The Crow [1994]

A film with a production history as tragic as that of The Crow can't be taken on its own merits. The death of the star, Brandon Lee, in an on-set accident, plays horribly into the film's own plot, in which Lee plays a murdered rock star who returns from the grave as a pasty-faced avenger who looks like a zombie Marcel Marceau. Lee's walking dead man survives dozens of shootings, though he was in real life killed by a shot from a prop gun, but it is to the movie's credit that the awfully ironic overtones evaporate rapidly and the trickery used to finish the movie without the lead character is practically invisible. Sadly, it's still not very good and hardly demonstrates the pleasing range of wit and athletic promise Lee showed in such minor vehicles as Showdown in Little Tokyo and Rapid Fire.

Derived from a gruesome comic by J O'Neil and scripted by a pair of outstanding American novelists [science fiction writer John Shirley and horror star David J. Schow], The Crow is essentially a supernatural-tinged remake of the Dolph Lundren comic hero movie The Punisher. Rocker Eric Draven is killed by human filth the night before Halloween and crawls out of his grave at the behest of a sinister, magical crow. Painting his face and wearing a black bodystocking, Draven wages war on the city's long-haired crimelord [Michael Wincott], helping out a stereotypical honest black cop [Ernie Hudson] and being a good example to a waiflike street kid.

The story combines two of the oldest comic book plots: the Tales From the Crypt avenging zombie story with the Batman origin, as the undead Draven becomes a killer superhero and offs the villains who murdered him and plan on spreading trouble. Pop video director Alex Troyas and the design crew create an effectively nightmarish cityscape, but it's a waste to stage all the fight scenes in such atmospheric gloom that you can't see Lee's fancy kungfu moves. There's not a single character or incident you've not seen in a half-dozen earlier superguy films and it trots along without a moment of ambiguity or surprise. There are a few exciting bits and some striking images, but the stark black and white moralities of the script become tedious even as the flashy MTV cutting and droning thump-rock soundtrack try to keep you awake. This is not a movie anyone would like dedicated to their memory.
KIM NEWMAN

First Published In: Empire [issue unknown].

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