Since the first Interview episodes, Jones and Hannah Moscovitch, both playwrights, have imbued the series with a kind of meta-argument for the power of art in times of tremendous turmoil. These are dense, literary shows packed with references to all manner of highbrow art and pop culture—compositions inspired by the poetry of Baudelaire, visual nods to films like Trainspotting, dialogue that gestures toward figures as disparate as pioneering Black American jazz pianists, medal-winning British ice dancers, and Post Malone. But in keeping with its protagonist’s difficulty staring at his feelings head-on, The Vampire Lestat—and the marketing that preceded its premiere—doesn’t start with ballads or sensual odes to far-reaching love. The new show leads with up-tempo earworms that magnify Lestat’s ego, his spiral into all the expected vices, or his petty musings about Louis. Before we hear the cracks in Lestat’s voice, we see him peacocking onstage; before Lélio, we see Harlequin. “Rolin was always like, ‘Serve more cunt, serve more cunt,’ and I was a bit like, I don’t think you know what is in …