Writer’s Block Ended: Constantine Revisited

Image: Constantine cover art. Copyright Warner Bros.

I must apologize, both to our readers and the rest of the staff at here shufflingdead.com. I’ve been really slacking these days. My Movie Maundering article is now two weeks late. I’ve even got two started right now, but I just can’t seal the deal. I have been trying to figure out why I just couldn’t get into reviewing another movie, but now I understand: I didn’t fully and completely proclaim my hatred of Constantine, my last review. It’s been tearing me up inside without me even knowing. But luckily, a half bottle of wine and some quiet have allowed me to discover this prolific problem, and I am about to settle in to rectify the situation. Strap in, boys and girls.
This movie left me with a feeling of senseless rage. Absolutely nothing about it was good.

Let’s start with some Shia rage today. First of all, and I don’t know how I forgot to mention this in my initial review, but after the credits roll, Neo (Keanu, when you learn to act like anyone but Neo, I’ll start calling you something other than Neo) visits Shia LaBeouf’s grave, only to witness his triumphant return as a fucking angel. Seriously? Neo has been working his ass off, banishing demons all over the damn place, and Shia says a few biblical phrases and is awarded angelhood? That’s gotta be frustrating. Second, why on earth is the cab driver his wish-to-be sidekick? How often do you even get the same cab driver twice? And third, why does he try to be as good at it as Neo? Doesn’t he know that Neo is The One?

I’ll get back to Neo now. They say several times in the movie that Constantine has no real powers, that he is a mere mortal. Then why the hell is he able to defeat the magics of one of the most powerful heavenly beings around with some runes on his arm that were clearly drawn with a sharpie in Grade 10 Physics class and pretending to be on Dragonball Z? Then there is the fact that he simply walks through a host of demon warriors with a cross-shaped, pimped and gold-plated shotgun. And the chain-smoking man dying of lung cancer, who smokes 4 packs a day, doesn’t wheeze or cough once during the whole thing?

And then we have the true workhorse of the movie: the nameless man carrying the key to earthly destruction. Does he HAVE to be Mexican? Really Warner Bros? You had a man dig up a centuries-old spearhead and WALK it all the fucking way to LA? Nice work there Warner, thank you. Thank you for telling the world that Mexicans are Hell’s Couriers.

There is so much unbelievable crap flying around Constantine that I half expected them to turn around and tell me that my dog snoring in the middle of the night is the devil speaking to him in code to tell him to shit on the sidewalk in the morning. I’m going to have to wrap this up because my rage is starting to overcome my ability to be coherent. This movie freaking sucks.