By Sarah Musnicky
ABIGAIL is the latest project from Radio Silence, aka Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett. Mostly fixated in a central location, this latest gory horror comedy is a bundle of silly stake-errific laughs that will have you wondering what the heck all throughout the movie. After the success of Ready or Not, this is no surprise. This Melissa Barrera-helmed vampfest features campy shenanigans, restructured genre tropes, and a Swan Lake-obsessed vampire ballerina who’ll take no prisoners.
Starring Scream Queen Melissa Barrera, Dan Stevens, Kathryn Newton, William Catlett, Kevin Durand, and the late Angus Cloud as the kidnappers, ABIGAIL starts off in heist mode. Armed with mysterious orders, this ensemble successfully kidnaps the seemingly young Abigail (Alisha Weir) and brings her to a mysterious hunting lodge in the middle of nowhere. What starts off as a standard kidnapping goes awry when it becomes clear Abigail is not the daughter of an ordinary rich guy. As bodies start to drop, it becomes clear that Abigail is more than any of them bargained for.
While described as a reimagining of Universal's 1936 film Dracula's Daughter, it's easier to go in expecting ABIGAIL to be its own thing. Part heist, part cat-and-mouse chase, Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillett make great use of the location to build up the suspense that comes once Abigail's fangs come out. That's not to say the film itself is entrenched in seriousness. There' an element of inherent silliness to the story that balances things out in Stephen Shields' and Guy Busick's screenplay.
This silliness is amplified by the actors' comedic timing and commitment and Michael Shawver's snappy edits. Whether it's the emphasized height difference between Weir's Abigail dancing with a headless corpse, brilliantly timed explosive bursts of gore, or the personality-driven bickering amongst the group, with Newton and Durand taking centerstage with their delivery, there are plenty of moments that deliver laughs.
The comedy itself camouflages ABIGAIL's weaker story area, particularly with Stevens' Frank. While he commits, the character is a mishmash of tropes that never come together to form a cohesive image. Enough is done to connect his character from Point A to B to C, but it's held together by hope and a vengeful, power-hungry dream. The big reveal at the end also seems shoehorned in, solidifying Abigail's iron-clad connection to her father. Was the reveal wholly necessary? No, but again, it can be dismissed as a negligible inclusion.
As a final girl, Melissa Barrera continues to prove why she is not the one to mess with. Whether going toe-to-toe with Stevens' Frank, negotiating with a vampire, or sobbing in the dark, her range highlights the depth of an otherwise standard kind of character. As the rock of the group, her Joey refuses to waver, even in the midst of her circumstances. While the character on paper could have been fleshed out more, Barrera delivers.
The real standout of ABIGAIL is Alisha Weir. Alternating between childlike innocence, bloodthirsty rage, and a quizzical gaze, her performance immerses the audience into believing she's a vampire. That said, the fight choreography and Abigail's fixation on Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake lend themselves to some ridiculous fight sequences. It's arguable whether or not these moments can be given the camp stamp of approval, but they are incredibly entertaining, even if not entirely en pointe.
If you want a mindless, entertaining gorefest that will have yourself asking what the heck?, ABIGAIL will get you squared away. There's something for everyone here. Ultimately, it serves as a tableau for the core cast and highlights the continued joy Radio Silence brings to the horror genre.
ABIGAIL is now in theaters.