Review of Hannibal (2001) by Filmclub — 26 Mar 2016

Ten years and a week after Hannibal Lecter was last seen sauntering off for a meal, he’s back, his enthusiastic eating habits quite intact. The public will likewise exhibit a ravenous appetite for the continuing saga of one of contemporary literature and cinema’s most fascinating villains, as played once again with exquisite taste and riveting force by Anthony Hopkins. Although “Hannibal” lacks several elements that made its predecessor, the Oscar-winning “The Silence of the Lambs,” so powerful — the surprise transformation of serial killer pulp fiction into a legitimate quality film, ever-escalating narrative tension and breathless encounters between the imprisoned Lecter and young FBI agent Clarice Starling, then but no longer played by Jodie Foster — “Hannibal” still delivers most of the desired goods.

“Hannibal” is not as good as “Lambs”; as with Thomas Harris’ initially mesmerizing 1999 bestseller, the film reaches its peak in the Italian-set second act, becoming more routine in plotting and execution after that. Furthermore, Ridley Scott’s opulent, impressionistic direction, while striking on its own terms, doesn’t lend itself to the sort of sustained creepiness and complex character interplay delivered by Jonathan Demme’s carefully tooled craftsmanship.

Ultimately more shallow and crass at its heart than its predecessor, “Hannibal” is nevertheless tantalizing, engrossing and occasionally startling. Contrary to expectations given the possibilities offered by the book, the film is not terribly bloody and is gruesome only where it means to be. Just as Scott refrained from graphic displays of spurting blood and severed limbs in “Gladiator,” so here does he exhibit discretion by downplaying the overt gore, even if it’s always clear what’s going on.

As penned by David Mamet, then by Steven Zaillian, script is, for better or worse, quite faithful to the Harris blueprint; fans of the tome may regret the perhaps necessary excision of some characters, most notably that of Mason Verger’s muscle-bound macho sister Margot, as well as of the considerable fascinating academic detail, but will basically feel the book has been respected (yes, even the climactic dinner party is served up intact, with the only surprise twists saved for its wake).

As Starling, Moore acquits herself solidly in circumstances that don’t allow the sort of psychological revelations and heavy confrontations that Foster made the most of in “Lambs.” Although she gets considerable screen time, Starling is not quite as central here as she was in the previous picture, and the character spends a good deal of time being reprimanded and frustrated by her superiors. All the same, it would seem that Foster made a big mistake in turning down the reprise, as she could certainly now use the sort of hit “Hannibal” promises to be.

Supporting perfs are what they need to be, if one-dimensional. Big “secret,” given that his name appears nowhere in the front credits or in the final cast list, is that the faceless Mason Verger is played by Gary Oldman. Thesp’s involvement is only suggested by a mysterious “assistant to Gary Oldman” credit deep in the end crawl, and performance is one of those odd stunts that comes off; the character is so strangely deranged that to root for him against Lecter, no matter how heinous the latter may be, is utterly impossible.

Visually, Ridley Scott is clearly now in his Blue Period, as he and “Gladiator” lenser John Mathieson bathe the action in seas of blue light whenever possible. Spectacular locations, not only in Florence but at the ornate Biltmore Estate in North Carolina (as Verger’s palatial domicile) and James Madison’s former estate in Montpelier, Va., are abetted by Norris Spencer’s high-end production design and Janty Yates’ apt costumes. Pietro Scalia’s editing is expert, while Hans Zimmer’s effective score is dominated, in the end, by an original opera duet written by Patrick Cassidy.