A devilishly good time

Noel Vera

The opening sequence of Guillermo del Toro's "Hellboy" promises
much: windswept Scottish island, fanatic Nazi soldiers, retro-
scientific apparatus, occult incantations performed by
legendary "mad monk" Grigori Rasputin (Karel Roden). A freakish Nazi
assassin named Kroenen (Ladislav Beran) makes woo with Ilsa, a
beautiful she-wolf (Biddy Hodson, presumably playing a tribute to
the cult classic); a crack Allied commando contingent follows the
lead of geeky scientist "Broom" Bruttenholm (John Hurt under all
that waterproof makeup); a hole in the fabric of the universe is
opened, and through it something is glimpsed--something huge and
frozen, with pitiless eyes and enormous tentacles, poised to step
through the hole and conquer the planet. The hole closes
prematurely, but something far smaller does pass through--a candy-
red baby with horns and tail. The Allied soldiers lure it forward
with a Babe Ruth bar and adopt it as a mascot.

The rest of the plot as follows: Rasputin, along with Nazi freak
Kroenen and she-wolf Ilsa, reappear years later to liberate
hellhounds from ancient statues and again try call down one of the
Cthulhu gods to wreak havoc with the world; meanwhile HB (as the
eponymous character, now played by Ron Perlman, is called) works for
a supersecret branch of the FBI (presumably solving cases the X-
Files couldn't handle) along with sentient fish-man Abe Sapiens
(Doug Jones under heavy makeup, David Hyde Pierce supplying the
voice), both under the spikily unenthusiastic leadership of Dr. Tom
Manning (Jeffrey Tambor, missed after all this time). HB is
generally happy with his job and his daily ration of giant Babe Ruth
bars, skyscraping stacks of pancake, and cauldrons of bubbling
chili, only he can't resolve his feelings for fellow colleague and
beautiful pyrokinetic Liz Sherman (Selma Blair); matters aren't
helped by the entrance of John Myers (Rupert Evans), a rookie agent
assigned to baby-sit HB who ends up falling for Liz along the way.

If the outline sounds like "As The World Turns Apocalyptic," the mix
just might be intentional on the part of del Toro and Mike Mignola
(the character's comic-book creator); as with Sam
Raimi's "Spiderman" we have a combination of soap melodrama and
superhero heroics, only in this case the hero is an invulnerable
transdimensional demon, the villains conspire to bring about nothing
less than the End of the World; and there is an overall sense here
that the melodrama is meant to contribute to the general effect, and
that we aren't to take it any more seriously than the pulpier
elements. Which is cool--I always thought (despite liking it) that
the movie of "Spiderman" dipped once or twice too many times in
bathos (the comic book had drowned long ago).

So if the special effects are less than state-of-the-art perfect
(though Liz's blue flame, CGI obviousness and all, has an ethereal
beauty), the villainy less than memorable (though Roden's Rasputin
has his moments, especially in his confrontation with Hurt's
Bruttenholm), and the plot not especially frightening (though
Kroenen and the hellhound do deliver the occasional chill), it may
be because del Toro in adapting Mignola may not have focused so much
on them as he has on drawing out the main characters and the exact
emotional tone under which they exist in the world. He may not have
been so interested in action sequences (though many a contemporary
director could learn about clarity of cutting and camerawork from
him) or overall look (though the amber-lit sewer darkness you see in
most of the film--the rare major scene in actual daylight has a
funereal downpour--is better than the digitally enhanced busyness of
most comic-book movies) as he was in capturing the low-key wryness
of Mignola's work.

Hence, the careful detailing of supporting characters, and their
complex relationship with HB: Sapiens is the respected partner and a
droll contrast to HB's world-weariness (Hyde Pierce's dry delivery
helps); Manning is the authoritarian foil with the odd layer of
sympathy tucked away under all the antagonism; Myers is the annoying
new catalyst in HB's complicated relationship with Liz, and an
unknown quantity--he's the rare normal human who can actually keep
up with HB without being killed (Evens' lack of screen presence
emphasizes his status as probable cannon fodder) and, at a crucial
instant, serve up a handy reminder to HB of what humanity is all
about.

Bruttenholm is the group's heart: as Hurt plays him, his warmth is
understated--he tends to fade into the background, standing beside
his more colorful charges--but is all the more missed when
unexpectedly taken away. Liz, of course, is the love interest; Blair
suggests the complexity of her relationship with HB through, of all
things, an odd lack of enthusiasm--it's clear that she cares about
him, but it's equally clear that a lot of pain and suffering comes
with that feeling, as inescapable emotional baggage.

Unique comic-book look and interesting supporting characters aside,
the whole thing turns on the actor playing Hellboy, of course, and
it is to del Toro and Mignola's credit that they preternaturally
agreed on Ron Perlman. Perlman's performance is what makes "Hellboy"
so different from your run-of-the-mill superhero movie: his craggy
face already halfway resembles a soulful creature from Hell, but he
has the been-there, done-that mien to carry off the characterization
without weighing down too heavily on the melancholy--he wins you
over, but sneakily, almost grudgingly, without your noticing it (he
steals your sympathy with all the élan of a master pickpocket); the
scene where HB spies on Liz and Myers as they take a slow walk down
a deserted street is a perfect mix of macho bluster, boyish
naughtiness, and monstrous vulnerability.

The film, in short, is giddy fun, and not in the usual ways you
would expect of a comic book movie (How many, for example, feature
gargantuan hostile calamari as a showstopper climax? And, more
interestingly, not consider that the film's true climax?). Del
Toro's version of Mike Mignola's work takes various disparate
elements--Lovecraft horror and hardboiled Chandler noir; mordant
humor and teen-geek psychology; big-budget special effects and low-
key characterization--flings them together, achieves critical mass,
and fuses. The result is easily the best and most sophisticated
comic-book adaptation since Tim Burton's "Batman" and "Batman
Returns."

(First published in Businessworld, April 23, 2004)

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