A ballet-dancing pre-teen vampire

 

   Abigail may evoke memories of an Agatha Christie mystery in which strangers trapped in a mansion are bumped off one by one. The movie also has elements of a crime caper in which the 12-year-old daughter of a wealthy man is kidnapped by aspiring felons who've been hired by a mysterious organizer. 

   Last but not least, Abigail brings a variety of horror movies to mind, the kind that use humor to ease us toward ample helpings of blood, gore, and gook.

   Having said all that, it may come as a surprise that fans of contemporary horror may find Abigail tolerable and even amusing, a slickly realized production from directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett, who operate under the name of Radio Silence and who previously directed a couple of Scream films. 

   The movie also arrives with an ostensible pedigree, notably a connection to the 1936 movie, Dracula's Daughter. Let's just say, the reference feels tenuous and most likely will be irrelevant to many of today's moviegoers.

   No one who has seen the trailer will be surprised to learn that Abigail, the kidnapped child, is a vampire who initially presents as a helpless pre-teen ballerina we first meet during a rehearsal of Swan Lake. Abigail evokes sympathy that would have been greater if we didn't already know the movie is out for blood.

 The motley crew of kidnappers centers on Frank (Dan Stevens) who emerges as a take-charge jerk and a young woman (Melissa Barrera) with a tragic past that includes drug addiction. 

  The rest of the bunch includes stock characters such as Kathryn Newton's Sammy (rich girl turned bad), Kevin Durand's Peter (the muscular dope), Angus Cloud's Dean (the clueless member of the group), and William Catlett's Rickles (a former marine).

  It takes a while for Abigail (a hard-working Alisha Weir) to show her true colors, which include bad teeth, a ferocious roar, a variety of physical acrobatics, and a couple of lines that underscore the movie's taste for sarcasm.

  At one point, Abigail tells us she likes to "play with her food."

  The directors are caught in a trap that encourages them to take horror tropes semi-seriously while also offering each shock as if it were a grisly party favor for audiences that are definitely in on the joke.

  When vampires are destroyed in this movie, they explode, their remains turning into pulpy showers of blood and guts. Early victims are decapitated.

   My bottom line: To me, Abigail felt longer than its one hour and 49 minutes, perhaps because the movie seems overly calculated in its attempts to shock and amuse while happily embracing its schlocky roots. 

   By current standards, Abigail can't be called awful, but I found it a little too eager to lick its own bloody lips.

  

Lovers on the run: Let’s dance

 

  French choreographer Benjamin Millepied makes his directorial debut by enrolling in the lovers-on-the-run school of filmmaking. We’ve raced through these corridors before, but not quite like this.

  Loosely following the arc of Bizet's opera, Millepied's Carmen casts Melissa Barrera (In the Heights) as a fiercely independent woman who escapes cartel killers in Mexico and takes flight to Los Angeles.

  During a skirmish at the border, Barrera's Carmen meets Aidan (Paul Mescal of Aftersun), a former Marine who did two tours in Afghanistan. To protect Carmen, Aidan kills a border patrol officer. 

   The two take flight.

   A plot summary doesn't do justice to Millepied's effort. Relying heavily on cinematographer Jorge Widmer (A Tree of Life and V for Vendetta) and composer Nicholas Britell (Moonlight), Millepied turns his movie into a dreamy succession of set pieces, many featuring dance and song.

   Other musical contributions come from singer/songwriters Julieta Venegas, songwriter Taura Stinson, and rapper The D.O.C.

   The movie's opening sets a no-nonsense mood. Flamenco dancer Marina Tamayo dances on a wooden platform in the middle of a lonely arid landscape. The rhythms she creates with her feet are sharply defiant. Whatever these men want, Tamayo's character has no intention of giving it to them.

    Tamayo, who's playing Carmen's mother, dies at the hands of these cartel thugs, but her presence is meant to haunt the rest of the film.

   Millepied requires his actors to create a strong presence as much as to develop their characters. Mescal makes a convincing battle-scarred warrior with a tender side and Barrera shines during the dance sequences. 

   Pedro Amodovar regular Rossy de Palma brings her striking appearance to the film as the owner of a club where Aidan and Carmen find respite. De Palma's witchy blend of concern, menace, and eroticism almost turn her into a special effect.

   Border issues and the traumatic impact of war add topicality but Millepied seems to be aiming for more than a gloss on current events, possibly a story about characters who become dramatic archetypes.

   As a result, emotions often play second fiddle to Millepied's  formalized approach, a prospect that will bother those expecting torrid passion. 

   Carmen may not deliver on every level, but bold execution creates appreciation for a movie of artistic ambition and palpable daring.

'In the Heights' hits lots of high notes

 

     With In the Heights, Lin-Manuel Miranda established himself as a major figure in American musical theater. Miranda followed In the Heights with Hamilton, the production that took Broadway and then the nation by storm. 

    Now In the Heights has reached the big screen where it serves as a vibrant celebration of the Washington Heights neighborhood that has become a center of New York Dominican culture, broadened here to encompass a variety of Latino ethnicities living in the shadow of the George Washington Bridge.

    The message behind the energy that director Jon M. Chu (Crazy Rich Asians) and a fine cast bring to the movie involves identity and assertiveness, insistence of characters on building lives in New York while keeping their culture close at hand.

   A large-scale ensemble piece, the movie nonetheless centers around Usnavi de la Vega played by Anthony Ramos in a commanding performance. Ramos narrates the story and also participates in the tale as a bodega owner who, in the movie's framing device, tells a group of youngsters how he wrestled with the idea of giving up his New York business and emigrating to the Dominican Republic to open a nightclub.

    Scenes in the bodega make good use of Gregory Diaz IV, who plays Sonny, Usnavi's teen assistant, a kid who wants to legalize his presence in the US, attend college, and make a life for himself.

    Chu introduces the movie in a way that makes it clear that he's telling the story of a neighborhood, showing us a block springing to life on a hot summer day. To underscore the challenges of big-city living, a crippling power outage looms.

    A large case keeps things lively, but a few of the performances must be highlighted.  Leslie Grace plays Nina, a young woman who has returned to the neighborhood after dropping out of Stanford, where she didn't feel accepted and where she felt she was betraying her roots. 

    Nina's father (Jimmy Smits) owns the cab company where Nina's boyfriend (Corey Hawkins) works as a dispatcher.

    Most of the movie's themes revolve around the issue of flight, how to balance aspiration with faithfulness to heritage.

    -- Smits's character is ready to sell his business to finance Nina's tuition.

    -- Daniela (Daphne Rubin-Vega) runs the local hair salon and is thinking about moving her business to the Grand Concourse, abandoning Manhattan for the Bronx.

    -- Melissa Barrera portrays Vanessa, a young woman who wants to abandon the Heights to establish herself in the downtown fashion world.  

     The beating heart of the neighborhood belongs to Abuela Claudia (Olga Merediz), a Cuban-American woman who has no children but who has become a grandmother figure for the entire neighborhood.   

     Merediz sings one of the movie’s key songs, Paciencia y Fe  (Hope and Patience), which Chu stages in a New York subway station.

    Chu adds some nice graphics and effects flourishes, one involving a spinning manhole cover, another enabling Grace and Hawkins to scale the side of an apartment building as they sing a love duet. 

     Other highlights include a number at the local pool, where the characters wondering what they'd do if they had a winning lottery ticket that would pay $96,000.

    Miranda appears in the role of Piraguero, the guy who sells flavored ice from a pushcart.

    When I lived in New York, Washington Heights was known as an Irish neighborhood, a fact to which the screenplay makes glancing reference. Smits’s character bought his business from an Irish-American who was moving elsewhere.

    The movie's themes aren't exactly groundbreaking, but new voices give the entire enterprise an invigorating feeling of freshness.

     Chu and Quiara Alegria Hudes, who wrote the movie's screenplay, might have done a bit more to condense a two-hour and 23-minute run time, but In the Heights stands as a rich and spirited entertainment that brims with love for a neighborhood and the people who populate it. 

    Oh, and did I mention that it’s also a lot of fun?