Red Dragon

REVIEW
Sir Anthony sups with diabolical relish for a third time as Hannibal Lecter, and he’s the sole raison d’être for this efficient but needless remake of Thomas Harris’ first Lecter novel, previously adapted in 1986 by Michael Mann as Manhunter. Set before the events of The Silence of the Lambs, the good doctor is called upon by the man who caught him, FBI agent Will Graham (Norton), to help profile and snare a vicious serial killer who’s suffering murderous delusions of transformation (Fiennes, wonderfully, frightfully freaky). Though top-loaded with A-list talent and gleaming with all the spit-and-polish of a sleek, big-budget production, Red Dragon is surprisingly devoid of urgency — and personality. Director Brett Ratner wisely steers clear of the Gothic excess of Ridley Scott’s Hannibal and manages to capture the tone of seething malevolence that makes Jonathan Demme’s Oscar-winning Silence so unnerving. Alas, Red Dragon doesn’t cut as deeply into the tortured souls of its inhabitants. This is a sorely missed opportunity. Stripped of the tumultuous Oedipal undercurrents that so readily lend the other Lecter movies their sordid psycho-sexual kick, what remains here is a dispensible if well-crafted forensics procedural, graced by the recurring presence of a certain liver-slurping and Chianti-swilling lunatic/gourmand.