The Crow by J. O’Barr. Kitchen Sink Press, 1994. $15.95. ISBN 0-87816-221-6.
The Crow, written by David A. Schow. Directed by Alex Proyas. Starring Brandon Lee, Rochelle Davis, and Ernie Hudson. Lionsgate, 1994. 102 minutes. Rated R.
Recently, I serendipitous stumbled upon a copy of the graphic novel collecting the original series of The Crow, and immediately devoured it. I then followed it up with the film adaptation, which I had not previously seen.
The comic, which began as a short tale but turned into a long-running series, reads like a primal scream. Overwrought, pretentious, and sometimes sloppy, it is the brainchild of one James O’Barr, who created it as a means of dealing with a personal tragedy—the exact nature of which I have not learned and assume is none of my business. Although decidedly undisciplined as art of either the visual or storytelling variety, it is emotionally raw, so it is no surprise that it struck a chord with many readers and found a devoted fan following.
The interest in the graphic novel was enough to lead, in 1994, to a film adaptation. The movie takes a lot of liberty with its source material, turning O’Barr’s visceral cry of pain into a structured story with more character development, higher stakes, and a markedly different tone. Although well received by critics (and I can say it holds up over time), it is a cult classic in large part because of its star: Brandon Lee, son of Bruce Lee, took the titular role as the bird-themed goth-punk antihero but—with only eight days left to the production—died during filming from an improperly cleaned gun. His performance, though lacking the gravitas the role requires, has charisma and suggests a talent that might have developed had his life not been cut short.
Given this morbidly poetic on-set tragedy, to criticize the movie harshly almost seems sacrilegious.