It’s funny how vivid our memories can be – clearly recalling moments from when we were kids. I can remember hearing of actor Brandon (son of Bruce) Lee’s death while shooting a movie, seeing photos of him plastered all over magazines and tv in his now iconic makeup. Making a connection soon after in my mind with Sting (not the singer of The Police, but rather, the wrestler – who soon after Lee’s death modelled his makeup on his character. . . as you can guess, I was into wresting at the time), his look and story stuck with me from the age of six until now, a heartbreaking tale of a fatal mistake made on set.
Of course, the film I am referring to is The Crow, directed by Alex Proyas (Dark City) – a tale that is hard to separate from the depressing real life tragedy. Like some sort of eerie foreshadowing, its narrative follows Eric Draven (Lee), a man who has died after being stabbed, shot and thrown out of a window (Lee passed away after being shot by an improperly deactivated cartridge) – all of this after his fiancée has been raped and murdered.
With a voice-over narration that highlights the narrative’s mythos, Sarah (Rochelle Davis) tells of how “people once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can’t rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong thing right.”
True to this ancient legend, Eric returns from the grave nearly one year after the fateful day (thanks to an ever-present crow), unclear of the whole ordeal (it is a painful realization when he does revisit the entire horrid situation). Learning that he is unable to be harmed, he lives in the shadows, biding his time until he has the opportunity to gain revenge on his assailants.
Based upon a cult comic of the same name (created by James O’Barr), Eric is like a hybrid of a vigilante anti-hero out of the 1970s mixed with Batman, as well as a film noir detective, and, to throw in my astute childhood observation, the wrestler Sting. He is the harbinger of death, the grim reaper, the judge, jury and executioner – a man driven by pain, undying devotion to his murdered fiancée, and a comical madness to clean up the streets, one thug at a time. He derives a sick pleasure as he plays with his victims, at one point dramatically exclaiming “suddenly I heard a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door” after busting through a sketchy pawnbroker’s (Jon Polito – Miller’s Crossing) glass entrance – a clear (though not completely accurate) reference to the mesmeric gothic poem “The Raven”, written by Edgar Allan Poe.
Proyas builds a dark and dreary gothic landscape (utilizing filters to cut out much of the colour, other than scarlet red) much like we would later see in his 1998 feature Dark City. Like a cross between a gothic horror set and a moody 1940’s noir city, it is a hyper-stylized dystopic vision for our characters to trudge through. Nearly always raining, the weather is symbolic of the cities unholy plight. . . each Devil’s Night (that is, October 30th), criminals come together to burn much of the metropolis to the ground (it was on this ominous day that Eric and his fiancée were murdered). . . and, as a nice bookend, the same evening the tale will come to a close.
The weather is symbolic of those living within the grim high-rises; Sarah is a young girl with little hope – “cared for” by a druggie mother who is always shacked up with a new criminal each week, she has lost her anchor (as the murdered couple did more for her than her mother ever has). She skateboards around the grimy streets, sometimes chumming around with beat cop Albrecht (Ernie Hudson) – a man who has been demoted to the position by crooked cops, looking to keep the under-the-table cash payoffs coming.
The city is run, not by a mayor, but by Top Dollar (Michael Wincott), a big time criminal mastermind who is advised by his lover/half-sister Myca (Bai Ling) – a mystic, of sorts; they are supported by his sadistic assassin henchman Grange (Tony Todd). It is Top Dollar who orchestrates the bedlam each October 30th, and it was he who targeted the young engaged couple.
As Eric makes his bloody way through the four assailants who did the deed a year ago, it eventually leads him towards the evil brains of the operation. Will he be able to put an end to the crime ring, cleaning up the streets and finding revenge for himself and his fiancée, or will he fail in his murderous goal?
With a unique style (certain moments almost feel like a visually driven music video circa the era it was made), Proyas’ The Crow sets the stage for the future – a darkly energetic, influential neo-noir that predates Sin City, Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, and so many other comic book (or comic book style) features. As Eric was part of a rock band prior to his death, the soundtrack (comprised of bands like Stone Temple Pilots and The Cure) is filled with befitting grungy rock, and Graeme Revell’s memorable score must not be forgotten either. Yet, it is Lee’s soulful performance that transcends the piece – his character’s journey to find some catharsis itself bringing solace to the grieving audience. Eric’s arc, for better or worse, will forever be interwoven with Lee’s – the movie itself could not have been completed without the use of computer generated effects that were new for the time (in essence, bringing Lee back to life – much like in the film).
To conclude, I would like to leave you with two pieces of sound advice: the first, Lee cites “The Sheltering Sky” in an interview he did whilst on the set (found on the Behind The Scenes featurette on the Blu-Ray); the second, the final voice-over narration that brings the film to a close:
“Because we do not know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well, and yet everything only happens a certain number of times – and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood. . . an afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it – perhaps four, five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise – perhaps twenty, and yet it all seems limitless.”
“If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.”
Amen