Theresa & Allison – The Dark Pulse Beneath the Skin
When whispers about Theresa & Allison first started making the indie horror circuit, it wasn’t pitched as a vampire film. There wasn’t any extensive studio marketing, no red carpets soaked in fake blood, and no attempts at glamorizing immortality. The film gave a quiet presentation at underground festivals and attracted an audience who preferred a personal and painful horror narrative. The film promised not just a tale of two women joined by blood, but a dark reflection of fleash on one’s own hunger – for control, for love, for indifference and meaning.
This was not the world of upper-class vampires, This was New York City – cold, sleepless, and indifferent. And in the concrete darkness, Theresa & Allison became something far more human, than the dark supernatural.
Where Desire Meets Damnation
The story opens with Theresa, played by Arielle Hope, an ordinary woman who after what seems like a one-night stand, has her life take a nightmarish turn. What she doesn’t realize, is that her one-night stand leaves her forever altered, and adopts vampire like characteristics – unguided, unglamorous, and with no understanding as to what she has become.
Allison is played by Sarah Schoofs, and she is a creature who, over the centuries, has learned to survive by completely detaching herself from empathy. She takes on both the roles of mentor and manipulator as she guides Theresa through the rituals of feeding, hiding, and ultimately forgetting what it means to be human.
The bond between them—as maternal, romantic, and parasitic—constitutes the film’s emotional center. Kipp uses the relationship to frame vampirism as a metaphor for trauma. The feeding sequences are not about sexual gratification. They are desperate acts of survival shrouded in shame and craving. A battlefield in a war is the opposite of what is thought to be a battlefield of a lost cause. Theresa’s body is a battlefield of the war between self and submission, morality and instinct.
The Symbolism Beneath the Blood
The experience of watching Theresa & Allison is to experience a slow unraveling. Every scene presents a symbolic message: a whisper, not a scream. The blood is not merely blood; it is a manifestation of desire, addiction, and transformation. The mirrors that Theresa avoids are not reflections of her face, but are reflections of her conscience. The cold, desolate streets of the city are her purgatory. In that space, she is forced to learn to live as a tormented soul—neither fully alive nor completely dead.
The film also examines the symbols of identity and power. The unwilling transformation of Theresa mirrors the ways women in patriarchal systems have the roles and expectation to fill positions that they never truly wanted. The act of “turning” serves as an allegory for social conditioning. One moment of vulnerability can compromise a lifetime of autonomy.
From an Indian cultural perspective, Theresa and Allison can easily correspond to the Asuras, or the cursed women in Indian folklore whose rejection and powerlessness shape their wickedness. Like the tragic spirits of Indian myths, the bulk of Theresa’s suffering does not stem from sin, but rather from intense isolation.
An Expected Change The film also examines the symbols of identity and power. The unwilling transformation of Theresa holds a mirror to the ways women in patriarchal systems have their roles and expectation to fill positions that they never truly wanted. The act of “turning” serves as an allegory of social conditioning. One moment of vulnerability can compromise a lifetime of autonomy.
From an Indian cultural perspective, Theresa and Allison can easily correspond to the Asuras, or the cursed women in Indian folklore whose rejection and powerlessness shape their wickedness. Like the tragic spirits of Indian myths, the bulk of Theresa’s suffering does not stem from sin, but rather from intense isolation.
Conflicting opinions filled film forums. In an interview, director Jeremiah Kipp addressed this tension, saying, “We wanted the audience to feel torn — to be both repulsed and empathic. Because that’s what the characters feel.” Kipp noted that this division, this stark compartmentalization, was essential to the film.
When Reel and Real Lives Intersect
Both lead actors brought more than performance — they brought personal vulnerability. Speaking in interviews, Arielle Hope, who had mostly worked in the theater before this, and theater in the rest of the US, located moving to New York within the the story of Theresa’s disorientation. “There were days I felt invisible,” she said, “and Theresa felt like the same person — fading, desperate to feel seeen again.” That sense of despair, of emptiness, of abandonment, that was described so eloquently and lyrically in the interviews, etched itself on the screen, in every scene, in every frame, as real. Her trembling hesitation in the feeding scenes reflected this emotional and psychological exhaustion, this disorientation, rather than only a creatively constructed performance.
In underground cinema, Sarah Schoofs is a recognizable figure, frequently taking on roles that examine the more shadowy or erotic aspects of identity. However, in Theresa & Allison, she represented Allison not as a predator, but as a woman drained by generations of guilt. Schoofs explained that she studied trauma recovery literature in order to grasp emotional numbness — the phenomenon of surviving as a routine rather than a choice.
Hope and Schoofs together formed a chemistry that was delicate, intense, and oddly maternal. Their scenes give the impression, of a sort, of being improvised — some actually were. Director Kipp permitted extended shot sequences during which the performers could “find” their emotional cadence as opposed to a rigid dialogue, which provided a haunting sort of spontaneity.
Nonprofit Film Production and Theresa & Allison
Perhaps, some of the audience might not be aware that Theresa & Allison was made with very limited financial resources and the primary focus was to keep the lights on. The film was shot guerrilla-style on the streets of New York and in abandoned spaces. We had no sets, only borrowed apartments and used the subway and public parks during off-peak hours.
The cast and crew frequently filmed during the coldest nights, operating with handheld cameras and natural light. Cinematographer Christopher Bye characterized the process as “embracing the imperfection.” That rough, grainy visual quality came to define the film — not polished, but profoundly personal, as if the camera were violating the subject’s most intimate, private sins.