You’ll want to decline any invitation to this Abigail’s party
Leaping onto screens with the grace of a prima ballerina and the grand guignol of a slaughterhouse, Abigail continues Universal’s recent trend of discretely rebooting their classic monster movies in innovative and crucially more humble fashion than The Dark Universe. Directed by Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett, the team behind Ready or Not (yay!) and Scream (2022) (boo!), it’s a ferociously fun ballet-themed shocker, even if it doesn’t feature bears in hats driving little cars.
When a group of criminals kidnap a young girl, they expect an easy job and a quick ransom. But Abigail, played with chilling brilliance by Alisha Weir, is no ordinary girl. She’s a supernatural force, a pint-sized predator in a tutu, and the gang’s night quickly spirals into a nightmarish struggle for survival within the confines of an isolated mansion.
The kidnap gang is an entertainingly assembled who’s who of who’s next, led by Melissa Barrera, known for her roles in In the Heights and Scream, brings a fiery intensity to her role (something distinctly lacking in Scream), while Dan Stevens, with sharp wit and impeccable timing, plays the de facto leader of the team yet goes from mastermind to mess in mere moments. The supporting cast, including the likes of Kevin Durand, Will Catlett, Kathryn Newton and the late Angus Cloud, who gives sociopathic getaway driver Dean a ‘roided out, ketamine-infused Elon Musk air, add a colourful cavalcade of cannon fodder for the bloodletting to come, each bringing their own flavour to this diabolic divertissement. Newton, in particular, shines as a cynical rich-kid hacker turned true believer, but then it’s hard to stick to cynicism when you’re drenched, absolutely drenched, in blood.
Given the trailer gives much of the film’s central conceit away, you may find it takes its time to properly get going but the film’s charm lies in its embrace of both horror and comedy. The mansion setting, with its shadowy corridors and gothic grandeur, enhances the claustrophobic tension, transforming every creak and whisper into a potential harbinger of doom while Weir, whose portrayal of Abigail nails the necessarily bewitching combination of innocence and malevolence, flits between the two with the practiced skill of an étoile shifting from first to second position.
Abigail revels in its practical effects, showcasing a cavalcade of gore that is both inventive and stomach-churning. The filmmakers have orchestrated a symphony of splatter, with body explosions, stabbings, and severed limbs aplenty. These visceral visuals are not merely for shock; they underscore the dark comedy that runs like a claret river through the narrative. Each gruesome scene is counterbalanced with moments of absurdity and wit, ensuring that the film continues to surprise.
Yet, despite its many strengths, Abigail occasionally leans quite heavily on genre clichés, making some plot developments feel predictable. The relentless onslaught of violence, while a boon for gore aficionados, could feel a little tedious for those seeking a little more nuance and the supporting characters, despite the actors’ commendable efforts, sometimes fall into archetypal traps, their fates easily telegraphed to seasoned horror fans.
Where others might tread the path of sombre reinvention, Abigail opts for a more playful approach. This film doesn’t seek to completely overhaul the mythos of Dracula’s Daughter but rather to embrace it in a playful pas de deux, pairing an old idea with some fresh blood and in the end, Abigail is a bold and bloody entry in Universal’s Gothic Grimoire. Alisha Weir’s performance as the titular character is a haunting highlight, infusing the role with a disquieting charm. While the film’s penchant for wild splattercore violence may not suit everyone, it’s a fun and gory romp for those with a hankering for corn syrup.