To Heck And Back: In Defense Of "Constantine."
Comic book geeks are their own worst enemy. They want their favorite characters to come to life in the most awesome way possible on-screen, but when an acceptable adaptation is produced, they nitpick it to death for being untrue to the source material. They're never happy.
According to the wildly subjective aggregation of Rotten Tomatoes, Constantine gets a 45% "fresh" rating, which in the black-and-white morality play of film criticism, is bad:
Here's some news that may hurt some feelings: The Matrix really wasn't all that. (Go here to read why.)
We like Keanu Reeves. He gets a lot of shit for his wooden acting, bland good looks, and apparent zero aptitude for inflection and affect. (except, of course, when he's emoting "Whoa!" That never gets old.) Still, he's paid his Hollywood dues and can be considered a veteran of the business, having made over forty movies in the past twenty years; some dumb fun (Speed, Point Break, the Bill & Ted duology) some extraordinary, (River's Edge, Permanent Record, My Own Private Idaho) some criminally underrated (The Replacements, A Scanner Darkly, The Lake House) some woefully overrated, (The Devil's Advocate, the Matrix trilogy) and some just tragically ill-advised. (Chain Reaction, Johnny Mnemonic) Basically, he's done it all; action-adventure, science fiction, drama, romance, comedy, good, bad, and ugly. He even had the stones to do Shakespeare, although he's yet to do a musical or a western. The fact that he continues to place himself in risky projects again and again is a testament to his passion as an actor and his desire to grow as an artist. His style may not speak to everyone and his ability to transform into characters may fluctuate more rapidly than the Italian government, but he's managed to parlay what he possesses and make himself into a mainstay of popular media.
And part of the reason he's been taking on so many "square peg" roles is probably at least partially an effort to get out from under the shadow of the Matrix movies, which have typecast him as severely as any appearance on Star Trek or Doctor Who would have. That said, Constantine's Los Angeles set pieces trump the Wachowski's mold-tinted Sydney shot after shot, by tempering them with influences from another notable L. A.-photographed film, Seven. From the opening exorcism in sun-yellowed apartment projects, to the hazy reds and blues of Papa Midnite's, to the high-constrast finale of light, water, and pitch; the path that Constantine stumps through is as bipolar as Reeves' character, his Oxfords making tracks in the dirt of both Hell and Earth.
There are thousands and thousands of problems when it comes to translating the extended histories of graphic novel storylines to the screen, and one of the most cardinal ones, along with maintaining the accuracy of the origin, is getting the look right. In this sense, Constantine is the spiritual thriller equivalent of the film adaptation of High Fidelity; America instead of the U. K., Elvis-brunette instead of Sting-blond, "Constant-TEEN" instead of "Constan-TINE," etc. Ignoring the fact that the comic book universe is a virtual spaghetti strainer of parallel and alternate planes of reality, where character analogues and other victims of retroactive continuity pass between worlds like so many bus station transfers, casting Reeves as Constantine's virtual evil twin does as much damage to the source material as any other heavily edited and modified screenplay. That is, not a lot, because the source material still exists. If you don't like the movie, just go re-read the stupid funny book, fanboy scum.
Constantine also benefits from the standing of John Constantine in the superpowered community. Due to their far-reaching canon, the DC multiverse is known to have a inordinate number of headlining magicians, sorcerers, and occultists in its pantheon, of which Constantine is but one, and a relatively obscure one at that. Doubtful? Try and name at least one more big-name wizards from both DC and Marvel books, and see from which house you find one faster. While Constantine's low face ranking shouldn't be used as a rationalization for sexing up an otherwise perfectly dowdy, world-weary, arrogant character, if there was any fit for Constantine's quiet cynicism, black-hearted charm, and overall fuck-the-world attitude, one could do worse than Keanu's dark steely glare, careless strut, and obstinate forthrightness.
Constantine isn't The Matrix; it never aspired to be. Its special effects are too spooky to be cool, its script doesn't have very quotable Zen-bullshit lines, and, save Tilda Swinton's half-mad, cross-dressing Gabriel, none of the costumes would look good on an action figure. But transpose the fanatical prophecy of "The One" with the playground God and Satan have made of Earth, and the two stories aren't so different after all. The trick is to watch Constantine without the self-righteousness of the critics above, without the unrealistic expectations of a post-Matrix fan community, and without the romantic notion that the protagonist has to be selfless, reasonable, or even a nice person.
John Constantine is an asshole. But it takes one to beat one.
⎋
According to the wildly subjective aggregation of Rotten Tomatoes, Constantine gets a 45% "fresh" rating, which in the black-and-white morality play of film criticism, is bad:
- "You can just picture the meeting: A few guys in Prada suits sit around an L.A. boardroom table going, 'The Matrix meets The Exorcist, huh...? With Keanu? I like it. No wait - I love it.'" (Globe and Mail)
- "Despite the professionalism of its stars, Constantine is another rip-off of The Matrix, The Omen and a hundred other films, gussied up with 21st-century effects and attitude." (Film Journal International)
- "It's sort of like The Matrix minus all the cool stuff." (Atlanta Journal-Constitution)
- "The Matrix meets The Exorcist (with a little Chinatown thrown in for good measure) in Keanu Reeves's just-below-okay supernatural adventure." (James Rocchi)
- "..outside of some nice cinematography, Constantine has few of The Matrix’s virtues." (Andy Klein)
Here's some news that may hurt some feelings: The Matrix really wasn't all that. (Go here to read why.)
We like Keanu Reeves. He gets a lot of shit for his wooden acting, bland good looks, and apparent zero aptitude for inflection and affect. (except, of course, when he's emoting "Whoa!" That never gets old.) Still, he's paid his Hollywood dues and can be considered a veteran of the business, having made over forty movies in the past twenty years; some dumb fun (Speed, Point Break, the Bill & Ted duology) some extraordinary, (River's Edge, Permanent Record, My Own Private Idaho) some criminally underrated (The Replacements, A Scanner Darkly, The Lake House) some woefully overrated, (The Devil's Advocate, the Matrix trilogy) and some just tragically ill-advised. (Chain Reaction, Johnny Mnemonic) Basically, he's done it all; action-adventure, science fiction, drama, romance, comedy, good, bad, and ugly. He even had the stones to do Shakespeare, although he's yet to do a musical or a western. The fact that he continues to place himself in risky projects again and again is a testament to his passion as an actor and his desire to grow as an artist. His style may not speak to everyone and his ability to transform into characters may fluctuate more rapidly than the Italian government, but he's managed to parlay what he possesses and make himself into a mainstay of popular media.
And part of the reason he's been taking on so many "square peg" roles is probably at least partially an effort to get out from under the shadow of the Matrix movies, which have typecast him as severely as any appearance on Star Trek or Doctor Who would have. That said, Constantine's Los Angeles set pieces trump the Wachowski's mold-tinted Sydney shot after shot, by tempering them with influences from another notable L. A.-photographed film, Seven. From the opening exorcism in sun-yellowed apartment projects, to the hazy reds and blues of Papa Midnite's, to the high-constrast finale of light, water, and pitch; the path that Constantine stumps through is as bipolar as Reeves' character, his Oxfords making tracks in the dirt of both Hell and Earth.
There are thousands and thousands of problems when it comes to translating the extended histories of graphic novel storylines to the screen, and one of the most cardinal ones, along with maintaining the accuracy of the origin, is getting the look right. In this sense, Constantine is the spiritual thriller equivalent of the film adaptation of High Fidelity; America instead of the U. K., Elvis-brunette instead of Sting-blond, "Constant-TEEN" instead of "Constan-TINE," etc. Ignoring the fact that the comic book universe is a virtual spaghetti strainer of parallel and alternate planes of reality, where character analogues and other victims of retroactive continuity pass between worlds like so many bus station transfers, casting Reeves as Constantine's virtual evil twin does as much damage to the source material as any other heavily edited and modified screenplay. That is, not a lot, because the source material still exists. If you don't like the movie, just go re-read the stupid funny book, fanboy scum.
Constantine also benefits from the standing of John Constantine in the superpowered community. Due to their far-reaching canon, the DC multiverse is known to have a inordinate number of headlining magicians, sorcerers, and occultists in its pantheon, of which Constantine is but one, and a relatively obscure one at that. Doubtful? Try and name at least one more big-name wizards from both DC and Marvel books, and see from which house you find one faster. While Constantine's low face ranking shouldn't be used as a rationalization for sexing up an otherwise perfectly dowdy, world-weary, arrogant character, if there was any fit for Constantine's quiet cynicism, black-hearted charm, and overall fuck-the-world attitude, one could do worse than Keanu's dark steely glare, careless strut, and obstinate forthrightness.
Constantine isn't The Matrix; it never aspired to be. Its special effects are too spooky to be cool, its script doesn't have very quotable Zen-bullshit lines, and, save Tilda Swinton's half-mad, cross-dressing Gabriel, none of the costumes would look good on an action figure. But transpose the fanatical prophecy of "The One" with the playground God and Satan have made of Earth, and the two stories aren't so different after all. The trick is to watch Constantine without the self-righteousness of the critics above, without the unrealistic expectations of a post-Matrix fan community, and without the romantic notion that the protagonist has to be selfless, reasonable, or even a nice person.
John Constantine is an asshole. But it takes one to beat one.
⎋