‘The Crow’ is More Than Just Goth ‘Robocop’
In 1993, moviegoers were met with the sudden and tragic news that Brandon Lee, the son of Bruce Lee who had become a rising star in Martial Arts Cinema with Rapid Fire and Showdown in Little Tokyo, was accidentally killed on the set of his latest production due to a bullet cartridge that had been accidentally lodged into the barrel of a revolver. One headline read “Bruce Lee’s Son, Brandon, Killed in Movie Accident.”
The project in question was based on the hit independent comic, The Crow by James O’Barr. News of Lee’s death mirrored his father’s own sudden and enigmatic passing, fulfilling the fabled prophecy of a “family curse” upon the Lees. Some suspected foul play in Lee’s death, as was suggested by this salacious piece from Inside Edition, while others thought the production, plagued with safety issues and frequent drug use among the crew, was cursed from the start. The reality is that Brandon Lee was killed by negligence, the same negligence that killed cinematographer Halyna Hutchins on the set of Rust. To add to the eerie mythology building around his death, Brandon Lee’s character in The Crow, Eric Draven, was a slain rock musician who was resurrected to seek vengeance for the murders of himself and his wife.
The Hype Around The Crow
Paramount Pictures, the film’s original producers, dropped The Crow upon the devastating news of Lee’s death and it was uncertain if the film would ever be finished or distributed as Lee had still a number of scenes to shoot. Unable to resist the publicity and notoriety that The Crow accumulated, Harvey Weinstein picked it up under the Miramax banner and director Alex Proyas managed to salvage the film through rewrites and the use of a double for Lee’s remaining scenes.
The finished film was finally released to a morbidly curious moviegoing public in 1994 and became an instant cult sensation. It grossed well over its modest $18 million budget with $90 million and captivated audiences with Proyas’ haunting, dynamic style and Lee’s posthumous performance. It was postulated that The Crow would’ve been Lee’s breakthrough into the mainstream, that he would have escaped his father’s shadow and proven his mettle as not only an action hero but a dramatic performer of depth and humanity. James O’Barr had been skeptical to say the least of Lee’s casting, fearing that his passion project was about to be turned into a cheesy kung-fu flick, but was taken aback by Lee’s performance the same way that critics and audiences were.
A Surprise Hit
The original film was such a hit that it not only inspired a series of sequels, which ranged from mediocre imitations to baffling disasters, but a remake with Bill Skarsgård set to release later this year. The remake has finally been produced after years of development in hell, in which a series of notable actors and directors such as Bradley Cooper, Jason Momoa, and Tom Hiddleston failed to get it off the ground. This string of failed reboots has added to the rumors that the original film is “cursed” in a similar fashion to Poltergeist. Curse or not, what’s been made certain is that The Crow was a lighting-in-the-bottle winning combination of talent, opportunity, and inspiration that unfolded into a singular vision of immense power despite the tragedy that haunted its production.
While The Crow also won over the critics, some were decidedly unimpressed. I would know because my father, a critic for the Houston Press, was one of them. Our Siskel and Ebert back-and-forth over The Crow’s merits is ongoing. Outside of the critical establishment there still remain skeptics of the film, who it with being derivative and simplistic. It’s simplistic, yes, but this analysis gravely misses the point. That’s like scrutinizing the linear narrative of Poe’s The Raven or dissecting a Cure song. It’s ephemeral and timeless, a guttural expression of grief and vengeance.
It’s Nothing More Than Goth Robocop… Right?
Some have even described The Crow as just a “Goth Robocop,” sometimes out of dismissal and other times out of affection. That descriptor predisposes that Robocop invented the resurrection- revenge movie. Robocop itself was pitched as a sci-fi reinvention of The Lone Ranger, which is a property that dates back to the days of radio. Then there’s The Punisher, introduced by Marvel Comics in 1974, who himself was a response to the Vigilante-Craze of the ‘70s that saw the likes of Taxi Driver and Death Wish.
Even more offensive is the reductionist tendency to boil The Crow’s legacy simply down to its popularization of Goth culture. Yes, The Crow is a Goth movie and it’s proud of it. It features an original song by The Cure, whose frontman Robert Smith inspired James O’Barr when designing Eric Draven. Brandon Lee kicks ass in all leather before Keanu Reeves made it cool in The Matrix, which is probably why the Wachowskis’ originally envisioned Lee in the role of Neo prior to his death.
Goth And Proud
The Crow carries a Gothic tradition, one that precedes guyliner and goes straight to the source of Edgar Allan Poe. Brandon Lee even quotes The Raven in his confrontation with Gideon. The point is, you don’t need to be a Goth to appreciate The Crow anymore than one needs to be a Goth to appreciate the works of Edgar Allan Poe. For one thing, The Crow is not only fused with Goth subculture, but Grunge, Neo-Noir, and other eclectic influences. Critics were quick to compare its vision of Detroit to that of Tim Burton’s Gotham and Blade Runner. Certainly good company to be in, for sure, though that downplays the distinct flourishing of German Expressionism.
Some have described the fusion of soundstages and matte paintings to be dated, but the artificiality is the point. Proyas wanted to go even more stylistic, hoping to film The Crow in black and white. When the producers inevitably balked at the idea, Proyas decided to film it in a monochrome, only using reds for the blood spatters. While it took cues from styles and movements of generations prior, The Crow also preceded the likes of Schindler’s List, which also famously contrasts red against black-and-white to evoke not only violence but the violation of innocence. The Crow was an array of esoteric inspirations for the MTV Generation, both timeless and instantly cool.
So What Makes The Crow So Special?
Still, that’s not what distinguishes The Crow from its peers. Tim Burton took similar nods for his vision of Gotham City for Batman, which critics were rich to point out. Sam Raimi also fused old-school influences with comic-book archetypes with Darkman. Because of its costumed protagonist using supernatural powers to seek justice, The Crow would seem a natural contemporary to these aforementioned films, and there’s certainly an overlap in both style and narrative. Even still, that’s underselling what a beautiful contradiction that The Crow really is.
It’s the movie that gave the Goth Community a hero and a sordid revenge fantasy of ultraviolence. More than any of that, The Crow is something so sincere that it borders on cheesy were it not for its perfect tonal balance, which is enabled by its streamlined narrative. The Crow is a testament to the power of love, of how even the most horrific death and unrepentant evil can’t defile or destroy it.
Proyas somehow juxtaposes scenes of our protagonist getting revenge on his wife’s killer to watching said protagonist, a dead man being guided by a mystical bird, lecturing a negligent mother on the dangers of drug use. Even the scent of Nancy Reagan should clash with the gruesome violence we’ve just seen, but none of it is incongruent. Only a film of mystical properties can pull that off, and The Crow was the product of supernatural intervention, both divine and catastrophic.
A Stellar Posthumous Performance
It’s bizarre. Brandon Lee is not the first nor the last actor to deliver a posthumous performance. Peter Finch famously won a posthumous Oscar for his performance in Network. Heath Ledger would win another posthumous Oscar for playing another face-painted comic-book icon in The Dark Knight. Brandon Lee is also not the first actor to have been killed on a film set. Vic Morrow was infamously killed in a stunt gone wrong on the set of Twilight Zone: The Movie. But none of these other performances get me quite as sentimental as Brandon Lee. Though in Morrow’s case, that’s because I’m too busy wishing that John Landis were rotting in prison somewhere.
It doesn’t help that he’s playing a literal dead man resurrected on one last mission. Not just any dead man, but an artist. One who was to be married, just as Lee was at the time of his death. That’s why the film is dedicated to both him and his then-fiance. It’s also interesting that The Crow doesn’t tell us much about Eric Draven, which some have called out. Compared to the conventional narrative structure, it would appear on paper that there were some gaps in Draven’s characterization. If Lee hadn’t been killed mid-production and the final product turned out closer to the original vision, it would probably have more closely resembled a hero’s journey. Here, such intel would be unnecessary.
Lack Of Characterization May Be A Good Thing
Maybe defeating the point. Eric Draven is a man robbed of everything. Not just his life, but his essence, his being. He stumbles into his old apartments with no memory of himself before being assaulted by memories. We learn the depth of his loss with him through little moments, a very intentional choice. As Eric says to Officer Albrght, a beacon of light in this film: “Little things used to mean so much to Shelly. I used to think they were kind of trivial. Believe me: nothing is trivial.”
While his mission is one of revenge, there’s another layer that’s just as vital. After murdering Tin-Tin, Eric’s murders take a detour when he raids Gideon’s pawnshop. In what could be Lee’s most electric scene, he forces Gideon to give up Shelley’s engagement ring, which he bought off Tin-Tin the year prior. Before he blows up Gideon’s shop, he takes a guitar. His former tool of expression. The Crow isn’t just a murder spree as some have called it. It’s also about reclaiming yourself.
Contrary to some criticism, Eric Draven has a character arc. Or at the very least, he learns to appreciate something that he failed to understand in a previous life. The effect of watching a slain actor speak these words is chilling enough. But the rich spiritualism of The Crow turns it into a message from beyond.
Speaking of a message from beyond…
I’ll leave you with the words of Brandon Lee’s last interview on the set of the production. Unaware that he was going to be killed on that very set in just a week and a half, Lee hangs back with a cigarette in his hand. Clearly enthralled to be showing a different side of his persona than what his B-Movie resume had allowed for previously, Lee quotes this passage from The Sheltering Sky:
“Because we do not know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well, and yet everything happens only a certain number of times. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood that is so deeply a part of your being you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or 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.”
While his life would be cut short in a matter of days after he spoke these words, the impact Brandon Lee would have with The Crow remains just that: limitless.
Categorized:Editorials
