Red Riding (1974): Film Review

The opener of the ambitious and fairly epic trilogy of adaptations based on David Pearce's labyrinth, apocryphal novels, this perhaps does not constitute as a film for review since it was aired on Channel 4. But given it's cinematic structure, production values and approach, I deem it worthy of scrutiny based on it's own merits. So, here we go.

In 1974 Yorkshire, a young local girl has gone missing, sparking the interest of the downbeat and insular community. Local boy Eddie Dunford (Andrew Garfield) returns home and walks into a job at the town paper after a stretch studying journalism in London, and quickly develops an interest in the case, despite the reservations of his editor Bill Hadley (John Henshaw) and close friend Barry (Anthony Flanagan).

His instincts prove correct as he notices a recurring theme of disappearing local youngsters, all of whom have seemingly vanished without a trace. Despite his findings, he is treated with general contempt by the local police, represented by the intimidating and coarse Bill Molloy (Warren Clarke), and the silent Maurice Jobson (David Morrissey), who have no qualms with showing their dissatisfaction at his 'interference'.

The effort seems to have been in vain anyway, as the missing girl is found dead on a building site owned by a local industrialist, swan's wings stitched into her back after being severely abused and murdered. Put onto a different story, Eddie cannot resist the lure of the mystery, leading him into a neo-noir world of shadowy secrets. Along the way, he meets and falls for one of the bereaved parents, Paula (Rebecca Hall), and finds an illegal plot to clear land by the police and orchestrated by the powerful John Dawson (Sean Bean), a scheme intertwined with the murders.

Eddie is repeatedly punished (he is turned black and blue by the black and blue numerous times) for his trespassing, but the personal significance really reaches a head with the suspicious death of a friend, and the overpowering silence of those in the know. Despite everything, Eddie's crusade gathers pace and cost as he seeks to expose and bring down Dawson and the local mafia type organisation.

Red Riding 1974 is best summed up, in terms of plot, aptmosphere and mood by one line spoken by a minor character in the final act, which becomes a recurring phrase throughout the trilogy: "This is the North, where we do what we want".
Director Julian Jarrold paints a bleak, overwhelmingly grey picture of 70's small town and poverty stricken Yorkshire, a blunt and near feral world where the smart talking Eddie is shot down for his extrovert approach, surrounded as he is by no-nonsense, harsh men brought up at the coal face and dedicated to a working man mentality bereft of any change. The cinematography evokes memories of Seven's dauntingly colourless landscapes, a constant smoky haze coating council houses, gypsy settlements and pub basements. This in turn lends itself to a dour, hopeless mood of cruelty and despair, where an idealist like Eddie and his conspiracy-obssessed friend Barry are not permitted to grow. The people of this world are not allowed to think outside of the box they live in.

Andrew Garfield, barely before his career exploded into life with The Social Network, leads a dynamite cast with a genuine charm and confidence, a very likely fish out of water without the dark thinking to ever consider himself out of his depth. Eddie's struggles start out through a desire for truth and a loathing of the fat cats, an idealism which is blunted when the personal toll of mission makes things a matter of vengeance and redemption, ironically bringing him down to the level of his enemies.

He is assisted ably, with the film's general second billing and villain status being thrust upon the usually heroic Sean Bean. He oozes charisma and experience as the darkly dissembling Dawson, a local likely lad who's hit the big time, his smart suits and fancy cars (not to mention a bizzare manor house) at odds with the rough local accent and his small town views and attitudes. Likeable at turns, he is also terrifying at others, a clear indicator that Eddie is not fighting his battle on level terms.

Rebecca Hall, still flitting between big star mainstream and character actress, brings complexity and depth to the emotionally damaged and morally tortured Paula in a superb, subtle performance that is probably the pick of the bunch. Hugely attractive yet unquestionably untrustworthy and potentially dangerous, she provides the conundrum to intoxicate Eddie for better or for worse, and provides all the motivation the hero needs to make things personal. In one particularly stand out scene, an argument between her and Eddie sees Paula once again tap into the open source of cynicism in their life, effectively shooting down Eddie's moralistic crusade, and immediately crumbles when she sees the heartbreak in his eyes. It's a deeply human, conflicted moment.

There is further good work among the others, with Anthony Flanagan unpredictable and paranoid as Barry, Hemsworth typically laconic and pragmatic as the editor, and David Morrissey sinister and myserious in a near wordless role. Warren Clarke enjoys a memorable scene with Eddie, where his foul mouthed bile provides both gallows humour and genuine terror. There is further sterling support in small roles from Peter Mullan, Mary Joe Randle, Eddie Marsan, Robert Sheehan (as the film's most bizzare character), Gerard Kearns and Cathryn Bradshaw as Dawson's near insane wife, a woman who holds many pieces in the complex jigsaw.

With a towering script which perfectly balances plot and dialogue, action and pondering, and a well judged backing soundtrack, 1974 rises out of it's status as a TV Movie and looks and sounds for all the world like a conventional cinema crime thriller, a neo-noir with an unorthodox setting. The background of the misery suffered by the 1970's working class, and the reign of terror caused by the Yorkshire ripper, provide perfect placement which gives the piece a vital sense of authenticity. In that regard, costume and make up work is also spot on, leaving us in no doubt of the era. In many ways Red Riding isn't so much about missing children and corruption as it is about inclosed community and cultural divides, of how the North and Yorkshire sit almost on their own plain of existence.

The only criticism is that one of the key points of the film, a vital plot point, is finally addressed almost off hand in the closing stages.

A dark, grimy and cynical story both in terms of tale and look, 1974 draws you in with it's complex mystery and keeps that attention at a vice like grip with emotional connection and intensity, delivering a desperately bitter sweet conclusion that both draws to a close a wonderful story and also leaves you salivating at the prospect of two more to come. A flagship effort.

"This is the North, where we do what we want"

9/10