We Have The Crow at Home: Why the New The Crow Movie Is Too Little, Too Late

Will corporate Hollywood ever get tired of selling ‘90s pop culture to us? Case in point: The Crow. Yes, that Crow. The brooding, goth-worshipping, bullet-dodging anti-hero Eric Draven is soaring back to the big screen, despite the fact that The Crow belongs to the same bygone era as pagers and dial up internet. Is there a cult classic out there safe from Hollywood’s reboot machine?

After almost a decade of false starts, scrapped scripts, and more A-list departures than a blockbuster casting call, The Crow remake is actually being released today. Bill Skarsgård dons the black leather and face paint, with Rupert Sanders (yes, the same guy who directed Snow White and the Huntsman) at the helm. Meanwhile, FKA Twigs has been cast as Shelly Webster, because, sure, why not throw an avant-garde singer into the mix?

But let’s get real here: Does anyone actually want this? The Crow wasn’t just a film; it was a product of its time—a fever dream of 90s grunge, dark poetry, and Brandon Lee’s tragic, larger-than-life legacy. The original film wasn’t a normal hit; it became a cultural touchstone precisely because it captured a specific moment in the collective angst of Generation X. Lee’s haunting performance, underscored by his untimely death on set, left an indelible mark that can’t be replicated or surpassed by any reboot, no matter how many A-list stars or gritty reimaginings are thrown at it.

If The Crow has been anything over the past few decades, it’s a lesson in leaving well enough alone. After all, we’ve seen this song and dance before. Remember when The Crow: City of Angels landed with all the subtlety of a brick through a stained-glass window? How about the straight-to-DVD sequels that followed, each one a paler, more derivative shade of the original? Each failed attempt only serves to remind us that The Crow is not a franchise but a singular, haunting elegy—an artifact that doesn’t need reinvention. It needs reverence.

So why the insistence on resurrecting it now, nearly 30 years later? It’s hard to see this as anything other than a cash grab aimed at nostalgia-hungry millennials who might remember Lee’s gothic antihero fondly. The marketing pitch practically writes itself: “The Crow is back, darker and edgier than ever!” But the problem is, in 2024, the landscape is already littered with dark, brooding antiheroes. We don’t need The Crow to come back from the dead—we’re already living in a cinematic graveyard of grittiness.

Even the thematic core of The Crow—grief, revenge, love lost—feels misplaced in the hands of today’s Hollywood. The original film’s raw, unpolished emotional power was a reflection of its time and circumstances. Can a polished reboot really capture that essence without feeling like a hollow echo? Will this new Crow resonate with audiences who have never known a world without smartphones, TikTok, and infinite scroll?

Let’s face it: Some things are better left untouched. The Crow doesn’t need a new coat of paint, a fresh coat of feathers, or whatever it is that Hollywood thinks it’s adding. We have The Crow at home, and that’s enough. The legacy of Brandon Lee and the dark, tragic beauty of the original film remain. Perhaps it’s time to let this bird rest in peace.

If you’re desperate for a dose of gothic revenge, the 1994 Crow still delivers. Just pop in the old VHS, and let the rain-soaked cityscapes and haunting soundtrack wash over you. Because sometimes, the past should stay in the past—and maybe that's where The Crow belongs.