From Hell

This week, I bring you my take on From Hell or, as a good friend once put it, "The movie where Bilbo Baggins kills everyone."

I refuse to buy Heather Graham as a 19th century prostitute. She has far too many teeth. I get that Hollywood is incapable of having a protagonist that looks less than stunningly beautiful, but I really think they could've gone so far as to give her a couple of skin blemishes or something considering she sleeps on the street semi-frequently and is, you know, a prostitute. And all this in a time when even the well-off didn't have chemical peels to fix their unsightly, imperfect faces.

Hagrid is being kind of mean to Johnny Depp about his opium use. Does he not realise that without opium he would be unable to have his crime-solving visions?! How dare you rip him from his opium den just to show him a hooker with slashed-up lady bits. It's all extremely inconsiderate.

 There's this scene here where Jack the Ripper is getting ready to go out and do some ripping, but first he has himself a nice dinner. He is eating rare steak and drinking red wine and it's all very epic. Everyone knows that all sociopaths eat red, bloody meat and that sane, non-murdering folk eat their steaks well done and only drink water. You hear that? Ever eaten a steak anything less than medium-well? If you answered yes you are a sicko and I suggest you commit yourself immediately. Perhaps the fine gents in this film will help you out with a lobotomy. It is, after all, the best cure for any ailment from murderous tendencies all the way to anxiety and simple hysteria. Though, if hysteria is your problem, you should just have your doctor spray water at your crotch until you're cured. Or feed you Cornflakes.

Now, I hope you either have seen this or don't want to, because I'm about to straight up ruin this movie for everyone. Simply, I can't figure out how nobody considered this man as the killer. I mean, look at his hairdo! That is a murderer's hairdo if I've ever seen one. He might as well be wearing a pair of plastic devil horns.

You've gotta love that in film someone can just belittle a guard and they'll be like "Oh my God, please go into the office containing hundreds of confidential files completely unescorted! I'm sorry I suggested otherwise!" All he had to say was "Your boss told me to be here and he's going to be mad if you don't let me in." This is working on the same mentality as a kid who's parents have left him with a babysitter for the night. "My parents let me eat iced cream for dinner while smoking and doing intravenous drugs." Come on, now.

Has nobody told Inspector Abberline that falling for a whore is just about the worst idea possible? Didn't they teach that in school in the 1800s? Perhaps not. However, it is definitely inadvisable. Especially if her hair is a mysteriously impossible shade of red. Chances are she is a liar, or even worse, some kind of witch. That really wouldn't be good for business. You'd have to burn her at the stake and everything. That can all be very time consuming. It also doesn't really help if there's a big stone mason conspiracy to kill and mutilate her horribly.

 Now, another thing that deserves recognition, here, is the pair of muttonchops on this motherfucker. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why those ever went out of style. I call to you, all males with the ability to grow actual facial hair to bring back the mutton chop. If you all do it, you won't be weirdos. "But no woman would want me." you say? At first, this may be true. But eventually, the women will flock to those big clumps of hair on either side of your face. They're manly and rugged. They're like balls that you won't get arrested for displaying. Go forth and mutton chop!

So what this movie is trying to teach me is that if I do opium I can solve crimes? Essentially, it seems to me that if I were to start hanging out in opium dens, I could be kind of like a Victorian Batman. At least that's how it worked for Johnny Depp. I wonder where I could find an opium den in Canada in 2010. I suspect it would be a bit of a search. Especially since I refuse to go unless it's run by a man with a Fu Manchu.

Near the end, here, The Ripper cuts out a woman's heart and puts it in a kettle over the fire. I suppose he wanted a spot of tea before he went home to wash the gallons of blood off his person.

Well, the beloved Heather Graham has run off to live in the hills of Scotland with the child she borrowed from a lobotomized broad. I still think she was cooler when she was topless and rollerskating.

Overall, this movie's worth watching if you're into opium and lobotomies.