Film: Guillermo's inferno

Del Toro turns Mike Mignola's

By Anthony Allison

Good news, comic geeks.

Having braved the soul-sucking depredations of the forces of darkness, our plucky superhero is back. And amazingly, his powers are relatively intact.

Nope, not Hellboy--the red-hued hero of Mike Mignola's Dark Horse comics. But Guillermo Del Toro--the brilliant Mexican filmmaker who, having made a splash with his creepy vampire thriller Cronos and the even quirkier Devil's Backbone, has survived his brushes with Hollywood hackdom (Mimic, Blade II).

Thanks to Del Toro's sure directorial hand, Hellboy is watchable--even if this supernatural action flick positively drowns in a relentless flood of derivative imagery and cheesy, computer-generated monsters.

As the titular, fireproof demon, complete with filed-down horns, tail, oversized stone hand and large cigar, granite-faced Ron Perlman knows not to take his role seriously. "Come on, John," he tells hesitant FBI agent Rupert Evans. "Let's go fight some monsters."

John Hurt adds welcome gravitas, as HB's mentor, paranormal researcher Trevor "Broom" Buttenholm, who saved the infant demon from nasty Nazis and harnessed his awesome powers to fight evil, alongside telepathic merman Abe Sapien (played by Doug Jones but mellifluously voiced by David Hyde Pierce), a blue-faced amphibian apparently descended from the Creature from the Black Lagoon, and love interest Liz Sherman (Selma Blair), a combustible character who brings whole new meaning to the word "pyromaniac."

Together, the freaky threesome try to vanquish the vicious creatures unleashed by none other than Grigori Rasputin (Karel Roden), in the usual bid for world domination. "Your God chooses to remain silent," sneers the notorious (and apparently immortal) Russian bad guy, by heavy-handed way of introducing the film's simplistic, Christian-inspired moral--viz, that Hellboy's "father" gave him the choice between good and evil.

"This whole thing is a farce!" explains exasperated FBI boss Tom Manning (Jeffrey Tambor) for viewers too dumb to notice. But thanks to Rick Baker's makeup effects, Steven Scott's bravura production design and Guillermo Navarro's cinematography, so desaturated in places it looks like burnished black-and-white, Del Toro's farcically overblown film at least amounts to two hours of diverting eye candy.

Hamlite

In the endless, fairy-tale tradition of variations on a theme of Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty--commoner meets Prince Charming and, after inevitable vicissitudes, lives happily ever after--The Prince & Me ranks way down in the sub-King and I dregs, with The Princess Diaries.

Among many unpardonable sins, director Martha Coolidge has the audacity to include a clip from To Catch a Thief. The reminder of Grace Kelly's real-life royal romance only highlights the dismalness of Coolidge's pale, fictional facsimile.

We're expected to believe that handsome, blue-eyed Brit Luke Mably is a bored Danish prince who, despite his superior Scandinavian education, really believes that American girls are all breast-baring, "Girls Gone Wild"-style exhibitionists. So he flies to Wisconsin and, incognito on campus, woos farm gal and premed student Julia Stiles.

You probably think you can guess the rest. But nothing will prepare you for the sheer inanity of a film that drags in a lawn mower race, predictable Shakespeare references and various Prague locations (standing in for Copenhagen), before introducing poor Julia's Lady Di dilemma: She'll have to renounce her identity if she joins this ancient European monarchy.

Only Ben Miller, as Mably's mildly contemptuous factotum, provides a smidge of deadpan relief. As Denmark's queen, Miranda Richardson is the only cast member who attempts depth, and a Danish accent. As her ailing, aging husband, James Fox simply looks sick for selling out for the paycheck.

The film abruptly concludes with the lamest of cop-out endings, as if screenwriters Jack Amiel, Michael Begler and Katherine Fugate simply gave up in disgust. That's a good plan, as you gratefully grab a copy of Roman Holiday instead, to see how this fairy-tale stuff really should be done.