Not to come in too heavy, but there’s no way to talk about The Crow without talking about Brandon Lee’s death. Impossible because it’s tragic, yes, because it happened on set, of course, but mostly, I discovered, because of the nature of the film itself. Lee plays Eric Draven, a rock ‘n’ roller who rises from the grave to take his revenge on the gangsters who brutally murdered him and his fiancée. The parallels would’ve been eerie (spooky!) enough, but the matter’s compounded by a series of scenes in which Eric gets shot point blank in the chest, and in what feels like an act of wish fulfillment, we watch his bullet wounds melt away. It’s frankly a little surreal to watch, and thirty years ago, must’ve felt uncomfortable at best. I’m not surprised that Paramount abandoned the movie: after Lee’s death, production stalled, and Miramax ultimately scooped up the wreckage and completed the film with rewrites and some proto-CGI. As a result, I always assumed The Crow was a chop job, a Frankenstein, a badly lit B-movie filmed in warehouses and parking lots. But it turns out it’s not any of those things at all.
Maybe I wouldn’t have been so enthusiastic during Marvel’s heyday, but after so many eternal, well, Eternals(es?), The Crow feels brisk, fresh, strangely light for a movie about death. We don’t waste time exploring the pathology of Eric’s clown makeup or the mechanics of his powers: within five minutes of his resurrection, he’s in full costume, bounding across the Detroit rooftops with an electric guitar. When it comes to 90’s Goth Metal, there is an extremely fine line between cool and, achem, not (think the original Matrix versus, say, Stuart Townsend in Queen of the Damned)—but Lee looks, frankly, gorgeous in his black bondage gear and leather topcoat. It must be said, this is how you use a 23-million-dollar budget: the entire set’s barely a city block, but it’s got grit, texture, style, with a bright orange skyline that feels, somehow, more real than any LA rooftop. It all stinks of early Tim Burton, but you can also see the skeleton of director Alex Proyas’ far larger, far more realized Dark City from a few years later. Of course, it’s pretty clear where Lee is missing, and Proyas fills these holes with silhouettes and body doubles, but also, most effectively, by fleshing out the movie’s side characters. I’d be remiss not to single out the incomparable Ernie Hudson, who plays Gordon to Lee’s Batman, as well as Michael Wincott’s Top Dollar, whose Tom Waits growl and lush black hair give life to what should’ve been a throwaway gang lord. The Crow is by no means perfect: for all its specificity, I admit it can feel a little crass, a little trifling, and Eric’s obligatory kid sidekick is as insufferable as you’d expect. But if you’re looking for a vibe, or maybe just prepping for this year’s remake (starring IDK’s favorite Skarskgård, Bill (don’t @ me)), I promise there are worse ways to spend a Friday night. There’s some great set pieces, a couple amazing explosions and sword fights—and hey, it’s technically a Halloween movie, so.
Pros:
Bai Ling versus a literal crow.
Next time! All aboard the Soleil Rouge!