Editorials
“Buffy vs. Dracula” – Revisiting Buffy’s Subversive Dracula Episode 25 Years Later
Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu has redefined the iconic vampire story, but Buffy tackled comparable territory 25 years earlier with its subversive Dracula episode.
“Your power is rooted in darkness. You must feel it.”
“No. You know what I feel? Bored.”
This article contains heavy spoilers for 2024’s Nosferatu and Season 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Society has been telling vampire stories for over a century, whether it’s the austere gothic horror of Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel, Dracula, more palatable and playful stories, like the Twilight series and The Vampire Diaries, or something in between, such as Fright Night or The Lost Boys. Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu harkens back to the vampire’s vicious roots and his interpretation of F. W. Murnau’s 1922 original became one of 2024’s biggest horror movies and it’s still going strong. Nosferatu is dark, disturbing, and dedicated to its craft, yet among all the dread and despondency is a surprisingly feminist vampire tale. Lily-Rose Depp’s Ellen Hutter spends most of Nosferatu being stalked, manipulated, and chained up, yet she still possesses incredible power – although it’s not fully understood, even by herself. Nosferatu’s slant on this story is as stimulating as it is scary. However, there’s another take on Dracula from 25 years earlier that presents a similar story that’s even more subversive and empowering. Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s “Buffy vs. Dracula,” written by Marti Noxon and directed by David Solomon, uses Dracula to help Sarah Michelle Gellar’s Buffy Summers better understand herself, her power, and her role as a feminist icon.
Every Buffy season is transformative and challenging, but season five is especially revelatory for the Slayer. Buffy gains a sister, loses a mother, and grapples with several different identity crises, all while she prepares for battle against a literal God. Buffy’s fifth season is frequently regarded as not only one of the series’ best years, but one of the most impressive seasons out of any of Joss Whedon’s productions. It’s a masterpiece in serialized storytelling that doesn’t just sublimely connect all the season’s dots, but brings together several ideas and themes that have been present since Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s start. Buffy’s season premieres are typically heavy, introspective experiences, so audiences were understandably caught off-guard with season five’s “Buffy vs. Dracula.” This season premiere is just as deep as its predecessors and it elegantly sets up broader questions about Buffy’s identity and the Slayer’s role in society, yet this is regarded as one of Buffy’s most polarizing entries because of its cavalier approach to Dracula (Rudolf Martin) and the episode’s oddly comical slant. Even the title “Buffy vs. Dracula” is very tongue-in-cheek and undercuts the episode’s serious subject matter. The only thing more farcical would be if it were titled “Buffy and the Scooby Gang Meet Dracula!”
“Buffy vs. Dracula” is admittedly tonally dissimilar from many Buffy episodes. It even starts with Buffy and her friends goofing around on a sunny beach. However, Buffy is very careful to not make Dracula himself a joke. He triggers comical events, such as Buffy’s starstruck demeanor, Xander’s insect-eating fealty, and Spike’s petty grudges with the vampire and how he’s made life more difficult for his own kind, but Dracula himself is deathly serious. Dracula instead feels like he’s out of a completely different series. He talks in flowery gothic prose instead of witty Whedon-speak one-liners. The only “funny” thing he does is the mist materialization gag that ends the episode, but even that is largely comical because of Buffy’s reaction to it. Much of Buffy’s fifth season involves an altered reality that dark monks have created for sinister purposes. It almost feels like Dracula is a byproduct of this alternate universe and that he’s a vestige of Bram Stoker’s novel who’s been plucked out and dropped into Sunnydale.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer uses Dracula to tell a personal story that connects to Buffy’s ongoing evolution. That being said, it’s still entertaining to see this thought-provoking episode indulge in many of the classic Dracula tropes, not unlike Eggers’ Nosferatu. “Buffy vs. Dracula” gives Dracula additional vampire powers that aren’t typically explored in the series, such as his ability to turn into a bat, a wolf, and weaponize a hypnotic thrawl on others. Xander fulfills the Renfield role and becomes the episode’s central comic relief, while Giles becomes Buffy’s resident Jonathan Harker and temporarily loses himself to a trio of vampire brides. These are the details that stand out most when “Buffy vs. Dracula” is broken down purely on a story level and they’re fun Dracula fan service. However, these touches aren’t really important or what the episode is actually about.
It’s easy to get lost in Xander’s funny fealty and the ways in which Dracula ruffles everyone’s feathers. Beyond this silliness, some of the most compelling material to come out of “Buffy vs. Dracula” involves how the Dark Prince prods Buffy regarding her power. Curiously, Dracula doesn’t minimize Buffy’s strength, but instead tells her that she could be even more magnificent if she became his vampiric bride. This material would fall flat if it were to happen in Buffy’s first or second seasons, but it hits with greater intensity five years in. Nobody expects Buffy to become a vampire by the end of the episode, but it’s a heavier proposition for Buffy. On some level, after everything that she’s experienced, it feels as if there is some level of temptation to just escape in this immortal fantasy. She can’t and she won’t, but Dracula comes along at the perfect time when he’s actually able to get in Buffy’s head and have her question herself. This makes it all the more significant that Buffy could be some infamous Vampire Queen and thrive through killing, but she instead chooses to be humanity’s thankless protector. It’s a powerful theme that courses through the season and reaches a devastating breaking point in the season’s finale, where Buffy makes the ultimate sacrifice.
In a deleted scene from “Buffy vs. Dracula,” Dracula goes even further with this level of dissection. “I know intimately what it is to be different,” he tells Buffy. “Human, but not quite. Of the world, but still an outsider. You see? We understand each other. Both of us are born of darkness, masters in the art of death.” Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård) echoes a comparable line in Nosferatu when he tells Ellen, “Love is inferior to you. I told you, you are not of humankind.” Buffy and Ellen both buy into their dark tempter’s words, but it’s an empowering message to Buffy and an imprisoning one to Ellen. Buffy spends an entire season grappling with how she’s a “master in the art of death,” which pushes her down a dark path – one that’s not always healthy for her – but one that’s traveled on her own volition. Dracula’s words may literally echo in Buffy’s head in “Buffy vs. Dracula” as he hypnotizes her through their blood bond. However, it’s merely the seed of suggestion that eats away at her doubts through the rest of the season.
Buffy and Dracula’s final confrontation turns into a battle of will as Buffy asserts herself against Dracula’s hold over her and the dark life that he promises. Buffy does drink Dracula’s blood, but it’s a legacy of Slayer strength that brings her back to her senses and gives her the power to persevere. It’s not just Buffy’s strength that overpowers the Dark Prince, but generations of female-driven Slayer confidence that defeats this predatory threat. Ellen may be doomed to perish in Nosferatu and become a cautionary tale. Alternatively, Buffy is able to channel past cautionary tales and failed promises to become an inspirational anomaly.
“Buffy vs. Dracula” explores the idea that the Slayer’s reputation is just as prominent to vampires as Dracula’s is to humans. Dracula explicitly comes to Sunnydale because he’s heard repeated tales of Buffy’s incredible accomplishments. When the dust — or rather the mist — settles here, Buffy is the one who is left standing and in the position of power. Five years of Slayer duties trumps centuries of dark acts. Buffy doesn’t just survive this experience, but she’s left invigorated and eager to learn more about the history of the Slayers and the full extent of what her privileged role represents. She wants to create a bright future for herself, and others, by building a legacy that’s even more prolific than that of Dracula.
Vampire stories like Nosferatu and “Buffy vs. Dracula” are dense in darkness, not just visually, but as a force that’s emblematic of what Ellen and Buffy are fighting against. These vampire narratives are tonally extreme, yet they explore very similar dialogue on this topic. At one point in Nosferatu, Anna Harding asks Ellen, “What is this insufferable darkness?” During another, Ellen questions, “My dreams grow darker…Tell me, does evil come from within us? Or beyond?” The latter of these statements is more or less the ongoing mantra for Buffy’s fifth season as Buffy attempts to get to the center of the Slayers, but also herself. Buffy also repeatedly subverts the idea of darkness and the power that it holds. At one point, Buffy boasts to Dracula, “How do you like my darkness now?” It’s a powerful, purifying asset to her, rather than a totally corrupting force. Even earlier, Dracula tells Buffy, “Your power is rooted in darkness. You must feel it,” while an unphased Buffy retorts, “No. You know what I feel? Bored.” Darkness may control Dracula, Count Orlok, and Ellen, but not Buffy.
Robert Eggers has spoken candidly about how Depp’s Ellen possesses a unique understanding of the “shadow side of the world” and that this dark gift is not just misunderstood – but persecuted – in her world. It’s hard to not draw parallels here between Ellen and Buffy, both of whom are forced to work through a world that needs them, yet doesn’t have the right tools to celebrate them. They’re forced to suffer and sacrifice. Buffy is blessed enough to have a better support system, but she still faces astronomical hurdles that are too much to overcome.
Buffy may not perish at Dracula’s hands, but she still meets her end in a similar fashion to Ellen. Part of the reason that Ellen ultimately “submits” to Orlok and sacrifices herself to take him out is that she feels that she doesn’t belong in a world that’s progressively moved away from magic. Ellen feels that she doesn’t fit in and is an aberration, which on many levels aligns with Buffy’s decision to sacrifice herself to save the world when this soul-searching season reaches its end. The message that Buffy carries with her for over a season – “your gift is death” – is ultimately empowering. However, it still concludes with Buffy cold and underground.
Both Buffy and Ellen’s fates are regarded as morose losses for the greater good, yet it’s only Buffy that features what one might consider to be a happy ending. It’s hard to imagine Ellen with a gravestone epitaph that’s a fraction as congratulatory as Buffy Summers’ headstone. Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu and Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s “Buffy vs. Dracula” both transform the classic vampiric figure into a catalyst for feminist growth and self-discovery. However, Buffy is the one that does more with this revelation and channels it into an entire season of challenging character development that proves that a girl is strong enough to not just defeat Dracula, but a God.
Five decades ago, Stephen King published the story of a bullied girl with telekinetic powers and forever changed the world of horror.
Carrie follows a high school misfit who seeks revenge for a hideous prank by psychically destroying her senior prom. The name Carrie White has become synonymous with the concept of a formal dance thanks to a flawless adaptation from Brian De Palma. Now fifty years after the film’s release, Mike Flanagan is putting his own stamp on the troubling story.
Rather than a feature film, the writer/director will expand King’s relatively slim debut novel into an eight-episode miniseries for Amazon Prime set to premiere on October 7.
Flanagan is no stranger to the world of Stephen King. A long-time Constant Reader, he first made waves with his daring adaptation of Gerald’s Game (2017), a novel many fans considered un-filmable. His underrated Doctor Sleep merges the disparate plot of Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining with King’s original source material, and his 2024 genre-bending tearjerker The Life of Chuck faithfully executes one of the author’s most metaphysical novellas.
He’s currently mired in pre-production for an expansive adaptation of The Dark Tower series, keystone to King’s connected universe, and Warner Bros. recently announced that Flanagan will helm a new version of The Mist, King’s 1980 novella which sees a small Maine town overrun by otherworldly monsters.
Considering the vast array of the author’s previously unadapted material, an obvious question arises. Why reimagine Carrie in 2026? Noting the timeless nature of the content, Flanagan expressed his desire to bring the story of a bullied girl into modern times, mirroring his approach to Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House and Edgar Allan Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher. He explained, “The only way to approach it was to build something new out of the ingredients of Carrie. Otherwise, there’s really no purpose in trying to retread ground that’s been so beautifully walked before.”
His miniseries will maintain the novel’s bloody bookends while delivering “big surprises” along the way.
A New Prom Night Nightmare
The roughly 60-second teaser introduces Summer H. Howell as Carrie White just before the moment of catastrophe. Standing in a prom dress, she smiles at her applauding classmates with an ominous crown perched upon her head. Moments later, Carrie unleashes a rage-filled scream into the night air while promgoers rush for the exit doors. But careful examination of this scene shows Carrie wearing a different, albeit dirty dress as she seems to telekinetically punish her peers.
In an exclusive first look with Entertainment Weekly, Flanagan explains that in his version of the story, “the events of that prom are going to be completely different.” An open trunk emitting a crimson glow does hint at the pig’s blood dumped on Carrie’s head, but it’s likely Flanagan’s formal dance will be a different kind of horror altogether. Despite these changes, the series may end with the widespread destruction outlined in the source material. Unlike any previous adaptations, King’s novel ends with the near-total destruction of Chamberlain, Maine. A flaming street in Flanagan’s trailer promises similar carnage no matter what prank sparks Carrie’s deadly revenge.
The Monstrous Addition of Social Media
On the opposite end of this fiery conclusion is an extreme act of bullying that brings together the story’s main cast. King’s novel begins as Carrie gets her first period while showering in the girls’ locker room. Completely unaware of the concept of menstruation, the sheltered girl thinks she’s bleeding to death. Her classmates respond with vitriolic rage. Led by ultra-mean girl Chris Hargensen (Alison Thornton), they mock the terrified teen while pelting her with tampons. Glimpses of this disturbing event reveal that Flanagan has excised the scene’s nudity while adding a seismic update. As Carrie sobs in the shower stall, Chris and her friends film the breakdown with their phones.
Other scenes note the presence of social media, bringing King’s fifty-year-old story into the digital age.
Flanagan’s adaptation promises to explore the destructive power of social media, an often invisible entity with a potential for harm rivaling Carrie’s own powers. While King’s tormented heroine suffers in front of a small group of girls, Flanagan’s version of the incident will likely become a viral video, potentially circling the globe on social media. Similar to Katt Shea’s criminally underrated The Rage: Carrie 2, which includes elements of revenge porn exploitation, Flanagan’s modern retelling will distinguish itself by exploring the nebulous cruelty of online bullying, a force ten times more powerful than the irl pranks King first envisioned.
A Completely Reimagined White Family
In addition to modernizing these canon events, Flanagan hints at updates to Carrie’s oppressive upbringing at the hands of her mother, Margaret White (Samantha Sloyan). Dead before the novel begins, we never meet Carrie’s domineering father Ralph, known to carry a bible alongside his gun. Flanagan’s White household will be an altogether different beast. In his version of the story, Carrie and her mother have been hidden away in the unassuming home, forced out of hiding by Ralph’s unexpected death. Perhaps we will finally meet this elusive man whose shadow hangs over his wife and child. Considering the White family’s fundamentalist lifestyle, this reimagining hints at tradwife culture and a home ruled by staunch patriarchal control.
Whereas King’s Carrie has been tormented by her classmates since Kindergarten, Flanagan’s Carrie will be a wide-eyed newcomer to public school, eager to make friends and engage with her peers. We glimpse Carrie cozying up to Chris and the equally popular Sue Snell (Siena Agudong) as she navigates a new social scene. Of course, we know this kindness is part of an elaborate plot designed to lull Carrie into a false sense of camaraderie, setting up an atrocious act of public humiliation. These brief moments of feigned compassion put Sue’s own complicity into question. Will Flanagan’s version of the character find the courage to defend Carrie from vicious bullies or will she succumb to peer pressure and join in the mob mentality?
Perhaps the biggest deviation from King’s original text is the relationship between Carrie and her mother. King’s Margaret White is a horrifically abusive religious zealot whose worldview has been hardened by internalized misogyny. She shames Carrie for menstruating, locks her in a closet to “pray,” and regrets not killing her child in infancy. She’s also responsible for Carrie’s social ostracization. Known to berate her neighbors for their “sins,” Margaret forces her daughter to live by an extreme code of conduct and disallows any potential friends lest they corrupt the girl with their worldly ways.
Flanagan’s version of the character is perhaps just as much a victim as Carrie herself. Also trapped inside her home, his Margaret is overly vigilant, her own trauma manifesting as strict control. Describing a more sympathetic depiction of the iconic villain, Flanagan explains, “Our Margaret White is a woman who fiercely loves her daughter and wants to protect her from this world … [She] doesn’t know how to do that and thinks the way to protect her is to close her off; not punitively, but to create this private utopia.”
Despite this potential softening, Sloyan’s Margaret may still have a sharp edge. Though she has appeared in many Flanagan projects, from Hush (2016) to The Fall of the House of Usher (2023), she is best known for her role as the abhorrent Bev Keane in the poignant saga Midnight Mass (2021). Perhaps inspired by King’s Margaret White, Bev is pious and sadistic, willing to punish anyone who does not adhere to her warped approximation of Catholicism.
Flanagan specifically wrote Margaret with Sloyan in mind, likely remembering the actress’s eerie ability to create deceptive empathy and shift our allegiances on a dime.
Expanding Stephen King’s Telekinetic Universe
While most of King’s story deals with an unthinkable prom night in Chamberlain, Maine, large sections of the semi-epistolary novel see experts debating the nature of telekinesis. Do Carrie’s frightening abilities represent a new phase in human evolution or is the prom night carnage merely a fluke? King settles the debate with a shocking denouement in which a young mother recounts her infant daughter’s ability to dangle her crib toys in midair. We’re left to wonder if she will become another tormented girl who surprises the world with metaphysical strength.
Flanagan plans to build out this brief scene while amplifying themes of female empowerment. After introducing our main cast of characters, episode two will open with an unrelated story in which we meet another girl with the TK gene. Each subsequent chapter will expand this world, building out a roster of telekinetic young women. Considering King’s fondness for stories about powerful kids, often described as possessing “the shining,” Constant Readers will no doubt have their eyes peeled for various Easter Eggs nodding to the author’s vast catalogue.
Giving Carrie Her Own Voice
Perhaps the most striking distinction in Flanagan’s new trailer is the extent to which we hear Carrie’s voice. The sneak peek is fully narrated by the titular prom queen as she demands accountability. “I want to know why,” she explains while detailing Chris’ elaborate plan. Aside from the aforementioned coda, King’s book essentially ends with the aftermath of the prom night tragedy, leaving little time for Carrie to reflect. His shifting narrative does bring the reader into her fragile mind, though not before she’s been cowed by relentless cruelty. We watch Carrie sink into bloodthirsty revenge, but never hear a considered desire for justice or repair.
Flanagan’s original monologue allows Carrie to voice her pain and mourn the life she could have had. We’re also treated to a mug shot-style photo of Chris with a bruised and bandaged face, implying that the mean girl will have to answer for her senseless sadism.
Flanagan is known for filling his series adaptations with heartwrenching speeches that cut to the heart of his thematic intentions, and this teaser seems to follow suit. After years of fans, critics, and scholars analyzing Carrie’s pain, perhaps his modern retelling will offer the titular anti-hero a chance to finally speak for herself.
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