspiration for Dracula–from his friend Ármin Vámbéry, so it is speculated that he found out about Helwing from the same source.

While Helwing may have not hunted vampires in the sense that we might think today–he didn’t actually believe in vampires–he did hunt the folklore which led people to believe in them and therefore display the practices they did. In Helwing’s homeland, the bubonic plague (1708-1711) brought the height of vampire hysteria, where he was able to describe an incident where the people of the village found a monster; he reported that “after singing a song for the dead, the head was chopped off with a spade and thrown back into the tomb together with a live dog.” This was due to the widespread belief that the dead could rise from their graves as vampires and further spread the disease which was exterminating the population. Like Van Helsing though, Helwing risked his life to save those in danger, according to Węgłowski. The only difference is that Van Helsing attempted to kill monsters, and Helwing attempted to eradicate disease.

Dracula (1931)
Dracula (1931)

Abraham Van Helsing

Interestingly enough, Van Helsing has gone through a transformation in his appearance in television and cinema; in Dracula (1931) with Bela Lugosi as well as Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992) with Anthony Hopkins, Van Helsing makes his appearance as a man who is more advanced in age. Television and cinema of the modern age are more likely to have Van Helsing be portrayed as a younger, rogueish looking, strong but not violent man in an effort to capture the hearts of women and spark a fan base. There are of course pros and cons to both portrayals of this character, an older Van Helsing while knowledgable seems frail, where a younger Van Helsing seems physically capable, but perhaps a bit less wise.

Popular Vampire Hunter Culture

Van Helsing is not the only vampire hunting character we have seen throughout vampire movies, because it seems that with every horror and adventure story involving vampires we get another hunter or slayer to rely on to save us from the monsters. Van Helsing’s status as a vampire hunter inspired such characters as Buffy Summers in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997 – 2003), Angel (1999 – 2004), the Blade franchise where we see the vampire-human hybrid Blade try to eradicate the vampire threat. Then we also have the underdog heroes, like the Frog Brothers in Lost Boys (1987) who represent those of us who don’t have super powers, but still have a powerful need to protect people from evil.

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