Watching „Hannibal“: about cannibalism and flirting with the „absolute“

I know I am writing a lot lately – just in case anybody is reading this still – but there were a lot of “scraps” and loose ends left over from my reading which I had to deal with. There are still at least two of them, and there will probably still be more “falling out”. But there was a lot of new reading going on lately as well, and there is something obviously more pressing than everything else because I was so much surprised by it. It was how I discovered “Hannibal”. The tv series, as usual, not the books, and the reason for it is rather obvious in my case: I discovered that Richard Armitage had played the “Tooth-Fairy” in the third part of this series. I must admit that I was, to say the least, startled to come across him again as a psychotic serial killer in a horror series, and, for maybe five minutes, I thought: There is no way I am going to watch THIS! But the unpleasant feeling lasted about a quarter of an hour, then curiosity got the better of me. I might have remembered that I usually “reward” actors for surprising me. And there was another reason for looking forward to buying the third series as soon as possible after I returned from my short holiday, which was to see Mads Mikkelsen as Hannibal Lecter. I had liked him immensely as Michael Kohlhaas in the film with the same title from 2013 where he left the audience in no doubt about how inhuman (and human at the same time) it is to seek justice AT ALL COSTS. But when he finally convinced me of being one of the most significant actors of our time was last year in a really kinky Danish film where he played a man who was 11 percent bull. I don’t remember the title of the film, and I won’t buy it because it was rather disgusting as such, but the way he played this I almost think he aimed precisely at the 11 percent. Of course he must be the perfect choice for playing Hannibal Lecter!

So I had certain notions regarding the series, apart from a vague expectation of being surprised, and couldn’t wait to buy it. What I certainly didn’t expect was to be entertained and thrilled by it almost from the first minute I watched it. I don’t think it took me the complete first episode to understand that this wasn’t the type of horror I loathe, which aims at torturing my nervous and “moral” system and leaving me in a queasy and disturbed state. This, until now, hasn’t happened ONCE. I could even safely eat my supper watching the second episode as I am used to. Instead they constantly surprised and elated me with beautiful images of not only, but of course as well, rather disturbing matter. And with the most incredible shots of “still life” and interiors which I probably ever saw. So, this wasn’t “about” what I thought it would be. It wasn’t about the kind of horror destined to jar my nerves and of which I could never understand why people would concern themselves with. So, it had to be the other, more intelligent kind, destined to “jar” my moral system and point out to me that my concerns about the value of human life and the immorality of killing, and my notions about love and human relationships, and so on can be questioned. And maybe it is, but this is obviously not the main objective of the series. I tolerate this kind rather better than the first one, but it gets boring very fast. And I wasn’t bored. On the contrary, I remained “thrilled” by what I saw, and the only thing that put me off was the dialogue. I didn’t like the way people talked, and I didn’t understand what they were talking about. Which was, of course, partly because I haven’t seen the first and second series. But I think not only because of this. It was the kind of talk that would never “go anywhere” – there would be no real answers to any of the questions which could be raised in this abnormal context. But you understand THAT they have to be raised. - So, it isn’t really “about” this either. Of course it is about a lot of things, but in my opinion it isn’t even a good “thriller” (or thrillers, as there are at least two stories completed in the series) because I was never really surprised or startled by anything that happened, even the great “finale” was very much what I would have expected. Suspense wasn’t a big issue either, at least not for me. But if it isn’t about all this - WHAT is it about? Because, as thrilled as I might have been by the beauty of it, this wouldn’t have lasted. Even concerning people I tend to notice the “content” before I even notice the beauty – consciously, at least. So, for me, without any relevant content there is no beauty, and there is no thrill either. And, consciously, I was still of the opinion that, for me, cannibalism was a subject even slightly more irrelevant than football. Well, I was probably wrong about this …

(And, of course, now that I have seen most of it, I am very pleased with Richard Armitage’s performance. I say “of course” but I always entertain the possibility of being disappointed, in this case because I usually find psychotic serial killers boring. Probably because I don’t understand them, and don’t want to. I don’t understand Francis Dolarhyde either, nor do I want to, but there is in fact something fascinating in the experience of watching a psychotic serial killer if it is done as well as in this case. Something that, from the point of view of the actor, must be a great challenge and really interesting to play. It is that you always somehow have to see and feel, respectively to express, the POTENTIAL which is in him. That there is something that MUST come out … It is the kind of thing where acting really gets relevant, and, I suppose, rewarding. Where it is not just duplicating real life situations. And this I have never before seen to be done so convincingly. Though my experience with serial killers is paltry, like everybody who goes to the cinema once a month, I have come across a few of them – all of which I found quite easy to forget obviously (with the exception of a rather unpleasant memory of the “original” Hannibal Lecter by Antony Hopkins). And then, in this case, there is this kind of metamorphosis from the “shy boy” - who is somehow still present “within” the bulky, threatening male - to the “great red dragon” which is extremely dynamic. And I loved the way they used the “complete” actor, not just parts, as his face, voice etc., which is not often done in this way in films. They used everything that can be made part of an artistic performance, especially his body and physical strength, and that gives him a much greater range of possibilities to express the content so convincingly. And, on the other hand, his empathy for the character as well, which is always there, in his case, I think. But you have to give an actor the opportunity to express it. So, in one word: Striking!)

I developed a theory surprisingly early on what “the whole thing” might be about, for me, based on what kinds of observations I came across watching it. And it is a theory that can never be “proved” – even less than usual - because it isn’t based on understanding but on the way metaphors work. As, if I enjoy watching this so much, there must be a reason, or at least a pretext, for concerning myself with cannibalism. Or at least for tolerating people to talk about it as if it was some kind of “human” activity without constantly thinking of them as completely insane … And I found a clue for the relevance of cannibalism even within “our” cultural practice which certainly isn’t the only one but the most obvious. It came to me because certain people in the series get so much involved with Hannibal Lecter that they take into account and persist in the thought that they might be killed and eaten by him, even in a way, may consider this to be their destiny - or maybe even the way they want to end? And that there might be some kind of communication and even a deep relationship possible with this “monster”. And this is somehow different from trying to understand how Hannibal Lecter’s mind and emotions work – if he has any. Of course he has! – but I don’t even care to think that Mads Mikkelsen really “understands” him, that is: in an emphatic sense. (Though I know next to nothing about “extreme” acting, and never will understand it anyway.) But the possibility of being eaten or being able to give up yourself to such a degree as to consider it some kind of communion … oh, great, I UNCONSCIOUSLY used this word! Because this is exactly what happened when I brought myself to consider this possibility. Being brought up as a catholic I certainly always dodged the metaphor, as, I think, probably more than 99 percent of the contemporary disciples of Jesus have done as well. But, maybe even hearing it regularly at mass, you still keep it somewhere in the back of your mind, quite overgrown by the constant talk about love, and goodness, and peace, and how everybody is your brother and sister and so on … But if my theory, which suddenly sprung up when watching “Hannibal”, about why Jesus (or his biographer) used exactly these words – that he wanted his disciples to eat his flesh and drink his blood and remember him by it – is correct he was much more of a genius than I gave him credit for. As I said: this constant talk about love doesn’t only get boring and empty very fast but is apt to delude us about how gritty his message to us really is. If he hadn’t used this metaphor – unlike in the series, noBODY actually gets eaten! – but said that he loved them all very much, and asked them to remember him, they probably would have done so until the end of their days, but that would have been it. To found a religion supposed to last 2000 years, going on 3000, you definitely need something stronger. And, for one thing, being eaten by somebody (in particular if you are still alive!) is certainly the closest contact you will ever have with them. You may be forgotten by all your loved ones, if they live long enough, but they would never forget you in a million years if they partook in that meal!

By these remarks I don’t want to pretend in any way that, understanding this, I understand the series any better. But I think I understand at least that understanding, in this context, might not just be overrated but partly defeats the purpose. Not unlike the disciples of Jesus I content myself with watching and “worshipping” – most of the time, although I had quite often some cutting remark in the back of my head, probably as a kind of rope to bring me back to sanity. And the meditative pace that is kept throughout, even when things are getting “ugly”, proves me right, I think, as to what this series might be about. Like some of “our” spiritual practice, and even more some of our literary and artistic practice, maybe especially some of the horror I don’t deign to acknowledge, it is about PLAYING WITH THE ABSOLUTE. Which, as it is absolute and we live in a relative world, we will never be able to understand anyway. But the PRACTICE kind of keeps it alive in us, as one of the most interesting possibilities we have to get “beyond” ourselves. To transcend this life in the direction of “something else”. Which is probably the motivation behind Hannibal supporting the metamorphosis of the Red Dragon, instead of helping to catch him. To see HOW FAR this will get him. - But of course I don’t have any expectations FOR ME to “get somewhere” with this. (Same as I will probably never “get anywhere” shooting my bow. I just love it, and like to practice.) Not taking it too seriously is even exactly the point of the exercise. If I had to, I’d choose the life of the blind woman who gets involved with the Red Dragon, and escapes from this relationship alive and “in one piece”, a hundred times over that of Will Graham and the privilege of dying with Hannibal Lecter. But watching “Hannibal” reminds me very pleasantly every time HOW MUCH I like to practice.