Somebody knows their Hammer films. The British juggernaut production house, founded in the 1930’s by William Hinds, created a distinctly unique brand of horror film and defined the genre globally through the mid to late part of the last century. The breadth of the company’s impact still reverberates cinematically to this day with one of its biggest contribution to the lexicon of film being the horror comedy. I can still remember the first time I sat and watched Christopher Lee flash across the screen in Hammer’s The Satanic Rites Of Dracula (1973). He was an imposing, classic figure to behold and truly terrifying. He commanded the screen like a predator, his evil was absolute, and when he spoke he sent shivers down your spine. One particular moment in the film though stood out to me even as a child; I watched as Lee’s Dracula lorded over Peter Cushing’s Van Helsing and exclaimed “My revenge has spread over centuries and has just begun!” Even then I chuckled. It wasn’t a purposeful gaffe, and both Lee and Cushing sold it as dangerous and real, but one can’t help but imagine the writers over at Hammer, who were consistently churning out scripts in less than two weeks, sneaking something in that made them giggle. It was this subtle but brilliant, dry laconic kitsch humor that made Hammer’s films echo across the cinematic ethos. So it comes as an irony then that at a time when the industry is focused on grinding out endless remakes and reboots, a film like Kody Zimmermann’s The Familiar comes along that so brilliantly reflects its inspirations while simultaneously creating something inspired and refreshingly new.

In a market oversaturated with films about vampires and their ilk, Zimmermann wisely eschews convention by centering his narrative on the oft neglected character of the vampire’s familiar. These important, but relegated-to-the-background characters tend to the vampires during the day and protect them while they sleep; and on the whole that is about as much as you get to know about them. Though there have been a few films that have slightly evolved the familiar, truth is movie fans of my age still think of a hunched over Dwight Frye or a ravenous Tom Waits, (both portraying the epochal Renfield from Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Frye in 1931 and Waits in Coppola’s 1992 film of the same name). In the folklore of the vampire, the character of the familiar is rife with possibilities, something the filmmaker obviously understood.

Zimmermann effectively weaves together his intent in the first few minutes by utilizing the internal monologue of our lead, Sam Matheson (Torrance Coombs), to set up both the story and the gallows humor. He is the quintessential modern youth, a desperate and directionless dreamer trapped by the confining walls of his life. At the beginning of the film Sam is a disheartened shell that dryly reflects on turning the discarded human bodies of his master into compost with the same inflection of an accountant filing their ten thousandth tax form. When Sam is presented in his pre-familiar days we are shown how, with the promise of immortality and power, he has ironically traded one stifling unfulfilling life for another. The casting of Coombs is key to the empathy and connection of the audience to the piece, as is the casting of Paul Hubbard as the vampire Simon Bolivar. Hubbard cuts the same imposing figure as Christopher Lee’s vampire incarnations, but Zimmermann then deftly deconstructs the man and the mythos into an all too flawed and common day farce akin to Dracula written by Monty Python. Hubbard and Zimmermann seem to have been birds of a feather and the vampire Bolivar never once swings too wide becoming an exaggerated lampoon. The role is a clever tight-rope act that delivers just the right amount of danger, contrast and dark humor to the entire piece.

There are a few missteps, as is with most first-time filmmakers, but these are far and few between. Most skew towards the aforementioned Hammer kitsch than playing as mistakes, and most viewers won’t even notice unless looking for them. Cinematography, lighting and sound are all top notch, essential ingredients some filmmakers skim over in lieu of pyrotechnics and extreme effects. The team behind The Familiar doles out blood and computer effects with restraint for the majority of the running time, and instead wisely center their film on Sam and his very human plight.

With every beautifully composed frame Zimmermann shows his respect for the horror of his material, something filmmakers tend to forget when forging a “horror/comedy”. More oft we are presented a comedy with horror elements, it is the rare exception that defies the convention (Cemetery Man (1994) and Shaun of the Dead (2004) come to mind). Here everybody takes great care to craft well developed characters, a sense of dread and ultimate doom all with tongue firmly planted in cheek. These diverse elements have been woven together with such meticulous care it belies it and the filmmaker’s origins.

From beginning to end Zimmermann has crafted a well composed and thoughtful piece of truly entertaining cinema. It delivers on all the right beats, pays off in all the right moments, and its rhythm is perfected to a razor sharp note that rings in the viewers ears long after the film is done. The Familiar is a great horror comedy on its own merits, but as the first film from Zimmermann I would not be surprised at all that within the next few years his name is spoken in the same breath as Edger Wright (Shaun of the Dead) and genre mogul Joss Whedon (Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Firefly). Like Wright, Zimmermann intrinsically knows the language of film and is primed to create a modern classic; all the ingredients for his success are already there in his film The Familiar.