Main cast: Lincoln Maazel (Tateh Cuda), Christine Forrest (Christina), Elyane Nadeau (Abbie Santini), Tom Savini (Arthur), Sara Venable (Housewife Victim), Fran Middleto (Victim on the Train), Al Levitsky (Lewis), and John Amplas (Martin Mathias)
Director: George A Romero
In 1977, the same year Star Wars was winning the hearts of everyone under the sun, George A Romero—yes, the man who made zombies everyone’s go-to nightmare—came out with something rather…different.
Meet Martin, a film Mr Romero claimed as his favorite creation. No zombies here, though. Instead, Mr Romero sets his sights on reimagining the vampire trope. So, for anyone expecting flesh-eating hordes and collapsing social order, strap in. This one’s got one pale, socially awkward young man who believes he’s a vampire. Does it get better than that?
The story follows Martin Mathias, a gangly young guy who claims to be an 84-year-old vampire with a rather non-traditional approach to bloodsucking. No fangs, no capes, no Bela Lugosi theatrics; he just uses razor blades. Also, this “vampire” doesn’t even mind a bit of daylight! He’s about as far from Dracula as you can get, yet Martin somehow manages to hold onto his belief that he’s a bloodthirsty, centuries-old predator.
Despite his penchant for slicing and dicing his way to dinner, Martin becomes an unlikely star on a local radio show where he spills all his vampire confessions. Yes, folks, this is a horror flick where the vampire gets his five minutes of fame on FM radio.
If that’s not enough, Martin’s old-school, very superstitious uncle Cuda deserves a mention. Cuda is absolutely convinced that Martin is an honest-to-god Nosferatu who needs the holy crucifix routine, minus garlic bread. The tension between Martin’s warped view of himself as a vampire and Cuda’s zeal for ridding the family of this “demon” is both darkly hilarious and bizarrely compelling.
Then there’s the interesting matter of Martin’s, shall we say, romantic life. It seems every time he turns around, another woman takes an interest in him. It’s a little baffling since Martin is about as charming as a rainy Wednesday. There’s a level of creepy social awkwardness to Martin that brings to mind a certain breed of notorious serial killer… oh wait, Martin is one. Apparently, though, he has some mysterious allure, so maybe we should just chalk it up to the fact that some people do write love letters to death row inmates. Who are we to judge?
The acting is as understated as it is effective. John Amplas nails Martin’s eerie demeanor with a quiet, detached sort of intensity that makes the character memorable. The real magic, though, is in Romero’s direction and script. Martin manages to be unsettling without ever really turning into an over-the-top horror fest. It has this simmering tension that blends moments of dry comedy and genuine horror, never veering too far into either lane. This isn’t slapstick comedy, but there’s an undeniably humorous undercurrent, especially in how Martin’s interactions with the world feel off-kilter and surreal.
At its heart, Martin is more than just a horror film; it’s a study of alienation, identity, and the human psyche. Martin’s struggle with his “vampiric” impulses is a metaphor for feeling like an outsider, for grappling with urges and beliefs that society simply can’t understand. Mr Romero digs into questions about what’s real and what’s fantasy in a way that’s raw and unsettling. There’s a depth here that you don’t often find in horror movies, a look at the complexity of identity and morality that’s both thought-provoking and uncomfortable.
Martin may never achieve the mass appeal of Mr Romero’s endless … of the Dead series, but this film is a dark, hypnotic, and oddly relatable gem. It’s worth a watch and trust me—you’ll be glad you did. George A Romero’s most personal film shows us the horrors that come not from the supernatural, but from the mind of someone who feels utterly lost in his own skin.
