Friday, October 7, 2022

I saw Hellraiser Reconfigured...

I've relished the Hellraiser saga from the start, from Clive Baker's novella, The Hellbound Heart, the 1987 Barker-scripted/directed kickoff and all of its ensuing cinematic, fan-fiction and comic-book installments. Word of a remake intrigued me, though didn't seem necessary, but then I figured, if its manifestation rekindled Hellraiser's multidimensional mythology (and how could it not?), I'd be wise to welcome it. 

I needn't rehash Barker's premise; we all know the Faustian gist. For this renewed event, the catch is that the Leviathan-subjected Pinhead is a woman, played by trans-actor Jamie (The Neon Demon) Clayton. (For the long haul, the character [the symbol] has been portrayed by Doug Bradley and then Stephan Smith Collins and Paul T. Taylor.) The gender change doesn't feel like an obligatory, "woke" one. The slant recalls the novella, where the Cenobites (in particular their non-pinheaded  chieftain) exude a transformed, feminine flair, even if their sexual designation remains ambivalent. 

Barker acts as a producer on this adaptation, which means he's bestowed his blessing for it to be made. Luke Piortowski and Ben Collins wrote the screenplay (culled from a springboard woven with David S. Goyer); David (V/H/S) Bruckner is its director. 

The remake doesn't hold the avant-garde aura of Barker's original (this one comes too far down the line for that), but the filmmakers still give their chapter a lush kick that exceeds most Hellraiser sequels (the best portions of which have come from screenwriter Peter Atkins). This is important to note since many hold the sequels in high regard, and I'm not ashamed to say I'm among them, favoring the first three (yes, that includes Bloodline), as well as the last two (yes, that means Revelations and Judgment).

Like the first film, the redux holds a Hammer-fied (magisterial, blood-anointing) verve; its Ben Lovett score even captures Christopher Young's addicting doom, while only kissing the original's orchestration. The Lemarchand Lament Configuration also performs an essential, multiformat role in the recommenced summonings, demonstrating that playing with fire gets one burnt, i.e. hooked, but then maybe getting hooked is enticing if one desires such an eternal sting. 


Though Clayton's high priestess carries the important interludes (and looking most ethereal within Eli Born's ominous cinematography), the rest of the cast equally warms the fable's pot to a swell, surreal simmer: Odessa A'zion as Riley (the perplexed "heroine"); Brandon Flynn as Matt; Drew Starkey as Trevor; Adam Faison as Colin; Aoife Hinds as Nora; Hiam Abbass as Serena; Goran Visnjic as Roland Voight; and as Pinhead's Cenobite companions, Jason Liles as The Chatterer; Vakusin Javanovic as The Masque; Zachary Hing as The Asphyx; Selina Lo as The Gasp; and Yinka Olorunnife as The Weeper. (I was hoping for an Uncle Frank among the thrill-seeking ensemble, but the neo principals, in particular the charismatic, puzzle-curating Voight, allude to the famed pervert's yearnings, which is better than nothing and more than serves the sadistic splurge.) 

I commend Hulu for inserting this revival into Barker's lasting franchise, for this laudable reboot could (and should) birth another grim queue and maybe carve an in-depth, alternate backstory for Pinhead. (The Marvel/Epic graphic-novel series holds many macabre notions begging for such reinvention; why not comb that fruitful source? Trust me, it would be a sure-fire win if only [ahem] configured.)

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