8 Moments In The Last Voyage Of The Demeter That Truly Terrified Us

This article contains spoilers for "The Last Voyage of the Demeter."

"The Last Voyage of the Demeter" brings a chapter of Bram Stoker's "Dracula" to new vitality. It pulses with agonizing kill sequences, doused in buckets of blood and torn flesh. Director André Øvredal, known for helming such films as "Trollhunter," "The Autopsy of Jane Doe," and "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark," smothers the screen with depth and brilliant detail. He doesn't waste a single frame, delivering enough visual storytelling to keep you compelled to dive further into a great, unholy abyss.

"The Last Voyage of the Demeter" stuns with gorgeous cinematography, a smattering of rain-drenched sequences of tension, and plenty of blood-curdling, fang-toothed images that'll haunt you forever. Credit should also be given to cinematographers Roman Osin and Tom Stern for their expertly-crafted work alongside Øvredal. Without them, the film would not contain such an impressive style as it does.

As beautiful as it is to behold, the film's real strength lies in its terrifying moments of unadulterated violence. When a winged Dracula crawls out of its dirt-laden coffin and descends upon its prey with only bloodlust in its eyes, you get the sense that what you're witnessing is ungodly, unnatural, and altogether irreverent. Throughout its two-hour runtime, there are scenes that penetrate the mind and hang around, like a colony of bats dangling upside down in a damp cavern. Grab your crucifix as we walk you through the film's eight most frightening moments.

"The Last Voyage of Demeter" should come with a huge ol' "the dog dies" warning. Huckleberry, young Toby's (Woody Norman) dog, is traipsing through the ship when he comes upon a figure shuffling in the distance. The dark hallway looms and casts eerie shadows on the walls. The figure stretches its wings and expands twice its size. The shadow alone is enough to make your skin crawl, but nothing can prepare you for what comes next.

Huckleberry barks at the form, which initially doesn't move from its spot. As the camera pulls back, giving the viewer a more distant perspective, a black shadow darts across the wall. All you hear is the soft crunch of fur, flesh, and bone as the shape's teeth enjoy a little snack. We later see the aftermath and what's left of poor Huck — he's essentially been flayed, and it's a gruesome sight. In fact, all the animals aboard have had their throats ripped open. Puncture wounds wax red and hot.

Humans dying on screen is, of course, a sad affair. But when it involves animals (and especially dogs), there's a sort of terror that courses in your blood. Huckleberry never stood a chance.

While investigating a slew of shipment containers below decks, University of Cambridge graduate Clemens (Corey Hawkins) comes upon a young girl named Anna (Aisling Franciosi), who's stowed away buried beneath a pile of dirt. She has slipped out of one of the crates and is barely alive. Clemens uses his medical background to attempt to save her life by giving her a blood transfusion. It'll take time to fully recuperate, of course, but it does the trick. Late one night, as she lies shivering in bed, the camera turns to one of the corners and reveals something truly ghastly.

A creature shakes, its skin rolling around on its meager frame. Its head tilts just slightly upward. You only catch a minor gleam in its eyes before we cut away. It might be an all-too-brief moment, but it sticks with you. Director André Øvredal makes sure to never overstay the moment, at least initially, to let the tension and story slowly burn. He holds the cards close to the vest and lets the imagination perform its own trickery.

Olgaren (Stefan Kapičić) is marching across the upper deck during a storm when he has the great misfortune to be the first to spot the unholy beast. As he's making the rounds, thunder roars overhead and lightning illuminates the deck. There's nothing particularly frightening about the scene, apart from a growing sense of dread that gradually becomes so suffocating you could lose your breath. The camera floats around the deck, mirroring the ebb and flow of the sea, to give the moment even greater unease.

Olgaren busies himself taking care of the ship, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees something shifting in place. He turns just in time for the lightning to reveal someone, or something, framed perfectly in a nearby doorway. The figure menacingly stares him down, but it's only a split second before the ship is cast back into blackness. The evil, as he later regales to the other crew, has landed aboard the ship. He manages to escape by sheer luck — and the fact the creature prefers to toy with its prey. But he knows deep in his bones that no one will survive the ill-fated trip to England. It's in these quieter moments that the film shines brightest. It's not — and it can't be — all about jump scares or loud violence. There needs to be nuance to how the story is told, and Øvredal delivers in spades.

A scallywag named Petrosfky (Nikolai Nikolaeff) mans the ship's wheel in the dead of night. A person on deck is essential in keeping the Demeter on a steady and true path. The ship, heading to England from Romania, is as tried and true as they come but could be easily blown off course in a storm. While on watch, Petrosfky hears a rumbling coming from somewhere on the deck. He makes his way along the bow and stern, peeking around corners and into the ship's many crevices.

He comes upon a wobbly staircase, leading up to the forecastle, and beneath it there slithers a creature. He's never laid his eyes upon such a beast, its limbs pointed out at odd angles. Dracula (Javier Botet), as he's known, lifts his face, and his beady little eyes glow in the dark. Chills running down his spine, Petrosfky has no time to react before Dracula pounces, baring his teeth and sinking them into Petrosfky's throat. He remains alive, as the taloned demon sucks him dry. His eyes dart back and forth in sheer terror and desperation.

As the film's first human kill, Petrosfky's death knocks the wind from your lungs. As I sat in the movie theater, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen, and my entire body seized in place. The shock of violence — particularly in such a secluded — claustrophobic space as a ship, overcomes the senses in a way you're not likely to expect.

Olgaren and Larsen (Martin Furulund) keep watch the following night. After the previous evening's incident, they can't be too careful. Unfortunately, they have no clue what they're up against. A storm ravages the ship, twisting it to and fro in the ripping waves that thrash against the hull. The darkness suffocates. It's only a matter of time before Dracula alights on the upper deck to claim his prey. The lightning works overtime to perfectly reveal the creature lurking in the shadows. In one particular moment, Dracula is seen standing menacingly behind Larsen as he attempts to light a lantern.

The real horror comes when Dracula leaps down from somewhere overhead and curb-stomps Larsen onto the wooden planks. His teeth shatter and scatter around like a handful of dice, while Dracula quickly turns about-face and chases Olgaren up a mast, his attempt to escape all for naught. Dracula will get your blood one way or another, and Olgaren inevitably becomes the next victim.

Once again, relentless brutality can make the blood run cold as much as the more subtle scares do. These puzzle pieces fit together to create a brooding and horrifying snapshot. From the goosebump-inducing build-up to the frightful climax, Larsen's death and Olgaren's feeding time claws into your eyeballs. You're left both mesmerized and aghast with what you've just seen. Say what you want about the movie perhaps having a bloated runtime, but "The Last Voyage of Demeter" knows exactly how to deliver in these moments.

Olgaren survives the brutal attack. Once he's been rescued, Captain Eliot (Liam Cunningham), Wojchek (David Dastmalchian), and the others decide it's best to bind him to a wood table to recover. Eliot leaves Toby in a nearby room, giving him a periscope to polish. "Lock the door," he tells Toby, before heading above deck.

Of course, Toby doesn't listen and ventures outside his room. In an adjoining hallway, he discovers a still-bloody Olgaren standing idly, his body rocking back and forth. Toby approaches and calls out his name. Olgaren looks up, and his eyes are lifeless, devoid of anything resembling a man. He bounds forward and chases Toby back into his room, where he cowers as Oglaren begins to smash his head against the wooden door. Toby hammers the periscope on the ceiling, sending an emergency signal to Eliot and the other men. But Toby is in even more danger than they realize. Dracula lurks in the corner, and before the door can be unlocked, he grabs Toby and feeds on the young boy.

Despite the nature of the film (and how we know going in that it all ends in tragedy), it's still a shock to see a kid violently attacked. It's the sum of this sequence's parts that makes it a petrifying thrill ride. It's a stretched-out section of the film that mercilessly takes the audience hostage and never lifts the foot from their throats until the very last frame.

When it becomes clear their fate is sealed, another crewmember named Joseph (Jon Jon Briones) steals a rowboat and paddles away from the ship. The night weighs down on him as the waves rock the boat, but he steadies himself and continues rowing. As he darts away, a dense fog blankets the ocean around him until it's as thick as pea soup. Visibility is low, and all you can hear is the gentle lapping of water and something flapping its wings.

Dracula plops down on the back of the rowboat and bares his fangs. His eyes glow like two fiery marbles. The terror in Joseph's eyes pierce the screen. In a flash, Dracula is on him and drains him dry of his blood. Tension is both drawn out and spliced with a burst of violence, as the film so effectively manages to balance. The lead-up to Joseph's demise is as heart-pounding as his final breaths. Abandoning the ship and crew wasn't the smartest decision, but it's an understandable moment of terrifying desperation. At least it's doing something, anything to stay alive just a tad longer.

The epic climax of "The Last Voyage of the Demeter" might be the year's most soul-rattling finale. It's a non-stop deluge of action, blood, and screams. Dracula feeds as he goes, warding off shots and bludgeons from an axe. When a fog seeps onto the ship, the crew — who have devised a plot to sink the ship and send Dracula to a watery grave — is at a clear disadvantage. Dracula's perceptions are keener, and Clemens, Anna, and the others must battle the elements in order to survive.

But we know how this goes. It's inevitable that Dracula will rise victorious — it's just a matter of how. Dracula rips Abrams (Chris Walley) in two, yanking him down from the crow's nest, and tosses Wojchek down into the lower level. Wojchek breaks a leg but continues the plan to chop open the bulkhead to allow for the sea to swallow the ship whole. Of course, he doesn't survive, though his plan almost works. The ship, unfortunately for those in London, makes it ashore anyway. Dracula flies into the night.

One thing is true: "The Last Voyage of the Demeter" doesn't skimp on the blood and violence. It's a delightful fright fest that manages to be genuinely terrifying at the same time. André Øvredal delivers plenty of frighteningly quiet scares, while also managing the heart-racing, stomach-turning scenes that burn into the skin. A Dracula film wouldn't be the same without both. As enjoyable as the film is, I'm pretty sure I had nightmares about it last night.