Hannibal Review
By Joe Lozito
"Hannibal" Lacks Bite
Like the film adaptation of "American Psycho", the only thing that "Hannibal" proves is that the novel on which it is based is sorely lacking. In fact, the third entry in Thomas Harris' Hannibal Lecter series (behind 1986's "Manhunter" and 1991's infinitely superior "The Silence of the Lambs") adds almost nothing to the characters of serial killer Hannibal Lecter or FBI agent Clarice Starling, the role Jodie Foster made famous, which is this time innocuously inhabited by Julianne Moore.
Instead, shock novel that it is, "Hannibal" is more interested in over-the-top gross-outs, the embodiment of which is the character of Mason Verger (Gary Oldman, once again working under layers of laytex), Hannibal's only living victim. It seems that the unexplainably wealthy and violently deformed Mr. Verger has dedicated his existence to tracking down his assailant and serving him to a specially bred pack of wild, flesh-eating pigs. No, really.
There is a strange, ill-defined morality floating around Hannibal Lecter. Ostensibly, he only likes to eat people who are "rude". But he is also seen attacking a nurse who is simply doing her job. Since Lector is played by the silken-voiced Anthony Hopkins, delivering a sly wink at the end of every line, and since agent Starling is relegated to an insulting, rehashed sexism-in-the-FBI routine, the audience is left with only Lector to root for.
Director Ridley Scott, who has been inconsistent of late, breaks no new ground here. The film's few action sequences - particularly a frustrating FBI raid early on - are filmed with the jerky shaky-cam of his "Gladiator", and the FBI scenes strangely lack tone. The best part of the film takes place in Florence as Hannibal is tracked by an over-zealous Italian detective. Mr. Scott films these segments with the elegant sheen of "The Talent Mr. Ripley", but it would be difficult to mess up Florence.
These scenes give a glimpse of what the film could have been. It's no wonder that Jodie Foster refused to participate in the film. Ms. Moore is given nothing to do, but she does hold her own with a daunting role. Of course, Mr. Hopkins has all the good lines, and he eats them with relish (or perhaps a fine Chianti). The writers David Mamet and Steven Zaillian obviously tried to harvest the best pieces from Mr. Harris' novel. Unfortunately, there weren't enough to sustain a whole movie.
