THE CROW Review: Don't Call It a Reboot, Call It a Reimagining

After spending the better part of two decades parked in development purgatory, the long-mooted remake, reboot, and/or reimagining of James O’Barr’s comic-book series/comic strip, The Crow, makes a belated, somewhat anticipated appearance in the nation’s multiplexes just as the summer season ends, schools reopen for another year, and another doom-laden presidential election (one of the most important of our lifetimes or so we’ve been informed) fast approaches. In short, it’s a perfect time of the year for a new, grim-dark adaptation of a 35-year-old goth-punk classic.

That’s assuming, of course, that said adaptation justifies its existence beyond the exploitation of preexisting IP (intellectual property). Unfortunately, the Rupert Sanders-directed remix-as-reimagining The Crow doesn’t.

Lugubriously, flaccidly directed, overlong and overindulgent, bizarrely waiting until the 40-minute-mark to introduce the reanimated title character, this iteration of The Crow will be remembered — if it’s remembered at all — as one part object lesson and one part cautionary tale in the perils, risks, and problems associated with the adaptation process.

Working from a screenplay credited to Zach Baylin (Creed III, Gran Turismo, King Richard) and William Josef Schneider, The Crow begins somewhat confusingly, introducing its central characters, Eric Draven (Bill Skarsgård, Barbarian, It: Parts I-II), a fringe-dwelling, underclass drug addict, and Shelly Webster (FKA twigs), his upscale counterpart, via two separate storylines. Hazily flashing back to Eric’s ill-defined troubled, trailer park-dwelling childhood and a friend of Shelly’s, Zadie (Isabella Wei), in hyper-panic mode over an illicit video recording, The Crow does itself no favors.

Only gradually does it become obvious that Eric and Shelley don’t know each other’s existence, let alone their shared destiny as literal soul-mates in this world or the next. Instead, they have their first meet-and-greet in a state-funded recovery facility where the patient-inmates wear pink sweats, men and women freely mix, and the guards — like guards everywhere — are absolute jerks.

After exchanging under-motivated glances in and around the facility, Eric and Shelly make a slow-motion run for freedom, Eric from a life presumably of low-level crime, Shelly from a cabal of soul-snatchers led by Vincent Roeg (Danny Huston, always the supervillain, never the superhero), a centuries-old emissary for Satan who trades the souls of innocents for an extended life on Earth.

With just a few whispered words, Roeg can convince practically anyone to commit homicide or suicide, damning themselves to Hell in the process. A neat trick that, except it pales next to Eric’s post-resurrection ability to survive any number of otherwise fatal wounds.

Before Eric returns from the dead, however, he has to die. Likewise, the love of his (after) life, though unlike Alex Proyas's 1994 adaptation, this iteration of Eric isn’t out just for vengeance, slashing and dicing his way through Roeg’s anonymous thugs, including Roeg’s enigmatic right-hand woman, Marion (Laura Birn), he has another, broadly tragic goal: Saving Shelly’s immortal soul from eternal damnation with the help of a self-appointed, short-tempered spirit guide-mentor, Kronos (Sami Bouajila).

Not, of course, that saving Shelly’s soul gets in the way of Eric’s righteous rampage of revenge. Ultimately, nothing does and Sanders (Foundation, Ghost in the Shell, Snow White and the Huntsman), exploiting the other edges of an R-rating, makes sure to include several, second-half set pieces involving a nearly indestructible Eric in clownish makeup and Roeg’s easily dispatched security forces.

Given Eric’s superhuman regenerative abilities, there’s rarely a moment where there’s any short-term or long-term doubt about Eric’s fate. He might feel physical pain, but apparently, his sadomasochistic tendencies come in handy when he needs them most. It all but lowers story stakes to de minimus, negligible levels.

If Eric can’t be stopped by natural means, just inconvenienced, then it’s just one grisly, gnarly, gory set piece after another. They’re relatively well-staged, shot, and edited, but like everything else in this underwhelming adaptation of The Crow, it becomes tedious through sheer, mind-numbing repetition.

The Crow opens today (Friday, August 23), only in movie theaters, via Lionsgate.