Editorials
Looking Back on the Gothic Action-Horror of the ‘Underworld’ Franchise
Despite having similar mythological origins, Vampires and Werewolves are behind one of the most iconic rivalries in media. There are countless books, movies and games that pit these legendary creatures against each other, and everyone has their own opinion on which is the superior monster (I’ve always been firmly on team Werewolf). Today, however, I’d like to explore one of the most iconic takes on this ancient feud by looking back on the insanely popular Underworld franchise and how it reshaped these myths for an ever-evolving audience.
The 2000s were a good time to be a fan of action-horror blockbusters, seeing the rise of R-rated franchises like Resident Evil and the Blade sequels. Knowing that audiences were hungry for more bloody thrills, it’s no surprise that Lakeshore Entertainment would end up investing in a gothic passion project by the unlikely trio of Len Wisemen, Kevin Grevioux and Danny McBride. Proposing a complex mythology detailing an ongoing war between Vampires and “Lycans”, the trio wowed producers with their original pitch, and with a final draft completed by McBride, Underworld finally leapt off the page in 2003.
An international co-production, Underworld was a strange beast, combining the gothic thrills of classic vampire flicks with modern-day action and a gritty sci-fi twist. While the slick photography and exaggerated costumes made it clear that this was a case of style over substance, the surprisingly in-depth lore behind the screenplay wouldn’t have been out of place in a Role-Playing Game. This makes sense, as the producers were eventually sued by White Wolf Inc. due to the film’s similarities to their World of Darkness setting, though the case was ultimately settled out of court.
Regardless, even during that peculiar wave of leather-clad post-Matrix action flicks, Underworld managed to stand out by providing audiences with a fresh take on monster movies and a badass female protagonist. Kate Beckinsale was perfectly cast as the Lycan-hunting vampire Selene, torn between her loyalty to her masters and a newfound love interest in Michael Corvin, played by Scott Speedman. As viewers accompany Selene down the rabbit hole, the film jumps from one bloodthirsty action sequence to the next, always boasting remarkable practical effects and wirework.
The Wolfman on steroids.
Produced on a 22 million dollar budget, Underworld became an unexpected hit, ultimately raking in over 95 million at the box office. While critics weren’t crazy about it, audiences absolutely adored the classy aesthetics and kickass soundtrack (which features an incredible remix of David Bowie’s Bring Me the Disco King by Danny Lohner), not to mention Beckinsale’s memorable performance as a veteran Death-Dealer. Naturally, she would end up becoming one of the most badass leading ladies of the 2000s, rivaled only by RE‘s Milla Jovovich.
The rest of the cast is also impressive, with Bill Nighy gleefully chewing through scenery as the Elder Vampire Viktor and Michael Sheen leading the Lycan rebellion as Lucian (years before becoming a vampire in the Twilight franchise). Kevin Grevioux himself also makes an appearance as Raze, one of the film’s most memorable Lycans. Luckily for fans, despite a few gruesome character deaths, this wouldn’t be the last time that we’d see this curious ensemble on the big screen.
Having successfully jumpstarted a franchise, Wiseman and company soon returned to this world of ultraviolet bullets and rebelling Lycans with 2006’s Underworld: Evolution, a sequel that takes place almost immediately after the first film. While it’s an equally stylish endeavor, with Selene and Michael on the run from Elder Vampires as they uncover the secret origin of both Vampires and Lycans, the movie suffers from trying too hard to be bigger and more action-packed than its predecessor.
Even so, the convoluted script and bloated budget couldn’t keep Evolution from becoming yet another box office success. Critics still refused to warm up to the series, but general audiences appreciated the return to neo-gothic melodrama and balls-to-the-wall Vampire vs Werewolf action. While the film serves as a somewhat definitive conclusion to Michael and Selene’s story, its success meant that we would soon see another entry in the franchise with the 2009 prequel, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans.
Same monsters, new setting.
Patrick Tatopoulos‘ prequel suffers from having its main plot points spoiled by flashbacks in the previous films, but it’s still my favorite entry in the franchise, focusing on the origin of the conflict between enslaved Lycans and tyrannical Vampires in medieval Europe. While Beckinsale is appropriately absent from the prequel (except for a final zinger), both Michael Sheen and Bill Nighy reprise their roles from previous films and are clearly having a great time doing so. The timeline might not completely add up and the pacing is a little choppy, but the exaggerated action and fresh setting make this one of the most thoroughly entertaining films in the series.
The same can’t be said for 2012’s Underworld: Awakening, a movie that was meant to be Beckinsale’s long-awaited return to the franchise. It’s undoubtedly great to see Selene once again mowing down ferocious Lycans with specialized weaponry in a dystopic future (this time unaccompanied by Scott Speedman), but the film really drops the ball with some excessive CGI and low-effort backstory. There are still some legitimately thrilling set pieces as Selene attempts to protect her hybrid daughter from the clutches of an evil organization, but the sanitized atmosphere and decreased focus on practical monsters make this entry less interesting than the films that came before.
Despite even more negative reactions from critics, Awakening was successful enough to warrant another sequel in 2016 with Underworld: Blood Wars, the final film in the franchise. Unfortunately, this one is only marginally better than its predecessor, doubling down on questionable CGI and insanely convoluted mythology in order to tell a generic story. In this one, Selene is being hunted by surviving Vampire and Lycan clans who each need her for their own nefarious reasons. Like Awakening, Blood Wars features almost none of the original Underworld team behind the scenes, resulting in a loosely-fitting cap to a once-memorable franchise.
Like all the Underworld films before it, Blood Wars was financially successful, but it also proved that the series had run its course. Without the original creative team backing these productions, there was little reason to continue making them. It’s now been five years since Blood Wars, and despite rumors of the contrary, it seems unlikely that the Underworld franchise will be undergoing a resurrection anytime soon.
I can’t be the only one that misses these monster battles.
Looking back on these movies, it’s clear that they weren’t all masterpieces, but I’ll be the first to defend their commitment to style and gruesome action. Even when the scripts didn’t make much sense, a lot of effort was put into the look and feel of these films, as well as the choreography behind the memorable monster battles. The Underworld Lycans are some of the best practical Werewolves in media, and it’s a shame that later entries traded in the costumes and puppets for cheap CGI.
Beckinsale’s Selene was also a truly iconic character in her own right. While some fans viewed her as nothing more than a leather-clad sex symbol, her arc was a lot more complex than most folks seem to remember. Her feminine traits were never ignored in favor of traditional action hero tropes, but she also routinely showed up to save her confused love interest, a rare twist on the usual damsel in distress formula.
The Underworld franchise may have been a roller-coaster ride when it comes to quality, but I’ll always have fond memories of those fleeting glimpses into a world dominated by Vampiric intrigue and monstrous mutations. Revisiting these movies, I realized that it’s been a long time since audiences have been graced with stylized gothic action on the big screen, and with Resident Evil getting a fresh start in Johannes Roberts’ new film, I’d also love to see a return to the grimy streets of Underworld. After all, the Vampire vs Lycan war is far from over, and there will always be more dark stories to tell.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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