"Red Dragon": You Owe It Awe.
Written: Dec 13 '02 (Updated Jan 22 '03)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: Fienne's is a tour-de-force of quality, abled by a great script.
Cons: Unimaginative direction.
The Bottom Line: Closer in quality to Lambs than Hannibal, this could, and should, be a fitting end to one of cinemas more acclaimed franchises.
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| Simply_Crispy's Full Review: Red Dragon |
After the totally mince effort that was Hannibal back at the start of last year, it only seemed fitting the Dr Lecter should be allowed one last stab on the big screen before being allowed to retire gracefully. And so, rather than giving the good doctor his own unique swansong, what we get instead is the second big-screen interpretation of Thomas Harris' 1981 novel, Manhunter. Don’t be fooled though, this isn’t a remake of Michael Mann’s 1986 film; it’s a totally different film entirely. And a bloody good one at that.
Taking the wise option of keeping Lecter confined to the shadows, but still a major player, Red Dragon plays out as a fascinating and immensely disturbing detective murder mystery. The gist is that brilliant young FBI agent Will Graham (Ed Norton) is lured out of stress-related retirement in order to apprehend a grisly serial killer by the name of Francis Dolarhyde aka The Tooth Fairy (Ralph Fiennes). The problem? The only way he can capture the nutter is through the help of Lecter, who was put behind bars by Graham himself.
What follows is one of the tensest cat and mouse games witnessed all year. Right from the start, we know the exact details of the numerous murders, just not the motives behind them. How does Dolarhyde choose his victims, why does he dispatch of them in such a ceremonious manner and, more importantly, why does he insists on smashing all the mirrors in the house?
And thanks to such well-timed ambiguity, Red Dragon is laden with outstanding moments that’ll have your heartstrings playing an opera. The opening confrontation between Norton and Hopkins is brittle and tense, opening the proceedings with a shockingly frank bang, showcasing the calm menace that makes Lecter such a well-respected screen villain. So too does mini-plot involving the revelation of an advert placed by the cannibalistic quack, where his bitterness towards his captor is made unmistakable. Ratner also does well to retain some of the more memorable scenes from Harris’s novella, the horrific burning wheelchair set piece of specific prominence.
The film also manages a neat opening credits sequence that, while quietly paying homage to Se7en, manages to ease us into and around the story while also revealing both the sadistic mind of Lecter, and the graphic turmoil he has caused. Favourably, the tense finale – possibly the most fondly remembered part of Mann’s Manhunter - also offers nail-gnawing tension, not so much In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida as Livin’ La Vida Loca, drawing proceedings to a satisfying conclusion, including a lovely final shot that leads us directly in the opening moments of Lambs.
For the most part though, Ratner’s direction is decidedly flat. It’s been said before, and it’ll be said again, the guy doesn’t have much of a clue when it comes to flair (see either of the Rush Hour films for evidence). While for the most part his hand is as subtle as they come, he sometimes tends to rely on the occasional moments of screeching rapid-fire editing, or the occasional red herring, that come across as resoundingly cheap. But while his direction may be everything both Silence Of The Lambs and Hannibal weren’t in terms of vigour and ambition - the infamous corridor approaching Lecter's cell seem far less intimidating this time around – he manages to detail enough brutal imagery (dolls with glass eyes) while still refusing to go overboard as far as the gore is concerned.
Another down point is, surprisingly, Hopkins himself who seems to make no attempt to hide his age despite this being a supposed prequel, perhaps hamming it up a little too much and failing to come across as menacing as the script would like him to be, more charming than terrifying.
But while it’s safe to say that Hopkins’s shtick may now be a little too familiar for audiences to be anything other than a case of ‘as you were’, his place as chief antagonist is ably replaced by Fiennes, quite possibly the most insane killer since John Doe. Built like the proverbial brick outhouse and scarred by a cleft palette, his contradictory psycho – romantic pussycat one minute, gun-toting, face-biting, grotesquely tattooed headcase the next – plays out like a tribute to the likes of Norman Bates, Ed Gein and – at times – Buffalo Bill himself.
Although the Freud-by-numbers connotations we are randomly presented with smell of half-assed justification, there can be no stranger scene of 2002 than the one where Fiennes chows down on an age-old portrait of a dragon painting. Far be it for me to make off-the-record predictions, but if they guy isn’t even considered for an Oscar for his role here, then something just don’t add up.
His scenes with love interest Reba (Emily Watson), a woman blind to both his physical and mental deficiencies, are played out with the genuine air of awkwardness that one could expect from such a mis-matched yet strangely affectionate couple, in which Dolarhyde’s conflicting mental interests are made abundantly clear: one particularly stand-out moment occurs as Reba attempts to bring him sexual pleasure, none-the-wiser that he is more interested in the videotape of his next intended victims, giving a clear insight into the warped, but highly confused, mind of a serial killer. Integrated with this is a beautiful moment when Dolarhyde takes her to a zoo hospital so she can pet a sedated tiger, while he watches on in the background, a clever comparison indeed: a wild animal tamed to her touch, but possessive of murderous instincts, very much like Dolarhyde himself.
As far as the rest of the talent goes, for a film so relatively low-key, Red Dragon sure packs them in. Norton is excellent in one of his more conventional roles, though you can’t help but feel his immense acting talents are somewhat about the rather linear by-the-book cop/family man that we get here. Phillip Seymour Hoffman is, as always, a total joy to watch as an oily tabloid journalist whom Norton uses in order to antagonise Dolarhyde via the press, while Mary Louise-Parker, in nothing more than an extended cameo, is as good as any actress playing the insubstantial wife role.
As far as remakes/prequels go Red Dragon is as polished, well crafted and entertaining as anyone would have any right to expect. As a predecessor to Lambs it proves itself to be the perfect companion, slightly inferior as far as tension and ambience are concerned, but equally as disturbing. After Hannibal it’s the reprieve the franchise deserved, allowing it to go out on a triumphant high rather than the tragic belly-flop Ridley Scott’s effort seemingly condemned it to. And as a film in its own right, it’s everything a film of its ilk should be: engrossing, provocative and able to change directions at will. Ratner may be no David Fincher, but at least he’s moved on from loud-mouthed black guys screaming racial obscenities at former martial arts legends. And for that alone, we can only be grateful.
Recommended:
Yes
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Simply_Crispy
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Location: Peterborough, UK
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