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Hannibal Review: “Entrée” (Season 1, Episode 6)

Though it has spent the last five weeks filling the dreams of viewers with monstrous stags, human fungus colonies, and grotesque flayed angels (flayn-gels?), Hannibal’s consistently most disturbing imagery continues to come from one thing: food. As stomach-churning as it was to see a man impaled with the contents of half a Home Depot, or a nurse have her eyes gouged out, there was no moment quite so unnerving this week, as seeing the extreme close-up of Dr. Lecter scalping the top of a grape, exposing its juicy viscera to the world, before serving it for dessert. More than just an excuse to remind us of Hannibal’s unorthodox diet, the show’s use of food taps into a primal terror: consumption, and I don't just mean the fear of being on the dinner table, instead of at it.

Raul Esparza and Mads Mikkelson in Hannibal
It’s a less muckraking version of the con Jack pulls in Red Dragon, one of the subtler homages to Thomas Harris’ original “Hannibal” novels, in an episode that’s one big glorious homage to Silence of the Lambs. Little things, like the details in the asylum mirroring their big screen counterpart, or Hannibal making a crack about the joys of “having an old friend for dinner,” are nice little nods, but the entire episode is positively in love with the original film, as it should be. Fuller and his team have smartly held back on making the series feel too much like a prequel, counting on the strength of the weekly ghost stories and characters to carry the show, without leaning too heavily on its heritage.

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With “Entrée” though, we get to see how Hannibal will be trying to fit into the franchise’s greater mythology, first by demonstrating it can play the beats of the big screen versions with equal ability. Eddie Izzard (a Fuller alumnus, last seen in his ill-fated Munsters reboot) portrays Giddeon with many shades of the theatrical Lecter, mirroring the droll delivery of Hopkins, while looking not unlike Brian Cox. Franchise notable Dr. Chilton (Raul Esparza, another Fuller familiar) is introduced as the director of the institute, bringing the right amount of thin-bearded, Ivy League dickishness to a man who seems more interested in collecting specimens than treating patients.

Chlumsky will of course remind viewers of Clarice Starling, though her fate is something of a mini-mission statement for Hannibal’s relationship with its source material. Her assumed death, then reappearance (partial anyway) at episode’s end, indicates Hannibal will be taking the characters, and character types already established by Thomas Harris’ novels, and pushing them into new territory. Will isn’t the only one at risk of being consumed by the violence in his life; Freddie may jokingly refer to herself, Will, Jack, and Alana as psychopaths, but see varying truth in the statement. Each dedicates their lives to staring into the jaws of madness, but Will might be the sanest of the bunch for recognizing that doing so can swallow a person whole.

As usual, the show’s verbal cleverness amidst all the oppressive dread can feel a tad out of place, but the titling is spot on once more. An entrée, in the classical sense, is a dish eaten before the main course, and “Entrée” does indeed bridge many gaps, ones in character history, ones between the show and the films, and importantly, between the previously established cases-of-the-week stories, and the season’s overarching plot. Lass herself is the entrée, as the final flashback shows her getting too close to the real Chesapeake Ripper, Dr. Lecter. His history with Jack is rewritten in a flash, as is our understanding of the doctor. This is why he’s been impossible to catch: he isn’t bound by a singular M.O.. Hannibal’s methods change and evolve, and his profession makes doing so incredibly easy. What better source of new inspiration than the FBI, who weed out the unremarkable psychos, and use Will (and by proxy, Lector) when a true monster needs to be analyzed.

We’ve of course known that Hannibal’s been up to no good, but his official outing in “Entrée” paves the way for an even more exciting back half of the season. While Will continues to unravel, we now know what drives the two men pulling him from either end. Jack charges ahead bullheadedly to ignore an old wound, and now we get to see what happens when it’s reopened. Lecter, on the other hand, is a shark: a killing machine who can’t stop moving forward. Hannibal has had a remarkably solid debut, but “Entrée” reveals it’s only been chumming the waters thus far. The beast is about to be unleashed, and he looks hungry.

  • Stray Thoughts

-Huge thanks to your usual reviewer, Lisa Elin, for letting me fill in this week, as Hannibal is a hell of a lot of fun to watch, and write about.

-It’s also legitimately creepy as hell. True story: Not only have I actually had a few Hannibal influenced nightmares lately, within hours of watching last week’s episode, the first call I got at my 9-5 job was from a woman named “Angel Skinner.” I nearly ruined my office chair.

-I love Will’s spirit animal, the feathered stag, but I wonder if it needs to be brought in every episode. Its appearance felt perfunctory this week, though I wouldn’t discount the possibility of a grand reveal later down the line that proves that assumption wrong.

-Lara Jean Chorostecki always looks like she’s borrowed Scarlett Johansson’s wig from Iron Man 2, but her trip to the asylum made it look like she was stealing from Black Widow’s wardrobe too.

-If you have twitter, I implore you to follow series creator Bryan Fuller during the show’s airing, as his tweets are a treasure trove of production details. Here is the “Top 10 Sociopath Professions” list mentioned, as well as the origins of Hannibal’s artistic inspiration. I got another Red Dragon vibe off the latter.

-More inside-baseball: blog of Hannibal food stylist Janice Poon, who deserves credit akin to what Janie Bryant receives for costuming on Mad Men.

-While I’m being effusive, the sound design on the show is top-notch. Continued, low, reverberating white noise will unnerve an audience far more effectively than the occasional flare of orchestral strings.