Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1980 (2009, James Marsh)

This adaptation runs almost ninety minutes (almost) and the source novel is, according to Amazon, 400 pages. So I’m guessing the novel doesn’t read like a disjointed, James Ellroy goes to England, but what do I know, I’ve only seen the movie. But it’d be hard at 400 pages… even with a big font.

There’s a lot good about 1980–Paddy Considine is outstanding in the lead, essentially playing the UK version of the last honest cop (also, not Irish–but still Roman Catholic). The film fails him. But there are very few actors who 1980 doesn’t end up failing. Of the (extended) principals, David Morrissey weathers it best–he all of a sudden grows a character halfway through the film, instead of getting left behind as the revelations ramp up.

The best performances, besides Considine, are supporting, Peter Mullan and Julia Ford. Mullan’s got an extended cameo, Ford’s got one and a half scenes, but both of them make 1980 feel real, instead of like an over-cooked melodrama.

Some of the problem might be Marsh doesn’t make Yorkshire seem like a real place. It feels like there’s a bar, a police station and a handful of other nondescript locations. The script’s not inventive enough to make something of those elements (and Marsh opening with historical news clips doesn’t get him a pass either).

Until the third act, 1980‘s ok, because it’s nothing but Considine’s story.

Once it gets, forcibly, incorporated into the Red Riding whole, it plummets.

Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1974 (2009, Julian Jarrod)

I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting from 1974 but I didn’t get it. I think I thought it was a serial killer investigation, based on a real case. Instead, it’s this melodramatic crusading reporter thing, with the serial killings taking a back seat to that emphasis. Except then the crusading reporter thing takes a back seat to the romance between the reporter and one of the serial killer’s victim’s mother’s. Is that enough possessive apostrophes? I’m not sure about the last one.

It’s a good looking film–Jarrod’s directorial style appears to be directly informed by The Ice Storm, which is a fine thing to ape, and Rob Hardy’s cinematography is phenomenal. Adrian Johnston’s score really makes a lot of scenes work. Until the third act, when the film drowns in its own self-importance. Even Johnston’s score is weak at that point and Jarrod ends the film on one of the silliest final shots ever. Laughable, really.

Lead Andrew Garfield’s better than I would have expected, seeing as how his performance in Lions for Lambs is one of the worst performances in cinema. It doesn’t hurt the supporting cast could carry him, but they don’t really need to. I never would have guessed he wasn’t British.

Rebecca Hall’s grieving, broken mother is a singular performance. Eddie Marsan gives a great performance (no surprise) as a slightly comedic heavy.

And Sean Bean looks right for the era.

It’s a silly melodrama, but convincingly pretends it isn’t for a while.