Producers: Tim Wu, James Howard Herron, James Harris, Leonora Darby, Mark Ward, Nicholas Lazo, Samuel Zimmerman and Emily Gotto Director: Natasha Kermani Screenplay: Natasha Kermani Cast: Titus Welliver, Jocelin Donahue, Judah Mackey, Aurora Perrineau, Brady Hepner, Jonathan Howard, Fayna Sanchez, Corfeon Moore, Nick Epper and Larry Cedar Distributor: RLJE Films/Shudder
Grade: C-
There’s a long history of attempts to continue, in some fashion, the story Bram Stoker told in his 1897 novel “Dracula.” None has been particularly successful—the 2023 movie “Renfield” is a recent example of how bad things have gotten—and certainly none has achieved the original novel’s classic status, or that of the 1931 movie based on it. Adapted from a short story by Joe Hill, Stephen King’s son, which first appeared in his 2005 anthology “20th Century Ghosts,” Natasha Kermani’s “Abraham’s Boys”—the Abraham being Abraham van Helsing, Stoker’s professorial vampire slayer—joins the unlucky pack. It’s a brooding bore about obsession and, believe it or not, poor parenting.
The story’s set at an isolated California farm in 1915. Abraham (Titus Welliver) escaped there from Europe after the events of “Dracula,” accompanied by his wife Mina (Jocelin Donahue), the widow of Jonathan Harker who’d herself nearly become a victim of Dracula in the novel, and their sons Max (Brady Hepner) and Rudy (Judah Mackey), the older boy laconic but thoughtful, the latter more studious. Both are sternly governed by their father, who spends most of his time in the study which no one else is allowed to enter. Though the locale is a farm, little work on the land appears to be going on; Mina cooks and cleans, but Max seems to engage in almost perpetual log-splitting when he isn’t just roaming about gazing at the surroundings, and young Rudy mostly reads in solitude.
In Abraham’s view, the arrival of more people—a small town has sprung up nearby, and a railroad crew is busy mapping out the route for an extension that will invite further population growth—poses a danger. Because of Mina’s previous link to the count, he’s certain that the vampire’s followers will use the lingering psychic connection to find them. The thought becomes an obsession, and the abduction of a woman (Fayna Sanchez) walking along a road in the movie’s initial scene seems to suggest he’s right—or, in hindsight, that he’s perhaps taking matters into his own hands, right or wrong. When one of the railway workers (Corfeon Moore) is injured and his sister (Aurora Perrineau) brings him in for treatment, Abraham patches the man up but with a feeling that a crisis is imminent.
The feeling becomes a certainty when Mina falls ill and even a blood transfusion from Max doesn’t help her. Her death—and his sons’ increasing interest in his work—convince Abraham that he must instruct them in the gruesome work of killing vampires. As they’ve discovered, he’s trapped one in a secret cellar, and she now serves as an unwilling specimen for them to practice on. It’s unpleasant work, and though Max reluctantly complies with his father’s instruction, Rudy proves more squeamish.
The final act sees Abraham growing increasingly demented, especially after a surprise visit from Arthur Holmwood, one of his old London vampire-hunting comrades, who begs assurance that Abraham’s beliefs about vampires are valid and their actions were justified; Van Helsing throws him out, exacerbating Max’s concerns about his father’s mental state. When Abraham’s madness threatens Rudy and others as well, Max feels compelled to intervene.
Kermani and editor Gabriel de Urioste aim to create a mood of dark foreboding for this story of a father’s descent into madness, but the languid pacing succeeds only in generating a ponderous air, and while cinematographer Julia Swain offers some evocative shots of the California vistas even in the boxy 4:3 format the director has chosen (presumably as a nod to the 1931 film), the dank interiors of Steven Cirocco’s production design and Abbie Martin’s equally dark costumes offer little opportunity for anything but a tone of pervasive gloom. Some ghostly apparitions of Dracula, in simple Nosferatu form, in the shadows do not elicit much alarm, and a couple of scenes with practical gore effects (like a decapitation) have the sort of absurd ghoulishness that marked fifties horror movies. Brittany Allen’s score, however, is effectively ominous.
The acting is part of the problem. Welliver tries to strike a commanding presence, but he’s stiff, and Swain’s habit of focusing light on his unblinking eyes to give him a spooky look only succeeds in making him appear silly. Donahue and Hepner mope around blankly, while Mackey is prone to overdo his big moments; and while Perrineau injects some energy into her scenes, they’re too infrequent and brief to make much of a difference.
The premise behind “Abraham’s Boys” has some promise, but the limp execution makes for a pretty dull drama.