Director: Adam Sherman
Writer: Adam Sherman
Stars: Mena Suvari, Dichen Lachman, Sarah Dumont
Synopsis: A coven of vampires is hunting on dating apps where they meet vampire hunters and schedule dates. The nights that unfold are action-packed modern horror madness.
What makes vampire films engaging is that each director who is up to the task of bringing a new undead story into the world has their own take. From the style of fangs, their immortal powers, and their in-universe rules. Over the last several years, there’s been a rise in movies about vampires, from 2025’s Nosferatu and even this year’s Dracula: A Love Tale, but none are as outrageously unique as Vampires of the Velvet Lounge. And for better or worse, the low-budget horror film is entertaining, no matter how cringeworthy it can be —Just think of it as if Van Helsing and Sin City had a love child.
Vampires of the Velvet Lounge brings Elizabeth Báthory to life, famously known for bathing in the blood of her victims in the late 1500s to early 1600s. Yes, she was a real person, one who died in imprisonment, but writer and director Adam Sherman rewrites her history, placing her in the modern day as a sultry vampire who, at this point, is hundreds of years old. She simply goes by Elizabeth (Mena Suvari). She spends her nights partying in her vampire lair that doubles as a bar open to the public, while she and Joan (India Eisley), her fellow vampire, lure both men and women into their grasp through online dating.
Elizabeth opens the film meeting up with Eric (Timothy V. Murphy), an older man she had been flirting with online. He is belly up to the bar drinking absinthe. Unbeknownst to him, it also makes him more susceptible to vampire illusions and lowers his senses, making those who consume it see vampires as green fairies. When Eric begins to get frustrated that Elizabeth is standing him up, he leaves. Stumbling down the street outside of the bar, Eric sees a green fairy before him who sinks their fangs into him, drinking deeply from his neck. Even with some shoddy VFX work showing how fast this film’s vampires are, and the green haze that Elizabeth appears as to Eric, it’s enough to keep you wondering what happens next.
It’s not long before Elizabeth and her handful of other centuries-old vampires get on the radar of hunters: detective Cora (Dichen Lachman) and her team of fellow vampire slayers. Cora narrates her inner thoughts to us during her scenes like a homage to film noir, but it’s rather distracting because Lachman doubles down on the vocal fry compared to her spoken dialogue with other characters. But it adds to the silliness of it all, and that’s where most of Vampires of the Velvet Lounge comes from—not taking the film seriously. Elizabeth and Cora cross paths on a dating site, Cora trying her best to attract the historic serial killer.
Cora is stubborn and often comes across as depressed, but she’s good at her job. So when she’s told that backup won’t arrive on time to help take down this nest of vampires, she has to do it herself. When Vampires of the Velvet Lounge focuses on this sapphic story, it’s at its best, even when the acting is distracting. But Sherman diverts from this plotline often, choosing to invite more characters into this story. In particular, we are introduced to Ramsey (Stephen Dorff), an attorney who hitches a weekend trip with his client, who is in a blooming online fling with Joan. She invites him to the masquerade at Elizabeth’s bar, but this side story is rather pointless and seemingly exists to put Dorff in fangs again. Their inclusion is forced, serving solely as vessels to explain how sexual desires don’t exist in the same way for Sherman’s vampires. It’s a problem the script falls into more than a few times—telling rather than showing.
For those willing to match the film’s energy, it’s a fun watch with plenty of blood-soaked scenes. From mangled bodies stuck under the metal workings of a car to bathtubs filled with the blood gushing from freshly decapitated bodies. It’s excessive, but for a vampire film, it totally rules. Paired with the unique powers that Sherman chose, his vampires feel perfectly supernatural, with their large outstretched wings as they prey on humans and their ability to shatter glass with their voice. The most unique is how he portrays their ability to use persuasion: with a simple pointed command to their victim, vampires can make seemingly anyone do anything they want, even with simple gestures like blowing a kiss to a packed dance floor.
What really holds Vampires of the Velvet Lounge back is how poorly some of these characters are portrayed. It would be easy enough to get over the lack of budget and early 2000s–esque clunky VFX if there was a clear understanding of whether this film intends to come across as spoofy as it does. Some moments between Joan and her internet lover are heartfelt, leaning toward a genuine interest in being a romance. But these more serious points are usually followed up with something outlandish, like Elizabeth running over a happy couple, with their bodies literally exploding like their stomachs were full of dynamite.
Fortunately, the film has a saving grace with Suvari, who matches the campiness required to make Sherman’s vampire flick worth sinking your teeth into. She’s having a blast playing a version of such an iconic female serial killer, clad in skin-tight leather and long red hair, teetering between a thirst for blood and having to be the responsible leader of her group of undead. Making it hard to sit through scenes where she’s not involved. Surprisingly, the soundtrack keeps the film’s momentum going alongside Suvari’s seductive aura. It drives home the film’s noir aspects and helps create the film’s distinct grindhouse atmosphere.
For those looking for a silver bullet of hyper-sexual, low-budget vampire fun, Vampires of the Velvet Lounge will have your name all over it, bringing out the most supernatural and alluring aspects of vampirism and a killer lead performance. But when it drifts from a tense sapphic attraction between predator and prey, it becomes far less interesting.
