Travis Cook
It’s just one of those days. Cut my life into pieces. In the end, it doesn’t really matter… or does it? In this ongoing series, we take a look at the decadent, the depraved, and the downright visionary horror films of the late 90’s thru early 00’s that fall under the umbrella of what we’ve termed ‘nu-metal horror cinema’. Wake up, grab a little make-up, get down with the sickness, and let the bodies hit the floor. *deep breath* Are you READY?!?!?!
In 1994, two major foundational events occurred that would directly impact nu-metal horror cinema. The first was the release of Korn’s debut eponymous album. The album, along with its lead single “Blind”, is widely regarded as one of the first and most successful nu-metal albums of all time. The record sent shockwaves through the metal world and would go on to influence burgeoning nu-metal acts such as Limp Bizkit, Slipknot, Coal Chamber, and many others.
The second event, of course, was the release of The Crow. While not strictly a nu-metal movie, or even really a true horror movie, The Crow would prove to be significantly important to the storytelling, aesthetics, and cultural impact of countless nu-metal horror movies to come.
Something In The Way
In what would be a breakout role for any other actor, Brandon Lee shines as Eric Draven; rock star and undead vigilante. Slain by gang members, Eric returns from the dead to hunt down those who murdered him and his fiancee. (Already, the influence on Spawn is obscenely transparent)
It’s impossible to watch or discuss The Crow without considering what might have been had Lee not been killed in the shooting of the film. Enough ink has been spent discussing the tragedy of that loss. Rewatching this to write this piece left me feeling jarred in a way that I did not expect. There is something deeply unnerving about watching Lee return from the dead to enact vengeance on his killers, knowing full well what happened to Lee in real life. The dichotomy is unsettling and disturbing.
But more importantly, I want to re-emphasize again: The Crow is not a nu-metal horror movie. It’s a dark thriller superhero origin story with horror elements, but it’s not a part of the nu-metal universe in any sense. So, how does The Crow lead to nu-metal horror cinema? What are its touchstones? Why does it matter when talking about films like Resident Evil and House of Wax?
The Youth In Revolution
There are aspects of the story here that bear certain investigation. A violent gang funded by Top Dollar (Michael Wincott) murders Eric and Shelly (Sofia Shinas), his fiancee, because of their protesting forced evictions from their apartment building. The couple is also looking after a young teenage girl named Sarah (Rochelle Davis). Sarah’s mother Darla (Anna Levine) is a junkie, constantly neglecting her. Eric serves as a surrogate older brother to Sarah, looking in on her even as he hunts down his killers. All around them, Detroit burns, overrun by crime, drugs, and ganglords. Society has abandoned these characters—a trope that will become one of the central tenets of nu-metal culture.
The police are ineffective, unable to solve Eric and Shelly’s murders. The detective in charge of the case quickly relegates Sgt. Albrecht (Ernie Hudson), the one good cop we meet, to desk duty once he starts asking too many questions. Society’s institutions are either corrupt or apathetic, content to let things go on as they have. While this is hardly a new or nuanced (nu-metal-anced?) take, it’s reflective of the state of things in the early ’90s, as white flight combined with recession contributed to the rise of grunge and alternative culture. We cannot trust authority, no matter what we have been told. Things are rough out there, and we’re better off on our own.
The Aesthetic Of Filth
The Crow is not the first movie to give voice to these thoughts. Even so, it does an excellent job of mirroring its themes with its aesthetic in a new and highly effective manner. Alex Proyas draws heavily from the visual influence of films like The Warriors and Alien in constructing the film. The Detroit of The Crow is filthy, damp, and doused in shadow. Rarely does the sun shine here. The systemic rot that Eric and Shelly protest is visible in the rooms and buildings around them. Proyas makes heavy use of shadows, obscuring much of what we might see. What does emerge is often rotten, encrusted with filth. This aesthetic will surface again and again in the nu-metal horror movies to follow. However, The Crow does it first. (Spawn wishes it could portray filth and disgust so simply.)
As Spawn would in later years, Proyas also makes strong use of religious iconography. While there is no specific mention of religion, it’s impossible to overlook Draven perched on top of a crucifix in the rain. Proyas frames Shelly in bright lights whenever she appears in Eric’s visions, wearing pure white colors. Proyas contrasts these images of light with the darkness of Eric’s resurrection and the world around him. Eric’s stark-white corpse paint emerges from shadows, ghost-like and vampiric. Nu-metal’s relationship with religion, particularly Christianity, is something that we’ll examine in future installments as well.
The Sound Of Despair
One of the most significant legacies of The Crow is its accompanying soundtrack. It features tracks by big names like The Cure alongside rising artists like Nine Inch Nails, cementing the soundtrack as a collection of the moment’s biggest names in industrial, goth, and metal. People bought the soundtrack in droves, pushing it to 3 times Platinum. While some songs have not aged well, it’s a banger of a soundtrack.
The Crow is far from a musical, but it integrates its needle drops in ways that propel the story forward. As Eric transforms into the corpse-painted killer, “Burn” by the Cure pulses away. The song’s use here accents Eric’s transformation, channeling his rage into aural torment. The song “Golgotha Tenement Blues” seethes in the background as Sarah’s mother takes drugs with one of Eric’s killers. While these are non-diegetic sound cues, they usher the narrative along. They are central to the overall film, as essential as cinematography in portraying this avatar of revenge.
This influence bears observance in nu-metal horror cinema moving forward. As mentioned, using popular music of the time to accent a film was not a particularly novel concept in ’94. However, it was far from general practice. Further, the idea that a film soundtrack could help expand upon a musical scene was a fairly novel concept. The Cameron Crow film Singles did just that for grunge in 1992, exposing the broader culture to rising artists at their breakout points. While The Crow may not have put these artists on the map, it provided a touchstone introduction for countless listeners.
In years to come, nu-metal horror cinema would serve as a similar conduit for nu-metal music. Coupled with the overall thematic tropes and visual aesthetic, the foundations for a cinematic language are being laid here by Proyas. All that remains is for the next slate of nu-metal filmmakers to come along, picking up where The Crow left off and running on into the darkness.
Of note, as I write this, a new reboot of The Crow is being released into theaters on August 23rd, 2024. It remains to be seen if and how this version will blaze its own thematic and cultural trail.
