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10/21/02

1 hr. 41 mins.

Starring: Anthony Hopkins, Edward Norton, Ralph Fiennes, Emily Watson, Mary-Louise Parker, Harvey Keitel, Philip Seymour Hoffman

Directed by: Brett Ratner

Frank's film tip: Brett Ratner's lukewarm thriller "Red Dragon" is a fire-breathing mediocrity that rehashes the same old conventional creepiness of macabre mastermind Dr. Hannibal "Cannibal" Lector. Hence, this "Dragon" is not worth slaying

It has been well over a decade since movie audiences were first introduced to the bone-chilling antics of Dr. Hannibal “Cannibal” Lector in Jonathan Demme’s mesmerizing 1991 Academy-Award winning psychological thriller Silence of the Lambs (courtesy of this film’s first adaptation—Michael Mann’s riveting 1986 gem Manhunter). Since that time, filmmakers have been desperately trying to capitalize on the success of this early nineties suspenseful classic by conjuring up a couple of half-hearted sequels to further ride the gravy train pertaining to one of the cinema’s most revered and feared psychopaths to ever grace the big screen—the menacing Hannibal Lector. The first follow-up was Ridley Scott’s 2001 grotesque and uninspiring Hannibal. Now director Brett Ratner (helmer of the popular Rush Hour movies) gets the opportunity to exploit the memory of the Silence series by serving up the third installment entitled Red Dragon, an overly stimulating but pedestrian frightfest effort that leaves one wanting more out of this rudimentary and clueless serial killer drama.

Red Dragon is actually considered a prequel to the aforementioned Silence of the Lambs. This creepy but vastly uneven film is based on the Thomas Harris novel of the same name. Oscar-winning screenwriter Ted Tally does pose an intimidating atmosphere that is somewhat spellbinding yet the script literally turns whatever demanding rawness the probing characters possessed at all into a mocking and loopy display of situational cat-and-mouse cynicism. Even with the crafty veteran actor Anthony Hopkins and his treasured drollness and eerily sophisticated turn as the sinister Dr. Lector, his interpretation is becoming inconsequentially cartoonish and less involving from a demented point of view. If anything, Red Dragon feels like a lame excuse just to revisit the sure-fire realm of one of the movie’s most lovable albeit despicable three-dimensional societal monsters in an attempt to further the cause by creating arbitrary mayhem at the expense of surging box office expectations. Sure, this film boasts an impressive and potent cast of players led by the indomitable Anthony Hopkins. But Ratner’s vehicle is nothing more than a dreary cut-and-paste art project that awkwardly combines the intermittent dark humor and overzealous haunting frivolity that spearheads this misguided and faceless thriller.

The story tells the so-called harrowing account of how former FBI agent Will Graham (Edward Norton) initially captured the likes of the uncontrollable and unpredictable Dr. Lector. Graham, among the elite group considered “lucky” because he dodged the death-induced clutches of this morose madman, is forced to consult his blood-thirst adversary Lector about pinning down yet another colorful serial killer (Ralph Fiennes) out on the loose. And so the premise pretty much resembles Silence where the shaky but ambitious and dedicated hero Graham (showing weak-minded echoes of Jody Foster’s untested FBI agent-in-training protagonist Clarice Starling) must tap into the crazed and complicated mind of Hannibal Lector in order to gain insight how to corral Fiennes’ fiendish foe. The whole setting is reminiscent from Demme’s film where we see a confined Lector in his trademark Plexiglas cell where he demonstrates the patience of a caged yet complacent animal. Although seeing Lector holed up in this fenced-in structured venue feels as intriguing and eventful as his imprisoned stint in Silence, somehow his exchange with Graham pales in comparison to the hostile confrontation he noticeably cherished with Starling. What’s missing is the clever mental chess game of wits and urgency that defined the Lector-Starling connection. Graham doesn’t instill the jittery inquisitiveness that fortifies the self-importance of Lector’s smarmy and pompous deadly demeanor.

Yes, Red Dragon is supposed to precede the hysterical events leading up to the smash suspenseful gorefest we all recognize as the fabulously raucous Silence of the Lambs. But that doesn’t mean that Dragon has to be regressive and tediously teeter back and forth in order to try and duplicate some of the same maddening magic that was demonstrated in the highly regarded Silence. If anything, Ratner fails to put a distinctive stamp on his creepy but callow showcase. The filmmaker acts as if he needs to spell things out for the audience by constantly giving us a step-by-step map as to how we should react. For instance, Norton’s Graham is always gratingly talking to himself in an effort to combat the tortured demons he faces at the various crime scenes. Yet this self-serving ploy comes off as lazy and disingenuous. Besides, all Ratner has to do is point the camera lens at the gory results and let the effect of the tragic proceedings speak for itself. Norton is too much of a talented performer to let this Method Acting 101 gig spoil his characterization of a wry but wary FBI profiler who has to mumble his obvious disdain just for the sake of reinforcing the manipulative edginess. Whereas Foster’s Starling let the shock value of her heinous work-related woes dictate her emotions as an embattled law enforcer, Norton’s Graham shamelessly highlights his disbelief by annoyingly reciting his disillusionment just so that we can easily sympathize with his disenchanting dilemma. Doesn’t Ratner have faith in the audience to trust them to emote with astonishment based on what they see on the screen? Do we need to get inside of Agent Graham’s puzzled head by having him tell us how astounded he really is?

If anything, the performances in this movie are about as inviting as a severed arm being munched upon by a hungry Hannibal Lector. Hopkins, to his credit, feels more at home in Dragon than he was in last year’s Hannibal because he can exorcise his Hannibal “Cannibal” Lector in ruthless and shocking subtle ways as opposed to roaming about the vulnerable world that’s at his beckon call. When Hannibal Lector is in an intimate setting where the hapless authorities seemingly can control his gruesome madness, this deceptive notion plays far more effectively because there’s an underlying understanding that Lector is craftier and psychologically robust than what his captors are originally led to believe. One has to love the false sense of security that resonates so well in Hopkins’s dependable and detestable portrayal of “The Cannibal”. However, we’ve seen these devilish tics before from Hopkins and it doesn’t fare well in material that’s considered inferior to what he’s done previously in his Oscar-winning bravura as the articulate bloodbath beast with the penchant for soothing prose and an oddly refined poise.

Norton, last seen in the sardonic misfire comedy Death to Smoochy, is a daring two-time Oscar-nominated resilient actor who likes to challenge his diverse roles. As FBI agent Will Graham, Norton comes off as hopelessly bland and grandly indifferent. Not once do you feel the intense uncertainty or nerve-racking reluctance as we experienced with his believable cinematic counterpart Clarice Starling (a part shared with frothy zest by both Oscar-winning Foster and later by Hannibal’s Julianne Moore). As for the film’s villainous vermin in the form of Fiennes’ schizo-paranoid cretin, his wayward character is notoriously lightweight given the excitable deviant devices that the film bestows on him (i.e. self-esteem issues courtesy of an unflattering scar, childhood abuse issues, harbors an anti-social antagonistic view of a cruel world, etc.). Fiennes is reduced to essentially playing a poor man’s Hannibal Lector. He’s a disturbed misfit indeed but we’re never truly in awe of his insane appetite for self-destruction. Fiennes is never really diabolical in genuine or convincing fashion; his need to make his twisted mark on a wounded world merely suggests a spoiled cad who’s carrying out a decade-old grudge. Yawn.

Rounding out the capable cast of players include the always explosive Harvey Keitel as Graham’s agent-in-charge boss, Philip Seymour Hoffman as a seedy-minded journalist hung out to dry in an FBI investigation, and Emily Watson as the killer’s sightless companion who “sees” a tender side to her lunatic lover’s murderous turmoil and lingering angst. The supporting ensemble is undeniably noteworthy but the flaccid script doesn’t come to the aid of this wind-and-grind clunky narrative. Ratner’s ribald crime caper is solid in the sensationalistic department but fails to instill any tension that is uniquely distinctive, cunning, or coherently intelligible.

Red Dragon is not exactly the carousing and exhilarating fearful fable that seizes the grittiness within one’s animated imagination. The filmmaking tactics here are shoddy and suspect and Ratner only creates a chilling verve that is mildly rewarding thanks to the luscious cinematography that saunters over the perverse glossy images. There’s an occasional amount of wincing moments that are dastardly delightful hence working on your skittish senses every now and then. Nevertheless, there should be more flexing to this stilted scare session’s macabre muscle that would paint a worthier portrait of pathos concerning the fragile and complex psyche of lost individuals (whether saint or sinner) suffocating from their on-going depravity.

Despite the overwrought nature of this grisly flick, the only thing really bewildering about this stagy offering is the meager agenda to parlay this latest Dr. Hannibal Lector adventure into the continuing consciousness of avid thrill-seeking movie fans looking for some demonic off-kilter escapism. Personally, this Dragon is not worth the fuss of slaying.

Frank rates this film: ** stars (out of 4 stars)