Despite being released in 1998, Blade is the transitional point for genre film in the 21st century.
Before Blade, the action movie was the preferred medium for escapist entertainment, and following its success the superhero film would come to dominate the 18-49 crowd at the box office. Blade was the opening salvo of the cacophony of capes that would see Schwarzenegger and Stallone replaced by Robert Downey, Jr. and Dwayne Johnson as the biggest action stars on Earth.
Looking back from a quarter century of endgames and multiverses, we might be tempted to ask how Blade, a minor hero from Marv Wolfman’s run on Tomb of Dracula, a relatively obscure 70’s Marvel horror comic, could be the aegis for changing the course of American cinema.
The answer for that is to be found in David S. Goyer’s amazing screenplay. Since Blade’s success, Goyer has remained a steady fixture on big comic scripts ranging from Batman Begins to The Sandman with mixed success, but here he knows precisely which comic book tropes to maintain and which to jettison for a mass audience that didn’t know Moon Knight from Moon Pie.
Blade basically maintains the conceit of the central character: a cool, menacing, vampire-human hybrid who kills vampires and drops him into a kind of dark urban fantasy that was very current to late 90’s film in titles like Dark City, and especially The Matrix. Much of what is cool about this film is seeing seemingly ordinary raves and bodegas exposed as cover for the secret vampire underworld of New York and then, as a bonus, having a hero who is totally unfazed by it– a boogeyman’s boogeyman.
Blade stars Wesley Snipes as the titular hero, and it is hard to imagine anyone else in the role even now, almost thirty years later.
After watching Blade massacre a vampire techno rave in the film’s excellent opening sequence, we’re introduced to hematologist Karen Jenson (N’Bushe Wright) who is bitten by a heavily burned vampire, Quinn (Donal Logue) while checking irregularities in his blood, and after Blade shoots up the ward trying to finish the job, he takes Karen with him.
Through Karen we meet Blade’s armorer and mentor, Whistler (Kris Kristofferson) and learn the rules of the game.
Vampires can be killed by silver, garlic, or sunlight; they control human power structures from the shadows; and they have harems of human “familiars.”
Blade tracks the familiar sent to kill Karen to Deacon Frost (Stephen Dorff), a powerful vampire who is researching rituals to bring about a vampire apocalypse with La Migra, a Lovecraftian vampire God.
Blade’s primary strengths are in style and structure. Like The Matrix did a year later, Blade creates an indelible cinematic world from the first moment of film. Director Stephen Norrington uses an extremely muted color palette and a driving electronic soundtrack along with beautiful production design to portray a vampire aesthetic that could convincingly exist somewhere in the shadows of New York City at night.
This stylistic flair gets paired with amazing kinetic gunfights and wirework that give the action an Eastern feel that was cutting edge in the late 90’s, and it’s easy to see why the film was such a knockout on first release and why it retains so much of its ability to excite.
The “blood club” sequence remains legendary to this day, but I have to say, the mid-film scene where Blade infiltrates the vampire’s library is also an excellent set piece that continually builds in tension and action throughout.
Also this is one of the most economical and solid horror-action scripts ever made in terms of pacing and the fundamentals of screenwriting. That plot summary I wrote above may seem a little jumbled and wordy, but the film itself is so natural in its exposition and takes the time to pair plot points with cool visuals or strong character beats that it relays a ton of information to the audience without ever feeling like it needs to stop for air.
To continue with the Bond metaphors, Kris Kristofferson plays Whistler, who acts as the kind of “Q Branch” for Blade providing him with vampire destroying gadgets and intel.
I recall that this character was met with some criticism on the film’s initial release: as if he were put there because a black hero wasn’t capable of developing his own weapons but I think that misses the tonal problem that Whistler solves. The film wants to keep Blade as a character as mysterious and dangerous as possible, and Whistler is there to reassure Karen (and therefore, the audience) that while Blade may be a little rough around the edges, he’s a good guy and we can trust and relate to him.
Some points have to be docked for the finale, where the production ran out of money and the intended Lovecraftian emergence of a Blood Abomination is reduced to a swordfight between Blade and possessed Frost which contains the worst effects of the picture, but by that point it’s very likely you’ve bought into what the film is selling.
Structure is the other great advantage of this film. Screenwriter Goyer uses the world-building and internal logic of comic book lore to quickly suggest a lot of weird stuff to the audience without bogging the film down in exposition. N’Bushe Wright’s Karen is used as an audience identification character so Blade can explain things on the run, and the result is a perfectly paced fantasy-action film that was cool enough for a general audience and retained its nerd credibility.
Into that strong mixture of structure and style strut Wesley Snipes and Stephen Dorff who are perfectly matched as antagonists visually, emotionally, and thematically. Dorff’s Frost doesn’t communicate immortality or wisdom like some cinematic vampires but a rebellious punk spirit and an enormous animal cruelty. He’s the vampire version of a new money dilettante who cannot stand being left out in the cold by a purebred old money council. He’s all knit eyebrows and gnashed teeth in service of his animal desire.
Contrast with Snipes’ decision to play Blade as a stoic, almost samurai-esque, warrior who is constantly at war with his own nature and the sparks naturally fly. Snipes was never the action star with the greatest range, but this part fits him like the scabbard he wears fits his high tech katana. There’s a very narrow band of expression but within that he finds shades of regret, rage, satisfaction and humor. Blade is not a traditional primary colored superhero– he’s more akin to the hero of an action film. Snipes keeps him in the basic Eastwood mold but with enough moments of vulnerability to keep him continually interesting.
Blade, the film, is a lot like Blade the character: a child of two worlds. It has the sensibilities of an action film with the skeleton of a comic book film and the recipe felt entirely fresh in 1998.
Looking back from 2025, I have to feel a little melancholy that we didn’t have more cinematic hybrids of this quality.
Blade still rules.
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