If I know one thing, it's that you can't ever really kill anyone in Asia. They always come back as some sort of squeaky ghost with tongues instead of eyeballs and hang out under the sink eating your fear. Yaaawn. And if I know two things (I really do!), the first is the thing I just said about Asian ghosts—surely you remember—and the second is that vampirism is the SEXIEST DISEASE EVER (except for super-duper-big-boob-itis, am I riiiiiight?). Like, seriously, vampires, we get it. WE GET IT. You're hornay. Hornay hornay hornay. Cheeseburgers are not an option anymore because human blood is your food now, and for some reason that means you just want to grab a lady and PUT IT IN THERE at all times. All night. It has to be at night. Because daytime lovin' would cause you to be on fire, which is another symptom of your condition (I have done my research!).

But for realsies, between Twilight and HBO's True Blood (marry me, Lafayette) and Interview with the Kirsten Dunst's Snaggletooth and good old Dracula and goddamn Count Duckula (that dude was a perv) and now Thirst, I've had it about up to here (picture me holding my hand up really high—like, incredibly high) with sexy, sexy, vampire-on-human, bloody, lusty bloodlust. Mon. Dieu. Quit braggin'.

Now, Thirst—directed by Park Chan-wook of 2003's Oldboy—is not bad. It's actually kind of good. It's about an ultraprincipled, goody-two-shoes, wooden-flute-tootin' priest named Sang-hyun (The Host's Song Kang-ho), who volunteers to test a new vaccine, dies, accidentally gets a transfusion of vampire blood, un-dies, becomes a gauze-wrapped, messianic folk hero, and then has sex. A whole bunch of it. Because that's what vampires do (JESUS CHRIST, WE KNOW). Also there is a squeaky Asian ghost (see?).

Thirst is a horror movie, albeit a silly one. Actual scares are few to none—instead, Sang-hyun's painfully earnest consternation at trying to live as an ethical monster (losing his priestly virginity, daintily sipping a comatose man's blood straight from the IV) make it a funny, cartoonish, and strangely sweet fable about ethics versus instincts: "Is it a sin for a fox to eat a chicken?" Unfortunately, Thirst drags on for a punishing gazillion hours—ethical monster shacks up with manipulative harpy and the complications pile up like bodies (because, you know, they literally are bodies)—and you feel like you'll never see your home or your mom or the precious golden sun again. VAMPIRE-STYLE. Hornay, hornay vampires. God, shut up.

Comment on Concessions at thestranger.com