The chief villain is a witch named Nimue (Milla Jovovich), dubbed “The Blood Queen,” who was cut into pieces by King Arthur in the sixth century and has returned to exact her revenge. But most of the plot of Hellboy is a flimsy excuse to jump between a string of action set pieces, all of them crackling with juvenile energy, as our red-faced hero massacres a succession of personality-free beasties bent on ending the world. His father, Trevor Bruttenholm (Ian McShane), who adopted him when he was summoned from hell as a baby, is on hand to distribute appropriate amounts of gravitas when needed. He works for the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, an extra-secret American governmental agency hunting creepy-crawlies around the globe. The new Hellboy, played by David Harbour, is now more of a beastly brawler: a tequila-slamming paranormal cop with a mean streak and a tendency to shoot first (with his gargantuan gun) and ask questions later. The end result is an R-rated slog that’s heavy on bad attitude and creative dismemberments, and completely missing the humane core of Mignola’s original story.
But in the 2019 reboot, directed by the British horror specialist Neil Marshall (who made The Descent, Doomsday, and two of Game of Thrones’ most epic installments), all the gentleness has been shorn off. Hellboy was a wisecracking but gentle giant who wrestled with his own demonic impulses while trying to save the planet from whatever supernatural hordes were threatening it. As played by Ron Perlman in del Toro’s two films (released in 20), he was a solid match for the director’s love of monster movies and heroic outcasts. Hellboy-a 7-foot-tall red behemoth with filed-down horns and an oversize, rocky right hand-is undoubtedly an arresting figure to lead a movie with.
For some ungodly reason, Mike Mignola’s cult series for the indie label Dark Horse Comics-which was already beautifully adapted for the big screen by Guillermo del Toro-is back in the hands of a new creative team, which does an awful job of justifying its return.
Now the glut has reached the level of more specific complaints: There aren’t just too many superhero franchises there are also too many Hellboy franchises. Studios’ nonstop efforts to launch new cinematic comic-book brands have choked theaters to the point where you can barely enter a multiplex without knocking over a cardboard standee of a caped crusader or two. A common refrain in film criticism these days is that there are too many superhero franchises.
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