OK, picture this. It's the 1930s. We're in Havana.
The heat is just it's everywhere. The political
tension is simmering and the music, the jazz
is loud, aggressive. Now, in the middle of all
that, you have a trumpet player. He's also an
aspiring revolutionary. I mean, that sounds like
the setup for a pretty serious historical drama.
It is. Yeah, it has all the makings of a noir
film or, you know, a heavy period piece. But
then you look closer because this trumpet player,
he isn't just a guy. He's the grandson of Count
Dracula. And the kicker is? He has absolutely
no idea that he's a vampire. None. And that is
the wild premise of the film we are unpacking
today. It's called Vampires in Havana, or in
the original Spanish, Vampires en La Habana.
I have to say, when I first saw the title, I
thought, okay, this is going to be a mess. A
1985 animated film that's a horror, a comedy,
a political satire, and for adults. It sounds
like way too many ingredients in the pot. Exactly.
But somehow, it works. Oh, it works remarkably
well. It's a cult classic for a reason. And our
mission today is to really get into the gears
of this thing. We want to understand how a movie
about a trumpet -loving vampire tells this genuinely
complex story about... economics international
conspiracies and freedom it's so wild it's slapstick
one minute and then suddenly it's a spy thriller
with like actual stakes precisely it uses these
genre tropes the vampire movie the gangster film
to deliver something totally unique it's just
a vehicle for satire that hits on so many levels
so let's start with the basics who actually made
this because it feels so specifically cuban the
humor the setting but the production credits
are a bit of a mix that is a key point right
Right out of the gate. This was not just a local
production. It was directed by Juan Padron, who's
a legend in Cuban animation, and he co -wrote
it. But if you look at the companies involved,
it's a fascinating international effort. You
have the Cuban Film Institute, ICAC, which you'd
expect. But you also have Televisión Española
from Spain. Okay, that makes sense. Shared language,
cultural ties. I can see that. But then you also
have Manfred Derniak production from West Germany.
Wait, West Germany in 1985? Working with a state
-run institute in communist Cuba? Exactly. This
is the height of the Cold War. You have a capitalist
democracy and a communist state co -producing
a vampire cartoon. It really speaks to the unique
position this film holds. Wow. It just managed
to cross these hard ideological borders to get
made, and that international flavor actually
bleeds into the plot itself, which we'll get
to. That is wild to think about. And speaking
of things that shouldn't work but do the sound.
The trumpet playing. Oh, yeah. Usually in animation
from this era, especially lower budget stuff,
you get some generic brass recording. Right,
some stock music. But here, the trumpet performances
are by Arturo Sandoval. The legendary Arturo
Sandoval. That just blows my mind. For anyone
listening who isn't a jazz aficionado, this is
like having, I don't know, Jimi Hendrix play
the guitar solos for a cartoon character. It
really is. Sandoval's a ten -time Grammy winner,
a protege of Dizzy Gillespie. In 85, he was still
in Cuba, part of the group Irakere. So when you
see the main character, Pepe, playing a solo
that sounds like it's tearing the roof off, that
is real virtuosity you're hearing. It instantly
elevates the whole thing. You're watching this
cartoon vampire, but you're hearing world -class
jazz. It gives the film this incredible pulse.
It grounds Pepe's character in something real.
His passion is music. And when you hear that
caliber of performance, you believe it. You get
why music drives him more than, well, vampirism
does. And we should shout out the voice actors,
too. Frank Gonzalez voices the lead, Pepe. He
does. He voices Pepe or Pepito. And actually
a few other characters, too. Very versatile.
And you have Manuel Marine and Irila Bravo rounding
out the main cast. So let's talk about Pepe.
Or, to use his full name, Joseph Fimideas von
Dracula. Ah, yeah. A heavy name to carry around
Havana. Especially when you don't know you're
carrying it. So walk us through his life. What's
his day to day before the plot really kicks in?
Well, on the surface, he's just a young guy in
1930s Havana. He plays trumpet in a band, but
he's also politically active. The source material
calls him an aspiring terrorist, which is a strong
term. Right. But in the film, he's basically
in the underground resistance against the dictator
Gerardo Machado. So he's a revolutionary. Planting
bombs, running from the police, that kind of
thing. He is. He's trying to change his country.
But the irony, the central joke is that his biological
reality is completely different. He is a vampire.
He is Dracula's grandson. But he walks around
in the sun. He drinks rum. He's a daywalker.
And he doesn't think that's weird. He has no
frame of reference for it. See, he's been raised
by his uncle, Werner Amadeus von Dracula. That's
Count Dracula's son. And Werner has been using
Pepe as a test subject since he was a kid. Ah,
so this is the mad scientist part of the story.
Exactly. Uncle Werner has created a formula that's
called vampisol. Vampisol. Sounds like a brand
of sunscreen. That's pretty much what it is.
But on a biological level. Yeah. It negates the
fatal effects of sunlight on vampires. Because
Pepe's been getting this his whole life. He just
lives normally. He has no idea that without it,
he'd turn to dust. So Uncle Werner has basically
cured vampirism's biggest weakness. He has solved
the primary problem of their existence. And this
is where the plot shifts from a character study
to an international thriller. Because a product
that lets vampires walk in the sun. That's incredibly
valuable. Be dangerous. Depending on who you
ask. And this is where the film introduces its
antagonists. I love this setup. It's really a
tale of two cartels. Right. You've got the Chicago
mob and the European group. And they both want
the formula, but for completely opposite reasons.
This part felt like an Economics 101 lesson disguised
as a vampire war. It totally is. Let's look at
the Chicago Syndicate first. They're led by a
vampire mobster named Johnny Terori. Johnny Terori.
Very subtle. Very. Now, the Chicago group, they
own a monopoly on indoor artificial beach resorts
for vampires. Okay, stop. We have to unpack that.
So vampires want a beach day, but they can't.
So the mob builds fake beaches in, what, basements?
And charges admission. Exactly. It's a captive
market. If you're a vampire and you want a vacation,
you have to pay the Chicago Syndicate to sit
under a sunlamp in a dark room. So, if Vampisol
gets out and vampires can just go to a real beach
for free? The Chicago business model collapses
overnight. Nobody's going to pay for a fake beach
when the real one is available. So their motivation
is suppression. They want to find the formula
and destroy it. They're protecting their monopoly
by stifling innovation. It's a classic protectionist
move. It's the incumbent industry fighting the
disruptor. Now, contrast that with the European
group. The multinational vampire. Right. They
see vampisol completely differently. To them,
vampisol is a product. They want to manufacture
it, package it, and sell it. So they see dollar
signs in mass distribution. Precisely. So you
have Pepe caught in the middle. On one side,
the mobsters who want to kill the formula to
save their old industry. On the other, the capitalists
who want to exploit it for a new one. And Pepe
just wants to play his trumpet and overthrow
the government. And, well, stay alive. Which
leads to this wild chase through the seediest
neighborhoods of Havana. Pepe learns about his
heritage. the formula and suddenly everyone is
after him and that chaotic energy must be where
the animation style really shines it creates
a great backdrop you have the texture of the
city the music and these supernatural forces
colliding with gangsters it's a clash of aesthetics
that mirrors the clash of ideologies So let's
jump to the climax, because this is where the
vampire rules get flipped on their head in a
way I did not see coming. Pepe and his girlfriend
Lola are cornered. Right. They're trapped by
the Chicago cartel and Johnny Terori. And Terori
thinks he's won. He has Pepe. And he decides
to be a gracious host before he kills him. In
a way. He offers Pepe a last drink. And specifically,
he offers him O positive blood. Which, in the
movie's logic, is like the vintage champagne
of blood for vampires. The good stuff. The most
delicious. So Terori hands it to him, expecting
this moment of, you know, vampire satisfaction.
And Pepe takes a sip and spits it out. Spits
it out in disgust. He hates it. He's a rum and
roast pork kind of guy. Imagine the confusion.
You're a vampire mob boss, you've cornered Dracula's
grandson, and he thinks blood is gross. But this
reaction triggers something for Terori. He's
not just a thug, he's smart. He starts connecting
the dots. Let's list them. Okay, first, obviously
Pepe hates the taste of blood. Second, earlier
in the film, Pepe got hit by a lead bullet and
it actually hurt him. And vampires are supposed
to be vulnerable to silver, right? Not lead.
Correct. And third, the big one, Pepe can walk
in the sun. So Terori does the math. He realizes
the vampiso formula doesn't just block the sun.
It's not a shield. It fundamentally changes the
user. It turns them into humans. Exactly. Uncle
Werner didn't just create a sunscreen. He created
a cure. Or at least he altered their biology
so much they ceased to be vampires. And this
changes everything for the Chicago mob. Instantly.
Tory loses all interest. He calls the formula
worthless. Because if it turns vampires into
humans, they're not his customer base anymore.
He can't sell them fake beach trips if they're
just people. It destroys the market entirely.
If your customers stop existing as a distinct
group, you have no business. It's like if a company
cured a chronic disease permanently, they lose
all that recurring revenue. That is such a funny,
cynical twist. He goes from I must destroy this
to I don't even care about this. But the conflict
isn't over. Because the Europeans are still there.
Yeah. And they're still looking for a way to
make a profit. Right. And the solution they come
up with is the most corporate thing I've ever
heard. It is pure satire. The European leader
suggests a compromise with the Chicago mob. They
propose that they market vampazol, but, and this
is the key, they encourage vampires to take only
small amounts. Just enough to go to a real beach
in the summer. Exactly. Take a little bit in
the summer, visit real beaches, feel free. But
in the winter, stop taking it. and go back to
the Chicago artificial beaches. So they want
to collude, split the market, we'll sell the
drug, you sell the resort, and we keep the vampires
dependent on both. It's a cartel agreement. They
want to manage the cure so it doesn't actually
cure anyone permanently, turn a cure into a treatment
plan. Man, that hits a little close to home.
It does. It's a critique of how industries often
prefer managing a problem for profit rather than
solving it. It's Padron using vampires to critique
modern capitalism. But Pepe. Pepe is a revolutionary
at heart. He is not signing off on a corporate
merger. No way. Pepe pulls an anarchist move.
He realizes the only way to break the power of
both cartels is to make the information free.
Open source. He goes to a radio station. Yeah.
And he doesn't just read the formula. He sings
it. Of course he sings it. He's got our Puro
Sandoval's trumpet shocks. He sings the instructions
for preparing vampazol to the entire world. But
he adds a crucial warning. Which is? He tells
the vampires to use it scaringly. So they don't
accidentally turn human. Exactly. He gives them
the power to choose. They can be daywalkers without
losing their identity as long as they're careful.
He gives them informed consent. And because he
broadcasts it to everyone? The formula becomes
financially worthless. You can't sell something
everyone knows how to make in their kitchen.
The Europeans can't market it, and the Chicago
mob can't suppress it. The cat's out of the bag.
Both cartels are defeated. Not by a stake through
the heart, but by information sharing. It's a
victory for the public domain. The market value
of The Secret just drops to zero. That is a wildly
satisfying ending for a vampire comedy. The little
guy winning against massive conglomerates just
by using the airwaves. It ties up all the themes
perfectly. And it's not preachy. It's just a
really catchy song that ruins a monopoly. And
the movie doesn't just end there, right? There's
a little meta joke at the end. Yes. The film
breaks the fourth wall. a vampire addresses the
audience directly. What do they say? They warn
you. They say, be careful, because that guy sitting
next to you on the beach might just be a vampire.
I love that, because now, thanks to Pepe's song,
they could be anyone. They just blend right in.
Exactly. So, vampires in Havana, what a ride.
And apparently that wasn't the end of the story.
No, the legacy continued. There was a sequel
released much later. in 2003, called Maz Vampiros
and La Habana More Vampires in Havana. Simple
title. Does what it says on the tin. It does.
It shows the world Juan Padrón created had enough
depth to revisit. You know what I love about
this is how it took a B -movie premise vampire
gangsters in Cuba and revealed this smart satirical
layer underneath. It's a great reminder that
animation is often one of the best mediums for
satire. You could exaggerate reality to make
a point about it. Yeah. By making them vampires,
Padron could talk about capitalism and revolution
in a way that was funny. but also biting. It
makes you think. The whole struggle was about
a formula that could change lives, and the powers
that be just wanted to figure out how to monetize
it or bury it. It raises that provocative question.
In our own world, are there vampisol formulas
out there? Are there solutions, technological,
medical, social, that are being suppressed or
managed just to keep existing industries profitable?
That is a thought to chew on. Maybe the real
vampires were the monopolies we met along the
way. I think there's a strong argument for that.
Well, on that note. We're going to wrap up this
deep dive into vampires in Havana. I hope you
enjoyed this trip to the Caribbean underworld
as much as we did. I know I'll be looking at
people on the beach a little differently this
summer. Just check if they're wearing exceptionally
strong sunscreen. Will do. Thanks for listening,
and we'll catch you on the next one.