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UK: Anand Tucker, 2009

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UK: James Marsh, 2009

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USA: Michael Mann, 1986

Okay, confession time: of the two adaptations of Thomas Harris Red Dragon, I like Brett Ratner's 2002 film of the same name far more than Michael Mann's 1986 Manhunter. Admittedly, using the words "like" and "Brett Ratner" in the same sentence is probably the movie fandom equivalent of admitting you torture puppies and kittens, but I have no intention of apologising for my preference. I first saw Manhunter on TV a number of years ago and was thoroughly unimpressed by it at the time, finding its pace leaden and the performances, for the most part, wooden. Watching it again in 2009 for the first time since my initial viewing, my opinions remain the same. While I think there are some very nice visual touches sprinkled throughout, on the whole I find it dull and lifeless, and the inclusion of some truly awful 80s fashion and music doesn't make me warm to it any more. The only area in which I feel that this version is truly superior to Red Dragon is with respect to William Petersen's portrayal of Will Graham, which, while not in my opinion the tour de force that some have suggested, paints a far more convincing portrait of a burned-out cop than the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Edward Norton. On the other hand, Brian Cox's flat, thuggish Lector (misspelled "Lecktor" here for reasons that escape me) did absolutely nothing for me and, against my better judgement, made me yearn for Anthony Hopkins' hammy performance in the more recent interpretation. (Of course, Silence of the Lambs Hopkins trounces them both.) I suspect I'm just not a Michael Mann fan. The only film of his that I really like is The Last of the Mohicans, which most seem to agree is the least Mann-like of his output.

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UK: Julian Jarrold, 2009

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France: Luc Besson, 1985

In terms of sheer what-the-fuckery, Luc Besson's Subway, the film that allowed him to break into the mainstream, can't be beat. Working less as a conventional narrative than as an allegory for the feelings of France's disaffected youth in the 1980s, it barely makes a lick of sense and yet is oddly watchable in spite of it. It's very rough around the edges, and Besson's lack of experience does, I feel, show at times, particularly with regard to the ragtag narrative and the oddly emotionless performances he draws out of most of his actors, but on the whole I liked it.

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France/Spain/USA: Roman Polanski, 1999

The Ninth Gate is best described as a very weird experience. A film about the Devil as written and directed by an atheist, it's basically Polanski's chance to poke fun at the conventions of occult horror movies while also showing that he can slather on the atmosphere, proving himself capable of delivering an enjoyable and slightly unnerving tale even when it's pretty clear he isn't taking it particularly seriously. In that regard, it's a different beast (geddit?) from Rosemary's Baby, which very much did take itself seriously, and I suspect a lot of viewers will be slightly irritated by the fact that Polanski undercuts most of what would, in a "straight" horror film, be the frightening parts with a cheeky sense of humour. Personally, I like the film, although it does take its sweet time to get going, and I'm still undecided as to whether the final frame is a cinematic triumph or Polanski's ultimate "FU" to the audience.

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USA: Jonathan Dayton, Valerie Faris, 2006

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USA/UK/Germany/Czech Republic: Martin Campbell, 2006

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USA/Germany: Gregor Jordan, 2009

I've yet to work out whether Brett Easton Ellis loves the 80s, or hates them, or loves and hates them in equal measure. This film, co-adapted by him from his own novel, was supposedly recut multiple times, with a good 30-40 minutes ending up on the cutting room for. The director was also replaced shortly before shooting began, and Ellis' feelings about the finished product were apparently so mixed that he turned down the opportunity to attend the film's career at the Sundance Film Festival. These behind-the-scenes problems could account for the fact that the finished product feels muddled and ultimately rather inconsequential, filled with fragmented and unsatisfying narratives about a vaguely connected gaggle of assholes with too much money to spend on drugs, sex and generally fucking each other over. It seemed to set up a whole bunch of questions but ultimately didn't answer many of them. What, for example, was the deal with the British rock star punching a groupie in the face after she told him about a supermarket she used to work at (or something like that - I'm a little hazy on the details)? What was the point of the father/son storyline and why did it seemingly end with no conclusion? And why did Amber Heard spend a good 95% of her screen time without any clothes on? (Not that I have any problem with the latter.)

After watching the movie, I browsed through a few reviews, all of which turned out to be pretty scathing, but I must confess I didn't think it was awful by any stretch. The cast is good, it's nicely shot (some extremely dodgy green screen effects notwithstanding), and there's a palpable atmosphere of malaise throughout. I'm inclined to suspect that it's a victim of circumstances and that when ended up on the screen is essentially the remnants of a better film, the rest of which can be found lying on a cutting room floor somewhere.

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USA: Jonathan Demme, 2008

I found watching Rachel Getting Married to be a frustrating experience. On the one hand, I was bowled over by Anne Hathaway's naturalistic performance. True, the character she was playing was hard to like, but she brought her to life and made me forget that I was watching an actor playing a role. On the other, I hated the faux-documentary digital photography, which far from complementing the realism of the performances simply drew attention to the constructed nature of the film... or perhaps I should say "of the video", because that's what this felt like and in fact actually was. I can appreciate what was being aimed for, but in my opinion it just didn't work. Seeing the name of a director of Jonathan Demme's calibre attached to something so amateurish-looking was quite disconcerting: on the one hand, I genuinely admire what he was able to coax out of the characters, but on the other, I wish he'd spent more time on what the thing actually looked like instead of singing off on something that looked like a home movie. It's worth it for the performances of Hathaway and the supporting cast, but it's hard to reconcile this film with the work of the man who gave us the likes of The Silence of the Lambs.

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