Wes Craven’s Red Eye

• 3rd Apr 2011

Lisa Reisert (Rachel McAdams), a hotel manager who suffers from fear of lying (aerophobia, aviatophobia, aviophobia or pteromechanophobia (my personal favourite) if you’re interested) is waiting to board a night flight home from Miami. The flight’s delayed and she’s chatted up by dishy Jackson Rippner (there’s a clue in his name Lisa!) in the airport lounge. Unlike me, who always gets stuck next to a screaming toddler on flights, she finds herself seated next to him. But unfortunately for Lisa this is a Wes Craven film, so obviously he’s a terrorist who needs Lisa’s hotelier connections to help him carry out the assassination of the Secretary of Homeland Security. And he’s going to kill her dear old dad (Brian Cox) if she doesn’t do what he wants.

Made in 2005 this was Wes Craven’s twentieth feature and a departure from his usual horror niche (not a big one – Craven hasn’t suddenly started making films about fluffy bunny rabbits) to psychological thriller. In the main, ‘Red Eye’ doesn’t disappoint. It’s an old school Hollywood thriller in the Hitchcockian vein. Don’t get too excited though – Wes hasn’t managed to do what he did with the ‘Scream’ franchise and reinvigorate a whole genre – but he’s crafted a well paced, well acted thriller which will keep you on (or at least near) the edge of your sofa for the bulk of the action.

‘Red Eye’ comes in at a brisk 85 minutes and most of them are filled pretty darn well. The first hour is by far the best. It’s set up like a nice romcom as Lisa is chatted up by the icily handsome Rippner then, serendipitously (or so she thinks) finds herself sat next to him on the plane. He even distracts her from her fear of flying. What a gent. But, once we board the plane – which is filled with a load of fun ‘Airplane’-esque clichés (small blonde child, nice old lady, stressed businessman, noisy teens) – Craven rips the rug out from under us and relentlessly ratchets up the tension as Rippner tries to force Lisa to do what he wants. It’s highly claustrophobic (‘Phone Booth’ has been cited as an influence) – almost all the time all we see is close-ups of the two leads’ faces with the occasional airplane loo scene thrown in. It’s an old fashioned battle of wits between Lisa and Rippner as she tries one trick after another to alert someone to what’s going on. One by one her fake phone calls and scrawled notes on books and mirrors are all discovered as Rippner foils her would-be cries for help, showing he’s not to be messed with as he knocks her unconscious and nearly throttles her. For the most part it’s slick and suspenseful as we’re rushed at a frantic pace from one nasty situation to another.

Just as this cat-and-mouse game is starting to drag a little, Lisa takes pretty drastic action involving a pen and Mr Rippner’s trachea. It’s a bit nasty (as is Cillian’s purple scarf) and Rippner is transformed from smooth criminal into rasping pseudo-pantomime (although it’d be a really scary panto) villain. The action moves to Lisa’s dad’s house and it’s here that unfortunately the momentum gets a bit lost. The film slips into average woman-being-chased-around-the-house TV movie, but by this time we’re so caught up in the ride that it doesn’t really matter.

There’s some fairly massive plotholes, some so big in fact that you could probably drive Wes’s aeroplane through them Not least of these is that apparently you can head butt, threaten and make someone cry a lot on an aeroplane without anyone noticing (but you can’t take a pair of tweezers onboard – thank you BA) then sprint through airport security with little resistance. The assassination plot itself is also pretty ridiculous – Rippner needs his target moved from one room in the hotel to another with a sea view so he can launch a missile from a yacht in the harbour. Surely there must be an easier way.

Thankfully, these are fairly easy to ignore as it’s McAdams and Murphy who make this movie. Murphy’s Rippner is a consummate psycho, the kind of ruthless mentalist that nightmares are made of (he’s even inspired his own fansite – http://jacksonrippner.net). He just keeps on coming, even with a novelty biro stuck in his gullet. Following up his turn as a nutjob scarecrow in ‘Batman Begins’ Cillian seems to have cornered the market in blue-eyed fruitcakes, smoothly switching from sexy charmer to merciless villain. We never find out the name or goal of the terrorist cell he’s working for which is a nice touch – there’s no cause for sympathy or pathos here. The always likeable Rachel McAdams makes us believe that she really couldn’t live with herself if the assassination attempt goes ahead (the victim’s wife and 2.4 children are also staying at the hotel) and she also knows how to handle herself. She projects just the right blend of vulnerability with an underlying steel. There’s a subplot about Lisa being raped at knifepoint in the past which is why she won’t be messed with now, but it really isn’t necessary – the safety of her dad and her desperate need to save the imperilled family would’ve worked as motivation enough. There’s some nice chemistry between the two even after Rippner reveals his plans, something which could have made for a very different – and possibly more intriguing – film, had it been capitalised on. 

Brian Cox is sadly wasted as doesn’t do much apart from snooze in front of the telly (and sweep in to save the day at the end). Jayma Mayes, one of those ‘what have I seen her in?’ actresses (she’s a TV stalwart – a regular in ‘Glee’ and was also in ‘Heroes’ and ‘Ugly Betty’) is good fun as Cynthia, Lisa’s less than efficient stand-in at the hotel. It’s her worst day ever. And there’s a nice bit of female bonding at the end between her and Lisa which is fairly unusual in cinema these days.

If you can check some of your brain at the door, you’re in for a bumpy ride. ‘Red Eye’ is no masterpiece and isn’t going to be breaking any ground anywhere, but the tight plot and pacing, great casting and white knuckle moments make for a tense thriller that’s worth 85 minutes of your time. Simple, but effective.

Emma Wilkin