Rare are the nights I am moved and overcome with a sense of light, darkness, love, ire, a whiplash of pain and pleasure but I found it in a petit show, Interview With The Vampire. I have seen the film. Never read the book but it will be remedied this fall, and in the matter of glances and words, cadences and dances of sentences and delivery of lines I fell in love with tortured characters, two monsters that possibly painted the most accurate picture of what it means to be human but never escape the love and hate we harbor and refuse to throw to the wayside.
Apart from the beautiful men that captured my heart frame after frame, Jacob and Sam with their brilliant dedication and morphing of characters, Eric and Assad, Bailey and Delaineyās Claudia, Ben's inviting Santiago too, this ensemble brought to life sentences that have (yes I have to use the pun Iām so sorry) punctured themselves like fangs of impassioned lovers, into my neck, sucking the blood coursing through my veins, and in its place, left me with a thirst for more, and a satisfaction of one of the most beautiful tales created.
Itās the acting. Yes. But it surpasses this realm. Itās more. Itās the way they both hunted each other, Louie and Lestat. Itās the way Lestat is powerful one moment and succumbs to his absolute need for Louie. The weakness and adrenaline love envelops us in. How he unknowingly surrenders himself to Louie for eternity and they both discover that to love each other is to also hurt each other. To destroy and to break. To be left to the will of years and anger and passion and loneliness.
You have to know, although I watched the film adaptation many nights ago, I knew the premise and knew the ending. And still, the weaved fabric of their dreams and desires, their darkest secrets enveloped me and lulled me into beautiful New Orleans and the glowing city of Paris. I felt like a third-wheel, watching two people course through life, a maze, meeting each other, and taking wrong turns, and my only wish, my want, my carnal need became a reunion.
Every episode felt like a crescendo. An increased thirst and hunt for the truth, a truth I myself could not understand but Daniel (Eric) so beautiful uncovered question after question. It seems clear one moment, like Louie and Lestat were endgame, daylight in eternal darkness but perhaps thatās the most human aspect of it all, the need for companionship, the need to be understood with glances and subtle hitches in breathe, for someone to understand a change in cadence, and adjustment to tone, the slight twitch, or perhaps the annoyance that comes with allowing someone to know you. Louie and Lestat are the personification of āTell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.ā And I think when we fall in love, when we are in this cloud, we mean it, but how much terrible can you take, how much darkness can you carry and let go of? I think Claudiaās birth was an answer to that. The surprise child. The loved and resented burden. In Louieās desperation for a semblance of humanity he āsavedā Claudia, and damned her to eternal infantilization. Lestat in his desperation for the human folly of wanting to not lose Louie, he acquiesced and turned her. Both guilty. Both giving birth to a child that encompassed their emptiness, the wrong answer to what they both sought.
I think thatās what is so hauntingly enticing about this story, the warfare that took over. The parental carnage they dealt with. Then the betrayal. The pain of knowing you no longer belonged to the coven of two, or three, and the ultimate act of love. For both Claudia and Lestat. Louie destroying him for Claudia and saving him for himself. In turn betraying everyone.
I could surmise Assadās (Armand) role but he deserves his own discourse. Yet, I would be remiss if I did not include the psychological mindfuck of Armand on Louie, Lestat, Claudia, Daniel, and myself. His tortured soul, engrossed me, I believed him, or maybe I wanted to believe him. That love can be a straight line, that we so desperately want to be loved that we blind ourselves. Ignore that whisper that screams so boldly what we already know.
In all the events, I felt myself, at times angry with the transgressions of Lestat, then felt compelled to defend him, his aura, his charisma, overpowering a perceived good deed. I found myself struggling between what I wanted for these characters. One moment Armand seemed like the savior, others I doubted Louieās memory, and Lestat remained a constant shadow, much like in the second season. Only to come back, and solidify that he truly loved Louie. With every flaw he carried Lestat carried Louie in his heart. And the person who should have remained impartial uncovering it all. Unfolding in front of me and Armand casting a spell of distractions and doubts.
I want to say that the trial might be one of the best episodes of television but I cannot write words to invoke the pain I felt as Lestat played his role. Iād like to point out that I always believed it was Lestat who saved Louie but to be gaslit and then to be proven correct. I nearly fainted. Mouth agape, my heart in my stomach, and the panic and rage of lost years. A life built on resentment and lies.
My heart broke. It mended and it broke a million times more and yet I remain in love with the story. The characters. And the people who brought them to life, a welcomed monster, or monsters. Rice, a master of her craft.
Louie and Lestat are us. They are humanity. They are the best and worst of people. How much can you love someone if you cannot hurt them?
Lestat is by far the most complex, but torture begets torture and my tortured heart is moved and mended.
He carried his name. Near his heart. Where he always belonged. Louie. Lestat.
