Review of From Hell (2001) by Paul Z — 03 Mar 2009

The story of Jack the Ripper, working in the depraved and underprivileged Whitechapel district of London in 1888, shocking even by any Whitechapel benchmark of the time, has been feed for myriad movies and books, both fiction and non, and even recurring news that the case has been closed have not satisfied our curiosity. This anamorphically shot Victorian- era serial killer drama is a vivid, atmospheric work by the talented Hughes Brothers, who certainly made quite a departure from their prior string of films which included Menace II Society, Dead Presidents and American Pimp.

Though maybe not quite as enthralling in this as Ian Holm, Johnny Depp is creative and becoming as an opium-addicted widowed inspector whose drug-induced dreams generate clairvoyant insights into investigations. The resonance of Sherlock Holmes, another fan of the pipe, is instantly recognizable, and Al and Allen Hughes's drastic departure from 'hood tragedies provides its hero with a pushy assistant in played by Robbie Coltraine, a policeman sent to heave Depp out of the opium dens and jog his memory of his duty.

Drawing a fairly dark performance even from Heather Graham, this movie is murky, dank and exhilaratingly so. The movie almost feels devious or illicit. There's a remarkable shot that begins with the city of London, cranks down past towers and trains, and plummets into a cavernous cellar where a Masonic group is sitting in judgment of one of its affiliates. You are stricken with the conception of the vigorous physical evolution of the historical metropolitan area, and the underground mechanisms of the Establishment. In an era when social morals were severe and pitiless, mischief behind closed doors was a flourishing, hot-blooded activity. Countless, maybe all, wealthy and respectable men took part in secret sin.

The Hughes Brothers dive headlong into this universe, so far from their native roots and previous subject matter, embellishing and invigorating everything they depict. Their source material is graphic novel by Alan Moore, and some of their extravagant black-and-red cinematography feels influenced by modern comic book illustration, with its angry slants and angles and overstated vantage points. The production design targets garish settings, dripping wet color schemes, bottomless shadows, all painting a lavish picture of an 1880s world of subterranean corners and locales protected by the utmost evil of power and corruption.

Watching the movie, I am astounded by how reliably it takes you surprise. Its charm is that it doesn't seem to cater to any particular target audience. Its comic book origins may suggest a younger male audience, but its history, as well as its use of drama much more than violence, doesn't seem made for the same folks, though its gushing blood and, literally, guts, certainly do. It is its own beast, perhaps more in the tradition of Hushâ?¦Hush, Sweet Charlotte with a touch of surreality about a side view of an utterly nasty society, dishonored with a trickle- down effect of debauchery and ruthless self-preservation.