Hannibal
Written by David Mamet and Steven Zaillain
Directed by Ridley Scott
Starring: Julianne Moore, Anthony Hopkins, Giancarlo
Giannini, Gary Oldman, Ray Liotta.
(now playing at theaters accessible to all -
ie - multiplexes)
* * *
(Three Stars)
Hating a film based upon public over-exposure and
disliking a film on the grounds that you saw it and weren't able to enjoy
it are two very different brands of critique. I have certainly been guilty
of the former, tend to think myself more capable of the latter and often
find myself in the throes of a bit of both. Nevertheless, I ponder on how
a wide array of folk could hate films that make oodles of cash. (Last projected
figure on the mediocre reviewed, word-of-mouth sunken Hannibal
:
$142.8 million in 4 weeks of release).
Scribes Mamet and Zaillain
have replaced the flat-toned crime drama aped in Silence of the Lambs
(almost directly from Michael Mann's vivid tone in Manhunter)
with a booming, full-bodied operatic hue, something colorful and provocative
to rise to the spectacle people love to criticize and belittle. Instead
of conservative gray days and messy houses concealing subversive dungeons,
we have sunny, well lit days and magical, starry nights where torches burn
in Italy and the Capitol building in Washington, D.C. looks like a sparkling
sphere. Ridley Scott commands a budding energy, unlike Jonathan Demme,
who made Silence of the Lambs very textual and engaging. Here, characters
are in less of a cat-and-mouse maze than a 'Where in the World is Carmen
Sandiego?' continent hop where having a map won't do you any good, but
tracing everything on high tech gadgetry will get you within inches of
the highbrow killer Hannibal Lecter (once again brought to an boil by Anthony
Hopkins, who, I don't even need to mention, steals and devours every scene
he's in). Essentially, Hannibal is a twisted, almost borderline
taboo jolt of pure guilty pleasure. We take supreme pleasure in the bloody,
grisly guilt of the film's world.
The actors are playing up
a different brand of candor with Hannibal being given the chance to fantasize
and live out his legend beyond our imagination. This would have failed
had the writers, the source material (by Thomas Harris) and the filmmakers
not given Hannibal some interesting moves of his own to sharpen. Skeptics
who dismiss Julianne Moore as simply not being Jodie Foster, miss the skill
in how she appropriates a thoroughly disliked Clarice Sterling who isn't
afraid of evil because she finds it to be a turn-on. Sexy, but equally
discreet when brandishing emotion, Moore immediately distances us from
the gender less dark side Foster won an Oscar for. So, too, does the film
distance us from the world of The Silence of the Lambs that supporting
characters - like an Italian detective (Giannini) and a faceless, wealthy
child molester (Oldman, in yet
another cruel, stunning performance) - start
to take on a much less disturbing life of their own, opting instead for
a direct confrontation of motives that doesn't require quite as much detective
work that was a large part of the fun in Silence of the Lambs. This
is by no means a flaw. We love watching Oldman's antics and enjoy the predicament
of Giannini, who is given a role of naiveté so staggering, we are
invited to thumb our noses down at him along with Clarice. The thoroughly
wicked FBI higher-up dripping from actor Ray Liotta doesn't hurt, either.
Hannibal gives us a ton of supporting characters who are dangerous
and simply not very bright. Strategically placing them in Hannibal's and
Clarice's paths gives the two leads a sense of intelligence, a fine-tuned
superiority that is immensely satisfying.
And following in the surprising
order, whereas most films find their second half lagging in comparison
to the first half, Hannibal saves its best sequences for the last
hour. (Of course, a stationery shot of Hopkins' head could have outweighed
the ridiculous drug bust which takes place in the opening moments, a plot
device so obvious and blinding, you almost need a pair of sunglasses to
filter it out). I won't ruin the better scenes. They involve the Italian
cop and Hannibal's notoriously appealing trait. This is a film that, if
you get annoyed at how shaky it starts probably won't do much for you even
as it pulls out all the stops. Part of the problem is pacing, a flaw Ridley
Scott is no stranger to (anybody see Gladiator, a film that all
but dies about half way through, only to be resurrected in its closing
twenty minutes). I urge you to see it, bear with the first thirty or forty
minutes - which aren't entirely bad, but lack the chilling giggles of the
closing hour and change.
In Hannibal, instead
of asking the audience to suspend disbelief, Ridley Scott using a technique
most popular in Scooby Doo cartoons. Instead of capturing the bad guy in
the elaborate trap which Fred, Dafne and Velma plan, Scooby inadvertently
bungles the set-up but captures the bad guy through an improvised means.
So, too, does this film show us what we want to see, changing the moment
by using techniques both appropriated from the Hannibal character and invented
for this film. (For example, the closing scene is surreal and gory - but
it has a certain context that we believe.) 'Hannibal' isn't an unconventional
machine so much as it adds style to what we expect, defying the gigantic
hopes and dreams of an audience of people who, for some reason, are programmed
to hate what is popular. Why is that, I wonder?
home
2001