Red Riding Hood – Review

While the Brothers Grimm get all of the accolades for the classic fable of Little Red Riding Hood, it’s actually Charles Perrault who is really the thread-bearer of the sexually charged morality tale we all know and love. And what a tale it is: a young, nubile girl being deceived and taunted by a “wolf”. It’s simple and timeless. Even in this day and age of Craiglist pervs and Facebook creeping, a new telling of the story doesn’t seem like a bad idea, until hair gel was used. Lots and lots of hair gel. The biggest problem with the film isn’t its Twilight associations, it’s the fact that it loses its bite midway through, and is ultimately, not Grimm enough.

While horror fans have pointed their finger at Catherine Hardwicke for “ruining” vampires with her Twilight adaptation, Red Riding Hood isn’t as bland as that first film was, but the script isn’t smart enough to be the parable it needs. What is the Big Bad Wolf? For readers of the classic story, it’s many things, but for this film, it’s just a nuance for the love triangle and a sad device for a zillion red herrings. I don’t blame the aim of the film, I blame the wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing called the script. The film looks rich and handsome enough, even though the soft focus of the cinematography is annoying, but the heart of the film is about womanhood rebellion, a not too of an odd theme coming from Thirteen‘s director, but an ill-advised one.

I personally don’t think Catherine Hardwicke knows what makes teen girls tick. Her Thirteen tired to be riveting anti-Valley Girl film, but came off as a Hot Topic commercial. Twilight was too repressed in its Mormon themes and Red Riding Hood is a bad attempt at summarizing the bumper sticker “I’m a bitch and I’m proud of it.” See Fish Tank, Ms. Hardwicke. It’s clear that the film believes it’s okay to follow the bad boy, even though bad boys lead to bad decisions. Nice guys do finish last, or maybe they’re the lucky ones?

Despite the handsome set designs, it’s really only Gary Oldman that makes the film feels like it’s alive. He’s too perfect here as Father Solomon, who’s dealt with these pesky werewolves before. But once the second act concludes, it’s a very anti-climatic film. The spin on some of the classic elements are quaint at best here, and we’re left with a Red Riding Hood film who’s aim is worst than a drunken archer. Too bad, really, there was so much untapped potential.

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