Darkman

I've been going through a "Shadow" phase, looking up everything I could about the mysterious crimefighter with the laugh that chills the hearts of criminals everywhere. In the process of that, I've come across Darkman--the brainchild of Sam Raimi, of more recent Spider-Man fame. Apparently, Raimi wanted to create a movie version of The Shadow, but couldn't get the rights, so he created his own version, adding bits and pieces of The Phantom of the Opera and other horror elements. Since Wal-Mart had the "Franchise Collection" edition of the movies--the initial theatrical cut and the two direct-to-video sequels--I decided to pick them up and give them a look.

The first film features Liam Neeson as Peyton Westlake, a scientist whose face is disfigured in an explosion triggered by the finger-collecting gangster Robert Durant. Westlake survives, and is rescued by a hospital doing experimental surgery on homeless men. The nerves delivering messages of pain to his brain are severed, which keeps him from suffering, but has the unfortunate side-effect of causing feelings of alienation and super-human strength.

It's easy to see why Raimi was selected for Spider-Man. Indeed, several visual tricks will crop up in the later movies--such as a dissolve from Francis McDormand (who plays Westlake's lover)as she stands looking at her destroyed apartment to the graveyard on the day of Westlake's funeral, as well as animations of Darkman's brain chemistry when he goes into a rage.

It's also interesting that this movie ends--as Spider-Man does--with the hero making a fateful decision between personal happiness and the "greater good." Of course, with Darkman it's more a matter of choice between love and his demons.

In many ways, however, Darkman is more successful than the webslinger's exploits. Neeson is an excellent actor and is able to bring out the desperation in the character's situation, as well as the insane thirst for revenge, even under the layers of makeup required for the role. And in his own face, he is hollow-eyed and haunted, conveying desperation and horror at what he has become. The villain--played by Larry Drake--is acted with cool understatement (quite a feat for a man with a finger-fetish). The only weak link is Colin Friels as the man pulling the strings; he is almost too bland about his crookedness, admits it up front to the first person to confront him with it, as if there is nothing unusual about it. In the right hands, he could have been even more chilling than Durant; as it is, he strikes the wrong note consistently.

Darkman wears its influences on its sleeve. In addition to "The Shadow" and The Phantom of the Opera, there is a definite unreality to the gang of crooks--including one with a machine-gun in his artificial leg--that calls Dick Tracy to mind (I'm thinking of the old black and white B-pictures like Dick Tracy Meets Gruesome, though I get the feeling the comics are pretty close). Larry Drake even looks like a Dick Tracy villain.

In all, Darkman is an excellent entry for anyone's library of crimefighters, and is highly recommended. From what I've seen of the sequels, they don't nearly live up to the theatrical film, but I'll cover them in due time.