I’ve been looking forward to “Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter” ever since the first, wild trailer for the film debuted in February.
Earlier this week I finally got to see it, and while I never felt compelled to start a “U-S-A!” chant, I did have a good time at the movies. Basically, “Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter” is just as silly, fun, and visually impressive as I had hoped it would be, and as I mention in my official review of it, it also feels a lot like a crazy comic-book movie starring the 16th President of the United States. (And I mean that in the best possible way.)
Here’s an excerpt from my review:
Much like Wanted, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter offers a great example of Bekmambetov’s talents as an architect of breath-taking visuals and Matrix-like action sequences that combine fluid, fast-paced choreography with an expert eye for digital flourishes. One particularly amazing set piece has Lincoln chasing after a vampire while navigating a massive herd of stampeding horses. As the pair ride, leap, and scramble their way through the galloping beasts, it’s difficult to discern where the boundary is between live-action actors and digital creations, making for a wildly original sequence that combines much of what Bekmambetov does best.
While the film’s first act is a bit slow to develop and occasionally crosses the line from clever to campy (including some unintentionally funny training scenes and a ridiculous montage of Abe practicing his axe-handling), once Abraham Lincoln is in full vampire-killing mode, the film really finds its groove. Walker does a fine job as Lincoln, and even when he evolves into the most familiar vision of the U.S. President – complete with top hat and chinstrap beard – he somehow manages to sell the character’s dual life as political leader and monster slayer. It’s a crazy, comic-book world that this version of Abraham Lincoln inhabits, and the film manages to skirt the edge of outright camp for much of its 105-minute running time.
You can read the rest of my review at Movies.com.
