The transformation of AMC’s “Interview With the Vampire,” which focused on Jacob Anderson’s Louis de Pointe du Lac, into “The Vampire Lestat” has sparked immediate and fervent praise for titular lead actor Sam Reid. We’ve watched him play Anne Rice’s iconic Brat Prince for years now, but the show’s shift means we’re seeing the character from his own point of view for the first time. That praise, which is well-earned and then some, has fans declaring it’s as if Reid is possessed by Lestat. It’s a hyperbolic sentiment that comes from a good place, but it unintentionally discredits the performance. Reid isn’t being possessed by the character, no. It’s Reid who is possessing Lestat.
The voice of a vampire
In addition to film and TV, Reid has long enjoyed life as a stage performer—including the original London run of the Bob Dylan musical “Girl from the North Country”—as made evident by his exceptional vocal work in “The Vampire Lestat.” Anyone familiar with Rice’s novel knew this season would chronicle the title vampire’s rise to 1980s rock star fame, and Reid rises to the glamorous occasion with his lilting, mega-watt performances of composer and lyricist Daniel Hart’s music.
But Reid’s voice is also a tool beyond the bombast. His voiceover shakes and lulls the viewer throughout the series, delivering commentary that morphs from sultry to manic on a dime. Narration and voice acting as a whole often go overlooked—there seems to be an assumption that anyone who can read can also achieve VO greatness with ease—but that couldn’t be further from the truth here. Reid’s oration doesn’t just elevate his performance but the series as a whole.
A master class in crashing out
On the Season 3 premiere, “Detroit,” Reid immediately establishes the range of Lestat’s psyche. Early on, he and Louis are quietly mending fences and working toward a healthier relationship. That is, until Daniel Molloy’s (Eric Bogosian) tell-all book about their vampirism debuts and turns everything sour. Lestat’s trip to the bookstore after “Interview With the Vampire” drops is filled with so many subtly hysterical acting tics that it’s impossible not to laugh through Lestat’s pain. The gritted-jaw look Reid throws at the person who calls Armand (Assad Zaman) a work of art is equaled only by his delivery at checkout, which shifts from quiet seething to strangled screaming.
Later in the same episode, Lestat overdoses on Baby Jenks’ (Ella Ballentine) drug-filled blood. The editing and effects team put in impressive work as Lestat’s vision all but kaleidoscopes throughout the bad trip. But just as much praise must be shown to Reid’s intoxicated physicality as he stumbles his way through the rest of the episode.
Episode 2, “Toledo,” features a pair of scenes that should be taught in acting class on playing manic narcissists. The first, a meeting in the present between Louis and Lestat, is meant to make amends for the destruction of a hotel owned by “Thomas Pitt” (that’s Louis), but it instead plays as all but a divorce hearing between the frustrated former lovers. We’ve seen tantrums from Lestat before, but Reid makes a clever choice beyond just fuming and disgust. It’s the way he carries both those feelings while fighting back tears, showcasing Lestat’s longing in tandem with his fury.
That bombastic scene is juxtaposed with the quiet calm as his bandmates realize he is, in fact, a vampire. There’s no playing with his proverbial food here. Lestat approaches his peers with patience layered with the expected snarky derision of a vampire who has lived longer than the country his current comrades were born in. Much of Reid’s performance is showcased through his mouth—a slight uptick for the condescension or the rage threatening to bubble over, a neutral pout for contemplation, and a slight downturn for the hurt he can’t seem to contain.
The human Lestat
Episode 3, “Toronto,” features a Reid turn so broken you could easily believe there are no higher heights for the actor to reach as Lestat. (You would be wrong.) Molloy, who has spent the series needling Lestat about his childhood stutter, pushes the elder vampire on the wrong day at the wrong time. This results in a heartfelt, occasionally disjointed recounting of Lestat’s childhood.
This is Reid at his rawest. Here, he has the opportunity to play with human Lestat, showing us the sheepish child enamored by his mother and exhausted by his father and brutish yet lazy brothers. Reid keeps his shoulders soft, his head ducked, and his eyes dull in these scenes, brightening only when engaged by Gabriella (Jennifer Ehle), discussing art, or laying eyes on his beloved Nicki (Joseph Potter).
The devil in the details
While Reid has pulled an astounding range of techniques out of his acting toolkit, the most delightful sits squarely in Episode 4, “The Devil’s Road.” Armand comes to Lestat with pages of empty self-reflection while invading the band’s tour bus—and the singer’s personal space. Armand has always wanted to matter to Lestat, which the Brat Prince uses to his advantage by way of the bus’s open shower. Again, this is physicality as a weapon. Every movement Reid makes, prancing and preening under the bloody water, is an act of cruelty toward Armand.
Note the small shifts in the way the actor plays Lestat when he’s trying to hurt his target. With Louis, the barbs exchanged are a mirror of his own hurt. The undertone of each delivery is a desire—even if he won’t allow himself to put it into words—for his fledgling to return. Against Armand? There is no love, only a burning fire. Listen to the acid in the way he says, “Be who you are, Armand. But be it on the other side of the moon. Or kill yourself.”
Each tic, delivery and watery-eyed sneer showcases Reid’s understanding that Lestat is, at his core, just a little boy who wants to be loved—and also a vain narcissist with nothing to lose but Louis de Pointe du Lac. But even at his most wounded, Lestat never becomes the kind of boring creature he believes Armand to be. The actor has made the Brat Prince truly his own, offering the most interesting depiction of the character ever put to screen.
