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Starring: Vincent Perez, Mia Kirshner, Richard Brooks, Iggy Pop, Thomas Jane, Vincent Castellanos, Thuy Trang. Written by David S. Goyer. Directed by Tim Pope. USA. 93 minutes. |
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I'm convinced that I must be the only one who actually likes this movie, a stylish follow-up to the 1994 original that manages to vault in spite of its fetters. Like the majority of sequels, COA is essentially a re-make with a few minor alterations. In his second big screen incarnation, James O'Barr's unstoppable undead avenger has undergone a name change from Eric to Ashe, it's a cute-as-buttons son in the place of a lover whose life is snuffed out along with his by a sleazy gang of sociopathic troglodytes, and the events transpire during the Mexican Day of the Dead instead of Halloween. Despite these superficial changes, The Crow remains essentially unchanged from his comic book origins.
Directed with grim gusto by Tim Pope (best known for his videos for The Cure, here making his feature debut) The Crow: City of Angels maintains the same melancholy tone as the original while enlarging the mythos a stitch and taking one step further in the direction of the Gothic Western sub-genre. While both the comic book and the first film had strong Western elements (including a plot inspired in part by such sagebrush Gothics as High Plains Drifter and Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West ), COA is more self-consciously a Western than either its comic book or celluloid predecessors. This time the Gothy gunslinger rides across the bleak urban badlands on a Ducati motorcycle (an "iron horse", get it?) and the proceedings are steeped in an aura of American Indian and Mexican imagery and symbolism.
French/German Shakesperian actor Perez (a virtual unknown in America, but a huge sex symbol in Europe and Asia) gives a wounded, plaintive performance as the title character, unimpaired by his thick accent in what is primarily a very physical performance to begin with. He plays the character as a twitchy combination of Jim Morrison and Hamelt. Relative newcomer Mia Kirshner plays the grown up Sarah in a kind of dolorous daze, like a silent film actor, her wide, shimmering eyes being the film's most startling special effect. She can't help but remind one of Maria Falconetti in Carl Dryer's The Passion of Joan of Arc. In fact, the entire film plays like a silent movie with sound; very German Expressionist in style.
Main baddie Judah Earle (Brooks) is a sadistic drug boss, occultist, S&M afficianado and tyrant who seems like he was plucked right from the pages of a Robert E. Howard story. Judah makes his home in a tower-like building replete with a torture chamber and a camera obscura that he uses to watch over his wicked kingdom the way an evil wizard would use a crystal ball or a pool of water. Iggy Pop has his first non-cameo role as Judah's main goon, Curve, and while he won't be winning any Oscars (or Golden Globes, for that matter), the Igster possesses that same rugged on-screen presence displayed by fellow singer/songwriter cum actors Willie Nelson and Kris Kristoferson in movies like Barbarosa and Pat Garret and Billy the Kid.
Sure, the dialog isn't as snappy and the villains aren't as colorful and entertaining as those of the first film, but the alternate universe Los Angeles that it creates is the most visually stunning and atmospheric urban nightmre wolrd to be depicted since Ridley Scott's Blade Runner, all the more impressive when considering that it manages to avoid being Blade Runner-ish (unlike the first film). Returning to the franchize is cinematographer Dariusz Wolski, who this time around bathes the bleak, sunless Neverwhere world of The Crow in a washed out yellow tint (an old trick used to create that "period" look) that lends the film a timeless, dream-like aura. The Top 40 "alternative" soundtrack is predictably weak for the most part, but, (as with the first film) it takes a back seat to Graeme Revell's sumptuously downbeat score.
This may be the same old story adorned with new window dressing, but I'll be damned if it don't still pack a punch.
Dead meat, ripe n' reeking.
Moribund, but showing a slight flicker of life.
Good and healthy.
Brimming with vitality.
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