Constantine is the American Doctor Who

I know, I know.   A bold statement.  Especially given the number of other shows that could equally make the case that they are, in fact, as close as those of us in “The Colonies” will ever get to our own mad cap Gallifreyan adventurer (The Middleman certainly had a strong case to make).  But here’s the thing: all the main Doctor Whotropes are present in the new NBC show.  Wise but possibly ambivalent hero fighting dark enemies?  Check.   Companion who is mostly a rube but potentially possessing a vital power or skill that the hero will need?  Yup.  It’s-Bigger-On-The-Inside base of operations?  But of course.

All of which is not to suggest that Constantine is just some rip off.  If anything, having watched the first six episodes, I would argue that the show is trying to establish itself as something wholly independent of the rest of the comic book properties out there.  The mad Englishman with a special larger-than-it-seems home base and a crazy encyclopedic knowledge of terrifying things coupled with a potentially troublesome disregard for the people around him may echo our favorite fantasy adventurer, but this is a TARDIS of a different shape.

A flame-ier, angrier TARDIS...

The Comic Book

Wait, what?  “Clovis,” I hear you say, “Is this yet another comic book TV show that you can’t seem to stay away from?”  Of course it is.  Constantine is based on the DC Comics book Hellblazer about John Constantine, a 35-year-old con man, supernatural detective, and “petty dabbler of the dark arts” based in London.  But in order to understand this character and where he fits in with all those flying cape-wearers who are always saving the planet from alien invasions or some such, I’m going to have to take you through a couple of very brief points of fact about the DC Universe.

As always, those wishing to avoid the nerdy comic book talk can skip ahead.  I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come back and hear just about the TV show.

The thing about DC Comics that separates it from the other big comic book company, Marvel, is that DC has for years made a big show about all its characters existing in a multiverse.  (Marvel has a multiverse of its own, but a much more consistent effort is put into place with their books to streamline the characters and give them a common space to exist in.)  This is the narrative device that allows DC Comics to keep cannon a lot of completely out of date stories.  It’s what explains, for example, how it is that Wonder Woman can exist in our modern age and yet still have fought Nazis during World War II. The Nazi-fighting version was a different reality Wonder Woman from a different dimension in the multiverse.  Comics, everybody!

I could keep explaining, but it's just going to make you want to do a lot of this. 

In 1993, DC Comics created Vertigo, a specialty imprint that would produce comics that were more adult; more like literature than the flashy superhero adventures the company was primarily known for. Vertigo was the home to Neil Gaiman’s Sandmanseries, Alan Moore’s Swamp Thing and V for Vendetta, among lots of other riskier and, frankly, weirder stories.  Hellblazer was born into this world and while John Constantine would sometimes still find ways to interact with the occasional Superman or Batman, he mostly occupied a different reality in the multiverse.

Constantine as a character was known for being rough around the edges, unrelentingly cynical, and deadpan but also remarkably cunning and capable of getting out of the toughest scrapes, a key skill when the majority of your enemies are demons great and small, including the biggest baddie of them all, The First of the Fallen.  (Read: The Devil.  Sorta.)   Writers at various times have portrayed him as the ultimate pragmatist, willing to take anyone down if the ends justified the means, but also as someone who is essentially motivated by a desire to be a good person and make the world a better place.  Of course, the world isn’t often saved by people who are being nice guys.  You can’t make an omelet, etc. etc.

This actually qualifies as a light-hearted moment for most of Constantine's life. 

The TV Show

Okay comic-phobes, you can come back!  The good news for traditionalist is that the TV series did a phenomenal job casting John Constantine.  Seriously, you guys.  Matt Ryan looks exactly like how his character is supposed to.  I know that may seem like a small thing, but in this age of whitewashingand making changes because somehow the source material isn’t “relatable”, seeing Matt Ryan in his Constantine trench coat and loosened tie for the first time made a lot of folk feel like this show was on target.  

Seriously, you guys.  Nerd-squee. 

And then there was Liv…

The first episode serves up similar story notes from the comic books.  Constantine has voluntarily confined himself to an English psychiatric hospital after botching an exorcism that resulted in a young girl, Astra, being dragged into Hell. His rest cure fails to work, however, when a cadre of supernatural forces warn John that Liv Aberdine, an American woman who is also the daughter of one of John’s old magic partners, is in danger.  John manages to exorcise the demon that is chasing down Liv, but the experience is too much for her and she flees his company after providing him a scrying map showing John other locations throughout the country where something evil is afoot. 

And therein was the first problem for the new series.  Simply put, Liv shouldn’t have.  The part didn’t mesh with the story; there wasn’t a lot of there there and the actress was replaced with a new character, Zed who shares some of Liv’s psychic abilities but is a bit more world-weary.  Fans worried that the abrupt change in lead casting was a bad portent for the show.  Personally, I think John and Zed make a better pairing precisely because Zed has her share of secrets she’s keeping from John.  Plus it underlines a very major point in the comics: John isn’t a good person to be around.  He’s trouble and he’s not afraid to put you in between himself and it.  John acknowledges this to his only other compatriot, Chas, a man who is loyal to John but has the mysterious ability to survive being killed making him one of the only people who can probably stand to be around John for long.  Add to that the host of angels who are rapidly losing patience with John and not so squeamish about maybe handing him over to the demons who would love to have his head and Constantine's got a lot of motivation for screwing over otherwise fine people. 

Pictured (l to r): Angel, Hero Jerk Face, Woman of Mystery, Undead Cab Driver (really). 

Aside from the casting drama, there’s a lot to find in Constantine for folks looking for some light horror.  Storylines are taken from the comics, so fans will find plenty to wink at. (See below for more on that.)  At the same time, the show manages to keep exactly the right tone in relation to the demons and ghosts that make their way into Constantine’s life.  He’s not afraid of them, exactly; but he does take them seriously.  His deadpan humor is fully imported from the comics, but Matt Ryan gives his lines a gravity that shows just how unsure of himself Constantine is in the wake of that failed exorcism.  Most importantly, the show has been very careful about keeping the sanctity (pun not intended) of their main character in tact: John’s defining character trait in the comics is that he smokes.  This is a problem for network TV where characters aren’t allowed to smoke given network standards and practices.  As such, we’re given just enough subtle clues to suggest that John has just put out a cigarette that observers will understand how much this is a part of his character.  Likewise, the punk-rock sensibility from the comics is still on display.  In a scene where John must fight a demon without listening to its voice, he blasts The Clash on his iPod to drown out the sounds.

As a side note, between this and their other horror show, the incredible Hannibal, NBC seems to be interested in carving out a horror niche that I’m very much in favor of.  Both shows take significant risks for network television and it’s exciting to see these stories being played out.  Unless you’re Maggie Cats, after all, you can only watch so much Law & Order before you need something else on TV.

The Easter Eggs

As with Gothamand The Flash, DC Entertainment has again dropped a number of Easter Eggs for fans.  Many of them are more overt than other DC shows; John openly talks about Mucus Membrane, his former punk band.  In the pilot, Liv picks up a golden helmet before John warns her to put it back down, saying more than likely it will wear her before she could wear it.  The helmet is an exact copy of that worn by the character Dr. Fate.  In episode five, John and Zed work with New Orleans cop Jim Corrigan.  Near the end of the episode, Zed has a disturbing vision of Corrigan dead and bleeding but with a green light emanating from him.  Savvy viewers will know that Corrigan will eventually die and become The Spectre, a character who is the spirit of vengeance.

Other references are far more subtle.  In John’s Bigger-On-The-Inside base camp filled with magical items, you can see Pandora’s Box in one glass case.  Not far from it, there’s backwards writing on a chalkboard, a clear reference to the comic book character Zatanna who recites phrases backwards in order to cast magic spells.  One of John’s former associates now works at Ivy University, a school often referenced in DC Comics and home to several other superheroes.  A close-up shot of Constantine’s business card gives an Atlanta-area phone number.  Call that number and you’ll get a recording of Matt Ryan as Constantine referencing someone named Alec Holland. 

The Bottom Line

You know what I’m going to say here – watch this damn show.  Yes, that’s because it’s a comic book character and I’m firmly in the camp of believing that if comic book properties continue to be successful, they’ll stop becoming a special niche and will instead become a genre.  We’ve made great strides on this so far – Constantine stands on its own as a horror show; Gothamis doing a capable job as a police procedural; Agents of SHIELD, despite the slow start, has been doing reasonably well as a spy drama; the success of the Marvel cinematic universe all together has show that comic book characters don’t just have to be caped adventure stories with one-note plots.  Progress is being made.

As of now, Constantineis slated to run for 13 episodes in its first season.  It hasn’t been called up for more episodes or for a second season, though NBC and DC have both indicated that doesn’t mean the show will be cancelled.  For my money, the risks taken on bringing a show like this to television alone are worthy of supporting it, but I honestly think new viewers will be intrigued by the complexity of the characters and the gradual deepening of the storylines. 

Also, repeat after me: the movie never happened.  The movie. NEVER. HAPPENED.

Oh go be sad about it in a park, Keanu. 

Bloated. Just Like Pregnancy!

It’s a familiar story.  Once upon a time, a young princess met a handsome price, got married, and moved into a fantasy castle.  Life was wonderful for the princess, but the handsome prince wanted more, so he arranged for his wife to be clandestinely raped by the devil in order to produce the antichrist.  I’ll grant you, this fairy tale may not have the same familiarity of a Cinderella or a Snow White, but after watching NBC’s remake of the 1968 horror movie Rosemary’s Baby, you’d be forgiven for wondering exactly how many of the tropes are continued from one story’s iteration to another, just like a fairy tale. 

This time around, Rosemary’s Baby is a miniseries starring Zoe Saldana in the title role made famous by Mia Farrow.  The miniseries expands significantly on the original film and Ira Levin’s original novel in an attempt to ratchet up the dread and paranoia that Rosemary feels over the course of her pregnancy.  Unfortunately, like an expectant mother well into her third trimester, the end result is a kind of bloating that makes the entire experience uncomfortable, rather than beautiful.

Demon baby.  Svelte pregnancy figure sold separately. 

The plot is familiar to anyone who remembers the movie or the book: Saldana plays Rosemary, a young woman who moves with her struggling creative husband from her familiar environment into a band new city.  (Originally New York, in this version Paris.  More on that in second.)  Elevated to living in a grand apartment far outside their normal standard of living by an eerily kind and giving older couple that establish themselves as mentors, confidantes, and sort of keepers of the young couple, Rosemary soon finds herself pregnant with the child she’s always wanted.  As her pregnancy progresses, Rosemary begins to sense that something is wrong and that her neighbors are far too invested in her unborn child.  Eventually coming to believe that the building’s residents are actually cultists who are planning to use her child as a sacrifice to the Devil, Rosemary falls into a web of paranoia and suspicion as everyone seems to be against her.  Or are they?  (Spoiler alert: they are.)

This is all a fairly simple story, which makes the decision to stretch that story into double its original length a confusing one. It’s frankly the hallmark of this version of the story: it’s at turns bad and good, boring and thrilling, atmospheric and dull.  Several changes were made, some for better and others for worse.  Fair warning: from here on out there may be spoilers.  I hesitate to say that, since I think the statute of limitations on a story that was filmed in the 1960s has passed, but just in case you’re not the classic horror movie kind and want to keep yourself pure for your eventual Halloween movie marathon, you’ve been warned.

Stop acting shocked, Mia. The movie is 46 years old.  This isn't a Game of Thrones post. 

Whereas the original film depicted Rosemary conceiving her child fairly early on, that event doesn’t happen here until the end of the first episode of the two-part series, effectively almost two hours into the action.  That split generates a bloated first half that attempts to establish the creepiness and dread that the second half will need to capitalize on, but more frequently feels boring and resorts to mini storylines that are added and dropped in order to keep the viewers waiting for the conception scene.  Zoe Saldana does an admirable job carrying the first boring half, but there’s only so many times she can have a sickly sweet conversation with her new benefactors, Margaux and Roman Castevet, as they pour her another special herbal shake that they insist will help her get pregnant before the audience is like, “they’re clearly evil – get a new apartment.”   The conception scene comes as a relief, mostly because so much has been built up about the Castavets that we no longer have any doubt that they’re Satanists and just want to get to the demon lovemaking already.  Thankfully, the second half proves to be a fairly tense and nerve-wracking 90 plus minutes, once Rosemary is actually pregnant and we can return to the original plot.

In that same vein, Roman Castevet’s characterization is given far too much weight.  Despite the fact that he’s played by Jason Isaacs, a man who I will watch be a villain in anything you care to put him in, the time and attention paid to his backstory is needless.  We certainly learn more about him here than we did in the original story; In this version, Rosemary discovers a series of murders of young women in the apartment, all of whom shared a connection to wealthy resident of the apartment luxury apartment building and whom the police pursued in connection to the murders before he died 30 years ago.  Surprising no one, the original suspect and Roman Castavet are the same person.  Because he’s the Devil.  Like, literally the Devil.  And he’s the one who had sex with Rosemary, not to raise a child to sacrifice to himself, but to have a son here on Earth.  While this gives some great opportunities for Isaacs be menacing, merging the character with the demon, a change from the original, feels too small.  One of the failings of modern suspense stories, likely the result of an audience grown far savvier over time, is that no character can just be himself – any villain must also really be someone else in disguise.  The irony is that attempt to hide the villain’s true nature has the opposite effect here.  Instead of wondering who’s behind it all, we instantly suspect the worst of Roman.

Wealthy, powerful, and handsome?  Yup, clearly evil.  

There are welcome changes to this version as well.  In the film, Rosemary and her husband are a small town couple moving to New York City.  The miniseries updates this, having the couple move from New York City following a miscarriage to Paris.  I could be cynical and say this change was made in an attempt to appear new and fresh, New York having lost some of its shine as an unconquerable city coupled with every young wannabe sophisticate in the United States insisting upon proving their bone fides by having lived abroad, but to be honest I liked the change.  The writers understood that viewers are no longer sympathetic to Mia Farrow’s willow-y, weepy heroine, so the modern day Rosemary has to appear competent and capable.  She may not be like other modern day heroines in a horror movie who will get into a fistfight with a monster, but we need to at least believe that she has some of the vim and vigor that she’ll need to have us on her side.  

Putting Rosemary into a setting where she knows no one and barely even knows the language is also a nice way of further isolating her.  The social constraints against a wife in the 1960s go a long way to explaining why Mia Farrow’s Rosemary doesn’t just leave the evil apartment building and go stay with her mom for a few months or something.  Given that this modern Rosemary would almost certainly have a Facebook page in addition to probably Twitter, Instagram and any other form social networking, it would be a harder sell to put in her New York and ask us to believe that she has no way of communicating with anyone.  Putting her in a place where she literally doesn’t speak the language and is separated by an ocean from her family back home is an example of how to properly update a story.

"Voulez-vou coucher avec moi et mon démon bébé-papa?"

The change of venue has an aesthetic appeal as well.  Paris is beautiful on film and has the benefit of undercutting all that beauty with a slice of darkness.  New York worked as a setting in the film because of the city’s stained and gritty feel in the 1960s.  It was all texture and shadow, like a dirty Baroque painting.  Watching Rosemary navigate her way through Paris’s gothic streets while getting steadily weaker as her pregnancy gets more and more frightening is a really fascinating image.  Likewise the final images of a suave and sophisticated looking Rosemary walking her infant demon baby in a pram down the banks of the Seine look utterly glamorous, even if Rosemary's sudden and uncharacteristic decision to go all evil at the last minute because WOMAN MUST DO EVERYTHING FOR THEIR BABIES is, at best, falsely nostalgic writing.  

Rosemary’s Babyworks as a miniseries suitable for summer watching when there isn’t a lot of new content on TV and you don’t have much else to get invested in.  And while it is overstuffed, I’ll credit the miniseries for at least attempting to bring something new to the story rather than just release it in the theatres as a bankable property with new faces but old ideas.