Far From Hell
By Danny Sarnowski

I am a Jack the Ripper buff. I am. I am interested in the case. I am interested in the time period, in the means of detection and in the many conspiracies and theories that are forever linked with the case. Not unlike the Kennedy assassination (another interest of mine), theories abound concerning the Ripper’s identity and the identities of his possible accomplices. Was it one lonely lunatic? Was it a member of the Royal family? Was it the secret police guarding state secrets? Not unlike the Kennedy case, clues and evidence were destroyed and the investigation never provided a plausible explanation for the brutal murders that occurred in the White Chapel area of London in 1888. Just for the record, beyond my fascination with famous murder cases, I also enjoy long walks on the beach, sunsets, and “snuggling.”

The new film From Hell, starring Johnny Depp and Heather Graham and directed by Albert & Allen Hughes, is a dark, gritty, gory thriller. Based on a graphic novel written by Eddie Campbell and Alan Moore, and adapted by Terry Hayes (Payback) and Rafael Yglesias (Les Miserables, Death And The Maiden), it works diligently to remain faithful to the facts of the case and the evidence available while allowing it to be a modern police thriller. Jack the Ripper has been the subject of countless books, movies, and the dreaded TV Mini-series (my favorite of those being the one starring Michael Caine and Armand Assante). From Hell sticks fairly close to the Ripper formula while retaining the ability to stand on its own. All of the usual suspects from the Ripper case are here (“The Apron,” the Royal physician, The Queen’s grandson Prince Albert Victor, The Free Masons) accompanied by the butchers, pimps, and furriers of the White Chapel district.

The Hughes brothers (Menace II Society, Dead Presidents) have taken what could have been (and what has been several times) a cheesy, slow-paced, overly dramatic period piece and turned it into a dark, brooding, bloody, street crime comic book. First and foremost, this is a movie about street crime. The Hughes brothers get us so deep into the White Chapel alleyways and slums, get us so close to the victims and their ways of life, that it feels like any other film about crime. It just happens to take place in London in 1888. This could be any tough neighborhood anywhere. And the film looks incredible. The streets seem to bleed shadows. The wet, cracked cobblestones seem as haphazardly shoved together as the inhabitants of White Chapel. The killer is shown in a long cape and hat, with long, twisting shadows trailing behind him. The sky oozes red. Dirt is everywhere. The filth and stink and rot of 1888 London permeates every stylized frame of the picture.

Granted, the film does fall short on a few points. We all know who the killer is after about forty minutes, leaving the rest of the movie to prove us correct. Johnny Depp’s character has psychic visions of the murders that lead to some neat imagery and some interesting editing, but prove worthless and are basically dropped halfway through the movie. The film’s ultimate flaw, however, is that it attempts to give the Ripper a logical reason for doing what he did. It’s a neat, tidy, although wonderfully conspiratorial explanation. And while it is a plausible explanation, it serves to make the Ripper less frightening and more rational. It makes him less of a monster and more of a man. These flaws, in the end, do little to distract from what is otherwise a cool, scary, and highly stylized thriller.

7 February 2002