Genres tend to only be recognized in retrospect, with critics commenting on certain patterns in media years after the fact and organizing art into easily classifiable groups. These groups are sometimes labeled according to narrative similarities, but they can sometimes be based on more of a “vibe” than anything else. This latter option is certainly the case when it comes to the rise of what some cinephiles have come to refer to as “Nu Metal Cinema”.
Commonly described as movies that contain dark imagery and stories that blend urban thrills with horror elements, this subset of late-90s and early 2000s filmmaking earns its name due to a perceived similarity with the Nu Metal music scene (an infamous sub-genre that combines heavy metal with hip-hop, industrial, and even funk music). Appropriately enough, these films also tend to include copious amounts of Nu Metal in their soundtracks, which were frequently more successful than the movies themselves.
And if there’s a single film that can be traced back as the progenitor of this unique genre, it has to be the disastrous 1997 comic-book adaptation, Spawn, and its undeniably Nu Metal charms.
While both this particular style of edgy action and the hardcore music accompanying it were commonly looked down upon back in the day, enough time has passed that it’s now easier to appreciate the myriad of cultural influences that led to the birth of such a divisive way of making art. While we wait for the long-gestating Spawn reboot that promises to bring the character back to his horrific roots, I’d like to invite readers to join me as we look back on the grandaddy of Nu Metal Cinema and explain why it doesn’t deserve all the hate.
Todd McFarlane, Image Comics, and the Creation of Spawn
The origins of Spawn as an intellectual property are about as convoluted as an actual comic-book story. Tired of being mistreated by the higher-ups at Marvel and DC and not even being allowed to retain ownership of their original characters, a group of artists led by Venom co-creator Todd McFarlane decided to form their own publisher called Image Comics. Image would then start its own shared universe of heroes and villains meant to compete with Marvel and DC, with McFarlane’s hellish anti-hero Spawn becoming the flagship title leading the charge in May of 1992.
Originally an extraterrestrial-based character that McFarlane dreamed up as a teenager, Image Comics’ Spawn was reimagined to be Al Simmons, a cold-blooded assassin who was murdered and sent to hell only to strike a bargain with the demonic Malebolgia so he could see his wife again. Unfortunately, this bargain led to Simmons being reborn as a super-powered Hellspawn five years after the world moved on from his tragic death. Now, Spawn roams the streets as a vagrant, torn between a desire for vengeance against those who orchestrated his demise and the grisly machinations of a hell that intends to use him as a pawn in their eternal war against heaven.
With gorgeous artwork by McFarlane himself and edgy subject matter perfect for an early 90s audience, it’s no surprise that Spawn would quickly become an international best-seller, rivalling the likes of Batman and Spider-Man. With great power comes great movie deals, so it wasn’t long before Hollywood came knocking in search of a piece of the Image Comics pie.
However, McFarlane bravely resisted millions of dollars offered by studios that wanted to exclude him from the creative process. It was only when New Line Cinema offered the artist an exclusive merchandising deal and a creative role in their proposed movie that McFarlane sold the rights to the character for a single dollar, despite knowing that this would be a comparatively smaller movie – a noble decision that would have unintended consequences further down the line.
The Chaotic Production Behind 1997’s Spawn
Thus began production on one of the hottest anticipated blockbusters of the ’90s. Originally allotted a respectable $20 million budget, this sum soon ballooned as first-time director Mark A.Z. Dippé (who’d later helm the underrated Frankenfish) slowly came to terms with the fact that they’d have to invent a lot of the digital technology they needed in order to bring this story to life. This led to much of the post-production process being outsourced to 22 individual companies as the team realized they didn’t have enough time to complete visual effects through Industrial Light & Magic alone.
On the physical side of things, actors Michael Jai White (Al Simmons) and John Leguizamo (The Clown/Violator) suffered with uncomfortable prosthetics during a rushed 63-day shoot. The writers also had to come up with a new villain in the form of Melinda Clarke’s Jessica Priest since the studio failed to negotiate the film rights to Chapel (the super-powered anti-hero who originally murdered Simmons in the comics).
In the end, total production cost came in at about $40 to $45 million, not including the massive marketing investment. Part of this spending was also relegated to the flick’s undeniably awesome soundtrack produced by Happy Walters, with the album featuring songs by ’90s titans like Korn, Marilyn Manson, The Prodigy, and even The Crystal Method as the artists partnered on unique songs.
Ironically, screenwriter Alan B. McElroy was simultaneously working on another – much better received – adaptation of Spawn via HBO’s animated series. While I’d argue that the show features the definitive version of the character and even improves on the comics, it had the benefit of being a completely adult-oriented endeavor. The movie, on the other hand, was forced to contend with a PG-13 rating as a part of New Line’s contract.
The finished film (which was released in August of 1997, a mere two weeks after the effects had been finalized) is a reasonably accurate retelling of the first few issues of the comic as Al Simmons (White) comes to terms with his demonic rebirth and becomes embroiled in an apocalyptic conspiracy involving his previous employer and the literal forces of hell. The main difference here is in how the film tones down much of the “comic book-ness” of the original story, as well as the violence/horror. Not only does the adaptation forfeit other superpowered Image characters like the aforementioned Chapel, but even the unrated cut feels a lot less horrific than its edgy source material.
Unfortunately, the real problem with New Line’s Spawn lies in the practical consequences of its messy production. The script was constantly being rewritten to compensate for dwindling resources, and the final act feels like it was cobbled together from whatever the filmmakers could scrounge together on short notice. Not only that, but the special effects range from amazing (the Violator animatronic and digital double are terrific) to embarrassing (just look up the hell sequence if you haven’t yet seen the movie) – sometimes within the same scene!
Why Spawn Still Matters Nearly 30 Years Later
So why is this film such a cultural landmark if it failed to impress both critics and general audiences? Well, the passage of time offers us the gift of perspective, and even if Spawn isn’t a traditionally good movie or a particularly faithful adaptation of the character, there simply wasn’t anything else quite like it at the time. The peculiar combination of horror tropes and high-octane action was a novel concept even in its neutered form, and the entire thing was drenched in so much visceral style that it’s easy to forget the flimsy story beneath it all.
Hell, the first time I saw the film as a kid in the single digits, I thought it kicked all kinds of ass, and the flick’s strange balancing act between superhero tropes and demonic imagery even turned it into a bizarre case of Gateway Horror. I vividly remember being creeped out when I first sought out the comics after having seen the movie, though it was only a matter of time before I was firmly hooked by Simmons’ dark adventures.
Removing the nostalgic lens, there’s still something special about Dippé’s movie, even if you accept that it’s a complete narrative failure. The thrilling soundtrack and innovative imagery somehow combine into an experience reminiscent of a feature-length music video that’s sometimes hard to understand but never boring – especially when Leguizamo is onscreen.
From absurd scene transitions to gratuitous rooftop posing with screensaver-quality CGI, there’s never a dull moment in Spawn, and it’s precisely the over-the-top angst that makes it the first true Nu Metal Movie.
That’s why you can draw a straight line from this film to everything from the Underworld franchise to Constantine and even the original Resident Evil movies. This style may not be for everyone (and I know I’m not always in the mood for it), but sometimes it’s enough for a movie to want to be cool just for the hell of it.
