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Bloody Women

Bloody Women is a horror film journal committed to platforming viewpoints on horror cinema, TV and culture by women and non-binary writers.

Queer Blood: Vampirism as Teen Lesbian Expression

 
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By Anita Markoff

There aren’t a lot of films that represent teenage lesbian romances, but one area where they are shown in all their glory and gore is in vampire movies. This is unsurprising because these stories allow an exploration of forbidden desire while remaining in the realm of fantasy. Vampires have always represented transgressive desires, and although this is for human blood rather than sex with another girl, it makes sense that an association is formed with budding queer sexuality. Besides, the Gothic genre that vampires hail from has lots of associations with the feminine: billowing white nightgowns, strange apparitions, gloomy castles, and doubling of female characters have, for a long time, represented the perfect outlet for heightened emotions of teenage girls. 

The lesbian vampire has a rich history. Academic and author of Contemporary Women’s Gothic Fiction: Carnival, Hauntings and Vampire Kisses (2016), Gina Wisker, it dates back to Hungarian Countess Elizabeth who, according to legend, “bathed in the blood of over 600 virgins to remain youthful”. For women’s lib activist and author of Lesbian Gothic: Transgressive Fictions (1999), Paulina Palmer, it’s Countess Millarca Karnstein, the titular female protagonist featured in Joseph LeFanu’s ‘Carmilla’. What’s interesting about how the concept has taken shape as it’s been introduced into modern cinema, in a variety of films that range from historical drama to teen flick, is how similarly all these teenage girls experience the first rush of discovering their sexuality and enact their lesbian desires. Specific examples that share common tropes around this figure include Emily Harris’ Carmilla (2019), Mar Harron’s The Moth Diaries (2011), and Mark Water’s Vampire Academy (2014).

These lesbian vampire films feature two central girls: a gutsy brunette who is the protagonist, and the blonde centre of her attention. This adds a kind of Mean Girls (2004) atmosphere to the films (also directed by Mark Waters) tapping into the cultural idea of the desirable young blonde girl whose friends want to be or be with her. All three suggest lesbian relationships often manifest during puberty, beginning as obsessive close friendships before turning into something more sexual. While the trope dates much further back than these examples and, in some TV inspiring instances, even includes their hunters, as with Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992), all represent vampires as a taboo desire that allows teenage girls to explore their sexuality.

Carmilla is the film situated the furthest in the past, in a period where both fancying other girls and having fangs is taboo. While this film did fall a little flat due to some wooden performances and dialogue, it is still a good example of the way teenage lesbian relationships with a bite play out on screen. The relationship does not even become physical until past the halfway mark. In true Gothic and lesbian fashion, the romance between Carmilla (Devrim Lingnau) and Lara (Hannah Rae) is initially hinted at by many shots of the girls whispering, exchanging longing glances in the mirror, creeping around the house at night by candlelight in their trademark white nightgowns, Carmilla wearing Lara’s clothes, and big, breathy sighs. They have a good reason to conduct their relationship in secrecy, because it is playing out in the 18th century, where anything can be perceived as an evil passion, from reading strange books to daydreaming. Lara’s perceived deviance is hinted at from the start, in a close-up of her left hand being bound. Her attempts to break free of the restrictions placed on her body eventually progress from being taught how to faint by Carmilla, to them kissing blood off each other’s lips under the childish pretence of being ‘blood sisters’. However, the romantic relationship between Lara and Carmilla has to contend with homophobia from the household staff. 

All three films take the challenges queer girls face seriously, whether they come from their classmates, governess, or inside their own minds. Religious ideals perceived queer people as sick and unnatural, and Carmilla and The Moth Diaries visualise that fear by having the human lesbian literally sickened by the relationship, growing pale and tired, and experiencing a loss of appetite, as her vampiric, predatory double grows stronger. Vampire Academy takes a less symbolic approach, displaying how homophobic bullying can spread at boarding school, with Rose Hathaway (Zoey Deutch) mocked by her peers and even her best friend Lissa (Lucy Fry) for sharing blood while they were on the run. Although Lissa was more than happy to take Rose’s blood in private - diving into her best friend’s neck with relish – she feels ashamed when they are back at school and her classmates smirk, “You and Rose all alone on the road… you know, I have my theories.” Feeding is seen as a sexual act in this universe, marking adolescent appetites. And once the vampire boys at the academy react to Rose’s bite - similarly to how boys at school react to finding out you are not a virgin - the girls distance themselves from each other and seek out straight relationships to prove they are not weird. 

The Moth Diaries features more of a love triangle, and protagonist Rebecca (Sarah Bolger) tries to take a similar approach. She is completely infatuated with her best friend Lucy (Sarah Gadon) and jealous of her vampire girlfriend Ernessa (Lily Cole). Lucy’s affections switching from Rebecca to Ernessa is shown through the film’s framing and cinematography. In one pivotal scene there is a close-up on Rebecca’s hands lovingly braiding Lucy’s hair to the sound of upbeat pop music, only for a focus pull to reveal Ernessa in the background, quite literally getting in between them. Lucy abandons the hairdo and goes over to Ernessa instead, sitting close to hear, and leaning over to ask what she is reading flirtatiously. The camera then pulls focus again to show Rebecca, who is now the one in the background, looking forlorn. She becomes obsessed with Ernessa and Lucy’s relationship, initially wanting it for herself, but then believing their sexual consummation is what is jeopardising Lucy’s health. She begs Ernessa to give Lucy up, saying she will do the same, if that is what will heal her. 

These vampire films aimed at teenage girls are some of the few to actually display lesbian love and sex on screen, but even in a fantasy environment they reflect the harsh reality many young lesbians face while going through puberty. These movies use the supernatural to demonstrate fears of ostracization or young queer girls seeing their own passions as monstrous. Hopefully in the future there will be space for more films where teenage lesbians, vampires or not, are able to explore sexuality and romance and lust for the first time on screen without passion turning to dread, and the film ending with a harsh bite. 


Anita Markoff is a freelance journalist and published poet, who is currently living in the blustery centre of Scotland. Any fragments of free time are spent watching lesbian films or horror films or even better, a mix of both. Her favourite films all seem to include a club sequence with blue or red lighting where people are dancing and laughing to indescribably sad music (Victoria, Water Lilies, Nina, Thelma). Outside of film and writing her only sustainable interests are astrology and Charli XCX, who he frequently tweets about alongside obscure film jokes at @rozaem17. Letterbox handle is also @rozaem17


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