Reviewed
by Lamar Kukuk
4/29/11
I see
a lot of great direct-to-video and made-for-TV B movies filled with familiar
faces in odd situations (man, how I'd have loved to have seen Past Perfect
or Manticore in a theater), but sadly, when similar projects manage
to get a mild theatrical foothold, they're usually not overachievers escaping
from their DVD destination, but rather movies whose failure to secure a
wider release is easy to understand. There's a lot of reason for
optimism about Dylan Dog: Dead of Night: it's the first
post-Superman leading role for Brandon Routh and deposits him in a clever-sounding
world where vampires, werewolves and zombies hide in plain sight as members
of New Orleans society. But except for a single comic subplot that
feels like its own great movie struggling to get out, Dylan Dog
stinks of bad execution and indifference. Poorly acted and lacking
in pace or scope, it's the kind of movie you don't bother to change the
TV channel on while you're doing something else.
Look
to your left, then look to your right. Odds are, at least one of
those people is in fact not a person at all, but rather a vampire, werewolf,
zombie or ghoul. Those creatures have learned to blend in really
well with human society, and Dylan Dog (Brandon Routh) used to keep the
peace among all the factions before the death of his wife caused him to
go postal on the vampire elders he thought responsible and “retire” to
life as a seedy Private Investigator. He and his right-hand Marcus
(Sam Huntington) are contacted by Elizabeth (Anita Briem), whose father
was murdered by some sort of really big critter. Dylan refuses to
have anything to do with the case until the same monster kills Marcus.
Apparently, a single item was stolen in the attack, a large jeweled cross
that's of great significance to all parties, particularly werewolf clan
leader Gabriel (Peter Stormare) and vampire nightclub owner Vargas (Taye
Diggs). Soon, even Marcus is back in the mix, because what killed
him was a zombie, and he rises from the dead as one himself. There's
a lot of unpleasant facts to face about zombiehood, not the least of which
is that the only sustenance his body will tolerate is the flesh of living
humans, worms, and hot dogs (don't ask). A black market in body parts
exists to replace everything he'll keep losing over time, and his personal
hygiene regimen now centers around Lysol and bleach. As Dylan continues
to dig into the murders, all roads lead to an ancient ritual that will
use the cross to raise an unstoppable demon that will become the Ultimate
Weapon of whatever species gets its hands on it first.
The
core of Dylan Dog is so off-the-rack it seems to have been penned
by a Random Screenplay Generator. Dylan's hard-boiled narration is
almost shameful in its generic genre-noir cynicism (“Leave it to vampires
to sell their own blood to humans as the ultimate rush.” Uh, OK),
and his investigation amounts to little more than interviewing the same
group of mostly uninteresting criminals over and over while waiting for
something really big to show up and throw him across the room (I know it's
de rigeur in this sort of movie, but Dog must set some kind of record for
bones broken without getting a scratch). Routh is a really likable
actor, but he's miscast as a hard-boiled PI, Briem doesn't do much with
her damsel in distress and Stormare is out-of-control even by his usually
manic standards. In his couple scenes, pro wrestler Kurt Angle is
fairly awkward as a werewolf enforcer. Diggs, however, is quite good
as he underplays Vargas' evil showiness.
But
what makes Dylan Dog watchable is Marcus' zombie subplot, which
could have made a truly great movie on its own if not entombed in its relentlessly
familiar surroundings. While movie characters have awakened to the
coolness of being a vampire or werewolf over and over, it's really inspired
to have someone wake up in the morgue as a self-aware zombie, something
which has no apparent upside at all (other than that they're really good
at digging). An underground of zombies living in plain sight (the
grey eyes get chalked up to glaucoma) tries to help Marcus out, serving
up worm burgers (and, of course, hot dogs) in restaurants and scheduling
support groups for him to attend. With no time to be choosy, the
Caucasian sidekick is stuck with an African-American arm replacing his
lost real one, and gets made up like a street walker trying to look like
his pasty skin is still human. Huntington is hilarious in the role,
running laps around the rest of the cast with his energy and comic timing.
Whenever Marcus isn't on screen, it's like the movie's needle goes from
the ¾ mark down to ¼.
Dylan
Dog: Dead of Night is based on a comic book that's apparently
quite popular in Europe: the 1994 cult classic Cemetery Man
(unseen by me, but it sounds like a trip) is set in the same fictional
universe. What it offers its fans I cannot say. For a US audience,
it delivers a sliver of a very clever horror comedy (how odd to learn with
a little research that the Marcus character isn't part of the comic,
where Dylan's sidekick believes himself to be, for some reason, Groucho
Marx) and a chance for Brandon Routh's Fan Club (specifically thanked in
the end credits for reasons I would LOVE to know more about) to see their
hero in a leading role, albeit one that doesn't particularly suit his talents.
In other words, it's the kind of movie people tend to rent on DVD when
they've seen everything else that's still in stock. Or see at a theater
when their first, second and third choices are sold out. |
