Despite some choppy storytelling, André Øvredal's The Last Voyage of the Demeter is largely the sort of welcome Hammer-style throwback that has been mostly absent from cinema in recent years.
Much of its appeal lies in its unique elevator pitch: take a single, epistolary chapter from Bram Stoker's Dracula and widen it to a full-length feature. Liam Cunningham, Corey Hawkins, David Dastmalchian, Woody Norman and Aisling Franciosi as stowaway Anna round out the principal cast of the Demeter's crew, while the rest are relegated to stereotypes and slaughter for the monstrously-designed Dracula.
There is a delightfully simple pleasure to be had in the Dracula-meets-Alien single-location premise, a sense that is bolstered by moody production design and the tangibility of the titular ship. Øvredal also gets points for shooting nighttime scenes that the audience can actually see, while retaining some sense of atmosphere. Given the seeming absence of a lighting department in many Hollywood productions over the last several years, the bar is on the floor, but it's worth noting nonetheless.
Bear McCreary's score and the wonderfully creaky sound design add to the waterlogged dread — at the centre of which is Javier Botet's Dracula, a humanoid in this film, but more bat-man than the reverse, speaking rarely and only in guttural growls. The Demeter's Nosferatu is an angular, demonic presence that, when appropriately framed against the shadowy stern, results in its fair share of memorable horror imagery.
However, that same intriguing premise is also where the Demeter stumbles. There is already a sense of fatalism baked into the movie, from its title and source material to its opening scene depicting the derelict ship over Cunningham's foreboding narration. There's a bit too much time spent establishing the most tired character traits — like the captain's upcoming retirement, which the audience knows will be violently interrupted. A lot of potential exists in adapting the stark ambiguity of the captain's log from Stoker's novel, so it's disappointing that its largely filled out with nondescript blandness, buoyed by the occasional lethargic lurching to the next nighttime feeding.
A well-earned R-rating showcasing plenty of throat-ripping and head-bashing gives the impression the film wasn't interfered with by a skittish studio. At the same time, the film's limp ending consists of seemingly mandated and ultimately confused franchise bait. It all makes one wish the filmmakers took their Alien inspiration even further.
While the film certainly isn't kind to its characters, the setup indicates the potential to maximize its unsparing brutality along the lines of the vicious Alien: Covenant instead of some of the gestures at characterization we do receive. Still, the Dracula-on-a-boat movie mostly delivers on the promise inherent in its premise, and while not breaking any ground, it's an enjoyable and worthwhile voyage to set sail.
(Universal)Much of its appeal lies in its unique elevator pitch: take a single, epistolary chapter from Bram Stoker's Dracula and widen it to a full-length feature. Liam Cunningham, Corey Hawkins, David Dastmalchian, Woody Norman and Aisling Franciosi as stowaway Anna round out the principal cast of the Demeter's crew, while the rest are relegated to stereotypes and slaughter for the monstrously-designed Dracula.
There is a delightfully simple pleasure to be had in the Dracula-meets-Alien single-location premise, a sense that is bolstered by moody production design and the tangibility of the titular ship. Øvredal also gets points for shooting nighttime scenes that the audience can actually see, while retaining some sense of atmosphere. Given the seeming absence of a lighting department in many Hollywood productions over the last several years, the bar is on the floor, but it's worth noting nonetheless.
Bear McCreary's score and the wonderfully creaky sound design add to the waterlogged dread — at the centre of which is Javier Botet's Dracula, a humanoid in this film, but more bat-man than the reverse, speaking rarely and only in guttural growls. The Demeter's Nosferatu is an angular, demonic presence that, when appropriately framed against the shadowy stern, results in its fair share of memorable horror imagery.
However, that same intriguing premise is also where the Demeter stumbles. There is already a sense of fatalism baked into the movie, from its title and source material to its opening scene depicting the derelict ship over Cunningham's foreboding narration. There's a bit too much time spent establishing the most tired character traits — like the captain's upcoming retirement, which the audience knows will be violently interrupted. A lot of potential exists in adapting the stark ambiguity of the captain's log from Stoker's novel, so it's disappointing that its largely filled out with nondescript blandness, buoyed by the occasional lethargic lurching to the next nighttime feeding.
A well-earned R-rating showcasing plenty of throat-ripping and head-bashing gives the impression the film wasn't interfered with by a skittish studio. At the same time, the film's limp ending consists of seemingly mandated and ultimately confused franchise bait. It all makes one wish the filmmakers took their Alien inspiration even further.
While the film certainly isn't kind to its characters, the setup indicates the potential to maximize its unsparing brutality along the lines of the vicious Alien: Covenant instead of some of the gestures at characterization we do receive. Still, the Dracula-on-a-boat movie mostly delivers on the promise inherent in its premise, and while not breaking any ground, it's an enjoyable and worthwhile voyage to set sail.
