Hannibal

Review cont.

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Steven Zaillian's screenplay successfully streamlines Harris' episodic, heavily populated narrative into two brisk parallel plotlines: one detailing the plan of a crooked Italian cop (Giancarlo Giannini) to entrap Lecter for a handsome bounty; the other a disgraced Starling (Julianne Moore) and her lonely pursuit of Lecter through the electronic black market after being dismissed from the force after a botched raid. Gone are Lecter's hallucinatory "dream palaces" (too bad) and too-pat family back story (good riddance), and of course, the controversial coda in which Starling and Lecter become jet-setting, flesh-eating fugitives. But the rest of the novel IS there, and many of the elements have been improved in their translation to the screen: especially the handling of the wretched Lecter victim/wealthy pederast Mason Verger and his dubious scheme to enact vengeance upon the elusive doctor.

As embodied by an uncredited and unrecognizable Gary Oldman, Verger is a bitchy, apple-head doll wisely played for uncomfortable laughs and envisioned in the bright, unflattering light as a cadaverous ghoul on which bratty Scott loves to linger in extreme close up. At times, he resembled to me one of Michael Jackson's many "icognito" disguises, the grandpa from Tobe Hooper's "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre", and even Joe Flaherty's Guy Caballero from "SCTV" (who used his wheelchair to command "respect").

As well, the novel's "plot", that is, Verger's convoluted plan to feed Lecter to man-eating pigs, is set up to be as silly and doomed as any Guy Ritchie-penned heist (interesting that "Snatch" features carnivorous hogs as well!). It's all as gloriously outrageous and as operatic as the Dante performances and lurid crucifixion art Hannibal himself savors.

Hopkins DOES deliver what the audience demands in reviving his slightly-hammy blend of aesthete charm and preening malevolence (ever the film encyclopedia, I thought I saw a little of Chaplin's charming murderer, "Mr. Verdoux", sprinkled into the performance as well). As for Julianne Moore--I'm sure that by the end of her thrilling introductory scene, any difficulty in accepting her in Jodie Foster's shoes will be extinguished. Moore brings a hardened weariness and athletic physicality to the role in this more action-driven approach that I'm not sure Foster could have (she even simulates Foster's accent perfectly).

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As expected, Scott's lighting and compositions are immaculate (the refined Dr. Lecter, I'm sure, would approve of his latest screen tribute on a purely aesthetic level). Scott is the kind of director who doesn't merely just set up a shot and smoke a set, he builds entire worlds from the inside out, and the contrasts in environments--from ornate Florentine architecture to dingy FBI basements to stark Midwestern landscapes--perfectly complement the story's potentially jarring changes in tone.

As slick as one of Scott Free Productions' perfume ads, but as sick as Hooper's "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre ", "Hannibal" is surely the most macabre mainstream film to come out of the Hollywood system in a long time, and is a welcome response to the current crop of TV-friendly excuses for "romantic" fare such as "The Wedding Planner" and "Head Over Heels". In a perverse way, it's truer to the spirit of the Valentine season than those other titles--for the sleeping romantic in me, Jennifer Lopez' pratfalls can't possibly compete with Hannibal's ultimate gesture of unrequited love... made with the aid of a meat cleaver.

- RobertL

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