Interview by Paul Salfen
The Alamo Drafthouse in Austin buzzed with the electric chaos of Fantastic Fest 2025, a haven for genre lovers and self-proclaimed “crazy people,” as writer-director Eduardo Casanova calls them. Casanova, a returning hero after his 2022 Main Competition win with La Pietà, sat down to discuss his latest film, Silencio, a gothic, campy, and fiercely queer vampire saga that sinks its fangs into the intersections of disease, desire, and defiance. With a grin that teetered between exhaustion and exhilaration, he leaned into the microphone, his passion for the project spilling out like blood from a fresh wound.
“I love the audience in this festival. The people are so crazy like me,” Casanova said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m only interested in crazy people. Normal people are for—what?—boring, I swear.” The crowd, a sea of horror hounds and cinephiles, roared in agreement. This was Fantastic Fest, after all, where the bizarre and the bold find their home.
Silencio is not your typical vampire flick. Spanning centuries, it weaves together three distinct eras: the 1300s, where four vampire sisters navigate a dwindling food supply amid the Black Plague; 1989, where a vampire falls for a human junkie grappling with an HIV diagnosis; and 2030, where a vampire-human couple reflects on a world reshaped by a mysterious medical breakthrough. The film is a kaleidoscope of hyper-realistic visuals—think purple pastel period sets clashing with frilly dresses and grotesque monster prosthetics—and a narrative that refuses to shy away from heavy themes. It’s a vampire tale, a manifesto, and a love letter to those on society’s margins, all served with a side of campy flair.
“There’s so much being said here,” the interviewer noted, pointing to the film’s layered commentary on pandemics, queer identity, and societal scapegoating. Casanova, however, was quick to temper expectations. “I tried to don’t expect nothing,” he said, his voice tinged with the weight of experience. “Because when you expect something, you want to die for sure.” Yet, his excitement was palpable. “This movie is really close to me,” he admitted. “Vampires, women vampires. I love vampires and women vampires. And I don’t like women vampires being secondary to Dracula.”
Indeed, Silencio flips the script on the male-dominated monster canon. Casanova’s vampires are women—fierce, flawed, and unforgettable. From the delicate teacups they sip blood from to the lorazepam they pop to calm their nerves, these creatures are both monstrous and achingly human. They’re the kind of vampires who “ravenously anticipate their lover’s period,” as the festival program so vividly put it. And they’re brought to life with what Casanova calls “the best” makeup work by Oscar del Monte, whose seven-hour prosthetic sessions left both director and actors exhausted but transformed.
“It’s really complicated to shoot this movie,” Casanova confessed. “Seven hours for makeup. I’m exhausted with prosthetics and artisanal things. It’s very hard work for the actresses, and very hard work for my therapist.” The audience laughed, but his words carried a raw honesty. Making Silencio was no easy feat. “When you are shooting your movie, it’s not fun,” he said. Yet, the results speak for themselves: stomach-churning creature designs, theatrical sets, and performances that teeter gloriously on the edge of excess.
At its core, Silencio is a meditation on cycles—of disease, of marginalization, of resilience. Casanova doesn’t shy away from the big issues. “Silence talks about AIDS,” he said, his tone growing serious. “Many people don’t know, AIDS is a big problem now in 2025. The pandemic is not finished, and it’s important to talk about this.” By weaving together the Black Plague, the AIDS crisis, and a sly nod to COVID-19, the film forces viewers to confront the ways society vilifies the vulnerable during times of crisis. “Vampires are a poetic character,” Casanova explained. “I like to work with vampires to talk about women, about feminism, about LGBTQ rights, about AIDS.”
For Casanova, filmmaking is more than a craft—it’s an extension of his very being. “I only can communicate with people with art,” he said. “It’s really necessary for me to talk with a camera.” But he’s candid about the toll it takes. “It’s very difficult to make movies,” he warned aspiring filmmakers in the audience. “You want to suffer for sure. It’s more difficult if your movies are not the most mainstream in the world.” At 34, he’s already battle-worn, admitting, “I’m tired.” Yet, he’s already looking ahead to his next project, a satanic goat-themed film tentatively titled El Gran Cabrón (“The Black Goat” in English, though he’s still mulling over the translation). “I’m so obsessed now with satanic gates and goats,” he said, grinning. “Perfect for Fantastic Fest.”
As the interview wrapped, Casanova’s love for Austin and its “crazy” festival crowd shone through. “I was in Fantastic Fest three years ago with La Pietà, and now with Silencio,” he said. “Austin is one of my favorite places in the world.” Though his time in the city was short—“I don’t have time, baby!”—he was eager to soak in the festival’s chaotic energy, maybe even hit the karaoke room downstairs.
For those lucky enough to catch Silencio at Fantastic Fest 2025, Casanova’s latest is a feast for the senses—a blood-soaked, queer-powered, camp-drenched dive into the monstrous and the marginalized. It’s a film that doesn’t just entertain; it demands empathy, challenges norms, and leaves you craving more. As Casanova put it, “If you need to tell stories, try. But you must fight hard.” And fight he does, with every frame of Silencio proving that his voice—wild, unapologetic, and utterly unique—is one worth hearing.
