Dust devils dance across the New Mexico plains, the sun bleaching the landscape to bone-white. It’s hardly the Transylvanian gloom we associate with creatures of the night, yet this is the unforgiving stage John Carpenter sets for his 1998 neo-Western horror, Vampires. Forget the velvet collars and seductive whispers; these bloodsuckers are feral, brutal, and embedded in the very grit of the American Southwest. They’re pests to be exterminated, vermin in the dark corners, and Team Crow are the Vatican’s blue-collar pest control.
Sunset Showdown
Right from the explosive opening sequence – a meticulously planned assault on a vampire nest that goes sideways in spectacularly bloody fashion – Carpenter lays his cards on the table. This isn't the atmospheric dread of Halloween (1978) or the claustrophobic paranoia of The Thing (1982). Vampires is leaner, meaner, a shotgun blast of action-horror that feels deliberately confrontational. Carpenter, perhaps weary of studio meddling after films like Memoirs of an Invisible Man (1992), seems determined here to deliver something raw and unfiltered. The sun-drenched horror is jarring, flipping expectations. The most dangerous moments often happen just as the light fades, turning golden hour into a countdown to slaughter.
Crow's Law
Leading the charge is Jack Crow, embodied with ferocious, almost unhinged intensity by James Woods. Crow is abrasive, misogynistic, foul-mouthed, and utterly driven by a righteous fury fueled by childhood trauma. Woods reportedly embraced the role's harshness, delivering lines dripping with venom and embodying a cynicism that feels both era-specific (that late-90s nihilistic cool) and genuinely unsettling. He’s not a hero you necessarily root for, but his conviction is magnetic. Watching him bark orders, wielding his modified crossbow, you believe this guy has seen things that would break lesser men. He's flanked by Montoya (Daniel Baldwin, bringing a necessary weary loyalty) and a rotating cast of slayers who exist primarily to demonstrate the lethality of their quarry. The dynamic between Woods and Baldwin feels lived-in, two veterans weary of a dirty, thankless war.
Creatures of Dirt and Shadow
The vampires themselves, led by the ancient and powerful Valek (Thomas Ian Griffith, cutting an imposing figure), are refreshingly savage. No tragic romantics here. Carpenter and writer Don Jakoby (adapting John Steakley's novel Vampire$, though significantly altering the plot and tone) present them as animalistic predators. The practical makeup effects by the legendary KNB Efx Group (known for their work on everything from From Dusk Till Dawn (1996) to The Walking Dead) are suitably grotesque. The burning flesh, the impalements, the sheer physicality of the vampires feel tactile and nasty in a way CGI rarely achieves. Remember the satisfying thump and sizzle when Crow harpooned a vamp into the sunlight? That practical grit was key to the VHS-era experience. Filming amidst the stark beauty of New Mexico undoubtedly enhanced this grounded, dusty aesthetic, making the supernatural feel strangely plausible within this specific setting.
The Psychic Anchor
Caught in the crossfire is Katrina, played by Sheryl Lee. Fresh off her iconic, harrowing turn as Laura Palmer in Twin Peaks, Lee is saddled with a difficult role. Bitten by Valek, she becomes a reluctant psychic link to the master vampire, her transformation tracking his movements for the slayers while simultaneously posing a growing threat. It's a plot device that can feel convenient, but Lee commits fully, portraying Katrina’s terror and gradual succumbing with raw vulnerability. Her scenes with Montoya, who develops a protective, complex bond with her, add a layer of unexpected (and perhaps uncomfortable) intimacy amidst the carnage. It’s a demanding part, requiring Lee to navigate fear, pain, and burgeoning vampiric hunger, often while being manhandled by the gruff Crow.
Blood, Sweat, and Box Office Blues
Making Vampires wasn't necessarily smooth sailing. Produced for around $20 million, its box office take was somewhat underwhelming (about $14 million worldwide), failing to reignite Carpenter's commercial fortunes in the way some hoped. It received a mixed critical reception, with some praising its B-movie energy and brutal efficiency, while others found it crude and unpleasant. Yet, it perfectly captures a specific flavour of late-90s horror – less self-aware than Scream (1996), more straightforwardly aggressive than many of its contemporaries. Carpenter also delivered another memorable score, though trading his signature synths for a driving, blues-rock guitar theme that perfectly complements the film's dusty, road-weary vibe. It feels less iconic than his 80s work, perhaps, but undeniably Carpenter.
Final Verdict
Vampires isn't top-tier Carpenter, lacking the finesse and lingering dread of his masterpieces. Jack Crow’s relentless unpleasantness can be grating, and the plot mechanics occasionally creak. Yet, there’s an undeniable energy here, a B-movie swagger delivered with A-list intensity (especially from Woods). It's a visceral, often brutal ride that offers a unique, sun-baked take on vampire mythology, backed by solid practical effects and Carpenter's typically strong directorial hand. For fans of gritty action-horror hybrids and those who appreciate Carpenter operating in a less refined, more confrontational mode, this dusty VHS tape still holds a nasty bite. Did it redefine the genre? No. Is it a lean, mean, satisfyingly bloody watch from a master filmmaker cutting loose? Absolutely. It might not be subtle, but sometimes you just want to see vampires get dragged into the desert sun, kicking and screaming.
Rating: 7/10
Final Thought: A grubby, unapologetic slab of horror-action that might lack Carpenter's usual atmospheric chill but replaces it with pure, unadulterated aggression and some truly nasty practical gore – a perfect late-night rental back in the day, warts and all. It led to two less-than-stellar direct-to-video sequels (Vampires: Los Muertos (2002) and Vampires: The Turning (2005)), neither involving Carpenter or the original cast, proving that sometimes, the original hunt is best left undisturbed.