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I Don’t Need More Constantine, I Need More Movies Like Constantine
Twenty years after the Keanu Reeves supernatural noir, some thoughts on what’s missing in everyday entertainment.
Constantine himself, a self-appointed bounty hunter dispatching misbehaving beings from the mortal plane in hopes of earning a way out of his own damnation, is a private eye in supernatural trappings, living in an office-cum-studio where the lights from the street below can cast ideal shadows onto his brooding face through the slats of the blinds. Opposite Reeves is an equally fetching Rachel Weisz playing identical twins years before her Dead Ringers remake and serving as both the skeptical client and the ethereal victim whose death, a swan dive from the roof of a psychiatric hospital, becomes a haunting motif. But it’s the supporting cast that makes the movie, an orgy of distinctive faces crammed in but never taken for granted — Pruitt Taylor Vince as a jittery alcoholic priest who can hear voices from beyond the grave, Djimon Hounsou as an imperious witch doctor turned bar owner in a fedora and fur collar, a baby-faced Shia LaBeouf as Constantine’s impatient protégé, and Max Baker as a twitchy dealer in occult objects who, for reasons unknown, works out of the space behind the lanes of an abandoned bowling alley.
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