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| Written by The Curmudgeon |
I have to admit to being a bit of a sucker for film noir. The old-school capers like A Touch of Evil (1958) and The Killers (1946), or the renaissance “neo-noir” flicks like Blade Runner (1982) or Brick (2005), it’s all the same to me. That said, it’s not a great time to be a fedora-core, noir-nerd like me. The genre doesn’t see much contemporary attention these days, and anyone such as myself is left a bit starved of the grim catharsis those bleak tales and ghostly shadows can provide.
That’s why it’s so refreshing to stumble upon a noir
you’ve never heard of, never seen, but is nonetheless incredibly fucking
good. That, folks, is why I’d like to introduce you to the Red Riding
Trilogy.
A series of British TV movies aired in 2009, Red Riding
stands out, above all else, because it’s so relentlessly real. It skips
the romanticism of your typical Raymond Chandler story, trading in the
picturesque aesthetic of American city streets for the rank, rancid Yorkshire
scenery. It goes straight for the throat and doesn’t let go. Sort of like the
cinematic equivalent of sinking your teeth into ice cream.
Today, I’m going to do my best to unpack exactly how and why
Red Riding achieves this bitter, uncomfortable sense of reality in as
spoiler-free a manner as I possibly can. Let’s dig in, shall we?!
Set in Northern England between the mid ‘70s to the early
‘80s, Red Riding kicks off with the disappearance of a 10-year-old girl,
Clare Kempley. Investigative journalist Eddie Dunford (Andrew Garfield) suspects
something is awry, as he draws disturbing parallels between Kempley’s
disappearance and two similar cases several years prior. The deeper Dunford
digs, the more suspicious the circumstances become. What unfolds is a classic
tale of corruption, hubris, and murder, masterfully intertwined with
historical figures and events such as the infamous Yorkshire Ripper. You
know, all the juicy stuff you’d expect from films of this ilk.
Part 1: The Characters
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| Andrew Garfield in Red Riding: The Year of Our Lord 1974 (2009) |
The story is unfurled over three films, set in 1974, 1980
and 1983, respectively. Each film focuses on a different protagonist, and how
they all weigh in on the plot in unique ways.
The first is the
aforementioned Eddie Dunford – you could call him a journalist, if it weren’t
for the fact that he isn’t really all that good at it. He’s got a nose for
shifty business, for sure – but he’s widely disliked by his peers, he’s young,
and he’s naïve. Above all else, he’s returned to the North in shame after
failing to cut it in the big leagues down South. In other words: he’s a regular Joe, in way
over his head.
1980 introduces Detective Peter Hunter (Paddy Considine). An
acclaimed investigator, coloured police officer, highly respected – upon first
viewing, one might fear he’ll turn out to be a bit of a Mary Sue with
credentials like that; a super cop. Surprisingly, he’s anything but. Hunter is
a family man, desperately trying to balance his crumbling home life with his
demanding job, the shame of an extra-marital affair nibbling at his ankles.
Contrary to the cool, callous, emotionally-despondent detective the genre is
familiar with, Hunter provides a more human alternative. If anything, it's his down-to-earth
nature which renders him vulnerable and unfocused…
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| Paddy Considine in Red Riding: The Year of Our Lord 1980 (2009) |
Finally, 1983 hands the reigns over to John Piggott (Mark
Addy) – a bum solicitor with a big heart and an even bigger stomach. He lives –
barely – in a disgracefully untidy house, alone, living off the kind of food
you’d feel guilty feeding to a dog. And, unlike the previous protagonists,
Piggott’s inclusion in the story is almost peripheral, as he near-accidentally
stumbles upon hints of a conspiracy.
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| Mark Addy in Red Riding: The Year of Our Lord 1983 (2009) |
The three protagonists are extremely well-realised, brought to life by detailed and idiosyncratic performances. But, something you might have noticed about all of the above is
that they share a single, essential trait: they’re all so ordinary. They’re
quotidian, mundane, weak. Whereas the genius super-detective common to stories
like True Detective (2014-) is as far from the average viewer as they
are from reality, the protagonists of Red Riding share no such distance.
Dunford, Hunter and Piggott are just as regular as we are. In
that sense, one can't help but think that what happens to them could easily happen to us. It brings the story
closer to the viewer, closer to reality. It only makes sense, then, that
they act within the story as any normal person would. Suffice it to say, Red
Riding is a story about horrible things happening to folks who don’t
deserve it. And, when horror befalls them, that Humphrey Bogart fearlessness is
nowhere to be seen – what we’re left with is a bunch of frail, fragile people.
People as vulnerable to bullets and broken bones as any real person
would be.
Part 2: Fact or Fiction?
Let me be perfectly clear about this: Red Riding is a
work of fiction. But the story is executed in such a way that the lines between
fiction and the real world frequently blur. Be warned…minor spoilers ahead…
The way that it does this is by masterfully weaving real
world events and characters into its story to keep it grounded and
authentic. For example, the prevalent inclusion of the infamous (and very real)
Yorkshire Ripper, especially in Red Riding: The Year of Our Lord 1980.
But it runs a whole lot deeper than that.
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| Above: Joseph Mawle as Peter Sutcliffe in Red Riding: The Year of Our Lord 1983 Below: Peter Sutcliffe, 'The Yorkshire Ripper' |
I’ll elaborate. It is a known fact that the West Yorkshire Police
Force – which headed the Ripper investigation, and act as the corrupt,
antagonistic presence in all three Red Riding films – were widely
criticised for being…well…incompetent, to say the least. From a laughably impractical
filing system to an excessive focus on a hoax tape and letters, to describe
their conduct as “ineffectual” would be generous. You can read more about that
here.
However, in the context of Red Riding, such facts are
cleverly utilised to blend seamlessly with the fictional plot. Without
giving too much away; the corrupt West Yorkshire Police Force in fact deliberately
sabotage the Ripper case to cover up their own dirty, underhanded tactics.
In the world of Red Riding, what starts as a hoax tape mutates into a
method of pinning the force’s own murders on the Yorkshire Ripper,
consequence-free. Just like that – the script completely re-imagines the factual
ineptitude of the real police into a wider conspiracy.
The real question is: why does this matter?
The mixing of fact and fiction in such a seamless,
satisfying way edges its insidious horrors that much closer to reality. In the
case of other, similar narratives - regardless of how grim they may be – we can
at least hide behind the cosiness of the fourth wall. In other words, the
inherent knowledge that what we’re seeing is fictional acts
as…comfort(?) if you will. With Red Riding, it’s not quite so simple.
Additionally, by rewriting out perspective on history, Red
Riding elicits the same feeling of suspicion from the audience as the
characters themselves experience. As the facts morph into a conspiracy, it
really leaves you questioning “what if?” It brings us closer to how characters feel.
It’s a unique way of drawing us into the story, and making it feel more
realistic.
Part 3: The Villains
As far as realism is concerned, I can’t give the villains of
Red Riding enough credit. But before I move on, it’s only polite that I
say: minor spoilers ahead…or; as minor as they can be.
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| Sean Bean in Red Riding: The Year of Our Lord 1983 |
They say that money is the root of all evil, and there’s
truth in this. Of course, nothing is ever so clean-cut as to be attributable to
a single cause, but so much human squalor can be traced back to that foul,
corrupting, black mass: greed.
Greed is observable on a daily basis. The things people are
willing to do to one another simply to satisfy that insatiable beast – it’s
best left unsaid.
The villains of Red Riding are simply motivated by greed,
and it’s this simplicity which adds to their authenticity as characters. Much
like the previously-mentioned super-cop archetype, contemporary noir has a tendency to
supervillain-ify their antagonists, to the detriment of realism. The John Doe
killer of Se7en (1995) or Errol Childress of True Detective, for
example: theatrical, boisterous, and prone to soliloquising. The former is
motivated by some sick, divine code of conduct. The latter, by satanism and
fetishistic lust. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing inherently bad about this
kind of writing. They work in the context of their own stories. I’m simply
suggesting that they act almost as twisted pantomime villains.
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| Jim Carter in Red Riding: The Year of Our Lord 1980 |
Contrastingly, the antagonists of Red Riding are nothing more than a bunch of greedy men who want money. Simple, yes. But there’s something more plausible in that simplicity, something down-to-earth. Again, without being too explicit, the entire plot comes back to that basic, salient thing. If there’s money involved, they’re willing to let children suffer for their own selfish gain. The entire conspiracy revolves around a bunch of avaricious fools throwing people to the wolves to succeed, only to try desperately to cover their hides when it all goes tits-up.
Such a motivation may be unromantic and blunt, but it
situates the narrative in a world so close to our own. This is what makes it so
uncomfortably real.
The Bottom Line…
Red Riding doesn’t see daylight nearly as much as it
deserves. People don’t seem to mention it too much, in stark contrast to its stellar quality. At the end of the day, what makes it such a refreshing take on the
noir genre is exactly the sense of unbridled reality with which it’s written.
Kind of like film noir without the safety wheels…if that makes any sense at all.
If you’ve got an itch which only a miserable, harrowing
crime thriller can scratch, Red Riding might do just that.
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