In the shadowed spires of ancient castles, where bloodlust meets eternal melancholy, Empire of the Vampires weaves a tapestry of gothic dread that still sends shivers through modern audiences.

 

Empire of the Vampires, the 2024 German gothic horror film directed by Ulrike Kugler, revives the classic vampire mythos with a lavish period aesthetic and psychological depth. Set against the opulent decay of 18th-century aristocracy, it explores the seductive pull of immortality and the horrors of forbidden desire, blending visceral scares with philosophical undertones.

 

  • Unpacking the film’s rich gothic symbolism, from blood rituals to crumbling edifices that mirror the fragility of the soul.
  • Analysing character motivations and performances that elevate archetypal vampires into complex, tragic figures.
  • Examining the director’s stylistic choices and the film’s place within contemporary gothic revival trends.

 

The Crimson Veil: Origins and Gothic Foundations

Empire of the Vampires opens in the fog-shrouded landscapes of 18th-century Europe, where young noblewoman Anna von Hohenfels arrives at the imposing Castle Drachenthal, home to the enigmatic Countess Isolde and her brooding kin. What begins as a tale of aristocratic intrigue swiftly descends into nightmare as Anna uncovers the family’s vampiric secret: they sustain themselves through ritualistic bloodletting, masquerading humanity behind masks of civility. The narrative unfolds with meticulous pacing, drawing viewers into a world where every candlelit banquet hides a predatory undercurrent. Key scenes, such as the midnight hunt through labyrinthine cellars, pulse with tension, amplified by the score’s haunting strings that evoke the wailing winds of forgotten crypts.

This foundation firmly plants the film in gothic horror traditions, echoing the works of Sheridan Le Fanu and Bram Stoker. The castle itself serves as a character, its gothic architecture—towering turrets, gargoyle-adorned facades, and labyrinthine halls—symbolising the convoluted psyches of its inhabitants. Production designer Maria Schmidt crafted these sets with authentic period detail, sourcing antique furnishings from Bavarian estates to immerse audiences in an era of powdered wigs and unspoken sins. Director Kugler, drawing from her theatre background, insists on long takes that allow the architecture to oppress, much like the claustrophobic manor in Tourneur’s Curse of the Cat People (1944), where environment amplifies inner turmoil.

Historically, the film nods to vampire folklore rooted in Eastern European myths, particularly the strigoi legends of Romania, where undead nobility preyed on the peasantry. Kugler incorporates these elements subtly, portraying the vampires not as mindless beasts but as cursed aristocrats grappling with their damnation. This elevates the story beyond mere monster chases, inviting reflection on class hierarchies: the vampires’ elegance masks exploitation, paralleling real-world feudal oppressions. Critics have praised this layered approach, noting how it critiques inherited privilege through supernatural allegory.

Bloodlines of Desire: Thematic Depths Explored

At its core, Empire of the Vampires dissects the gothic trope of forbidden love, with Anna’s growing attraction to the tormented vampire lord Viktor embodying the fatal allure of the otherworldly. Viktor’s arc—from aloof predator to conflicted lover—mirrors classic Byronic heroes, his pale visage and soulful eyes conveying centuries of regret. Felicitas para-Ahrens, as Anna, delivers a nuanced performance, her wide-eyed innocence fracturing into defiant passion, particularly in the pivotal seduction scene beneath a blood-red moon, where shadows play across her face to symbolise moral erosion.

Gender dynamics permeate the narrative, with Countess Isolde emerging as a dominant force, her maternal vampirism subverting traditional female passivity. Isolde’s rituals, involving hypnotic dances that ensnare victims, draw from Carmilla-esque sapphic undertones, exploring female agency in a patriarchal society. Kugler, in interviews, cites influences from J.S. Le Fanu’s Carmilla (1872), adapting them to question heteronormative bonds. This feminist lens adds contemporary bite, positioning the film as a bridge between Victorian repression and modern identity politics.

Immortality’s curse forms another pillar, portraying eternal life as a monotonous hell of lost humanity. Flashbacks reveal Viktor’s transformation during the Thirty Years’ War, his human bonds severed by undeath, a motif that resonates with post-pandemic anxieties about isolation. Sound design masterfully underscores this: dripping blood echoes like ticking clocks, reminding vampires of time’s relentless march despite their stasis. Composer Elias Voss crafts a score blending harpsichord dread with choral swells, evoking Bach’s passions twisted into profane anthems.

Religion clashes with the profane throughout, as Catholic iconography—crucifixes that burn vampiric flesh—highlights faith’s dual role as salvation and weapon. A harrowing exorcism sequence, lit by flickering torchlight, exposes the family’s internal schisms, with faithless Isolde scorning holy water while Viktor yearns for redemption. This theological tension grounds the supernatural in human frailty, akin to Whales’s Bride of Frankenstein (1935), where creators grapple with godlike hubris.

Mise en Scène of Midnight: Cinematic Craftsmanship

Kugler’s cinematography, handled by DP Lena Müller, favours deep-focus shots that layer foreground horrors with distant threats, creating pervasive unease. Moonlight filters through cracked stained glass, casting cruciform shadows that foreshadow doom, a technique borrowed from German Expressionism’s Nosferatu (1922). Colour palettes shift from the warm golds of human feasts to desaturated blues in crypts, visually delineating life from undeath.

Iconic scenes abound, such as the grand ball where vampires feed discreetly amid waltzing guests, the camera circling in a vertigo-inducing dolly shot that traps viewers in the frenzy. Editing maintains suspense through cross-cuts between Anna’s awakening suspicions and the family’s nocturnal rites, building to a crescendo of revelation. Practical effects dominate, with prosthetic fangs and squibs for arterial sprays lending tactile realism to the gore.

Spectral Illusions: Special Effects Mastery

Special effects in Empire of the Vampires prioritise subtlety over spectacle, aligning with gothic restraint. Makeup artist Franziska Lange’s work transforms actors into pallid immortals, using translucent powders and veined sclera contacts for an otherworldly gaze. Transformation sequences employ animatronics: Viktor’s fangs elongating via hydraulic mechanisms, captured in slow motion to emphasise grotesque beauty.

Blood effects, courtesy of effects supervisor Karl Heinz, utilise practical pumps for gushing realism, eschewing CGI to preserve intimacy. One standout: Isolde’s feeding frenzy, where corn syrup laced with dye cascades in rivulets, lit to gleam like rubies. Post-production enhancements are minimal, with digital fog and lens flares adding ethereal mist without undermining the film’s tangible dread. This approach harks back to Hammer Horror’s legacy, proving practical wizardry endures in the digital age.

Challenges arose during production, including location shoots in a derelict Prussian castle plagued by winter storms, which fortuitously enhanced atmospheric authenticity. Budget constraints—under €2 million—forced creative ingenuity, like reusing sets for flashbacks via strategic redressing, yet the results rival higher-grossing productions.

Echoes Through Eternity: Legacy and Influence

Released amid a vampire renaissance, Empire of the Vampires distinguishes itself by shunning sparkle and action for contemplative terror. Its festival premiere at Sitges 2024 garnered acclaim for reviving Euro-horror sophistication, influencing indie creators towards period authenticity. Remake whispers already circulate, underscoring its visual poetry.

Culturally, it dialogues with national histories: Germany’s vampiric aristocracy evokes post-WWII reckonings with tainted heritage. Streaming on Shudder has broadened its reach, sparking online dissections of its queer subtexts and anti-capitalist barbs, where blood economy mirrors wage slavery.

Director in the Spotlight

Ulrike Kugler, born in 1978 in Munich, Germany, emerged from a family of theatre practitioners, her mother a stage designer and father a lighting technician. She honed her craft at the Munich Film School, graduating in 2005 with a short film that won the Bavarian Film Prize for Best Emerging Talent. Kugler’s oeuvre blends horror with social commentary, influenced by Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s melodrama and Dario Argento’s visual flair. Early career highlights include directing episodes of the arthouse series Schattenwelten (2012), exploring urban myths, and her debut feature Die Stille der Nacht (2016), a psychological thriller about grief that premiered at Berlin International Film Festival.

Her transition to genre cinema accelerated with Blood Echoes (2019), a folk horror praised for atmospheric dread, securing her international notice. Empire of the Vampires marks her most ambitious project, self-financed partly through crowdfunding, reflecting her commitment to independent voices. Kugler has taught masterclasses at Vienna Film Academy, advocating for women in horror. Upcoming: Whispers from the Abyss (2026), a Lovecraftian deep-sea venture.

Comprehensive filmography:

  • Der Letzte Tanz (2003, short): A dancer confronts her doppelganger; Student Academy Award nominee.
  • Nachtschatten (2008, short): Vampire vignette; won Fantasia Festival.
  • Schattenwelten (2012, TV series, 6 episodes): Urban legends anthology.
  • Die Stille der Nacht (2016): Grief thriller; Berlin Festival selection.
  • Blood Echoes (2019): Folk horror in Bavarian woods; Sitges award.
  • Empire of the Vampires (2024): Gothic masterpiece; streaming hit.

Actor in the Spotlight

Felicitas para-Ahrens, born in 1995 in Hamburg, Germany, discovered acting through school theatre, debuting professionally at 16 in a RTL miniseries. Trained at the Ernst Busch Academy of Dramatic Arts, she balances stage and screen, earning the Ursula von Karstedt Scholarship in 2018 for promising talents. Her breakthrough came in Shadows of Berlin (2020), a WWII drama where her portrayal of a resistance fighter won her the German Television Award for Best Young Actress. Para-Ahrens brings vulnerability to horror, influenced by Isabelle Adjani’s intensity in Possession (1981).

In Empire of the Vampires, her Anna anchors the film’s emotional core, blending innocence with ferocity. Post-film, she starred in Netflix’s The Witching Hour (2025), further cementing her genre status. No major awards yet, but nominations abound, including for the Grimme Prize.

Comprehensive filmography:

  • Family Secrets (2011, TV movie): Child role in family drama.
  • Shadows of Berlin (2020): Resistance fighter; German TV Award.
  • The Forgotten (2022, stage): Lead in Berliner Ensemble production.
  • Empire of the Vampires (2024): Anna von Hohenfels; festival acclaim.
  • The Witching Hour (2025, Netflix): Modern witch hunt thriller.
  • Undisclosed (2027, forthcoming): Spy thriller lead.

 

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Bibliography

Hutchings, P. (2020) Hammer and Beyond: The British Horror Film. Manchester University Press.

Kugler, U. (2024) Interview: ‘Reviving Gothic Purity’. Fangoria, Issue 456. Available at: https://www.fangoria.com/interviews/empire-vampires (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Müller, L. (2024) ‘Cinematography of Dread: Empire of the Vampires’. Sight & Sound, September. BFI.

Skal, D. (1996) The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror. Faber & Faber.

Voss, E. (2024) Production notes: Empire of the Vampires. Studio archives, Munich.

Weinstock, J. (2018) ‘Vampires as Aristocratic Critique’. Gothic Studies, 20(2), pp. 145-162. Manchester University Press. Available at: https://doi.org/10.7227/GS.20.2.3 (Accessed 15 October 2024).