Dylan Dog: Dead of Night is a big-budget ($20 million) “indie” film adaptation of Italy’s most beloved comic book hero (previously portrayed, as any horror nerd worth his dead sea salt will tell you, by Rupert Everett in 1994’s Cemetery Man, one of the finest existential fright films of modern times). Former Superman Brandon Routh portrays the titular paranormal investigator who immediately informs the viewer that monsters live amongst us via lazy narration that continues throughout the course of the film. Or at least for its first 45 minutes, we walked out after that. I’ve only walked out of two other movies in my life: the first was 1998’s Jane Austen’s Mafia!, a Naked Gun-like parody film directed by Jim Abrahams sans Zucker brothers that didn’t nearly live up to its humorous title, which isn’t really that funny to begin with. I saw it at the Stateway Cinemas in Watertown, NY, a $2 theater for a time before its owners, the Australia-based Hoyts chain, sold the building to a coven of born again Christians who turned it into a church. At that point in my life I’d certainly sat through films that were far worse than JA’s M, but halfway through Nolan Sinclair showed up and told us that there was a party happening at Cindy Mannino’s house so we headed over there only to find that it was one of those awkward parties where the host’s parents were home and were cool with underage drinking. I quickly fled the scene and headed over to Watertown’s other movie theater located in the Salmon Run Mall (also operated by Hoyts at the time but now a Regal) and saw Disturbing Behavior, which ruled. The second film I ever walked out of was 2004’s Mean Girls, also at the Salmon Run Mall Cinemas. About five minutes in there’s one of those scenes where the new kid in school is shown around and introduced to the various stereotypical cliques of nerds, goths, jocks and the like and there are few conventions I hate more than that scene. Nate Johnson and I walked out after someone spilled a drink on someone else (in the film, not the theater, we were the only ones in the theater) and instead opted to join the packed crowd watching The Day After Tomorrow, which didn’t rule, but was surely the lesser of two evils. Dylan Dog is a joyless bore with high school drama class-like production values and an antiquated sense of humor that illustrates its screenwriters’ obvious lack of humor from any era. My girlfriend and I checked out after a vampire night club scene that paled in comparison to that of Blade, although Blade didn’t feature Olympic gold medal winner/former WWE wrestling champion Kurt Angle as a werewolf. I’ve certainly seen worse, hell, I’ve seen worse this week, I guess I just wasn’t in the mood. I’d say that I’ll revisit it on DVD, but I’d be lying. Ha ha.
Dylan Dog: Dead of Night is currently screening wide in Philly-area theaters.