Volume CXXXII, Number 5 October 18, 2002 f

Hannibal eats his third course
MONICA GUZMAN
COLUMNIST

And so Hollywood lays another trilogy to rest. The Thomas Harris Hannibal Lecter series now lies in beds of silk and celluloid, snuggled in the comfort of great actors, great reviews, and great box-office earnings. It's all a façade, of course, but it's far better that we ignore that in the long run-it might be better that way.

Red Dragon is actually the second movie based on the first installment of Thomas Harris's Hannibal Lecter series; Michael Mann's Manhunter came out in 1986-before Silence of the Lambs. But apparently, that wasn't good enough. Hollywood didn't think it got quite as much buck for the story as it could have, and judging from the past two weekends' box office numbers, that's about right. So now they've gone and done it again-a little better this time, but messing up the whole order of the thing. Sigh.

Red Dragon is the story of Will Graham (Edward Norton), a gifted FBI agent notorious for catching the cannibalistic serial killer Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins). Will is called out of retirement to help solve the case of the so-called "tooth-fairy" killer, Francis Dolarhyde (Ralph Fiennes), a tortured man who believes he's transforming into a "Red Dragon," a powerful being inspired by a William Blake painting. Dolarhyde has brutally murdered two families in a particularly grotesque way that only Will has the imagination to understand-with a little help, or course, from his archenemy Dr. Lecter. The action and suspense only get thicker as Will's investigation progresses, finally arriving at the revolting truth about the Red Dragon.

Brett Ratner (Rush Hour, Rush Hour 2) isn't a very artistic or original director by anyone's standards, and it shows. The cinematography doesn't step too far out of the standard bounds for suspense films, and is admittedly far weaker than that of The Silence of the Lambs. But this film is phenomenal anyway; it's held up high above its director's wildest dreams by a chilling story and a magnificent cast-something Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker could never quite pull off.

That cast is led by the incredible screen presence of Anthony Hopkins, despite the fact that his role is quite small. There's something about his performance that makes it damn near impossible to imagine anyone else playing that role. He understands Hannibal better than we ever could-better, even, than Thomas Harris probably does. He has effectively become Hannibal in our eyes. He controls that character, and doesn't spare us one bit of the doctor's all-knowing persona and sinister demeanor. Ultimately perhaps, Hopkins made this retelling necessary-we had to know where it all began, and we had to know it through Anthony Hopkins.

Now Will Graham is no Clarise Starling in any way, but Ed Norton shows he's just as good as Jodie Foster (there is to be no mention of Julianne Moore here. She doesn't count, and neither does that atrocious movie). His role here is not as emotionally involved as the one that launched Jodie's adult career, but he carries the same human charisma he injects into all his characters, making Will more complex than the script made him out to be.

Ralph Fiennes, whose insistence on pronouncing his name "Rafe" never ceases to annoy me, has been to both extremes of film quality (1996 Best Picture The English Patient and 1998 Worst Picture The Avengers). But here, he manages to embody Dolarhyde's all too pathetic criminal mind with a skillful mastery of character. After all, how many other actors could make the act of eating an original William Blake painting right from the museum creepy? I don't understand what part of this requires he run around his house stark naked for a good five minutes, but I'm sure that was all Ratner's idea.

Then we come to Emily Watson, that charming actress who plays Reba McClane, the woman who falls in love with Dolarhyde. She delivers a potent performance, resisting the temptation to just play a blind woman and be done with it (a stupid Hollywood custom with many disabled characters) and giving Reba as much for us to relate to as anyone else.

Put all these actors together with a good script and a big budget and you've got yourself a winner. This film is thrilling without making you feel sick; it takes more of the psychological mind games from The Silence of the Lambs and less of the mechanical gore from that horrendous, unmentionable third installment. So now the trilogy could be put away, but heck, there's always more room for improvement. Who's up for remaking Hannibal?