★★★★
A delightfully simple premise delivers bloody satisfaction in Abigailthe first postShout horror from Radio Silence directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett. In short, a pint-sized, tutu-wearing vampire torments ragtag criminals in a Scooby-Doo mansion. It’s good elevator pitch material and the bloodiest episode of ballet since Darren Aronofsky pitted Natalie Portman against Mila Kunis. Neither would last a pas de trois on stage with Alisha Weir.
The rising Irish starlet, most recently from Bad little letters but better known as Matilda, the Netflix musical, stars the titular 12-year-old daughter of Kristof Lazar, a much-feared crime lord of the darkest underworld. Freshly returned from a late-night ballet rehearsal, Abigail is kidnapped by six crooks and taken to a remote estate in the middle of nowhere. She’s there at the behest of Giancarlo Esposito’s Lambert, the shady suit choreographing the heist. The price of his pretty head is 50 million dollars. All Lambert’s irregulars have to do for their cut is keep Abigail safe for twenty-four hours. She is twelve years old. It could hardly be simpler.
The composition of the group is exactly what one would expect, i.e. their personalities only serve what the film requires. There is the loafer, the muscleman, the little blonde and the femme fatale. It’s neither sophisticated nor progressive but stupidly effective and supported by a clever cast. Take the ditz; it is increased tenfold by Weird And The ant Man escape Kathryn Newton. As for the femme fatale, they don’t do better than Melissa Barrera, finding her Shout directors and offering much the same subversive power. Dan Stevens plays a mercurial ex-cop, while Kevin Durand, Will Catlett and the late Angus Cloud, to whom the film is dedicated, round out the team.
Unnamed for reasons of personal protection, each criminal is instead named after a member of the Rat Pack, a pseudonym that works better in reverse. This pack of rats is ready to be captured. Here’s the thing: Young Abigail is actually a centuries-old vampire and part-time hitwoman. The fondness for ballet is legitimate – Weir spends the entire film with Anna Pavola and a pair of bedazzled pumps – but so are the bloodlust and murderous streak. She could have eliminated them in seconds but concedes: “I like to play with my food.”
Weir is remarkable here, once again demonstrating a screen presence well beyond his years. It is with effortless flair that she flirts between ingenue and incubus, her changes of mansion almost imperceptible… until it is too late. Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillett shower Weir with frankly alarming amounts of fake blood throughout her binge, though they only consume a fraction of their supply for the film. All have their Carrie moment here. Certainly, an early decapitation sets a high benchmark for nauseating villainy, building to an almighty, bloody crescendo as the credits roll. Just when you think you’ve figured it out, you’ll realize that you too have been Abigail’s plaything.
It’s all extremely gothic as well. The labyrinthine setting of the mansion proves perfect for fright, while a touch of fantasy can’t help but arise from the blur of Brian Tyler’s score with the central theme from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. Aspects of the story have a playful triviality, with humor well mixed with horror. Abigail perhaps owes its origins to Lambert – see the wink? – Hillyer’s Universal Monster movie Dracula’s Daughter but it’s entirely its own beast.
T.S.