Hannibal by Jonny Numb

File Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal under “hot TV shows I got around to years after they were canceled.” See also: “what I get at 2^nd & Charles when I’ve got a ton of credit to burn.” I don’t watch much “regular” TV anymore, so most of my small-screen viewing comes via a handful of apps or physical media. Used bins remain great sources of low-risk and -cost DVDs and Blu-rays.

Though I’d heard good things about this spin on iconic villain Hannibal Lecter (played by Mads Mikkelsen), the premise left me unenthused: “here we go again – another ‘reboot’ of an instantly-recognizable character, because Hollywood is out of ideas.”

Some of my preemptive feelings could be attributed to the show’s three-season run on NBC, and the content limitations of network television. While the film adaptations of Thomas Harris’ Lecter novels were unencumbered by such limitations in their time, TV was also a different landscape when Hannibal Rising made its theatrical bow in 2007.

 

Appetizing Vision

In Season 1, we’re introduced to a familiar cast of characters: Will Graham (Hugh Dancy); Jack Crawford (Laurence Fishburne); and, of course, the titular cannibal-slash-renowned psychiatrist. While these characters have previously been essayed by a wide range of actors (William Petersen and Edward Norton for Graham; Scott Glenn and Harvey Keitel for Crawford; Brian Cox and Anthony Hopkins for the elder Lecter), the new cast puts a fresh spin on their roles.

Within a few episodes, it becomes clear that Fuller is immensely interested in these characters and recognizes their place in the pop-culture pantheon. That said, he isn’t interested in subjecting them to the same old motions.

In other words: Hannibal isn’t a slavish rehash of familiar beats. Not entirely, anyway.

 

The Main Course

The aesthetic of Hannibal is a key factor in its success: the attention to visuals is slick and richly textured (with an affinity for dark hues that merge into shadows), and underlines Lecter’s pristine approach to food, wardrobe, intellectual curiosity and effortless manipulation.

Adding to the decadence is Mikkelsen’s depiction of the good doctor. While Lecter’s initial appearance is jarring, the end of the pilot had me hooked on this incarnation. As the series progresses, it becomes clear that the actor has his own unique take on Lecter, and the result is as endearing as it is shocking.

Despite Mikkelsen being the fourth actor to embody the cannibalistic genius, it’s worth mentioning the screen time he occupies in comparison to his forebears. In Michael Mann’s Manhunter (an adaptation of Harris’ Red Dragon), Brian Cox depicted Lecter for several scenes; Hopkins had the longest tenure, playing the character in 3 feature films; and Gaspard Ulliel tried his hand at a much younger incarnation in the misbegotten origin story, Hannibal Rising.

While Hopkins’ portrayal has long been considered the definitive Hannibal Lecter, this notion began to slip a bit with Ridley Scott’s darkly cheeky Hannibal in 2001. But the actor reached camp-caricature status by the time the star-studded yet gratuitous redux of Red Dragon hit theaters in 2002.

Taking this into consideration, how could Mikkelsen possibly maintain a character like Lecter, whose thorny and ambiguous approach to reality could easily fall into scenery-chewing self-parody?

 

Time Out of Mind

To that point, I reiterate my thesis: Fuller understands these characters, and isn’t afraid to occupy their headspace, no matter how unpleasant that may be.

Dancy’s Graham is a far cry from Petersen and Norton. Over the course of the first two seasons, he’s a nervous wreck who always seems on the razored edge of a breakdown, plagued by nightmares, guilt and the notion that he’s unable to trust himself…let alone those surrounding him.

In the early going, I wasn’t sure how Hannibal would play out – a “mystery per episode” approach, or a continuing storyline?

The shockingly gorgeous serial-killer tableaux that serve as centerpieces for the first season turn out to be interconnected. However, we don’t realize this until we’re in the thick of the series and immersed in the knowledge that Fuller is playing the long game with his characters.

Motivation changes. Alliances shift. Years pass. The writing team plays with the notion of time as an eraser/amplifier, paralleling it to the longstanding effects of psychological influence.

 

Blood Brothers

The opening-credits sequence depicts blood droplets coagulating into a man’s face, set against a pristine, bright-white background. In some ways, the attention to blood spatter – and the depiction of the titular character as constantly avoiding apprehension – recalls Dexter.

Unlike Showtime’s long-running series (and its impending revival), Hannibal is a confluence of shifting morality and sympathy. Furthermore, the show creates an impishly unreliable contract with the viewer – neither Graham nor Crawford are completely innocent; nor is Hannibal without agreeable moments.

For as much as certain improbabilities nagged me (for starters, how could so many people see the same psychiatrist without some obvious conflict of interest?), I came to appreciate them as subtle signifiers of Hannibal’s nonchalant approach to psychological corruption. Even when committing unexpected acts of violence, Mikkelsen remains understated, exuding nuance and charm.

To be fair, Dexter subsisted on improbability for most of its run, banking on the titular character’s paradoxically endearing nature to keep viewers on the hook. But whereas that show was an unabashed pulp effort from the get-go (amplified by guest spots from Jimmy Smits, John Lithgow and Charlotte Rampling, among others), Hannibal embraces unpredictability, consistently throwing us out of our moral comfort zone. Dexter approached its seasonal arcs from a place of viewer expectation; Hannibal keeps us watching in anticipation of being jolted into a psychologically murky place.

 

Something Old, Something New

By sheer virtue of their volume at this point, there are a lot of good remakes (horror and otherwise) out there. The best of these understand that a well-known title is not a guarantee of critical or commercial success. However, expanding upon an established mythology without fear of reprisal tends to result in something fresh and complementary to its source.

Such is the case with Hannibal. Arguably more violent and grisly in its details than any of its R-rated cinematic forebears, there is a shrewd elegance and artistry to its carnage. When the blood flows, it’s as operatic and grandstanding as the impossibly perfect dishes Hannibal curates for dinner-party guests.

By focusing on the Hitcher­-esque relationship between Graham and Lecter, the show conveys psychological depth in unsuspecting ways. For instance, several disorienting episodes at the beginning of Season 3 take place in the minds of our main characters, converging in what Lecter calls “[a] memory palace.”

But Fuller and his writers know how to weave new threads and characters into canonical passages. The disemboweling setpiece from Scott’s Hannibal is replicated here, albeit in service to a different narrative trajectory. In Season 3, Francis Dolarhyde (Richard Armitage – The Lodge) enters the plot as the mythical Red Dragon.

Characters like Dr. Chilton (Raul Esparza) and Mason Verger (Michael Pitt and Joe Anderson) are also peppered throughout the seasons. Esparza and Pitt/Anderson bring a sick gallows humor to their appearances, with the latter duo (Pitt plays the pre-deformed incarnation of Verger) pushing the material in queasily perverse directions. Despite Hannibal’s dubious morality, there are always characters willing to up the ante to the point where he appears innocent – or at least sympathetic – by comparison.

 

Abnormal Social Norms

Dr. Alana Bloom (Caroline Dhavernas) begins the series as Graham’s potential love interest, but transforms into something else. As does Margot Verger (Katharine Isabelle), who is a prisoner of brother Mason’s psychotic whims and desire to sire an heir. Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier (Gillian Anderson) embodies a clinical coldness and psychological ambivalence that makes her role as Lecter’s therapist alternately fascinating and maddening.

By creating a world that treats abnormality as a social norm – everyone is damaged in some way, with mental scars being the most difficult to conquer – Hannibal becomes a show where the viewer soaks up said abnormality like a sponge.

The writing is subtly aware of life’s cruel ironies. After being burned or shot or otherwise sliced open, characters re-emerge diminished, yet alive. While these elements push the material into the realm of the fantastical, they are nonetheless presented with a conviction that’s easy to swallow. (And besides, the characters who disappear and reappear – like Freddie Lounds (Laura Jean Chrostecki) – are a lot of fun to watch.) The notion of death as a merciful release from life becomes ever crueler the more the cast is made to suffer (or perpetuate suffering).

 

The Greatest Paradox

In an extension of Fuller’s understanding of these characters, he also comes across as a scholar of the elements that made most of the Lecter films work so well. If you look closely, you can see the broader thematic and aesthetic elements at work.

Per Mann’s oeuvre, Manhunter was consumed with procedural detail in Graham’s efforts to apprehend Dolarhyde. In Jonathan Demme’s adaptation of The Silence of the Lambs, we dug into the psychological scars of Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) via Dr. Lecter’s manipulative guidance. In Scott’s Hannibal, much of the psychology of Silence was jettisoned to focus on a tale of the fugitive cannibal’s love of artwork and culture, using audio-visual cues to create a detailed portrait of a complex monster. And while Peter Webber’s Hannibal Rising was doomed from the start by trying to unmask the enigmatic character, Fuller clearly pulled influence from its slickly beautiful visual aesthetic.

If Hannibal hits a snag, it’s in the progression of its third and final season. The Dolarhyde storyline hews too closely to the events of Red Dragon, and while Fuller has some interesting – if not entirely successful – visual tricks to convey the character’s transformation, most of the differences are surface-level. That said, the final episodes connect Dolarhyde’s arc nicely to Graham and Lecter’s own transformations, and the series ends on a poignant note.

Hannibal’s greatest paradox is how it manages to find a harmonious balance among so many volatile elements. Despite the challenges inherent to maintaining a TV show’s freshness – especially those that run beyond a single season – Fuller and his writers utilize creative methods to make the long game play out in satisfying and surprising ways.