Part vampire, part human. All edge.
Some mofos are always trying to ice skate uphill.
Back in ‘73, writer Marv Wolfman and artist Gene Colan introduced the Daywalker in issue 10 of Marvel’s moody Tomb of Dracula comic. While the character’s roots weren’t far removed from the era’s blaxploitation mould of Shaft or Superfly, the sharp edges were obviously filed down for kiddie-friendly code-approved audiences. Enter director Stephen Norrington, whose 1998 adaptation resharpened that edge to cut out a slick, bloody swath of gothic techno futurism. This is a pure expression 90s noir, and like the titular character, it’s cool, calm, and collected.
Wesley Snipes didn’t just play Blade – he is Blade. His portrayal is minimalist and magnetic, a man of few words who lets his sword and stoic sun-glassy glare do most of the talking. And boy does he not have time for your shit. Meanwhile, in terms of dramatis personae, Stephen Dorff’s Deacon Frost is a creature of uncut arrogance, a snearing monster slacker who basks in the chaos he creates. Udo Kier, Kris Kristopherson and N’Bushe Wright are all pitch perfect, but the standout is Donal Logue’s manic overcaffeinated henchman energy. He’s properly despicable.
The film is gorgeous. Blade’s world feels tactile – leather creaks, steel glints, and blood splatters like it’s meant to stain. It’s all amplified by the action choreography, which stays grounded in martial precision even as it leans into the spectacle. Kicking vampire ass never looked so good.
Case and point, that iconic opening meat-market rave. Vampires and techno, two things that felt dangerously overdone by the end of the 90s, but somehow, Blade manages to successfully crash that party. Blood rains from the sprinklers as New Order’s Confusion remix (kudos to whoever dug that one out of their catalog) pounds through the speakers, and Snipes enters like a spectre of death. It’s a scene that’s burned into the genre’s DNA, setting the stage for explosively dusty undead dispatches for the next decade. Come to think of it, the soundtrack, as much a character as Blade himself, it’s top-shelf excellent.
Blade wasn’t trying to save the superhero genre, but in hindsight, it sorta did. Comic movies were getting written off in the wake of Batman & Robin’ campy shark jump – and while it would take a decade of R&D to get us to the MCU – Blade took the gritted teeth and leather of its time and carved out something entirely fresh – a character study in coolness that wasn’t afraid to cut into its nerdy comic book lore. That kicked the door wide open for the next wave costumed crimefighters.
Guillermo del Toro’s excellent sequel may have leaned into the gothic horror elements a bit more, but Norrington’s vision set the tone: a Daywalker who doesn’t care if the world’s watching, as long as the job gets done.
And done it gets. -Pop