An Inferno Without the Flames

The Hughes brothers, most famous for their gritty and groundbreaking debut street drama Menace II Society, have returned from a five year absence with From Hell, a thriller/crime drama concerning the infamous serial killer Jack the Ripper. Although the Victorian era legend needs no real introduction, for those living in a cultural vacuum, the story is as follows: From Aug. 7 to Nov. 10, 1888, at least seven prostitutes were methodically murdered and mutilated in the Whitechapel district of London’s East End. It was the first instance of a serial killer in the modern Western world, and absolutely unique because of the case’s circumstances. Each woman was “done” in the same manner (slit across the throat) and each was mutilated (organs removed) in such a way that demonstrated an intimate knowledge of human physiology, suggesting that Jack was a very well educated man—likely, one of the British upper class. The Ripper worked methodically and ruthlessly, taunting authorities with letters and sending half a kidney to Scotland Yard over the four-month period. Unlike the psychological profiling so common in today’s police forces, the Brits were entirely unprepared to deal with a rash of violence so brutal and monumentally evil. After the murder of Mary Kelly, the killings stopped, but no suspect was arrested, and his true identity to this day remains of some conjecture.

The Hughes brothers parachute us into the narrative around the time of the first incident, where real-life Inspector Frederick Abberline—played, accent and all, by Johnny Depp—is assigned to lead the investigation into what would became infamously known as the Ripper Murders. What the Hughes fictionalize is Jack’s targeting of a group of six sisterly “unfortunates”—one of whom is Heather Graham—in Whitechapel, tempting them with grapes and dulling their senses with laudanum-laced absinthe before doing the ghastly deed. He’s an aristocrat, a member of the Freemasons and enlists a chauffeur to aid in his occasional excursions. However, we don’t know exactly who he is, only that his actions are the result of a conspiracy that leads up to the highest echelons of power.

What we do know is afforded by the convenient dramatic device of Abberline’s “visions” of the murders. While drifting in and out of an opium-induced haze, he sees details—tinted, blurry city-scapes and half concealed, shadowy murders—only to wake up and have these apparitions confirmed on the streets. Even awake, Depp wanders in a somewhat dreamlike trance through the crimes, with little in the way of actual detective work or even acting. Depp, a badass no matter what accent you foist upon him, never truly finds a rhythm in his performance or a core to his character. He’s been directed to deliver a subtle performance in the extreme; so subtle in fact that he’s largely left staring deadpan while the action clumsily revolves around him. And while Robbie Coltrane, as Abberline’s sidekick, provides a competent foil for Depp’s malaise, quoting Shakespeare with pithy aplomb, Heather Graham does nothing to alter this reviewer’s opinion that she shouldn’t be allowed to act ever again. Ever.

For a tale that has so singularly captured public attention (over 100 books have been written about the Ripper, more than the combined total written about American presidents), the formation remains staggeringly and exceptionally mediocre. Right down the center, the film is middling; From Hell doesn’t present the intrigue or the hysteria surrounding the killings with any emotive force, nor does it probe the murderer’s sociopath psyche in any telling detail. It’s a thriller that rarely excites, a mystery that doesn’t intrigue and since we know already that Jack is the culprit, the tale is less of a “whodunit” than a “whoisit.” Any viewer with half a perceptive eye, however, will quickly learn the killer’s true identity; thus, the narrative’s motor effectively stalls, sputters and dies.

That said, the Hughes brothers deserve commendation for considerable, tasteful restraint in the, um, execution of the actual murders. Much is left to the imagination, as subtle shadows obscure physical wounds or the deliberate panning away of the camera leaves much violence out of the frame, even if the gory aftermath of the deceased remains in plain sight. In the Hughes’ Menace II Society, the gritty urban ghetto was reflected in brutal, excessive violence, whereas here, in restrained Victorian England, with the slums looking cleaner than ever; much remains sanitized until all hell breaks loose. That the brothers are gifted natural filmmakers is evidenced as when the first victim succumbs in a murky alleyway, and all we see is a gleaming silver knife flashing out of the gloom. The shot’s effectiveness lies in the stark contrast between light and dark, inverting a symbol by making a gleaming, bright element an instrument of death. The fact that the action remains largely unseen and the physical effect plays out in our minds only underscores revulsion. However, in most other instances, the brothers resort to heavy-handed imagery. Precariously controlled horses foaming at the mouth and riders driving a carriage bathed in greenish light only detract from prior subtlety. The pathetic fallacy of a blood-red sky looming over London is more lamentable for its clumsy, blatant symbolism than truly revealing.

After becoming disenchanted with the Hollywood filmmaking system, the Hughes brothers took a hiatus from the craft, delving into documentary film before coming back to fiction with From Hell. Did the brothers return with revitalized energy and a new zest for filmmaking? Unfortunately, no. Maybe they should just stick to the American slums.

From Hell

Directed by

Albert & Allen Hughes

Starring

Johnny Depp

Heather Graham

Robbie Colrane

20th Century Fox