Constantine Review
by Jon Popick (jpopick AT sick-boy DOT com)February 18th, 2005
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If you think the battle between Heaven and Hell is intense, you should take a peak at what's happening inside my mind right now. Half of it swears that Constantine is little more than flashy CG and a gobbledygook story. The remaining morsel of brain is still busy looking for its shoes and socks, which were soundly knocked off by the big picture version of the Jamie Delano/Garth Ennis comic book called Hellblazer. So which half is right?
It's anyone's guess, really. But even the former hemisphere will admit Constantine is, in a sea of The Wedding Dates and Boogeymans, the pride of 2005.
I don't know about the rest of you clowns, but there's something about the whole Heaven/Hell thing that, when it's done really well, becomes incredibly captivating, at least in cinematic form. Constantine rests, gently, somewhere between a good episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Alan Parker 's watershed Angel Heart, which puts the movie somewhere in the vicinity of 1995's The Prophecy, a picture that dealt with a similar subject, and even a parallel character or two.
Keanu Reeves plays John Constantine, a chain-smoking ass-kicker with a gift-slash-curse to be able to see the daily dance that angels and demons do right under our ignorant noses. Doomed to an eternity in Hell because of a botched suicide attempt as a teenager, John has devoted his life to capturing wayward demons and "deporting" them back to that place with the pitchfork guy. This, John hopes, might be enough to swing a deal with the Big G when his rapidly-approaching judgment day (because of the
chain-smoking) finally turns up.
Along the way, John becomes entangled in the life of Angela Dodson (Rachel Weisz), an LA cop whose mentally unstable twin recently took a header off of a rooftop. Angela can't believe her extremely religious sister committed suicide, and seeks out John's help in getting to the bottom of the situation. John reluctantly agrees, leading viewers through a minefield of electrocution, drowning, wrist-slashing and other things that made me glad that there are people left in Hollywood who aren't afraid of making an R-rated movie.
Yeah, the Spear of Destiny thing was a little silly, and you can probably poke holes in the story, but not nearly as many as, say, box office juggernaut National Treasure - a film that didn't offer a fraction of the fun supporting cast that Constantine brings to the table. We get Emmy-winners (Pruitt Taylor Vince), Oscar nominees (Djimon Hounsou), husbands of Grammy winners (Gavin Rossdale), Project Greenlight refugees (Shia LaBeouf), and an incredibly mannish performance from Tilda Swinton, who looks like she wandered onto the set wearing an outfit from Angels in America.
I was so wrapped up in Constantine, I feel in adequately prepared to critique it (I couldn't even keep an eye out for Unscripted cutie Jennifer Hall's walk-on - was it in there?). I expected much worse from music video director Francis Lawrence, who makes his feature film debut here after taking over the reins from "Losing My Religion" helmer, Tarsem. And say what you will about Reeves. At this point, he is merely parodying himself, which is something I find either incredibly irritating, or splendidly charming. And now that I think about it, I'm not sure I can picture anyone else in this role. In the hands of another actor, it would seem cheesy, but with Reeves, it's just Keanu-rific.
2:01 - for violence and demonic images
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