Friday, August 11, 2023

The Last Voyage of the Demeter: Medium-well stake

The Last Voyage of the Demeter (2023) • View trailer
3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong gory violence
Available via: Movie theaters

This is a genius idea for a horror film.

 

Bragi F. Schut and Zak Olkewicz’s script expands upon a portion of a chapter from Bram Stoker’s Dracula, wherein newspaper clippings detail the strange case of a Russian schooner that runs aground at the Yorkshire seaside town of Whitby, during a ferocious late-night storm. The sole person aboard is the ship’s captain, dead two days, and lashed to the wheel.

 

Larsen (Martin Furulund) desperately tries to light a lantern, amid a raging rain and wind
storm. Alas, he won't like what the illumination ultimately reveals...


His recovered log book recounts the strange and ultimately horrifying events that took place on the Demeter, after it left the city of Varna a month earlier, bound for London.

Schut and Olkewicz take us aboard the doomed vessel, granting faces and personalities to the crew — most of them well played by the multinational cast — while, um, taking some license with Stoker’s version of his malevolent vampire.

 

There’s no way this Dracula could subsequently move about London in the guise of an ordinary-looking man. But Schut, Olkewicz and Norwegian director André Øvredal aren’t required to adhere religiously to Stoker’s 1897 classic; their goal is simply to frighten the hell out of us.

 

They succeed, to a degree; the atmosphere, gruesome shocks and period authenticity are excellent. But Øvredal is too self-indulgent; his lethargic pacing works against the story’s suspense. He should have let editors Julian Clarke, Patrick Larsgaard and Christian Wagner do a better job. This pokey two-hour horror flick would have been far scarier if, say, 20 minutes shorter.

 

Instead, each fresh burst of gory violence is telegraphed by a mile (and Bear McCreary’s ear-splitting synth score doesn’t help).

 

The story begins as the Demeter takes on its final cargo: a series of large wooden boxes, one of them bearing a dragon seal that prompts a strong response from a newly hired hand, who resigns on the spot. He’s replaced by Clemens (Corey Hawkins), a well-spoken doctor seeking travel to London. First mate Wojchek (David Dastmalchian) warns that this “dandified” fellow better pull his weight, but the ship’s captain (Liam Cunningham) has good reason to accept his presence.

 

Once at sea, Clemens proves remarkably capable; he also befriends the ship’s cabin boy, Toby (Woody Norman). These two are by far this story’s most interesting characters, with whom we immediately bond; both are well played by Hawkins and Norman.

 

Among his various duties, Toby has been placed in charge of the ship’s animal cargo (future meals for the crew, while at sea). The boy is assisted by Huckleberry, his faithful black Lab.

 

The crew is a mixed lot. The ship’s cook, Joseph (Jon Jon Briones), is unexpectedly pious, which makes him an object of mild ridicule. The others — Olgaren (Stefan Kapicic), Petrofsky (Nicolai Nicolaeff), Larsen (Martin Furulund) and Abrams (Chris Walley) — are tough, swaggering and uncouth.

 

Øvredal soon grants us a view of something the crew doesn’t see: a peek within one of the large cargo boxes, filled with dirt. A clawed hand weakly breaks the surface.

 

The voyage initially is uneventful. Then, while below decks one day, Clemens hears something shift in the cargo hold. Upon investigating, he finds that one of the other boxes has fallen and split open. It, too, was filled with dirt: now a huge mound on the cargo hold floor. Clemens paws through this moist earth and finds the body of a young woman, barely alive.

 

(Viewers with a morbid sense of humor will immediately realize that this is — forgive me — Dracula’s box lunch.)

 

Her presence sets the crew on edge; a woman on board is “bad luck.” Clemens nonetheless insists on saving her, with the captain’s blessing. The doctor recognizes an odd “blood disease,” and sets about “cleansing” her body with a series of transfusions. (This story does not worry about the necessity of blood typing and matching.)

 

Meanwhile, Bad Stuff has been happening. Something has slaughtered all the animals in the hold, in each case savagely ripping out their throats. 

 

The woman revives; she is Anna (Aisling Franciosi), who is all too aware of the Evil now stalking the ship, having come from a village that has endured its nearby presence for generations.

 

What follows is an inevitably gory riff on Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. For awhile, Øvredal wisely borrows the crucial lesson from Steven Spielberg’s Jaws, by hinting at the monster; we catch only unsettling glimpses of a bent, gaunt, ash-white figure.

 

The best, most suspenseful and horrifying sequence — which plays out in several teeth-clenching stages — involves poor young Toby, locked for “safety” in the captain’s cabin, watching helplessly as … ah, but that would be telling.

 

Schut and Olkewicz supply some clever touches: the “rapping” method of quick communication, which echoes throughout the ship; and the sudden disappearance of all the ship’s rats. (“A ship without rats,” the cook mutters, “goes against nature.”)

 

Cunningham excels as the increasingly distraught captain, helpless in the face of something he cannot comprehend. Franciosi’s Anna becomes an impressively plucky heroine, and Hawkins is magnificent as the resolutely pragmatic Clemens: a man of science who insists on rational explanations.

 

Some established cinematic vampire lore is followed. Sunlight is anathema to Dracula, who hunts solely at night; on the other hand, the Christian cross is wholly ineffectual (which doesn’t seem fair).

 

But Schut and Olkewicz badly drop the ball at one point. Late in the game, Clemens and Anna find Dracula’s special box. “This is where he sleeps,” she gravely intones. But then they do nothing with it. Seriously? Burn it, toss it overboard … surely they should have tried something.

 

Production designer Edward Thomas’ work is superb, with his alternately cramped and sprawling sets that replicate the Demeter’s numerous decks and interior spaces (lots of creepy corridors). An entire full-length ship’s exterior — 214 feet long, 38 feet wide — also was constructed at the Malta Film Studios. The result is as important as the human characters: Their environment feels real.

 

Alas, Øvredal’s film truly comes alive (or undead, if you prefer) during its climax. Prior to that, he too frequently settles for gore in lieu of genuine suspense and terror. Yes, the mood is totally disturbing … but in a horror film, a good story and engaging characters are only half the equation.


Pacing is crucial … and that could have been better. 

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