Red Dragon

This morning's entertainment has been reading reviews of Red Dragon, the new Thomas Harris/Hannibal Lecter film. The worst review was from CNN, which sincerely declares that "this film's enormous emotional punch comes both from the written word and the astounding acting provided by this remarkable cast." Also, according to reviewer Paul Clinton, the direction is "fairly predestrian."

The best review, certainly the funniest, is David Edelstein's in Slate, which includes this fine line:

Red Dragon is being sold as the first chapter of the "Hannibal Lecter trilogy," but it's really the last chapter in the "Anthony Hopkins hambone trilogy." Hopkins' Lecter is like Bela Lugosi: a seething extrovert, a short step from the jokey host of some Tales From the Crypt-style horror series. (You can picture him looking up from his plate and saying, "The man in the story you're about to see was a very naughty boy, which is why I'm eating his pancreas.")

Edelstein's review, and others, mark Red Dragon as an inferior version of Michael Mann's Manhunter. The last time I saw Manhunter, just after Silence of the Lambs came out, I was distracted by its miamiviceishness. But I think I'll give it another go.