Hollywood’s endless fascination with fangs and folklore churns out “Abigail,” a film that swings for the fences only to end up as a mishit into the realm of silver-screen mediocrity. From the team that brought audiences the thrills of the recent “Scream” sequels and the dark comedy “Ready or Not” emerges this cinematic endeavor, a B-movie posing as something far more avant-garde.
“Abigail” offers audiences a melange of vampire cliches accompanied by an attempt at humor that never quite takes flight, resulting in a longing for a narrative with more depth and originality. The film introduces us to a group of unscrupulous characters embarking on a high-stakes kidnapping plot. However, their plans quickly unravel when it becomes apparent that they are in over their heads—a promising start tarnished by a convoluted execution.
The eponymous Abigail, portrayed with brandish gusto by Alisha Weir, is an enigmatic ballerina turned vampiric siren whose presence oscillates between mystique and irritation. Weir commits to the role with a tenacity that is commendable, yet the character’s assortment of sarcastic jibes and psychological antics lack the chill that could have made her a memorable movie monster. The depiction of vampires in this feature film teeters more towards an ill-advised parody of the genre’s iconic figures rather than an homage or reinvention, leaving viewers to reminisce about a time when vampires exuded more sinister allure.
Complementing the lead is a diverse range of performances from the supporting cast, which unfortunately range from authentically wooden to regrettably laughable. Despite their best efforts, the talented cohort is underserved by a script laden with insipid dialogue and humor that misses its mark. Melissa Barrera’s portrayal of the group’s guiding moral force feels unconvincing while Dan Stevens is relegated to a caricature of villainous tropes, neither evolving beyond the surface of their scripted personas.
The film also posthumously features Angus Cloud in what turns out to be an uninspired iteration of his memorable persona from the series “Euphoria,” a disappointing misuse of the late actor’s talents. Giancarlo Esposito’s appearance is a muted glimmer amid the gloom, yet his gravitas is insufficient to rescue the narrative from its disappointing trajectory.
On the visual front, the film bears some merit. Cinematographer Aaron Morton, celebrated for his work in “The First Omen,” injects the picture with a touch of gothic allure. However, these aesthetic successes are ultimately overshadowed by the film’s excessive indulgence in low-budget gore and all-too-predictable jump scares which can’t compensate for a lack of solid storytelling.
Indeed, “Abigail” is emblematic of style triumphing over substance as fleeting moments of entertainment are smothered by the weight of its numerous failings. The film exemplifies the consequences of sidelining real creativity for the blind pursuit of market trends, a stark reminder of the perils associated with the prioritization of commercial interests over artistic vision.
As the end credits roll, a sense of disappointment lingers, a testament to what might have been if the creators had dared to venture a little further from the proverbial coffin. For those who seek to sink their teeth into something truly fulfilling, the consensus suggests looking beyond Abigail’s macabre yet lustreless dance. Now running in cinemas, “Abigail” is a film that ultimately fails to deliver the rejuvenating twist on horror that it so ambitiously seeks to provide, serving as a stark reminder that sometimes less is not more when it comes to reviving the undead on the big screen.
