Cult-TV Review: Hannibal (2013 - )

The TV series Hannibal (2013) may be the finest dramatic program of its type since Chris Carter’s Millennium (1996 – 1999).

This is so because Hannibal is much more than a mere or routine police procedural. For example, the episodes don’t end neatly and tidily at the end of each hour when the serial killer is caught or killed.

Instead, the series builds remarkable tension -- installment-to-installment -- because many characters carry the “wounds” of the violence they witness (or cause…). This torment builds and builds, like a critical mass, threatening to explode at any moment.

In short, Hannibal isn’t afraid to peer inside man’s heart of darkness. Or perhaps more aptly, to weigh the impact of darkness on man’s heart.

Buttressed by Grand Guignol-styled visuals of macabre beauty, this TV series is as dark, cerebral, and icy a descent into madness as we have seen in quite some time. I was a big fan of Dexter (2006 – 2013), but that was a different kind of series in some crucial ways. Dexter Morgan was as much a superhero as a serial killer, and his violence was always directed at the guilty.

Hannibal’s “code” -- if he has one -- is much different, and not as easily “read” or understood, at least thus far.

But I admire Hannibal for another reason.

In some sense, the series is actually a clever commentary -- implicitly -- on art, and how art impacts the “imagination” of the person who experiences and interprets it. 

As someone who experiences and interprets film and television for a living, the dynamic is not lost on me.

Specifically, Hannibal Lecter (Madds Mikkelson) -- clandestinely a serial killer called “The Chesapeake Ripper” at this point -- is a genuine artist, one who kills as beautifully and elegantly as he paints, or cooks.

Hannibal is a creative genius in everything does, but is also, alas, quite insane.

By contrast Will Graham (Hugh Dancy) is the man who must gaze at Hannibal’s gruesome works and attempt to compartmentalize the imagery so that what he sees doesn’t overwhelm him or change his identity. 

Will’s extreme imagination -- often noted as his greatest personal gift -- is the very thing that makes this act of putting the “horror” into a box so difficult.

In his case (and quite unlike my job, thankfully…), Will interprets Hannibal’s mad art so to save lives; to understand the mind of the “artist” and catch him before he paints again…in shades of scarlet and crimson.

But Will and art critics share another trait in common: they must interpret symbols left behind by artists. They must think in terms of "the visuals."

Hannibal thus thinks symbolically, and I love that about the series. The visuals are stunning to look at on their own terms, but more than that, canny in terms of representation.

For instance, throughout the first season Will often encounters the symbol of the stag in his dreams, and that stag connects to a sculpture in Hannibal’s office. 

Clearly, Will's subconscious mind keeps telling him of the connection between the murders and Hannibal, but his conscious mind takes too long to read the imagery. 

Many of the death scenes can likewise be interpreted symbolically, and Will is our guide so we can do it too.

For the first time on television since we saw “flashes” of Frank Blacks insight on Millennium, Hannibal also provides a visualization of what it means to “empathize” with a criminal, a killer specifically.  

In this case, when Will Graham enters a crime scene the image turns to a blank screen that is sort of copper-ish in color.  Then, two lines -- which resemble wind-shield wipers -- progressively erase the present, and the crime itself, from his mind. 

As the wipers take us back to the past, Will goes backwards too, and the scene returns to its pristine, pre-crime state.

Then,Will lives the moment of the crime…as the murderer.

This expressive visualization does a remarkably good job of expressing both Will’s aforementioned imagination, and as his incredible sense of focus. Will must first erase the present before becoming part of the past, and we actually see that act of "erasure" happen.

Hugh Dancy is particularly effective -- and sometimes heart-breaking -- in the role of Graham, and he completely erases any memories you may have of Ed Norton or William Peterson in the same role. Dancy is extremely interesting to watch, so much so that for the first several episodes it seems that Hannibal isn’t even necessary.

It took me about five or so hour-long episodes to warm up to Mikkelsen as Lecter, perhaps because it’s far more difficult to erase the image of Anthony Hopkins in the famous role. 

But after a few hours, I began to detect Mikkelsen’s subtle power in the role. There’s something sort of “other” or "uber" human about this guy. This version of Lecter walks around in an almost preternatural state of perfection or isolation.

He may appear to inhabit our world, but Hannibal is actually living in another realm all together, a realm which recognizes, perhaps, art as the highest aspiration of all. It's one thing to live life normally. It's another to live as an accomplished artist, making and recognizing beauty wherever you travel.

Lecter is multi-lingual, and boasts an expertise in music, art and cuisine, but also, importantly, psychology. He thus sees beauty everywhere, including in the strange, dark alleyways of the human mind. And Hannibal seems determined to make that beauty -- even the beauty of madness -- come to flower...no matter what.

Perhaps Hannibal recognizes the flower and coaxes it to bloom because he also sees the opposite side of the coin. He has great heights because he also has terrifying lows.

Mikkelsen is less friendly -- more glacier-like -- than Hopkins was as Lecter, but he makes the character his own, and projects this sort of remote...coolness. His Lecter never acts out of desperation because he is always seven or eight chess moves ahead of everyone else in his social circle. This is a rewarding approach because when Mikkelson does let the mask of composure slip, it is gasp-provoking.

The remaining roles in the series are just as strongly cast. Laurence Fishburne brings Jack Crawford to life in a vivid, emotional way, and serves as a good “hot” to Mikkelsen’s frigid “cold.” 

Essentially, Will Graham is trapped between those two extremes, and suffering because of it.

Even the guest roles in the series are well-cast. Gillian Anderson is strong here as Hannibal’s psychiatrist, playing her cards so close to the vest that we can’t guess as to her true allegiance.

Another episode features Lance Henriksen -- Frank Black himself -- as a bitter, monstrous husk of a man. 

Somehow, Henriksen projects a pure, sinister power without even moving out of a chair. All his power is centered there, in that chair, and he uses his expressive face to utterly terrorize Will.  Henriksen’s character practically fountains hatred -- an erupting volcano -- and again, Henriksen does so without really getting to use most of his body.

As a long-time admirer of the Thomas Harris Hannibal Lecter books, it’s rewarding too that Hannibal attempts to interface often with the literary history of the character and his world. 

We not only meet Hannibal, Will, and Crawford here, but also get a great new interpretation of tabloid gossip-monger Freddy Lounds (Lara Jean Chorostacki), and slick Dr. Chilton.

In terms of literary history, the series similarly resurrects “The Minnesota Shrike” (Garrett Jacob Hobbs), and the aforementioned "Chesapeake Ripper."

Some liberties have been taken, indeed, to serialize Will and Hannibal's story over several seasons, but the overall tone is one that remains simultaneously faithful to the mythos and creative in its own right.   

A key aspect of that creativity is seen in the murders featured on the series, which are as gory as anything you'd find in the latest torture porn movie.  Only in this case, the deaths are created with an eye towards color, depth, space, and -- last but not least -- audacity.  

This is not a show for you if you have a weak stomach. I consider myself a hardcore horror guy, but there have been several moments in Hannibal when I had to look away from the TV.

In ways impressive and nuanced, Hannibal makes madness look like an art form, but it also takes responsibility for that point of view.  

It says that to catch the artist responsible for such madness, we all have to be come students of that madness...even if the price is high.

I'm thirteen episodes in (the first season), and already Hannibal is in the franchise's top ranks, along with Silence of the Lambs (1991), and Manhunter (1986).   

Give this show seven seasons, and Hannibal Lecter could reach artistic -- and murderous -- heights undreamed of...

TV Promo: Hannibal (2013)

Ask JKM a Question: Hannibal (2013)?

A reader, Todd V, writes:

“Hi John,

I was wondering if you have seen the NBC prequel series Hannibal? 

I think it's one of the best shows currently airing on television. I like that it's not trying to ape any of the movies. It has its own visual style.

Mads Mikkelsen's Hannibal is subtler than Anthony Hopkins' portrayal but equally effective. Hugh Dancy practically steals the show from the title character as the neurotic Will Graham. 

I would love to hear your thoughts on the first season. The second has just started airing.”

Todd: great question.  After you wrote, I purchased the Season One DVD and began watching the series. 

I’m very much enjoying it so far. The visual style, as you say, is unique…and artistic. The early episode involving mushrooms growing on corpses was...vivid.  The on-screen violence is quite bracing (and bloody). The series makes me miss Millennium (1996 - 1999) tremendously, as it delves into same of the same territory, though in its own original fashion.

And I have to agree with you that the performances here are incredibly strong. Hugh Dancy is a revelation. He's so good in the first several episodes -- and Will is so interesting a protagonist -- that Hannibal is almost unnecessary. Mikkelsen's Hannibal is a remarkable mystery, a puzzle that unfolds before our eyes a jigsaw piece at a time.  I've also been impressed with Laurence Fishburne's performance here. His Jack Crawford has a depth and humanity I didn't expect to see explored in what is, essentially, a supporting performance.

Finally, some of the background detail on the show is incredibly faithful to the literary Hannibal Lecter, which was an unexpected and welcome touch.

I will write a full review of the season tomorrow morning (Tuesday), so be on the look out

"What Needs Does He Serve by Killing?" The Tao of Hannibal Lecter

In the impressive anthology Dark Thoughts: Philosophic Reflections on Cinematic Horror, author and co-editor Daniel Shaw opines in his essay "The Mastery of Hannibal Lecter" that Hannibal the Cannibal (Anthony Hopkins) "is one of the most powerful human characters in the history of horror" and that this is "the primary reason why we are so drawn to him." (Scarecrow Press, 2003, page 11.)

That is no doubt an accurate observation, and so today I want to gaze into the eyes and heart of this popular silver screen villain and see -- to paraphrase the good Dr Lecter -- "what is it in itself?" about him that makes Lecter so powerful a force in our psyches.

"What is his nature? What does he do...?"

The first thing to consider, perhaps, is the context from which Thomas Harris's Dr. Lecter sprang. The character -- a serial killer -- was created in the early 1980s (in the novel Red Dragon), but gained wider prominence after the release of Jonathan Demme's 1991 seminal (and oft-imitated) The Silence of the Lambs.

In other words, Hannibal "rose" in the American pop culture during the very epoch that the public was developing a deeper awareness both of the real life serial killer and the tools which could be used to catch this strange predator -- the tools of Forensic Science.

"Hannibal the Cannibal" entered the Cinematic Bogeyman Hall of Fame, for instance, not long after Ted Bundy was executed in Florida, and in the very year that Jeffrey Dahmer was apprehended, 1991.

In terms of other cultural influences, best-selling author Patricia Cornwell, a medical examiner in Richmond, penned the Kay Scarpetta novels (Post-Mortem [1990], and Body of Evidence [1991], for example). Cornwell’s literary work focused on a new kind of contemporary detective, one who could scour a victim’s corpse and pinpoint concrete evidence about the identity of the killer based on skin or hair fragments, semen samples, or DNA evidence. Forget crucifixes, prayer or arcane exorcism rituals, the key to exorcising serial killers from our culture rested in the law-enforcement deployment of behavioral science (psychology) and forensic pathology.

So clearly, Lecter appeared in The Silence of the Lambs at exactly the right time. But that serendipity alone doesn't explain the character's ongoing popularity, appeal and fame nearly twenty years later. To comprehend that, we must indeed understand "what he does," or more accurately, "how he does it." So, without further ado, I present the most important components of "The Tao of Hannibal Lecter."

1.) He Mostly Kills The Rude (Or, he operates by his own sense of morality).

Unlike many of the slasher bogeymen popular in the 1980s, Hannibal is not an indiscriminate killer. He isn't a berserker with a machete.

On the contrary, Hannibal selects his victims very carefully. He kills them because they have violated some code of behavior that he cherishes; and that personal code has something to do with...courtesy.

In The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal is directly responsible for the death of another inmate, Migs, who tossed a handful of his semen at Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) as she was leaving the cell block. Migs actions were disgusting and rude. They showed no respect for Clarice (and no chivalry, either) and so Migs violated Lecter's powerful sense of decorum. Lecter killed Migs by verbally upbraiding the man all night...until he swallowed his own tongue.

Similarly, In Hannibal, Clarice's F.B.I superior, Paul Krendler (Ray Liotta) manufactures false evidence against Starling, another violation of chivalry and decorum, and makes it appear to her superiors as though she is having an illicit, romantic relationship with Lecter. Again, Lecter strikes back at the man for his moral trespass. Specifically, Hannibal cooks Paul's brain and feeds it to him. But not before reminding him, "I hate rude people."

Lecter's treatment of Mason Verger (a convicted child molester) is very much in the same mold. Lecter realizes that the man is a monster, and then sees to it that the man cuts off his own face. "Try peeling off your face and feeding it to the dogs," he suggests, while Verger is hepped up on drugs. Then, he hands Verger a shard of broken glass.

Again, Hannibal's official, appropriate capacity here is as Verger's court-ordered psychologist...but Lecter detected a "higher" morality he could serve and did not wait for society to punish (or possibly not punish...) Verger. He did it himself.

In Hannibal Rising (2007), the audience witnesses an early example of Hannibal's sense of chivalry and moral code. A fat butcher (Charles Maquignon) insults Lady Murasaki (Gong Li), young Hannibal's lovely ward. The butcher's insult is sexual in nature (involving the shape and form of her genitals) and unforgivably crude. So Hannibal bides his time...then strikes back with a vengeance: gutting the butcher with a samurai sword, and then decapitating him.

The real problem with Hannibal Lecter, as Will Graham points out to the good doctor in Red Dragon, is simply that he is insane. Lecter's moral barometer is off the mark at times, and this fact makes the killer an unpredictable monster. For instance, Lecter famously killed an untalented flutist (and then served his corpse to the symphony board members...), but a poor performance (or even a series of poor performances...) hardly feels like an adequate justification for murder. Similarly, that census taker whose liver Hannibal ate (with a nice chianti and some fava beans...) could only have been so obnoxious, right?

In other words, Hannibal Lecter remains terrifying because the filmmakers (and Hopkins) allow us a glimpse of his moral code and justifications for murder, but not an ironclad, black-and-white understanding. Also, Hannibal brooks no interference over issues such as his personal freedom (as a few unlucky Tennessee police officers learn the hard way in Lambs). This means that Hannibal will always be at odds with characters like Clarice, and thus always a menace.

Still -- in broad strokes -- we can see that Hannibal punishes the morally corrupt who, for one reason or another, have escaped justice. He kills all the men who murdered his sister, Misha, in Hannibal Rising, destroys corrupt figures representing authority/the establishment (Krendler, Pazzi and Dr. Chilton), punishes rudeness (Migs) and, essentially, rewards politeness.

2.) He Appreciates The Finer Things (and Admires Beauty)

Hannibal Lecter is no mad-dog killer. He boasts a keen intellect, and is thus able to contextualize himself and his life in terms of literature, music, art and history.

In Hannibal, the serial killer presents in Florence a meticulous lecture on the work and life of Dante Alighieri, for instance.

In The Silence of the Lambs, we see his beautiful paintings of Florence in his cell, too. He isn't a dabbler...he's an artist and a scholar.

Hannibal admires physical beauty as well, particularly in women such as Lady Muraski and Clarice Starling. So much so, in fact, that Lecter is unwilling to corrupt such ideal beauty with his own hand.

At the conclusion of Hannibal, the cannibal half-heartedly makes a sexual pass at Clarice (Julianne Moore), aware that she will deny him; and more so that he wants her to deny him. She represents an ideal for him: an ideal of incorruptibility. And in denying his advances, Clarice passes Hannibal's test. (This is quite different than in Harris's novel, Hannibal, by the way, wherein Clarice and Hannibal run away together...as lovers.)

It's odd to write these words of a serial killer, but Hannibal -- as a character and fright icon -- boasts clear aesthetic, intellectual and interpersonal standards, and in the tabloid, gutter culture of the 1990s (the era of The Jenny Jones Show, Ricki Lake and Jerry Springer), that was something that many people came to miss.

Also, it's critical to note here something else about Lecter's nature as a Renaissance man. Historically-speaking, the slashers of the early 1980s morphed into the rubber reality killers of the latter part of the decade: all-powerful supernatural forces like Freddy or Pinhead.

Arguably, Hannibal Lecter remains as frightening as either of those two silver screen bogeymen, yet there's an important distinction: he is grounded entirely in reality. To make Hannibal appear formidable the makers of the Lecter films (Ridley Scott, Jonathan Demme, Brett Ratner, Peter Webber) could not rely on the supernatural elements that built up Freddy, Pinhead, or even Candyman.

Instead, they presented a human character possessing full control of his psyche, in full control of his body, who -- simply put -- was smarter and more deadly than anyone else he might happen to share a room with. Hannibal is thus an unusual mixture of the best in us and the worst in human nature. He loves art and literature, but uses his knowledge of it to commit murder. He understands the human mind, yet uses that understanding to hurt others. He can paint a delicate, beautiful landscape...and then turn around and bludgeon a man to death. Hannibal is a gourmet cook...and a cannibal. He has achieved more than most men have in a lifetime...and yet Lecter is a monster.

3.) He Lets the Punishment Fit the Crime

Hannibal's moral code or sense of justice is not arbitrary or capricious. When this madman commits murder, the punishment fits the crime, at least, again, for the most part.

For instance, in Hannibal, Lecter makes certain that Inspector Francesco Pazzi (Giancarlo Giannini), -- who has accepted a three million dollar award for Hannibal's capture -- dies according to the traditional, historical method of those who have been avaricious: hanging.

Before he kills Pazzi, Hannibal informs the detective that avarice and hanging were linked in Medieval times. He then proceeds to hang poor Pazzi in the tradition of the detective's ill-fated ancestor. Hannibal then throws in a little disembowelment for good measure...

Paul's punishment -- seeing his own brain eaten -- goes back to Hannibal's considerable knowledge of Dante Aligheri. In The Inferno, in the second lowest circle of Hell, there were two men depicted there: Ugolino and Ruggiero. Ugolino was seen eating the skull of his betrayer, Ruggiero, and this ring of Hell was explicitly reserved for those guilty of treachery (against country, family, benefactors, etc.). Hannibal -- an expert in Dante -- no doubt saw Paul's betrayal of Clarice (his "kin" in the F.B.I.) as the sin for which he was to be punished. He picked a literary punishment that fit the specifics of the transgression.

In Hannibal Rising, a film which depicts Hannibal's earliest crimes, the audience sees how the serial killer develops this sense of "the punishment fitting the crime." Hannibal learns that his sister was not only killed, but eaten, and so sets about eating the men who committed this crime. It's an eye-for-an-eye punishment (or a cheek-for-a-cheek, as the case may be.)

4.) He is a Mentor (and he doesn't play favorites.)
A man of great knowledge and yes, even wisdom, Hannibal is not shy about sharing what he knows (especially if there is a "quid pro quo" that interests him). As Hannibal notes, he comes to his victims and friends both "in the guise of a mentor." 

Lecter mentors F.B.I. agents Will Graham (Ed Norton) and Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster), but then turns right around and also mentors the budding serial killer known as "The Tooth Fairy" (Ralph Fiennes) in Red Dragon. Hannibal is not confined or bound to our conventional sense of morality, and is thus a willing teacher to anyone who approaches him with respect and courtesy.

In Red Dragon and The Silence of the Lambs, intrepid F.B.I agents go before Hannibal and must lay themselves bare before his laser-like mind; before his total understanding and mastery of human psychology. They do so willingly, to catch monsters like the aforementioned "Tooth Fairy" or "Buffalo Bill," but their experience is nonetheless terrifying to those of us in the audience. As Jack Crawford insightfully warns Clarice: "you don't want Hannibal Lecter inside your head."

Amen.

So while Freddy Krueger arrives through the subconscious doorway of your dreams, Hannibal is, perhaps, equally powerful. He utilizes his uncanny, inevitably accurate, complete understanding of you -- your very identity -- against you. He gets inside your head in a different, more subversive way, perhaps.

Finally, Hannibal Lecter boasts a great, ghoulish sense of humor. Before killing you, he may ask "bowels in or bowels out?," or some such thing. Like Krueger, Lecter is an acknowledged master of the bon mot. In this case, however, the humor doesn't mitigate the terror in the slightest. When Lecter amuses himself at your expense...you're going down. Soon.

With Hannibal Lecter on the prowl, the lambs never stop screaming...