Remember the missing trigger warning in Blink Twice? Well, The Crow has a trigger warning, but it is the wrong one. The Crow should have come with a warning for toe-curling dialogue and flat characters sharing zero chemistry. Based on James O’Barr’s iconic comic book series and Alex Proyas’ stunning 1994 film, this needless reboot directed by Rupert Sanders (notably the director of the Foundation pilot) plods along at the pace of congealing gum in a deserted post office.
The Crow, the fifth film in this long-standing franchise, begins on a grim note with a dying horse, immediately earning black marks for animal violence. The horse’s entrapment in barbed wire serves as an oddly symbolic introduction to the story of a traumatized young boy named Eric (Bill Skarsgård), who attempts to free the animal. Fast forward to his adulthood, Eric now struggles with addiction, paralleling the journey of pianist Shelly (FKA Twigs) who shares the same vice. When Shelly receives a menacing video from her friend Zadie (Isabella Wei), she finds herself on the run from Roeg (Danny Huston), a crime lord and patron of the arts, who has forged a deal with the devil.
In a thwarted attempt to find safety, Shelly lands in rehab where she crosses paths with Eric. The emergence of Marian (Laura Birn), Roeg’s relentless right-hand person, propels the pair to flee from their makeshift refuge. They temporarily find solace in the ostentatious apartment of Shelly’s friend, where they develop an implausible romantic connection, joylessly reveling their nights away. But their escapade comes to an abrupt and violent end when Roeg’s henchmen track them down and murder them both.
Eric’s story takes a dark and supernatural turn when he awakens in an abandoned train station, meeting Cronos (Sami Bouajila). In a purgatory-style halfway house, Cronos informs Eric that as long as his love remains pure, he is invincible. This revelation sets Eric on a tedious and plodding path of revenge, avenging their deaths to reunite with his one true love.
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Despite its various flaws, The Crow boasts excellent production design and a trippy soundscape – even when not compared to the 1994 film, which featured contributions from Stone Temple Pilots, The Cure, and Nine Inch Nails. However, that is where the glory ends. The operatic violence towards the climax – if one can endure until then – is intercut with an opera scene that only compounds the gratuity of the bloodshed.
The chemistry between Twigs and Skarsgård is utterly absent, making it impossible to invest emotionally in their supposedly eternal love. Instead of evoking a sense of timeless romance, their interactions feel more transactional and convenient. This dynamic is sorely aggravated by leaden, lackluster dialogues that only serve to highlight their lack of emotional resonance. The sluggish pace, compounded by a jumbled plot featuring the all-important video that randomly pops up as filler, does nothing to propel the narrative forward.
The symbolic crow, which holds deep cultural significance for rebirth and ancestors in Hindu mythology, appears to have been included as an afterthought. It drifts aimlessly through the film, serving as another of the many pointless characters, including Shelley’s mother, Sophia (Josette Simon), and a nameless pianist who does little more than make googly eyes at Roeg. There was a fleeting moment during a chase scene when Eric’s regenerative abilities evoked a Gothic Terminator image, quickly undermined by the wasteland of imagination that characterizes the rest of the film.
In conclusion, The Crow, currently running in theaters, falls spectacularly short of expectations. Despite the stunning production design and evocative soundscape, the film is hindered by a sluggish pace, weak dialogue, and the palpable lack of chemistry between its leads. This reboot serves as a cautionary tale of how not to revive a beloved franchise, ultimately failing to pay homage to its predecessors or introduce anything novel or compelling to its narrative. The Crow leaves viewers yearning for the original, majestic film’s depth and emotional intensity, proving that some legacies are better left untouched.
