Having grown up a fan of the hard-boiled dime-store novel, I take every opportunity I can to submerge myself in such literary and theatrical goodness whenever I can find it.
The truth is that my own admitted bias to loving those universes where ‘crime doesn’t pay’ and vengeance is quick and often time dispensed from the end of a pistol can often get in the way of being critical of such projects. Despite there existing a great many examples of detective fiction from the past, most of what authors, producers, and screenwriters attempt today winds up being little more than watered down slop, reinterpretations of so many vastly superior webs spun before. Though I appreciate the influence of such landmark novels and films might have on modern storytellers, I’d rather have them try to do something bold, new, and innovative with such archetypes instead of just putting their own spin on an established yarn. Otherwise, why really make the effort? Flattery is cheap, after all, and the dark and lonely streets are long and wide enough to allow for something fresh, aren’t they?
At first blush, 1991’s Cast A Deadly Spell appears to be little more than a clone of 1941’s The Maltese Falcon, arguably one of the greatest detective films and itself a remake of the 1931 original. From the novel by Dashiell Hammett adapted and directed by John Huston, 1941’s Falcon told the story of private eye Sam Spade (played by Humphrey Bogart) investigating the death of his partner tied directly to a scheming but lovely femme fatale and her quest to obtain a rare statue of unimaginable wealth. Essentially, if you replace Spade with H.P. Lovecraft, keep the partner alive but fashion a kinda/sorta ‘dead to me’ paradigm, and swap out the delicious sculpture for the dreaded Necronomicon (the Book of the Dead), then you have a respectably similar story, all the way down to Spade/Lovecraft allowing the love of their lives to take the fall because – well – that’s just the way things go.
(For those of you who don’t know it, the real H.P. Lovecraft was a celebrated writer who dabbled in Horror, Science Fiction, and Fantasy in rather cosmic ways that are still celebrated by filmmakers today. It definitely heightens one’s appreciation of this film knowing that – along with a fair amount of the author’s big influences – and I strongly encourage readers to head on over to Wikipedia.org for a quick education. Don’t worry: my review will still be here when you get back.)
However, what makes these films fundamentally different is that the devil is always in the details, and – in Spell’s reality – magic exists alongside the book … and there are a whole lot of everyday users.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
The truth is that my own admitted bias to loving those universes where ‘crime doesn’t pay’ and vengeance is quick and often time dispensed from the end of a pistol can often get in the way of being critical of such projects. Despite there existing a great many examples of detective fiction from the past, most of what authors, producers, and screenwriters attempt today winds up being little more than watered down slop, reinterpretations of so many vastly superior webs spun before. Though I appreciate the influence of such landmark novels and films might have on modern storytellers, I’d rather have them try to do something bold, new, and innovative with such archetypes instead of just putting their own spin on an established yarn. Otherwise, why really make the effort? Flattery is cheap, after all, and the dark and lonely streets are long and wide enough to allow for something fresh, aren’t they?
At first blush, 1991’s Cast A Deadly Spell appears to be little more than a clone of 1941’s The Maltese Falcon, arguably one of the greatest detective films and itself a remake of the 1931 original. From the novel by Dashiell Hammett adapted and directed by John Huston, 1941’s Falcon told the story of private eye Sam Spade (played by Humphrey Bogart) investigating the death of his partner tied directly to a scheming but lovely femme fatale and her quest to obtain a rare statue of unimaginable wealth. Essentially, if you replace Spade with H.P. Lovecraft, keep the partner alive but fashion a kinda/sorta ‘dead to me’ paradigm, and swap out the delicious sculpture for the dreaded Necronomicon (the Book of the Dead), then you have a respectably similar story, all the way down to Spade/Lovecraft allowing the love of their lives to take the fall because – well – that’s just the way things go.
(For those of you who don’t know it, the real H.P. Lovecraft was a celebrated writer who dabbled in Horror, Science Fiction, and Fantasy in rather cosmic ways that are still celebrated by filmmakers today. It definitely heightens one’s appreciation of this film knowing that – along with a fair amount of the author’s big influences – and I strongly encourage readers to head on over to Wikipedia.org for a quick education. Don’t worry: my review will still be here when you get back.)
However, what makes these films fundamentally different is that the devil is always in the details, and – in Spell’s reality – magic exists alongside the book … and there are a whole lot of everyday users.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In a fantastical 40's where magic is used by everyone, a hard-boiled detective investigates the theft of a mystical tome.”
The adventures and (sometimes) misadventures of private detectives has always been a winning prospect with audiences. Though there are dozens of reasons why this is the case, a few of the most prominent ones are the fact that (1) everyone love a good puzzle to solve, (2) viewers are challenged to match their own skills to a leading protagonist, and (3) the prevailing pursuit justice – whether by hook, by book, or by crook – fascinates those of us who still appreciate a world where right and wrong come into conflict. We’re all drawn to the imperfect hero – the white knight who wants to achieve a measure of proper closure – so the mission to both uncover the guilty party and see righteousness in whatever form it takes win the day remains one of the best forms of entertainment.
1991’s Cast A Deadly Spell ups the ante by setting its world-weary shamus – Harry Phillip Lovecraft (Fred Ward) – in an alternate universe where magic is very real and practiced by the good, bad, and ugly every day. The vast majority of how that’s depicted in the 90+-minute flick is routine – waiters levitating drinks to be poured, secretaries opening filing cabinets and retrieving folders with telekinesis, smokers conjuring flames off their fingertips to light cigarettes, etc. – and this is how screenwriter Joseph Dougherty conceptualized the extraordinary coexisting with the ordinary. Because its practice had grown so mainstream, the mere sight of something out of the ordinary – by all accounts – grew unexceptional. This wouldn’t necessarily make it less special, but viewers might have to watch a bit more closely to see and appreciate its effects.
Complicating things a bit, Dougherty also opted to include what some might consider elements a bit tangential to magic. For example, vampires exist in Spell, though there’s no patently logical reason I can fathom as to what makes them simpatico with wizardry. Furthermore, werewolves exist, and all I can say about that is that because werewolves at one time evolved kinda/sorta from a blood curse so maybe their involvement makes a bit more sense. Still, living entities like zombies and/or gargoyles and/or gremlins and/or unicorns also figure into the procedural in big and small ways; and – once more – I struggle to see just how their participation makes narrative sense other than the fact that, well, Dougherty wanted them there.
The observation isn’t meant as criticism because the way the script works structurally is to throw all of these various ingredients into the visual stew to demonstrate that our hero – Lovecraft – neither has use for them much less notices their effectiveness to any measurable degree. They are simply there: casual things sharing space in the same big city as obstacles needing to be overcome only when he’s on-the-job. His only routine exposure to them is when his underpaid but overprotective landlord – Hypolite Kropotkin (Arnetia Walker) – relies on them in countless ways and tries to invoke their spectral potential, making Lovecraft and her various interactions the kinda/sorta wry comic interplay that’s part of the backbone to the classic private eye story. Someone is always fondly keeping an eye out for him, and she definitely serves in that role, even up to the point of slapping a self-locking protective gauntlet on his forearm in the lead-up to the film’s big showdown. While it isn’t shown to produce any positive effect, Lovecraft still survives, so perhaps all of us – the detective included – should be thankful for small favors.
“In a fantastical 40's where magic is used by everyone, a hard-boiled detective investigates the theft of a mystical tome.”
The adventures and (sometimes) misadventures of private detectives has always been a winning prospect with audiences. Though there are dozens of reasons why this is the case, a few of the most prominent ones are the fact that (1) everyone love a good puzzle to solve, (2) viewers are challenged to match their own skills to a leading protagonist, and (3) the prevailing pursuit justice – whether by hook, by book, or by crook – fascinates those of us who still appreciate a world where right and wrong come into conflict. We’re all drawn to the imperfect hero – the white knight who wants to achieve a measure of proper closure – so the mission to both uncover the guilty party and see righteousness in whatever form it takes win the day remains one of the best forms of entertainment.
1991’s Cast A Deadly Spell ups the ante by setting its world-weary shamus – Harry Phillip Lovecraft (Fred Ward) – in an alternate universe where magic is very real and practiced by the good, bad, and ugly every day. The vast majority of how that’s depicted in the 90+-minute flick is routine – waiters levitating drinks to be poured, secretaries opening filing cabinets and retrieving folders with telekinesis, smokers conjuring flames off their fingertips to light cigarettes, etc. – and this is how screenwriter Joseph Dougherty conceptualized the extraordinary coexisting with the ordinary. Because its practice had grown so mainstream, the mere sight of something out of the ordinary – by all accounts – grew unexceptional. This wouldn’t necessarily make it less special, but viewers might have to watch a bit more closely to see and appreciate its effects.
Complicating things a bit, Dougherty also opted to include what some might consider elements a bit tangential to magic. For example, vampires exist in Spell, though there’s no patently logical reason I can fathom as to what makes them simpatico with wizardry. Furthermore, werewolves exist, and all I can say about that is that because werewolves at one time evolved kinda/sorta from a blood curse so maybe their involvement makes a bit more sense. Still, living entities like zombies and/or gargoyles and/or gremlins and/or unicorns also figure into the procedural in big and small ways; and – once more – I struggle to see just how their participation makes narrative sense other than the fact that, well, Dougherty wanted them there.
The observation isn’t meant as criticism because the way the script works structurally is to throw all of these various ingredients into the visual stew to demonstrate that our hero – Lovecraft – neither has use for them much less notices their effectiveness to any measurable degree. They are simply there: casual things sharing space in the same big city as obstacles needing to be overcome only when he’s on-the-job. His only routine exposure to them is when his underpaid but overprotective landlord – Hypolite Kropotkin (Arnetia Walker) – relies on them in countless ways and tries to invoke their spectral potential, making Lovecraft and her various interactions the kinda/sorta wry comic interplay that’s part of the backbone to the classic private eye story. Someone is always fondly keeping an eye out for him, and she definitely serves in that role, even up to the point of slapping a self-locking protective gauntlet on his forearm in the lead-up to the film’s big showdown. While it isn’t shown to produce any positive effect, Lovecraft still survives, so perhaps all of us – the detective included – should be thankful for small favors.
To Ward’s credit, the actor is about as close to recapturing the screen magic of the late Bogart as I’ve ever seen, and it is a feat worth watching. From his somewhat deadpan delivery to his cynical observations of the world and those around him, Ward classically draws on what’s been done before in this sub-genre – the detective story – and gives it a modest layer of polish required for the resident mysticism. Though his spoken cadence never quite matches what and how Bogey did, it’s close enough for anyone watching to know that’s most likely what everyone involved intended. Awarding-winning director Martin Campbell probably had a field day bringing these scenes to life and keeping everything in orbit of Ward’s genius portrayal here, and who could blame him? Audiences don’t get that level of virtuoso every day, especially in a genre project.
Furthermore, Spell’s supporting cast is a handful of familiar faces who manage to flesh out this curious time and place to great effect. The irreplaceable David Warner stars as Amos Hackshaw, a local political patriarch from which the coveted Necronomicon has been stolen; and he’s up against a hard ethereal deadline with which he needs to book returned. His daughter – the virginal Olivia Hackshaw (Alexandra Powers) – is the kind of leading lady who’ll stop at nothing to corner the market on the male gaze; and even she will stop at nothing to get a rise out of Lovecraft if he’ll notice her. Harry Bordon (Clancy Brown) is the shamus’ former partner, a decorated policeman who left the force once he realized the grass was greener once fertilized with magic. And his chief henchman Tugwell (Raymond O’Connor) manages to ooze just enough Peter Lorre intensity – without the predictable lilting vocals – to make him an obvious stooge whose last day is just over the horizon.
So far as I’m concerned, the weak link in all of this is a young Julianne Moore.
In the guise of torch singer Connie Stone, she’s the “one that got away” from Lovecraft but never quite demonstrates why he’d fallen head-over-heels for her in the first place. Stoic and often unmoving, her performance lacks even the smallest spark of life beyond the script page. The actress breathily croons out one number after another at the marquee act at The Dunwich Room (another Lovecraft reference) and eventually makes pitiful goo goo eyes again at her former lover; but anyone who knows anything about detectives and their past loves probably suspect there could be ulterior motives to such attention. Even that subtext – a trope common to these films – is missing, and that hurts. Unfortunately, this was one of the actress’ earliest roles, and it shows: she brings no measure of inflection or emotion to even what was supposed to be sensually steamy, and her leaden presence kills damn near every scene she’s in. If she’s supposed to be Spell’s narrative counterweight to Falcon’s Brigid O’Shaughnessy (Mary Astor), then she fails miserably, barely evoking anything greater than a mere line reading at worst. What she accomplishes is more akin to Lauren Bacall’s Vivian Rutledge in 1946’s The Big Sleep – another great Bogart film – and, for the record, I didn’t like it there, either.
My chief complaint with all of Spell – which is a very, very, very good film – is that, sadly, it never really does anything with its central conceit, that being all of the action is set in a world wherein not only magic but a whole lotta other love exists.
Furthermore, Spell’s supporting cast is a handful of familiar faces who manage to flesh out this curious time and place to great effect. The irreplaceable David Warner stars as Amos Hackshaw, a local political patriarch from which the coveted Necronomicon has been stolen; and he’s up against a hard ethereal deadline with which he needs to book returned. His daughter – the virginal Olivia Hackshaw (Alexandra Powers) – is the kind of leading lady who’ll stop at nothing to corner the market on the male gaze; and even she will stop at nothing to get a rise out of Lovecraft if he’ll notice her. Harry Bordon (Clancy Brown) is the shamus’ former partner, a decorated policeman who left the force once he realized the grass was greener once fertilized with magic. And his chief henchman Tugwell (Raymond O’Connor) manages to ooze just enough Peter Lorre intensity – without the predictable lilting vocals – to make him an obvious stooge whose last day is just over the horizon.
So far as I’m concerned, the weak link in all of this is a young Julianne Moore.
In the guise of torch singer Connie Stone, she’s the “one that got away” from Lovecraft but never quite demonstrates why he’d fallen head-over-heels for her in the first place. Stoic and often unmoving, her performance lacks even the smallest spark of life beyond the script page. The actress breathily croons out one number after another at the marquee act at The Dunwich Room (another Lovecraft reference) and eventually makes pitiful goo goo eyes again at her former lover; but anyone who knows anything about detectives and their past loves probably suspect there could be ulterior motives to such attention. Even that subtext – a trope common to these films – is missing, and that hurts. Unfortunately, this was one of the actress’ earliest roles, and it shows: she brings no measure of inflection or emotion to even what was supposed to be sensually steamy, and her leaden presence kills damn near every scene she’s in. If she’s supposed to be Spell’s narrative counterweight to Falcon’s Brigid O’Shaughnessy (Mary Astor), then she fails miserably, barely evoking anything greater than a mere line reading at worst. What she accomplishes is more akin to Lauren Bacall’s Vivian Rutledge in 1946’s The Big Sleep – another great Bogart film – and, for the record, I didn’t like it there, either.
My chief complaint with all of Spell – which is a very, very, very good film – is that, sadly, it never really does anything with its central conceit, that being all of the action is set in a world wherein not only magic but a whole lotta other love exists.
Basically, everything else otherworldly, spiritual, and/or otherworldly – with one single exception – could be removed from the film, and nothing would be lost or gained: the whole idea of the Necronomicon and the baddies associated with it would have to remain – there would be no story otherwise – but literally everything else could be jettisoned because it serves as little more than screen filler. Sure, minor tweaks would have to occur – the bit with the runes, the schtick with the gargoyle, the slapstick with the gremlins, etc. – but the core story could remain. With all that’s been said and/or written about this telefilm, I went in expecting a lot more: while not disappointed – it’s heart, soul, and aesthetic are definitely in the right place – I still came away with the overwhelming sense of “Is that all there is?”
To the film’s credit, Spell did garner a bit of extra attention after its initial airing on HBO that deserves mention.
Composer Curt Sobel and songwriter Dennis Spiegel took home top honors from the 1992 Primetime Emmys in the category of ‘Outstanding Individual Achievement In Music And Lyrics’ for their tune “Why Do I Lie?” Also, the production itself received another Emmys’ nomination in the category of ‘Outstanding Individual Achievement In Sound Editing For A Miniseries Of Special.’ Even more flattering (in my opinion) is the fact that the 1992 Saturn Awards nominated the telefilm in the category of ‘Best Genre Television Series’ because of its quality despite the fact that it wasn’t a series (though it did have a sequel a few years later). While I don’t always agree with awards or the way they can be dished out in undeserving ways, I still concede that often times such institutions do ‘get it right,’ and I think the high quality of Spell should be uncontested by any who discover its charms.
Cast A Deadly Spell (1991) was produced by Home Box Office (HBO) and Pacific Western. A quick Google.com search shows that it’s presently available for streaming on a variety of platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that most of Spell looks and sounds exceptional: this being 1991, the effects work is obviously dated, but the practical (in camera) and make-up work is probably the best that was being done in its era. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, I viewed this one via streaming, so there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
While Cast A Deadly Spell didn’t win me over the way it has so many, it’s still a wonderful little picture that deserves the cult(ish) audiences who’ve discovered and continued championing its goodness over the decades. The cast is (mostly) solid – though a few feel shoehorned into somewhat underwritten roles – and the whole milieu proves that there’s always life (and death) in the business of private investigations. If anything, the underuse of its magic, its creatures, and the whole pagan shebang frustrated me to no one; and if some enterprising young producer decides to dust this one off and give it new life then I’ll hold out hope such oversight can get corrected with more than a few abracadabras!
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Cast A Deadly Spell (1991) as I viewed it via my own subscription to HBO Max.
-- EZ
To the film’s credit, Spell did garner a bit of extra attention after its initial airing on HBO that deserves mention.
Composer Curt Sobel and songwriter Dennis Spiegel took home top honors from the 1992 Primetime Emmys in the category of ‘Outstanding Individual Achievement In Music And Lyrics’ for their tune “Why Do I Lie?” Also, the production itself received another Emmys’ nomination in the category of ‘Outstanding Individual Achievement In Sound Editing For A Miniseries Of Special.’ Even more flattering (in my opinion) is the fact that the 1992 Saturn Awards nominated the telefilm in the category of ‘Best Genre Television Series’ because of its quality despite the fact that it wasn’t a series (though it did have a sequel a few years later). While I don’t always agree with awards or the way they can be dished out in undeserving ways, I still concede that often times such institutions do ‘get it right,’ and I think the high quality of Spell should be uncontested by any who discover its charms.
Cast A Deadly Spell (1991) was produced by Home Box Office (HBO) and Pacific Western. A quick Google.com search shows that it’s presently available for streaming on a variety of platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that most of Spell looks and sounds exceptional: this being 1991, the effects work is obviously dated, but the practical (in camera) and make-up work is probably the best that was being done in its era. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, I viewed this one via streaming, so there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
While Cast A Deadly Spell didn’t win me over the way it has so many, it’s still a wonderful little picture that deserves the cult(ish) audiences who’ve discovered and continued championing its goodness over the decades. The cast is (mostly) solid – though a few feel shoehorned into somewhat underwritten roles – and the whole milieu proves that there’s always life (and death) in the business of private investigations. If anything, the underuse of its magic, its creatures, and the whole pagan shebang frustrated me to no one; and if some enterprising young producer decides to dust this one off and give it new life then I’ll hold out hope such oversight can get corrected with more than a few abracadabras!
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Cast A Deadly Spell (1991) as I viewed it via my own subscription to HBO Max.
-- EZ
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