Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on February 7, 2001, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
It’s likely that never in the history of cinema have audiences wanted a serial killer to catch up with his prime female target than they will when they sit down to see Hannibal. For all of its many chilling and dramatic qualities, what made The Silence of the Lambs truly memorable was the relationship between Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins) and Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster), a twisted sort of courtship that worked because the characters were so well-thought-out and performed, and because it was so unlike traditional thriller presentations of pursuer and pursued. Ridley Scott’s sequel has many strengths and is an engrossing experience, but for the most part, it lacks the personal connection between Lecter and Clarice that vaulted the original to classic status.
As the title suggests, this is really Lecter’s story and not that of Clarice (now played by Julianne Moore)—a quid pro quo of sorts, considering that the cannibalistic killer’s screen time in Silence only amounted to about 20 minutes. (And even here, he doesn’t make an onscreen appearance—outside of quick flashbacks—until the half-hour mark.) No longer the captive he was before, Lecter is now living a cultured life in Florence, Italy, where he’s adopted the name “Dr. Fell” and taken over running an art library in the (mysterious) absence of its previous curator.
The change of scene allows Scott and scripters David Mamet and Steven Zaillian (once again working from a Thomas Harris novel) to give the movie a very different look and tone from Silence; as opposed to that film’s claustrophobic and drab world of basements, dungeons and lower-class dwellings, Hannibal is drenched in opulence, not only in Florence but in the mansion of Mason Verger (Gary Oldman, uncredited until the final titles). Lecter’s only surviving victim, albeit horribly disfigured, Verger has long sought vengeance, and when he sees a news report of Clarice coming under fire following a drug raid gone sour, he begins to see a way to lure Lecter out of hiding.
Scott socks us with graphic close-ups of Verger’s mangled face (excellent makeup by Greg Cannom) right away, perhaps to allow us to get used to it and focus on his character, which has become almost as twisted as Lecter’s. But he’s not quite presented as a villain—his twisted goals are understandable, if extreme—and with Lecter and Clarice separated for so long, her main adversaries are FBI higher-ups and a Justice Department creep (Ray Liotta) who seek to scapegoat her for the botched raid. This material is not as compelling as Clarice’s hunt for Buffalo Bill in Silence; fortunately, Hannibal does come up with a strong subplot to compensate. It involves an Italian police inspector named Pazzi (Giancarlo Giannini), who is investigating the disappearance of “Fell’s” predecessor and chances onto evidence of Lecter’s true identity. But with a new young wife accustomed to the finer things, he withholds the information from his co-workers, and instead seeks to claim a $3-million reward offered by Verger. Needless to say, no good comes of this—but it does provide a fine showcase for Giannini, who commands the screen with his best performance yet in an English-language film.
A few of the scenes between Pazzi and Lecter, whom the inspector has clearly underestimated, approach the mesmerizing quality of the Lecter/Clarice byplay from Silence, and Hopkins shines throughout, effortlessly stepping back into the persona of a cultured, erudite man who is also capable of the most brutal savagery. Moore, faced with the challenge of both reprising and updating Foster’s characterization, adopts Clarice’s accent and attitude with ease and cuts a strong impression, making it more the pity that her character is mostly reactive rather than active this time. Liotta is effectively slimy, though his lines are a tad overwritten, while Oldman’s Verger is compellingly perverse.
It is when Verger approaches the realization of his revenge that Scott and co. pull the stops out. While there are a few strong and shocking moments along the way, most of the film plays as what is referred to in the book trade as an “international thriller,” Verger’s grotesque appearance notwithstanding. Only in the final reels does Hannibal move decisively into horror territory, with a pair of Grand Guignol setpieces that are both squirmingly intense and blackly humorous in the extremes they go to. That these outrageous events feel of a piece with the rest of the movie is a credit to the filmmakers, who have also changed the ending from Harris’ novel. Not to give too much away, but the new conclusion leaves every door open for Lecter and Clarice to continue their darkly seductive relationship—one that Harris and any future filmmakers would do well to remember is the true appeal of this ongoing story.
