Manhunter

Although The Silence of the Lambs (1991) has oodles of Oscar respectability, earned a mountain of cash and served as the career highlight for almost everyone involved, one could make a case that Manhunter (1986) is the superior adaptation of Thomas Harris' work. Methodical, moody and arrestingly artful, director Michael Mann constructs his film with all the flash and style of his best Miami Vice episodes, while introducing a heady police procedural formula that would eventually overwhelm the small screen again 15 years later in the form of CSI.

Will Graham (William Petersen) is a retired criminal profiler who begrudgingly agrees to help hunt down the "Tooth Fairy," a serial killer targeting young housewives and their families. To get back into the proper mindset he arranges to speak with Dr. Hannibal Lecktor (played with soft-spoken, thinly veiled menace by Brian Cox), the psychopathic psychiatrist who Graham put behind bars. But Lecktor proves to be more foe than friend, putting Graham's own family in jeopardy and nearly upending the case.

Meanwhile, the Tooth Fairy himself (Tom Noonan) has his twisted fantasy-life disrupted by a real romance with a blind co-worker (Joan Allen). As Graham and the authorities begin to close in, it appears that the killer might have turned over a new leaf. But will reality be enough for a man who dreams of becoming something more than just a man?

Remade later under the original title of Red Dragon (2002) as a cheap excuse to cram Anthony Hopkins into the Lecktor role once again, Manhunter proudly wears the influences of MTV on its cinematic sleeve. But the overall effect is less dated than you would think thanks to Mann and DP Dante Spinotti's almost Kubrickian visual approach. The classical style blends well with the pulsing synth soundtrack (confession: I played the hell out of this tape in high school) and almost slasher-esque POV shots. Manhunter's palette drips with '80s neon and antiseptic evil, particularly in its presentation of Lecktor himself, confined to an industrial-type clean room lifted right off the set of 2001.

As good as Mann's direction is (IMHO, he never topped himself) he's matched by a number of standout performances. Petersen's "haunted" FBI profiler is a bit of a cliché by today's standards, but Tom Noonan and Joan Allen are brilliant in what little screen time they have together, turning their subplot into an unforgettable bit of serial killer tragedy. Then there's Brian Cox's take on Lecktor, casually outwitting his captors in a much more subdued approach than Hopkins' operatic grandstanding. His choice is a perfect match a film that's not built around his presence, but made all the better for it.

Manhunter has a long history on home video, popping up in several forms including a "Director's Cut", which is also included in standard definition here on Scream Factory's new collector's edition Blu-ray along side the theatrical cut. The film itself has simply never looked better; it's the sort of production high definition was made for. And with almost three hours of new bonus content, its pretty much a given that you can toss any other version you have lying around the house. Extras include interviews with William Petersen, Joan Allen, Tom Noonan, Brian Cox, Dante Spinotti and the composers and contributors to the unforgettable soundtrack (which, in a perfect world, would have been included in the set itself). Trailers, still galleries and all the extras from the previous release are packed in as well. Get out there and own this!