Editorial
The Rise, Fall, and Glorious, Gory Return of Practical Effects in Horror
Let’s establish something up front: I am not an impartial journalist on this topic. I have opinions. Strong ones. I grew up watching films where the monster was a thing you could touch. Something that existed in a room with the actors, something that bled fake blood across a real floor. I am constitutionally incapable of treating the CGI in Van Helsing (2004) as a neutral artistic choice, instead of a crime against cinema. Those creatures looked like they were rendered on a laptop someone left in a hot car, and no amount of time or therapy is going to make me pretend otherwise.
But we’ll get there.
The story of practical effects in horror is not just a technical history, it’s a moral one. It’s about what we owe the audience. What a filmmaker risks versus what they outsource. And what happens, every single time, when the industry forgets that fear lives in the body, not the browser.
The Golden Age: Blood, Latex, and Absolute Madness (1970sโ80s)

Before the discourse, there was just the craft.
The seventies and eighties produced a generation of effects artists who belonged in the same sentence as any director they worked for. Tom Savini. Rick Baker. Stan Winston. Rob Bottin. These weren’t technicians, they were auteurs with foam latex and corn syrup instead of cameras. Savini put it plainly: “[Effects] were the stars of the movies. When you watched Friday the 13th, you really didn’t remember anybody that was in the movie. You just remembered the great kills.” He wasn’t wrong. Jason Voorhees was a cultural event. The kills were the mythology.
Rick Baker’s An American Werewolf in London (1981) won the first-ever Academy Award for Best Makeup. A category that only existed because Baker’s work was too extraordinary to ignore. Seven wins followed over a career that Baker eventually ended on his own terms, having grown tired of an industry demanding speed over quality. His exit line: “I like to do things right, and they wanted cheap and fast.” Read that again. Memorize it. You’ll need it later.
This is the golden rule that the next era promptly forgot.
The Fall: The CGI Gold Rush and Its Discontents (1990sโ2000s)

Here’s where I have to be fair, which I resent.
CGI was, genuinely, a miracle. Jurassic Park (1993) changed cinema in ways that were not hyperbole. The T-Rex moved like an animal. The velociraptors had weight. Spielberg’s team combined practical and digital work so seamlessly that audiences couldn’t find the seam, and that was the point. The technology arrived as a collaborator, not a replacement.
Then Hollywood noticed the profit margins.
Digital effects were faster and, once you absorbed the software costs, cheaper to scale than building a creature rig that required a team of twelve puppeteers and a refrigerator full of glycerin. Studios started treating CGI less like a tool and more like a permission slip. Permission to skip the craft, rush the schedule, and let post-production fix everything. Horror, a genre that had always thrived on physical immediacy, was suddenly full of creatures that looked like video game cutscenes having a rough day.
The discourse around this is well-documented, but the poster child is Van Helsing (2004), a film so bloated with digital effects that its monsters, Dracula, Frankenstein’s creation, a werewolf, looked like they were projected onto the screen from a separate dimension where physics didn’t apply. Critics weren’t being snobbish. The CGI simply wasn’t finished yet. Early-aughts digital effects aged faster than milk left in a parking lot, and horror paid a specific price for it. You cannot be scared of something that doesn’t appear to exist.
As we have talked about before, even beloved practical-era productions had their catastrophes. However, those failures were human failures, which is somehow more forgivable. A latex arm that didn’t articulate right is embarrassing. A CGI monster that looks like a screensaver is alienating. One pulls you out of a film; the other makes you question why you bought a ticket.
CGI’s advantages are real and worth naming honestly: it allows filmmakers to shoot things that cannot be built. It scales. It can be revised. For scope, cityscapes, cosmic horror, armies of the supernatural, digital is not just useful, it’s necessary. The mistake wasn’t using CGI. It was using it instead of practical effects rather than alongside them.
The Nadir: When Horror Forgot It Was Supposed to Feel Like Something (Mid-2000sโEarly 2010s)

The lowest point arrived quietly. Horror didn’t go away, it just stopped feeling physical. The genre filled with digital blood that splashed wrong, CGI demons that flickered through scenes without disturbing the air, haunted houses full of digital apparitions that looked like they’d been added in post because the director couldn’t figure out where to put them. Audiences noticed, even when they couldn’t articulate why. Something about a computer-generated effect reads as safe to the human brain. We evolved to fear things that can touch us.
Rick Baker retired in 2015, citing exactly this cultural shift. He wasn’t alone. An entire generation of practical effects artists found their work deprioritized by studios that had decided digital was simply the future, full stop.
They were wrong.
The Return: The Genre Remembers Its Body (Mid-2010sโPresent)

The new wave of gore creators doing their work online is part of a broader cultural reckoning. A generation raised on the golden age of practical horror who grew up and started making things with their hands. The alchemy was already happening in independent and arthouse horror long before studios caught on. The Witch (2015). Hereditary (2018). Midsommar (2019). Films that used practical effects not for nostalgia but because they understood a fundamental truth. When the camera is looking at something real, the actor responds to something real, and that transaction is visible on screen in ways no digital composite can replicate.
The argument crystallized in 2024 with The Substance, Coralie Fargeat’s body horror masterpiece that deployed practical effects on a scale and intensity that recalled the best of the golden age. CineD’s breakdown of the in-camera effects work details a production with over 100 shooting days, prosthetics teams working across multiple units, and puppetry sequences requiring up to six operators underneath the set. Fargeat was unambiguous about why. “It’s really a movie about our bodies and about the reality of how we feel in our bodies,” she told Dread Central. “I needed to speak to the reality of the way our flesh can reflect our mental deformation, and I knew this had to exist for real.”
And it isn’t alone. In a Violent Nature 2 just dropped its first look, promising, per the production itself, “more kills, more blood, more iconic,” continuing the first film’s commitment to practical gore that left audiences simultaneously repulsed and in genuine awe. Director Mike Dougherty, who has navigated both approaches throughout his career, has acknowledged the tradeoff with characteristic bluntness: “With practical, you move 10 times slower. I think the effect is worth it.”
That’s it. That’s the whole argument, in one sentence.
So Where Does That Leave Us?

Here’s what I actually believe, stripped of the tribalism that tends to attach itself to this debate: CGI and practical effects are not enemies. The best modern horror, Evil Dead Rise, Talk to Me, The Substance, uses them in tandem, letting digital work amplify and extend what was built practically, not replace it. The anchor is real. The weight is real. The digital layer serves the thing that was physically there.
The golden age artists understood something we keep having to relearn, horror is a physical experience. It is felt in the chest and the stomach and the back of the throat. Achieving that feeling requires the audience to believe, on some cellular level, that what they’re watching has mass and consequence.
You can render a monster in a computer. You cannot render the weight of something that actually existed in a room.
Editorial
Sleepaway Camp Knew Before I Did: The Legacy Johnathan Tiersten Left on Queer Media
Jonathan Tiersten died May 5 at his home in New Jersey. He was 60. He played Ricky Thomas in Sleepaway Camp, and I want to explain why a very specific group of people is taking this one harder than a 1983 summer camp slasher would usually warrant.
What The Film Means To Me

I am trans. That goes on the table first because nothing else I am about to say makes any sense without it.
I have been showing Sleepaway Camp to people since I was eleven years old. Everyone who mattered to me has sat through it. Friends who thought slashers were beneath them, partners who loved me enough to watch things they would never have chosen, my teenagers.
I give the same speech before every single viewing. Something is going to happen in the last few minutes, I tell them, and whatever your first reaction is, please sit with it for a moment before you say it out loud. Not because the reaction is wrong. Because there is almost always a second reaction underneath it and that is the one I am actually interested in.
What The Film Actually Is

Robert Hiltzik made a low-budget slasher set at a summer camp. Angela Baker is strange and barely verbal and is tormented by basically everyone around her while her cousin Ricky tries to run interference. The ending reveals that Angela was born Peter, that her father died when she was small, and that the aunt who took her in had always wanted a girl and simply decided Peter would become one.
Angela did not choose any of this. Not her name, not her clothes, not the gender she was made to perform in front of every single person she encountered every single day. And after years of living inside something she never chose, the pressure found somewhere to go.
That Ending

The transness is framed as the horror, as the explanation for the violence, and there is nothing there any trans person would hold up as a victory for representation. I understand all of that.
But I was eleven when I first watched it, and what I heard underneath everything it was trying to do was something nobody was trying to say. If you force someone to live as the wrong thing long enough, they will eventually stop being able to contain what that costs them. The film turned that into a monster story. I recognized it as a thing I had been trying to explain to myself without having the words for it yet.
Trans Representation In Pop Culture
For context, consider what came the year after. Ace Ventura: Pet Detective came out in 1994 and its treatment of a trans character is a two-minute sequence of Jim Carrey vomiting, using a plunger on his own face, burning his clothes, and sobbing under running water upon learning he had kissed her. The joke is that she is contamination.
My classmates quoted this film back at me for years. That was what mainstream culture had decided trans people were good for, and it went more or less unchallenged for a long time. Angela Baker, for all of Sleepaway Camp’s genuine limitations, is the protagonist of her entire film. Her history is the engine of the whole story. She is not a punchline. She is why the movie exists.
Trans representation in horror has never been particularly good, and I am not about to argue Sleepaway Camp is the exception. What I will say is that it accidentally told the truth in the middle of trying to do something else entirely, and horror films that stumble into the truth are still telling the truth. I have built twenty-five years of love for this movie on that.
Ricky

Ricky is most of the reason I keep coming back, which brings us to Jonathan Tiersten. He played Ricky as someone who never needed to understand Angela in order to be fully in her corner. He does not study her. He does not puzzle her out, he just shows up every time with the kind of furious loyalty that does not require an explanation because the explanation is right there. He loves his cousin, and he is not going to stand there while the world is unkind to her. That is not a complicated thing to put on screen. It is also rarer on screen than it should be.
Tiersten reprised the role in Return to Sleepaway Camp in 2008 and kept working in independent horror until the end. His most famous performance is forty-five minutes of a teenager planting himself between his cousin and everything the world wanted to do to her, and for some of us who grew up watching this film, that was the first time we saw someone treat that as simply the obvious right thing to do.
It was an answer to a question I had not yet figured out how to ask.
Editorial
HHN35, Jack vs Oddfellow: Place Your Bets!
Halloween Horror Nights is back for its 35th installment at Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida as the Infernal Carnival of Nightmares!
Over the years HHN has proven original houses draw as much of a crowd, if not more, as the intellectual property (IP) houses based off of established horror movies.
Leading each year of fear and headlining some of these original houses includes some of the most beloved and iconic characters. These icons include; Jack the Clown, The Caretaker, The Director, Chance, Dr. Oddfellow, The Usher, Lady Luck, and The Storyteller.
This year Orlandoโs convention MegaCon had a highly anticipated and attended panel focused on Universal Studioโs Halloween Horror Nights 35. The masterminds speaking of the 35th year celebration included Michael Aiello, Lora Sauls, and Charles Gray. The creators teased the landmark year to salivating fans.ย ย

Gaged by the audienceโs reaction as each icon was reminisced about and displayed on the panelโs screen were Jack and Oddfellow. Here it was announced to the fanatical audience that these two icons will be returning to lead Halloween Horror Nights into its upcoming year!
Bring in the Clown!
Jack the Clown, born Jack Schmidt, is an icon created by Universal Studios for Halloween Horror Nights. Jack made his debut during the Halloween eventโs tenth year in 2000. He immediately won over attendees and became a fan favorite. His popularity grew so much that he has reappeared again and again in many of the Halloween Horror Nights events.

Jack has been featured in three of the five Universal parks that have hosted HHN; Orlando, Hollywood, and Singapore. He has even claimed a spot in Universal Horror Unleashed.ย
Unleashed is a haunted attraction residing in Las Vegas that offers a fully immersive experience for guests. Unlike Halloween Horror Nights, this attraction is open year round! Universal Horror Unleashed features haunted houses, live entertainment, and themed bars and dining.

Here Jack stalks guests year round with his mistress in mayhem, Chance.
Jackโs History
In the late 1800s Jack was born with his brother Eddie inside the walls of Shady Brook Rest Home and Sanitarium. Jack escaped and ran away with the circus, leaving his poor and abusive family behind.
However, it was soon apparent he was not the jolly, entertaining clown he convinced his carnival spectators of.

Jack was a child murderer. As the traveling sideshow made its way through the southern states, a trail of abductions and disappearances followed. This attracted unwanted attention from federal authorities.
As the feds closed in, the clown disclosed his murderous ways to his employer, carnival owner Dr. Oddfellow. As the star attraction of the circus he hoped Oddfellow would hide him. However, the doctor was a man with his own sordid past with the law. He decided the best plan of action would be to cut ties with Jack, for good.
The circus owner had Jack Schmidt murdered, but not before the clown gave Oddfellow his trademark facial scar. A scar none of Oddfellowโs dark magic could erase.
Always the showman, Oddfellow decided Jackโs time in his show had not yet come to an end. Not even in death. The carnival owner hid Jackโs body, in addition to the thirteen children the clown had killed, inside his House of Horrors.
The Doctor is In!
Just like Jack โThe Clownโ Schmidt, Dr. Rich Oddfellow has a very long and evil history. He was introduced to Halloween Horror Nights in 2000, the same year as Jack. However, unlike the menacing clown, the doctor did not rise to instant fame.

Finally the Doctor found his time in the fog and in 2023 he was established as an icon of HHN.
Oddfellowโs History
Dr. Oddfellow is the notorious, darkly charismatic sideshow owner of Dr. Oddfellowโs Carnival of Thrills. He employed Jack Schmidt, the murderous clown who claimed the lives of at least 13 children. However, the clown was not the only member of the circus who had evil intentions.
Oddfellow was an evil sorcerer, and preyed upon his unsuspecting spectators from town to town. Using the souls of his victims, Oddfellow hoped to gain immortality as well as harness the power of the Dark Zodiac for himself. With this power he would have undying power at his fingertips all harnessed in the skull sitting on top of his trademark cane.

Dr. Oddfellow always left his mark of chaos, destruction and death. From the Jungle of Doom, to the 1939 Dustbowl, and an infamous 1969 Music Festival in upstate New York, Oddfellow reigned down his evil upon the innocent.
A Glimpse of HHN35
Not much has been revealed about how these icons of horror will be intertwined in the upcoming Halloween Horror Nights. However, we do know that despite how much these two despise each other, they will be sharing the spotlight as co-hosts for the much anticipated HHN35.
One of the ten haunted houses will feature the returning duo together. The house is called; Jack and Oddfellow: Chaos and Control.

As you travel through the house the stories of each icon of horror will be unraveled. Youโll wind your way through their evil dimension and see the two battle each other in a deathmatch that has been brewing for decades. However, as you near the end of the house Jack and Oddfellow come to realize that their power is much stronger together than separate. Will the souls of the guests be the fuel to their ultimate evil plan?
Tell us at iHorror who your favorite icon of horror is in the comments! If the two were to face off, who would win?
Editorial
‘The Vampire Lestat’ Trailer: What โDancing With Myselfโ Reveals About Lestat
If youโre one of the lucky ones whoโs been watching Interview with the Vampire on AMC since its 2022 premiere (we are, in fact, an elite club), then you already know a few things to be true:
Louis and Lestat are not only the hottest couple on television, but they have some of the most electric chemistry weโve seen in years. Every episode is impeccably written, acted, and produced, devastating and beautiful in equal measure. The character crashouts? Iconic, for better and worse. Delainey Hayles gave us a Claudia who shattered our hearts even when we knew exactly where her story was headed โ and one whose presence will haunt this narrative for the rest of its run. And Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid? Together and apart, theyโve made Louis and Lestat two of the most compelling characters on television right now.
But perhaps nothing is more universally true than the fact that these hiatuses make us a littleโฆ feral. And this one โ leading into Season 3, The Vampire Lestat โ has been especially brutal.
Now, with the premiere less than two months away, something incredible has finally happened: the official trailer has arrived!
Weโve had a treasure trove of crumbs since San Diego Comic-Con 2025, but overall, AMC has kept things tightly under wraps. Just enough to keep us desperate for more. And now? Now we have it. Wellโฆ kind of.
Dropped on April 22 at noon EST, the two-minute trailer offers only a fraction of whatโs to come when the season premieres on June 7, but do not let the runtime fool you. Itโs dense, chaotic, and absolutely packed with moments worth dissecting. So naturally, thatโs exactly what weโre about to do.

If youโre new to the show, or the books (which will absolutely be part of this breakdown), Iโll try to keep things as accessible as possible. Iโll also link out to a few previous pieces that can help fill in any gaps. And if you havenโt caught up yet, both seasons are currently streaming on AMC and Netflix. Just saying.
Thereโs simply, however, too much happening in this trailer to do it justice in a single piece. So weโre taking it one element at a time, and weโre starting with the music. A full breakdown of the video content of the trailer is coming next.

The Vampire Lestat and “Dancing With Myself”
The Vampire Lestatโ the fictional band fronted by Lestat de Lioncourt (Sam Reid) โ isnโt just a narrative device this season. Itโs becoming real, with original songs expected to release alongside the show, many of them written and produced by composer Daniel Hart, whose work has already been integral to the identity of the first two seasons โ more on him, and the team behind this sound, very soon.
โDancing With Myselfโ emerged from the post-punk scene of the late 1970s and helped define the rise of new wave in the early โ80s, a genre that softened punkโs aggression into something more commercially accessible without losing its sense of alienation. Itโs glossy, performative, and deeply solitary all at once, which, frankly, makes it perfect for Lestat.
And yes, I would pay an embarrassing amount of money to hear him cover the synth-pop/new wave-esque song โPersonal Jesusโ by Depeche Mode, but thatโs neither here nor there.
It goes without saying that the team behind The Vampire Lestat isnโt choosing songs without purpose, and beyond Reidโs voice fitting really well tonally with Idolโs, the lyrics to the song seem especially befitting a certain crashing rockstar in the modern era.

A few lines in particular stand out:
- Oh, when there’s no-one else in sight / In the crowded lonely night / Well, I wait so long for my love vibration / And I’m dancing with myself
- When there’s nothing to lose and there’s nothing to prove
- Well, if I looked all over the world / And there’s every type of girl / But your empty eyes seem to pass me by / Leave me dancing with myself / So let’s sink another drink / ‘Cause it’ll give me time to think / If I had the chance, I’d ask the world to dance / And I’ll be dancing with myself
Taken together, the song circles three central ideas: loneliness, performance, and the absence of meaningful love.
Loneliness
If there is a single emotional constant in Interview with the Vampire, itโs loneliness. But for Lestat, itโs not just a theme. Itโs a driving force behind many of his choices, good and bad.
We hear it articulated explicitly as early as Season 1, Episode 2 (โโฆAfter Phantoms of Your Former Selfโ), in a scene near the end of the episode (though it was the very first scene Anderson and Reid filmed together) when Lestat confesses to Louis:
โThere is one thing about being a vampire that I most fear above all else and that is loneliness. You can’t imagine the emptiness… A void stretching out for decades at a time. You take this feeling away from me, Louis. We must stay together and take precaution and never part.โ
Itโs a quiet, romantic moment with the two, but its undeniable romance does not take away from the fact that it also reads as a warning.
Because Lestatโs fear of being alone doesnโt manifest gently. It curdles into control, volatility, and, eventually, violence. By Episode 5 (โA Vile Hunger for Your Hammering Heartโ), that fear has escalated into something far more dangerous. Claudiaโs return โ and her plan to leave again, this time with Louis โ pushes Lestat into a full emotional rupture. What follows is one of the most brutal sequences in the series: his attack on Claudia, Louisโ intervention, and Lestat dropping Louis from the sky in an act that is as much about desperation as it is cruelty.

That moment isnโt just about rage, but terror. Specifically, its about the terror of abandonment.
And that terror didnโt start with Louis.
As outlined in The Vampire Lestat (1985) by Anne Rice, Lestatโs human life was defined by instability, neglect, abuse, and emotional distance. His mother, Gabrielle (Gabriella in the show โ and yes, weโll get into that laterโฆ yikes), the one person he feels closest to, remains consistently cold and ultimately leaves him more than once. His first relationship, Nicolas โNickiโ de Lenfent (which alsoโฆ yikes), rejects both his worldview and, eventually, him. And even Armand later tells Lestat outright that he is destined to be abandoned by those he creates.
So when immortality stretches that pattern across decades โ and, now, centuries โ the result is exactly what โDancing With Myselfโ captures: being surrounded by people, yet fundamentally alone.
And thatโs one aspect that makes the trailerโs use of this song so telling.
Because if what weโve seen so far is any indication, between the IGN clip, the tension within his band, and the ongoing-fractured state of Louis and Lestatโs relationship, Lestatโs rise to rock stardom isnโt going to resolve that loneliness.
It is probably going to make it worse.
He may be performing for thousands. Worshipped, even. But if those connections are hollow โ fans, bandmates, an audience projecting onto him rather than knowing him โ then the image becomes painfully clear:
Lestat, center stage, and still dancing with himself.

Performance
Weโve known since the very beginning that Lestat is a performer.
In Season 1 alone, heโs constantly putting on a show: playing piano at the Azalea, much to Louisโs reluctant fondness (Episode 3, โIs My Very Nature That of the Devil?โ); staging theatrical displays in their home on Rue Royale for Louis and Claudia (Episode 4, โ…The Ruthless Pursuit of Blood With All a Childโs Demandingโ); and, of course, presiding as King of Mardi Gras, traumatizing the people of New Orleans more than once throughout the night for his own happiness (Episode 7, โThe Thing Lay Stillโ).
Even beyond that, Season 2 gestures toward his past on the 1700s Parisian stage in Episode 3, โNo Painโ โ though the truth of those performances remainsโฆ questionable (looking at you, Armand (Assad Zaman). Where is Lelio?).

But performance isnโt always just about literal showmanship.
Itโs about presentation. Itโs about control. Itโs about the version of yourself you choose to project. And, even more importantly, what that projection allows you to hide.
And Lestat is always performing.
He presents himself as open, indulgent, impossible to ignore, but that openness is often a kind of sleight of hand. It allows him to dazzle while withholding, to dominate the narrative while obscuring the truth. The trailer leans hard into this idea, framing his rockstar persona as something exaggerated, almost artificial. Heโs louder, brasher, more overtly provocative than ever before.
Which brings us back to the lyrics:
When thereโs nothing to lose and thereโs nothing to proveโฆ
On the surface, that line reads like a freedom of sorts. But in this context, it feels more like a performance of certainty than the real thing.
Because The Vampire Lestat novel is steeped in Lestatโs need to define himself, to control how heโs seen, and to rewrite his own narrative. And given where the show has left him โ his fractured relationship with Louis, the weight of Claudiaโs death, the lingering guilt and denial โ itโs hard to read โnothing to loseโ as truth.
If anything, it sounds like someone trying very hard to believe it.
The same goes for โnothing to prove.โ Because Lestat is, in many ways, still trying to prove everything: his power, his independence, his monstrosity, even his worthiness of suffering. That famous line โ
โOh Lestat, you deserved everything that’s ever happened to youโฆโ
The Vampire Lestat, Page 436
โ doesnโt read as acceptance so much as self-condemnation. A performance of self-awareness that never quite resolves into peace.
If the music is any indication, this rockstar era isnโt about actual liberation. The persona gets bigger, louder, more undeniable, but the cracks underneath it widen just as quickly.
The performance can only hold for so long.
And when it finally falls apart, as the seasonโs hints of a โrise and fallโ suggest it inevitably will, it wonโt simply just collapse, but will force whatever is being hidden into the spotlight instead.

Absence of Meaningful Love
Last, but certainly not least โ and arguably most important โ is the absence of meaningful love.
Like loneliness, this is a theme deeply embedded in Interview with the Vampire. But what โDancing With Myselfโ highlights is something more specific: not just the loss of love, but the inability to access it, even when it exists.
And thatโs where Lestat and Louis become central to the songโs meaning.
From what the series has already shown us, their relationship is not only the emotional core of the story, but the most real and significant connection either of them has ever had. Season 1 makes that clear, even when itโs at its most volatile. Season 2 reinforces it even further by showing us that even though Lestat may be โgone,โ he never leaves the narrative. He lingers in Louisโ mind, shaping his choices, haunting his relationship with Armand, and ultimately highlighting a truth the show never lets us forget, which is that nothing Louis builds in Lestatโs absence comes close to what they had together.
Which makes the songโs fixation on unfulfilled connection hit even harder.
Because if โDancing With Myselfโ is about longing for something just out of reach, then it maps almost too neatly onto where this story leaves them โ separated, fractured, and, for all intents and purposes, withholding love from one another.

And from Lestatโs perspective, that absence is everything.
As explored in The Vampire Lestat and later novels, Louis is not just a great love; he is the love.
There are countless passages that reinforce this, moments where Lestatโs fascination, devotion, and emotional connection to Louis border on overwhelming. Some of my favorite passages include, but are not limited to:
- โYet Louis gained a hold over me far more powerful than Nicolas had ever had. Even in his cruelest moments, Louis touched the tenderness in me, seducing me with his staggering dependence, his infatuation with my every gesture and every spoken word.โ โ The Vampire Lestat, Page 433
- โIt was the love of Louis which had at times crippled Lestat, and enslaved Armand. Louis need not have consciousness of his own beauty, of his own obvious and natural charm.โ โ Merrick, Page 142
- โ[Louisโ] beauty had always maddened me. I think I idealize him in my mind when Iโm not with him; but when I see him again Iโm overcome.โ โ The Tale of the Body Thief, Page 106
But it is even more apparent, even more all-consuming, in the show. Lestatโs love of Louis is undeniable, again, despite their past. From the very first moment he saw Louis in Season 1, Episode 1 (โIn Throes of Increasing Wonderโ), the attraction was evident, but as the episode and season progress, it is clear that Lestatโs love for Louis is what, quite literally, keeps him going in this immortal life.
Which is exactly why the lyrics land the way they do.
Well, I wait so long for my love vibration / And Iโm dancing with myselfโฆ
and
If I looked all over the worldโฆ but your empty eyes seem to pass me byโฆ
These lines donโt just suggest loneliness, but waiting. Waiting for a specific kind of love, one that isnโt interchangeable, one that canโt be replaced no matter how many people surround you.
And the trailer, and interviews with the cast and crew at past events of SDCC and New York Comic Con (NYCC), seems to lean into that idea.
Because while Lestatโs rockstar persona promises excess of attention, admiration, and endless bodies in endless rooms, the song takes away from that. The implication is clear: none of it is enough. Not the fame, not the show, not the distractions.
None of it is enough if the one person he actually wants isnโt there in the way he wants and needs them.
So what fills that gap?
Performance. Indulgence. Self-destruction.

The lyrics hint at it โโletโs sink another drinkโฆ give me time to thinkโโ and the trailer visuals, as well as some of the other smaller clips AMC has been sharing over the last couple of weeks, seem to follow suit. Whatever this era of Lestatโs life becomes, it doesnโt read as fulfillment. Itโs more of a coping mechanism. And a really bad one.
Ultimately, what โDancing With Myselfโ captures, and what the trailer reinforces, is that Lestat isnโt just alone, but he is alone without the one person whose love ever made that loneliness bearable.
And until that changes, no amount of noise, attention, or performance is going to fix it.
Because change will be required from both of them. From Lestat, a confrontation with who he is beneath the performance; from Louis, a willingness to face what remains between them.
And when that shift finally comes, it will be beautiful and probably send me into a psychosis.
But until then, the lyrics linger where Lestat is now: searching, performing, and still, despite everything, waiting for Louisโ love.
Conclusion
What makes this trailer so effective isnโt just what it shows, but how it sounds. The choice of โDancing With Myselfโ is deliberate, layered, and deeply revealing of Lestatโs mental state during what will probably be the beginning of his journey to rockstardom. Through its lyrics and tone, the song reframes everything weโre seeing: Lestatโs rise to fame as a performance, his excess as coping, and his isolation as something that no amount of attention can truly resolve.

Loneliness, performance, and the absence of meaningful love arenโt just recurring themes in Interview with the Vampire, but now something embedded directly into the music of this trailer, guiding how we interpret nearly every frame, character action, and piece of dialogue. Itโs a reminder that this next chapter, The Vampire Lestat, isnโt just about reinvention but exposure.
And if this trailer and its music are any indication, weโre in for something messy, emotional, indulgent, and probably devastating in all the best and worst ways.
This might be me reading way too much into a trailer song choice, but I donโt think I am. To quote OutKast in “Hey Ya!:” โYโall donโt wanna hear me, you just wanna dance.โ
And if that isnโt exactly what this trailer is doing, I donโt know what is.
All I do know is that June 7 cannot come fast enough.
In the meantime, you can watch the official trailer below and listen to โDancing With Myselfโ by The Vampire Lestat to hear exactly what he’s telling us.
Be sure to follow us here at iHorror for our upcoming breakdown of the trailerโs visual content โ weโre covering all things The Vampire Lestat as we count down to its premiere on AMC and AMC+ on June 7 at 9 p.m.
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