Al Simmons (Michael Jai White) is a soldier that is under the employment of the US government, reporting into the apparently morally-superior Jason Wynn (Martin Sheen), who is actually a potential warlord, having successfully developed a virus that he will eventually disperse into the world’s population as a form of biological weaponry. Simmons, realizing these intentions, rebels against his commander, and is subsequently murdered to prevent the information from getting to the public. However, this doesn’t bring an end to Simmons’ existence, as he is brought to life in the depths of Hell, where he is given a choice: he will be allowed to return to Earth and resume his normal life, on the condition that when Armageddon inevitably occurs, he will command the armies of Hell. Realizing that this is his only chance of returning to the life he misses, he agrees to these conditions. His guide is The Violator (John Leguizamo), a self-professed “clown from Hell”, who makes it his mission to keep the rebellious Simmons under control, and most importantly, aligned to the agreement he swore on. Adopting the name “Spawn”, Simmons finds himself completely detached from the life he once had – his family has moved on without him, and he’s nothing more than a distant memory. He also uncovers the truth about his death, finding out that it was all preordained by supernatural forces who conspired to have him under their control. Confronted with this realization, Simmons learns to accept the fact that he may not be able to return to normalcy – but this doesn’t mean that he necessarily has to surrender himself to evil either.

Spawn is a bizarre film, but one that represents something far greater than its reputation would suggest. There are many ways of looking at this film – you can see it as an unsuccessful attempt to launch a major franchise from an era before the superhero blockbuster was the enormous financial, critical and populist success its become in the last decade, or you can look at it as a relic of 1990s science fiction, where the lack of the technological facilities filmmakers use today give it a certain endearingly artificial tone. However, I believe the best way to perceive Spawn is by realizing what it actually is, and the message it intends to convey. A work of unmitigated camp brilliance that keeps the viewer on edge while still immersing them in this bizarre world of interdimensional horror, and a revolutionary step towards inclusion into a genre that had not received its due in regards to employing diverse issues. While it’s certainly not surprising that Spawn wasn’t particularly successful, it is a shame, as it’s clear that below the surface flaws, there’s a promising film that has a great deal of potential, which is only slightly compromised by some shortcomings in terms of the narrative and execution. Perhaps the best way to rationalize why this film hasn’t received the acclaim it deserves outside of the realm of the cult classic status it has achieved, is that it was ahead of its time – and perhaps now is the moment where we give Spawn another look and re-evaluate it as a highly-flawed, but exceptionally unique, entry into a genre that was not ready for this kind of unhinged cinematic insanity.

When it comes to a film like Spawn, we’re always going to perceive it as less than it actually was, especially in hindsight. The reputation this film has of being one of the many unsuccessful attempts to launch a major franchise has lingered over it since its release, and while it is mercifully not considered an enormous failure in the way that it becomes known for its shortcomings, the fact that it has been relatively forgotten outside a small niche circle of devotees of the original comic book, and those with a penchant for this brand of unintentionally camp cinema, is quite disappointing, as the film certainly deserves much more than it has received in the last few decades. While not a film that could be considered a massive achievement on either a technical or creative level, Spawn is the kind of charming pseudo-blockbuster that has the enormous challenge of getting seen – many of those who have revisited it in the years since its disastrous release have shown nothing but positivity, whether praising it for its ambition or relishing it for its unrestrained absurdity. I found myself caught between both – I massively respect the audacity those involved had in bringing this story to life, as well as adoring its peculiarities, the many bizarre stylistic and narrative choices that are peppered throughout the film and make it such an outright joy to experience.

This doesn’t mean that Spawn is without unforgivable flaws – there are many aspects of the film that are almost laughably bad. The moment John Leguizamo and Martin Sheen are introduced, it is very clear that they’re about to unleash two truly atrocious performances on unsuspecting audiences, who are certainly not prepared for the intensity with which these two normally wonderful actors are going to make us suffer with the bizarre choices they bring to these characters. Yet, this is part of what makes Spawn such a fascinating specimen of a film – most modern superhero films are weighted down by actors who are intent on bringing nuance and detail to these roles, humanizing even the most despicable villains. This film disregards this idea entirely and presents us with a set of characters on both side of the moral spectrum who are entirely without any kind of restraint, and instead of being built from a foundation of gravitas, it’s just a jumble of strange ideas thrown into each of these characters, which is an approach that is both deeply questionable and endlessly delightful. Spawn is essentially nothing more than a mind-bending cataclysm of the most unsettling surrealist ideas, amalgamated with poor visual effects (even by standards of 1990s technology) – and yet, it embraces all of its flaws in a way that is singularly impossible to not be charmed by. It’s a beguiling attempt to venture into the realm of more subversive superhero lore, and if anything, this film deserves praise solely for its approach to the subject matter, which ultimately supersedes the more surface-level problems, which are easily overcome by how well-meaning this film actually is.

What Spawn lacks in prowess it makes up for in ambition, which is why its not all that difficult to be fond of this film. It has a certain charm that overcomes the more brutal shortcomings, particularly in terms of the fact that it is one of the first attempts to position a person of colour as the protagonist in such a film. Such a decision has certainly not gone unrecognized in recent years, and while Spawn does have its issues, it will always be on the more progressive side of representation, particularly in an era where such a film was not unheard of, but certainly not executed with such sincerity and an earnest desire to actually contribute to the discussion rather than just being a token moment of diversity. This intrepid attempt to add some depth to a genre that could only benefit, combined with the earnest belief that the filmmakers were doing something very different, work in conjunction to create a truly memorable film. It may fall victim to the ridiculous visual effects and the poor acting, and be seen as nothing more than a remnant of a time before technology rendered these environments in a hyper-realistic way, but there’s a heartfulness to Spawn that is almost unavoidable. It’s daring and revolutionary in its own way and definitely deserves a second chance. It faded away into obscurity upon release, which at least prevented it from becoming a laughingstock. However, if there was ever a moment to give Spawn another opportunity to prove its mettle, both as a superhero film and a revolutionary piece of inclusion-led cinema, it’s now. Entertaining, surreal and utterly unforgettable, Spawn is truly a magnificently unique entry into the bewildering canon of failed superhero franchises from a time when they just weren’t understood as they should have been.