Joe Wright is a literary man. Having previously adapted "Pride & Prejudice" (2005), as well as Ian McEwan's "Atonement" (2007), he's proven himself adept at making the transition from novel to feature film, making the shift into action movie territory with "Hanna" all the more beguiling.
But beneath the surface of this radical new direction, Wright is still channeling his old muse, and with remarkable verve this time around. Though it doesn't quite hit every note perfectly, Wright's latest effort offers both unique style and artistic daring — two qualities all too often lacking in the usually formulaic revenge thriller.
The inspiration for "Hanna" lies in the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm, but from there the film blossoms into a thoroughly modern take on the spy fiction of spooks like Jason Bourne. The titular heroine — portrayed stunningly by a ferocious, feral Saoirse Ronan — has been trained from birth as an assassin by her father (Eric Bana). During their 16 years isolated in the Finnish tundra, he has provided her with all manner of instruction in the disciplines of a killer, from weapons training to hand−to−hand combat and everything in between. The target: his calculating, emotionally unstable former handler in the CIA, Marissa Wiegler (an icy Cate Blanchett).
Underneath this feud, years in the making, lies the sinister question of the nature of Hanna's very identity. Wright unveils a shadowy triangular relationship that sets Wiegler up as the familiar evil stepmother of the Grimms' tales. The parallels stretch far beyond this singular connection, though, infusing this vendetta with an intelligence and symbolic meaning almost unheard of in a genre traditionally light on brain activity.
The deaths, for example — and there are many — are often gruesome and inventive in a manner that mirrors the story's folk origins. The concept of Seth Lochhead and David Farr's screenplay existing as a fairy−tale analogue both allows for and excuses the bare−bones plotting and narrative shortcuts that occasionally crop up. Most impressive, though, in this thematic underpinning, is the incredible balance of style and substance — Wright's various flourishes remain wonderfully intellectual, even as the bodies stack up.
And there's no shortage of style here. How often do you see a film's composers share top billing with its director? Like Trent Reznor and Daft Punk before them, The Chemical Brothers shift gears from popular music to film scoring splendidly. With booming bass and driving, serpentine beats, their contributions hardly go unnoticed, perfectly accenting chase sequences and virtuoso combat alike.
It's almost a perfect score — appropriately increasing adrenaline at just the right moments, but all without slipping into cloying predictability. Why almost? It could have used a few more of the band's fingerprints. But then, perhaps that's the kindest form of criticism.
And it's challenging to be anything but kind in critiquing Wright's directorial approach, especially when his artistic intent is so admirable. Yes, there are missteps, but they're made with unimpeachable motives. Early on, he goes full−bore stylistically rather than feathering the throttle, and it results in transparent artificiality.
An escape sequence from a top−secret military facility offers a prime example. Pounding score in full effect, Hanna flees, pursued by dozens of masked soldiers. But the extensive use of raked angles, pulsing strobe lights and a rapidly spinning camera quickly jump from intriguing artistry to headache−inducing overload. The abundance of quick−cuts and jarringly symmetrical frames weakens the film's opening set−pieces, but at the same time set Wright up as a director offering proof that film can be just as much art as entertainment.
In that sense, he's a model for the best of what mainstream commercial filmmaking has to offer, making mistakes by taking risks, not by shying away from them. "Hanna" doesn't redefine the revenge film, but it stands out as a picture that uses genre as a foundation to build off — not a framework to languish in. For that alone, it deserves to be seen and appreciated. Without a doubt, we'll soon see Wright return to his more conventional literary roots, but here's to hoping he takes some of this panache along with him.
