Poetic Film Review: Constantine (2005)

In the realm of comic books and screens,
A tale of Constantine, lost between.
From Hellblazer's pages to Hollywood's sheen,
A transformation, a bitter scene.

Sting's likeness, blue-collar accent, gone,
Replaced by Keanu, American drawn.
London to LA, a world upside down,
A hero stripped of culture, identity drowned.

The smoking habit remains, a vestige of old,
But the heart and soul, forever bold.
Nuanced development, intricate plot,
Simplified, clichéd, and neatly totted.

Exorcisms abound, religious tropes abound,
Spear of Christ, a showdown with Satan found.
A hero unconvincing, Reeves's range confined,
His potential, by Hollywood, redefined.

Weisz and Swinton, Stormare too,
Shine amidst mediocrity, a silver clue.
But even their efforts, in the end,
Cannot save Constantine, a film to offend.

For fans of the comic, a painful watch,
Decent effects, sporadic, disjointed locks.
A tale of disappointment, a Hollywood trend,
Constantine's story, a cautionary pend.

(Note: The review in its original form can be read here.)

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