Screamboat (2025) Review

In the curious post-Blood and Honey era of horror cinema, where beloved public domain characters are reimagined as homicidal maniacs, Screamboat arrives with a raucous splash and a gleefully raised middle finger. Directed by Steven LaMorte (who previously retooled the Grinch into a murderous misanthrope in The Mean One), this is an anarchic slasher that knows exactly what it is: low-budget, high-concept trash, and proud of it.

The premise is charmingly ludicrous. A ferry packed with New Yorkers heads out on a foggy late-night voyage to Staten Island, only to find themselves trapped with a maniacal rodent who’s less Mickey Mouse, more maritime Gremlin with a machete. David Howard Thornton, best known for his turn as Art the Clown in Terrifier, dons the whiskers and big ears here as Steamboat Willie, playing him like a demonic vaudeville performer, complete with gleeful whistles and malevolent mimework. He’s tiny, twitchy, and, crucially, fun – never quite as menacing as Art, but arguably more entertaining in his chaos.

Stylistically, LaMorte makes good on the potential of the setting. The ferry, all creaky corridors, flickering fluorescents and water-lashed windows, is an inspired playground for the ensuing carnage. There’s a grimy, off-kilter energy that feels part VHS-era slasher, part YouTube parody, and the film leans into that duality with unapologetic abandon. Kills come thick, fast, and often hilariously, with practical effects outshining the occasional lurch into cartoonish CGI.

The screenplay, co-written by LaMorte and Matthew Garcia-Dunn, is self-aware to the point of exhaustion. Characters mutter lines like “Just keep swimming” and “We’re all mad here,” while drunken Disney Princess lookalikes named Cindi, Bella and Jazzy get bumped off in increasingly grotesque ways. It’s a drinking game waiting to happen – though one suspects you’d be unconscious before the third act. But to the film’s credit, it knows it’s scraping the barrel and does so with considerable panache.

If you can temporarily deactivate the more rational regions of your brain (as you would have done previously to enjoy most low-budget 80s horror classics), Screamboat is every bit as enjoyable. There are plot holes, and poor framing for some of the bloody kills detracts from their impact, but it doesn’t do much damage to this bonkers nostalgia trip.

Where Screamboat loses steam is in its pacing. After a lively, blood-soaked first act, the film suddenly bleeds momentum. The energy drains out somewhere mid-deck as it fumbles to keep its surviving characters afloat. Attempts at backstory, including a surprisingly sincere origin for the killer mouse, feel shoehorned in, as if worried we won’t take the whistling rodent seriously without a tragic past. And while the ending delivers in volume, it also limps a little, unsure whether it wants to conclude with a punchline or pathos.

Still, it’s difficult to be too critical of a film so nakedly ludicrous. Screamboat is knowingly daft, surprisingly enjoyable, sporadically clever, and buoyed by Thornton’s physicality and a production team that clearly had fun making it. It won’t be winning awards, but it might well become a cult sleepover staple for horror fans with a dark sense of humour and a soft spot for subverted childhood icons.

Movie Rating:

Screamboat trailer