Since its initial release in August 1985, Fright Night has firmly established itself as a cult classic. Written and directed by Tom Holland, the film tells the tale of suburban teenager Charley Brewster (William Ragsdale), who becomes convinced that his new neighbor, Jerry Dandrige (Chris Sarandon), is a vampire. The acclaim it receives frequently focuses on the witty script, outstanding practical effects, and strong performances. However, the film also contains a subversive streak and a sympathy for outsiders that remains sharply relevant today — a strength embodied by the deceptively comical character of Peter Vincent (Roddy McDowall), the self-proclaimed “great vampire killer.”
We first see Peter Vincent on television, starring in a cheap and distinctly creaky horror movie. Everything about his performance is pure, flamboyant ham: exaggerated physical reactions, overly theatrical oration, and an overzealous whiff of greasepaint. He's so enraptured by his own performance that he appears blissfully unaware that the stake he triumphantly holds aloft is the wrong way round. Such an inauspicious introduction might suggest he'll remain a one-dimensional clown, serving solely to pastiche old-fashioned genre cinema. Instead, Holland and McDowall gradually mould Peter into a genuinely admirable human being, his eventual heroism defined not by a conversion to mindless violence but by his open vulnerability and deep (if initially unwilling) empathy.
As the name suggests, the character was conceived as an affectionate homage to horror legends Peter Cushing and Vincent Price, while his arch TV show act nods to hosts like Zacherley and Svengoolie. Indeed, Holland initially wanted Price to star, but his plans were scuppered by the veteran's failing health. As great as Price would've been, his absence created an extraordinary opportunity for McDowall, a seasoned character actor who'd previously worked on the Holland-penned Class of 1984.
In McDowall's sensitive hands, the role easily transcends parody. While he apparently based elements of his performance on Bert Lahr's Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz, his skillful work ensures that Peter's quest for courage is nuanced and surprisingly moving. McDowall is never afraid to be ridiculous (the way he shoos Charley away from his car after their first meeting is deliciously pompous). Still, such moments are laced with pathos, suggesting an essentially kindly man so worn down by the disappointments of life and career that he's frightened to step outside his ludicrous screen persona and be himself.
Peter is initially dismissive of Charley, and only involves himself in the situation after Charley's girlfriend Amy (Amanda Bearse) offers him her $500 savings bond. Yet even at such a venal moment, he retains audience sympathy, pathetically hiding his eviction notice from his teenage visitors and feebly claiming that “Hollywood beckons” for him.
Despite himself, Peter's better nature keeps creeping through. He may egotistically demand to know what could be more important to Amy than his autograph, but he's genuinely abashed when told she is visiting to save Charley's life. Likewise, though he later declares that he's abandoning Charley and leaving town, his selfishness crumbles once he's informed that Jerry is going to kill Amy if they don't both return to the vampire's lair. He's afraid to care — but can't help but do so.
Even his most cowardly actions reveal the core of decency hidden in his heart. He's terrified when he realises that Jerry casts no reflection and really is a vampire, accidentally dropping his treasured prop mirror (perhaps symbolising the way the situation is starting to shatter his self-regarding surface). Despite this, he diligently rounds up Charley, Amy, and “Evil” Ed (Stephen Geoffreys), blustering to get them all out of the house once he realizes the danger facing them.
Admittedly, he then abandons the trio, but he at least ensures their escape for now. Similarly, while he later flees alone back to Charley's house after Jerry destroys his crucifix and mocks his lack of faith, he still rushes up the stairs to try and rescue Mrs. Brewster (a sublime Dorothy Fielding) when he finds that the phone line's been cut.
Of course, Mrs. Brewster is not actually home, and Peter finds himself facing the now-vampire Ed once again. This scene is the turning point in Peter's character development: despite his overwhelming fear and ailing self-belief, he manages to stake Ed through the heart and starts to find his courage. So far, so conventional. However, it's arguably not the action itself that establishes him as a true hero — it's his reaction to it.
Many lesser films would have punctuated the moment with a glib quip and swiftly moved on. In a testament to the love with which Holland's film treats its characters, Fright Night does not. Instead, Peter weeps as he watches Ed slowly dying in front of him, deeply grieved by what he's been forced to do. An implicit kinship had existed between teenage horror fan Ed and Peter, with both being souls on the outskirts of society, undervalued and lonely.
Though Ed's been seduced by Jerry and twice tried to kill the struggling actor, McDowall wordlessly conveys a rare depth of understanding and forgiveness. Peter's heroism doesn't come from violently beating his opponent. It comes from the way he retains his compassion and kindness in the face of attack, refusing to relinquish these qualities. While the sequence also works as a showcase for the brilliance of Richard Edlund's effects team, its unexpected heart comes from the direction and performances.
From this point on, Peter's confidence increases, returning to rescue Charley and finally facing down Jerry's taunts. He's now resolute and determined, but never unnecessarily cruel. He declines to crow about their eventual victory, a marked contrast to his cartoonish “great vampire killer” image — a persona he's outgrown and surpassed by the story's end (subtly confirmed by his choosing a film in which he doesn't star for his concluding TV appearance). Once Jerry has been vanquished, he modestly stands back to allow Charley and Amy the moment of triumph before, clearly touched and delighted, he accepts their invitation into the group hug.
Many aspects of Fright Night are open to queer readings, from Chris Sarandon's omnivorously sexual vampire and his ambiguous relationship with Billy Cole (Jonathan Stark) to Ed gleefully playing “mother.” It's possible to interpret Peter's struggle to transcend his screen image and rediscover himself along these lines: McDowall himself was gay in an age when coming out could ruin a career, and many were forced to live a lie in public.
Regardless of the character's unconfirmed sexuality, he stands as an inspirational and highly relevant subversion of the traditionally aggressive male hero, whether contrasted with the bluntly macho action stars revered when the film was made, or set against the toxic environment of today, where bigots try to dictate what “real” men or women are and how they should act.
Holland intended Fright Night to serve as a love letter to vintage horror, so it's fitting that Peter appeals to all of us strange children who saw the sensitive heroes lurking within Cushing and Price's villains. More than this, Peter shows us that care and empathy are strengths, not weaknesses, and that real bravery isn't a sociopathic lack of fear — it's finding the courage to stand up and fight in spite of being afraid, without surrendering our humanity to those who wish to crush it. If Peter Vincent was an unusual hero in 1985, he's a truly radical one in 2025, and still has much to teach us.
