‘Abigail’ movie review: Universal’s vampire flick is all style and no substance

‘Abigail,’ starring Melissa Barrera and Alisha Weir, sacrifices character development in favour of a billion litres of blood exploding in everyone’s faces every minute

From the creatives behind the recent Scream sequels and Ready or Not comes a B-movie masquerading as yet another genre-defying revelation. Abigail serves up a bloody concoction of tired vampire tropes and half-baked humour that leaves us thirsting for something, anything, with a bit more bite.

The premise of this undead debacle starts off with some promise — a ragtag crew of criminals embark on a daring kidnapping mission, only to realize they’ve bitten off more than they can chew. From the outset, it’s clear that Abigail suffers from an identity crisis of epic proportions. Is it a modern spin on Dracula’s Daughter? Is it a heist flick? A creature feature? Or perhaps just another misguided attempt from Universal at relevance in the oversaturation of its very own Monsterverse. Whatever the film was trying to be, the result feels like a relic from a bygone era stumbling over its own cape and hastily updated with all the trite clichés of contemporary horror sensibilities.

Of the film’s many egregious missteps, its handling of the titular character, Abigail, would have Tchaikovsky rolling in his grave. While Alisha Weir admirably sinks her teeth into her role as a ballerina vampire, the character itself is more grating than engaging, veering dangerously close to caricature territory. Unfortunately, the character’s sarcastic quips and penchant for psychological mind games feel more toothless than terrifying, leaving us longing for the days when vampires were more Bram Stoker and less... pirouetting to Swan Lake.

The supporting cast fares a little better, with performances that range from wooden to downright cringe-worthy. The film’s attempts at being funny fall painfully flat, with characters spouting off an endless barrage of insipid profanities that are about as fresh as the bag of onions that makes a short-lived cameo. Melissa Barrera struggles to convince as the film’s moral compass and Dan Stevens flounders in a role that feels like every villainous stereotype rolled into one.

What could have been a worthy send-off to the late Angus Cloud is reduced to nothing more than a typecast — his character just a blander rehash of his dimwitted stoner from Euphoria. Even the usually reliable Giancarlo Esposito fails to elevate the material, his presence serving as little more than a reminder of the film’s wasted potential.

Visually, Abigail manages to conjure up some semblance of atmosphere, thanks in no small part to The First Omen’s Aaron Morton’s cinematography, imbuing the film’s gothic setting with a certain macabre charm. However, any aesthetic merits are overshadowed by the film’s over-reliance on cheap gore and predictable scares.

Ultimately, Abigail is all style and no substance. While it may have some fleeting moments of entertainment value, they are ultimately overshadowed by its myriad shortcomings. Abigail stands as yet another cautionary tale of what happens when creativity takes a backseat to commercialism.