Honestly, the moment those first production stills of Bill Skarsgård leaked, the internet collectively lost its mind. And not necessarily in the "I can’t wait to buy a ticket" kind of way. It was more of a "Why does he look like a Soundcloud rapper had a rough night at a Hot Topic?" vibe. For a lot of people, especially those who grew up with the 1994 original, messing with The Crow felt like sacrilege. It wasn't just about a movie; it was about Brandon Lee’s legacy.
But now that the dust has settled on the 2024 release, we can actually look at what happened without all the reactionary screaming.
The reality of Bill Skarsgård in The Crow is a lot weirder and more nuanced than the "it's just a bad remake" narrative you’ll see on a standard review site. It’s a film that spent fifteen years in development hell. It went through more directors and lead actors than most franchises have sequels. By the time Rupert Sanders actually got it to the finish line, it had become this strange, bifurcated beast that tried to be a Gen Z romance and a John Wick clone at the same time.
The Jared Leto Comparison and the Aesthetic Gamble
Everyone jumped on the "he looks like the Joker" bandwagon immediately. The tattoos, the mullet, the lack of the iconic white-and-black mime-inspired face paint from the James O’Barr comics—it was a lot to take in. Skarsgård himself actually had some thoughts on this. He’s gone on record saying he felt "strange" being in such good shape for the role.
He wanted Eric Draven to be scrawny.
Think about it: Eric is supposed to be a guy who spends his time doing drugs and being a "degenerate" (his words in the film). Skarsgård had just come off the set of Boy Kills World, so he was ripped. He felt that the muscularity didn’t quite fit the fragile, broken vibe of a guy who should look like he’s never seen the inside of a gym. It’s a small detail, but it shows how much Skarsgård actually cares about the character's internal logic, even if the costume department had other ideas.
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The 2024 version swaps the 90s industrial-goth aesthetic for something more modern. Instead of a rainy, miniature-filled Detroit, we get a sickly green and gray palette. It’s "dirtbag chic." If the original movie was a The Cure song, this one is basically a trap metal remix.
Why the Critics and Fans Hated It (and Why Some Didn't)
If you look at the numbers, they're pretty brutal. We’re talking a 19% critics score on Rotten Tomatoes. People called it sluggish and "unfathomably awful." The main beef? It takes forever to get to the actual Crow stuff.
In the 1994 version, Eric and Shelly die in the first five minutes. In the 2024 version, you spend nearly an hour watching them hang out in rehab and run around in slow-motion montages. It’s a bold choice. Sanders wanted to make us care about the "dark romance" before the killing started. The problem is, if the audience isn't vibing with the chemistry between Skarsgård and FKA Twigs, that first hour feels like a lifetime.
Interestingly, though, the audience score tells a different story. It sat around 65%.
Why the gap?
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- The Gore: This movie is incredibly violent. The opera house sequence is basically a horror-movie version of a tactical shooter.
- The Climax: Some fans actually preferred the ending of the 2024 version, calling it more "satisfying" and definitive compared to the original.
- The Mythology: This version adds a lot of lore about the "bridge" between worlds and a villain (Danny Huston) who is literally a soul-collecting demon. It’s more Constantine than street-level revenge.
The Financial Reality: A Box Office Ghost
Lionsgate dropped $50 million on this. They made back about $24 million worldwide. In the industry, that is what we call a "catastrophic flop." It barely stayed in theaters for three weeks before being shuffled off to digital platforms.
You can't really blame Skarsgård for that. He’s a phenomenal actor—we know this from It and Barbarian. He brings a twitchy, soul-crushed intensity to the role that is genuinely different from what Brandon Lee did. He isn't trying to be Lee. He’s doing something more feral and less poetic. But even a great actor can't save a script that feels like it was written by three different committees over a decade.
The "Cynical Cash Grab" Accusation
Alex Proyas, the director of the original film, didn't hold back. He famously called the remake a "cynical cash grab."
Is it, though? Honestly, when a movie takes fifteen years to make, it's rarely a cash grab. Cash grabs are fast. This was more of a "sunk cost fallacy" project. The producers had spent so much money on development since 2008 that they felt they had to release something.
There were versions of this movie that could have starred Bradley Cooper, Luke Evans, or even Jason Momoa. Can you imagine a Jason Momoa Crow? It would have been a completely different movie. Skarsgård was likely the best choice for a modern, "weirdo" take on the character, but he was swimming upstream against thirty years of nostalgia.
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What You Should Actually Do Before Watching
If you haven't seen it yet, or if you're planning a rewatch, you need to change your headspace. Don't go in expecting a 1:1 remake. It's not.
- Watch it as a standalone horror-romance. If you detach it from the "Crow" name, it’s a decent, ultra-violent flick about a guy who can't die.
- Pay attention to the sound design. While it doesn't have the "game-changing" soundtrack of the original, the atmospheric noise and the way they use silence in the supernatural scenes is actually quite good.
- Skip the comparisons. Comparison is the thief of joy, especially here. If you're constantly looking for the 1994 beats, you’re going to be annoyed by the 45-minute mark.
The 2024 film tries to fix things that weren't necessarily broken. It removes the sexual assault elements of Shelly's death, which is a massive plus. It gives Shelly (FKA Twigs) more of a personality and a backstory. These are good updates. But in trying to "ground" the story in modern trauma, it loses that soaring, gothic romanticism that made the original a cult classic.
Bill Skarsgård gave it his all. You can see it in his eyes; the dude is committed. It’s just a shame the movie around him couldn't decide if it wanted to be an art-house tragedy or a blockbuster massacre.
To get the most out of this era of the franchise, you should honestly go back and read the original James O’Barr graphic novel. It's much bleaker and more experimental than either movie. Understanding that the source material was born from O'Barr's real-life grief—losing his fiancée to a drunk driver—makes Skarsgård's "trauma-first" performance make a lot more sense. It’s a story about a hole that can't be filled, not just a guy in cool makeup.