Red Riding Hood
Time Out says
Yes, there’s enough connection with the source’s underlying issues of repression and desire to give this reason to exist, but, boy, does Hardwicke labour in getting from fairy tale to would-be psycho-thriller. For a start, it’s hard to take any of this seriously. It doesn’t help that it unfolds on sets which reek of Ye Olde Gift Shoppe, while the plot set-up whereby the community lay out sacrifices to keep the big, bad wolf at bay are an unwise reminder of ‘The Village’. Still, at least Gary Oldman jollies things up as a werewolf-hunting prelate with teutonic sibilants and a 20-ton cast-iron elephant-shaped torture device at his disposal. Yes, you did read that right, and very odd it is too, though in a way the incongruity of such fripperies next to Julie Christie’s sinister granny and teen soap-theatrics give Hardwicke’s film a car-crash fascination outweighing its lack of real threat or suspense.