Between genius and utter nonsense: ‘Vampire’s Kiss’ and ‘Santa Sangre’
“We began in a fairytale and we came to life — but is this life reality? No, it is a film!”
Rarely has the line between genius and utter nonsense been as blurred as it is in Vampire’s Kiss and Santa Sangre — so much so that the reception of the two films has been vastly different since their release despite their obvious similarities. While Santa Sangre has been cherished as ‘That Jodorowsky film which wasn’t as good as The Holy Mountain nor as controversial as El Topo,’ Vampire’s Kiss was more or less dismissed as ‘One of those Nic Cage films.’
Audiences’ bewilderment at Cage’s bizarrely deranged performance as would-be vampire Peter Leow certainly isn’t unwarranted but the film’s outright dismissal by some as senseless garbage is disappointing. Taken out of the context of the rest of the film, Cage’s performance might be indistinguishable from Axel Jodorowsky’s as Fenix in Santa Sangre — and the context of both performances are more similar than they may appear.
Certainly, the style of Santa Sangre, which is as symbolic as it is surreal, appeals well to fans of strangely profound cinema, as do its themes of childhood trauma and Oedipal complexes. It is debatable whether any part of the film should be taken literally or whether it is simply the framework for a two-hour extended-metaphor in the vein of Jodorowsky’s earlier works. Either way, Santa Sangre should be viewed as an expression of a story which takes place within the mind of its protagonist, à la American Psycho, Fight Club or Shutter Island.
For example, the narrative structure is non-chronological, beginning in Fenix’s listless adulthood inside of a sanatorium and subsequently reminiscing upon his childhood. Not only does this generate interest in Fenix’s story right from the first scene, but it also portrays his mind as unquiet— not peacefully stupid as his carers suspect. In other words, these scenes are presented as flashbacks because Fenix’s memories trouble him in the film’s present, not just because flashbacks are convenient structural devices.
Likewise, when Fenix later begins to suffer hallucinations, these appear to us as real as the ground he walks on because they are part of his perceived reality — his phaneron. Another film which takes this approach is Fight Club, although the hallucinations in Santa Sangre are more surreal, presenting the narrative as a kind of allegory for internal trauma, rather than a genuine hallucination. This consistently surreal experience of the film encourages us to accept the reality of the screen rather than the reality we expect to see. Assuming we manage to do this, the themes and symbols behind the surrealism are easier to understand and appreciate.
Vampire’s Kiss, on the other hand, is at times abrasive in its exteriority. Although, as in Santa Sangre, it depicts the rapid deterioration of a man’s psyche — this time following a sexual encounter with a ‘vampire,’ Rachel — it often shows the reality of his insanity and provides little direct insight into Loew’s phaneron. Unlike in Santa Sangre, we don’t share all of Loew’s hallucinations; in some scenes, we see only what other characters or bystanders would see — Loew eating live pigeons on the street through plastic, store-bought vampire fangs is almost satirical of films like Fight Club—and in the next, the obvious wish-fulfilment makes it clear that we are sharing his hallucinations.
This dissonance can feel a little like whiplash. Vampire’s Kiss doesn’t maintain the same surreal aura as Santa Sangre — we aren’t sucked into a cinematic dream world in the same way. And, unlike Hitchcock’s Psycho which tackles a similar dysmorphia, Vampire’s Kiss never explains the meaning of madness through dialogue but leaves it to the audience to piece it all together. Not all have taken the film as a serious psychological conflict or even as a satire of one. For some, Cage’s eccentricity juxtaposes so violently with expectations of normal human behaviour that reception has often been to dismiss the film entirely — at best, many others consider the film to be ‘so bad it’s good.’
Yet, rather than detracting from the film, this whiplash between phaneron and reality adds a new layer to the film’s meaning to those who seek it: That Loew, unlike Fenix, is not so absolutely absorbed by trauma that he can no longer distinguish dream from reality. Instead, Loew appears to be conscious of his own farce. Several conversations with Rachel likewise suggest that the idea of vampirism excites him as much as it horrifies him, offering him an antidote to the truth of his ordinary and mundane life as a corporate cog.
It is for this reason that the two films work so well together. Though they both tackle different elements of the human psyche, namely trauma for Santa Sangre and existential boredom for Vampire’s Kiss, each film shows a different side of the madness that could result from either. Santa Sangre sucks its audience into a psychological experience, while Vampire’s Kiss presents something between a satire and a farcical view of madness through bystanders’ eyes. While films like Fight Club and Psycho could be criticised for handing over an explanation for the madness within all too easily, both the films in this double bill reward those who look beyond the surface as well as those who enjoy surrealism for the sake of surrealism.
