Post neo-noir meets — what shall we call this? — Shaun of the Dead with the intention of producing something that might approach the inspired fanboy reverence that Guillermo Del Toro brought to Blade and his two Hellboy outings. That’s a hell of a lot to ask for, especially from Kevin Munroe, the writer-director of TMNT, the 2007 reboot of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which missed the box-office football that Lucy didn’t even waste time snatching away from Munroe’s hapless Charlie Brown.
Yet there’s a hint in the mix here that is quite right, or at least could be.
Dylan Dog (Brandon Routh) was the human investigator assigned to keep the peace between the various and sundry monsters living under the cover of night in New Orleans before he slipped and ended up on the vampire/werewolf/zombie shit list and had to resort to private dicking around in the more mundane matters of mere mortals. He’s wandering through life, telling us and anyone else who crosses paths with him as only a Sam Spade type can that he’s glad those days are behind him. But everyone knows all it will take is one case and a pretty face (Anita Briem) to drag him back into the muck and the mire where he belongs.
This world is more True Blood than Twilight, but it really could have used a lot more of the Del Toro bizarro sensibilities and an unhealthy dose of humor to cult things up into a truly pulpy nightly brew. Grade: D+