Characters in “Hannibal”: about the benefit of the doubt

There are still two categories missing that I became aware of, and that have to come into any reading-process because they are basic categories for making sense of any fictional text: CHARACTERS and STORY. And at least I feel that they should come FIRST, probably not before “genre” and “performing artists”, which, in the first place, are categories for selecting texts for reading, but certainly before “aesthetics”, “ethics”, and “humour” because these categories can only be used if we have understood what the whole thing is about, or think we have. But of course it isn’t like this. Usually all these categories are probably applied at the same time – though this theory might literally be as false as the supposition that we need to understand what a text is about before we can see its beauty, or what the characters are about before we can have an ethical reaction to them. But this is kind of like the never-ending discussion about the hen and the egg, and I have found a better way to express what I mean, and which was something I definitely noticed as exceptional in this case, and as an aspect of playfulness, or deliberation, of my reading. I realized that I shifted my FOCUS several times. And I think it became obvious already that, in the beginning, I didn’t have – or didn’t WANT to have – my focus on the characters. Which is where it usually is, first and foremost. On the characters, NOT on the story. So I kind of moved away from the characters – or rather: removed them from me. And I moved about in other ways as well, as I have described already. For example from horror to beauty, or from ethical concerns to questions about art. In a way, I made a lot of compartments into which I kind of shoved things in order to deal with them later. In this case, it proved a great technique of reading – not least because I actually did deal with them LATER. And it became especially important where the characters are concerned.

On the other hand, it is typical for me not to make up my mind about a text, or characters, in the beginning of my reading. I was fascinated by my friend telling me that she stopped watching something after twenty minutes, or even five minutes. I could never do something like this! If anything, I am the other extreme, watching everything twice, even, usually, if I thought it wasn’t worth watching. The most interesting example of this kind I remember happened just recently when I watched “Parade’s End” and found it boring and flat FROM BEGINNING TO END. And I still didn’t give up because I kind of knew that I couldn’t be right about this. Maybe I was just not in the right mood for watching it…? It cannot be that I disliked it completely, but the only thing I actually remember about watching it for the first time is being amused and fascinated by Benedict Cumberbatch acting throughout with the “speech impediment” of a stiff upper lip. Nonetheless I watched it again, and this time I found it interesting and really beautiful – even though, as it happens, I disliked every single one of the characters. And even though I don’t remember anything quite like this it must be this kind of experience that told me to read the way I do. But it might be a personality thing as well because I must either be a particularly thorough person, where it comes to these matters, or kind of thick because I cannot take in EVERYTHING that is important AT ONCE. As it turned out, analyzing my reading of “Hannibal”, both of them are probably true.

And it includes that I am very reluctant to pass judgment on fictional characters. But reading “Hannibal” became an extreme case in this respect as well. I noticed this already when I wrote about ethics and aesthetics because I think I chose my words and my categories very carefully when I described my first impression of Richard Armitage impersonating Francis Dolarhyde. Instead of “exclusively using aesthetical categories” I could have written “completely AVOIDING ethical categories”. And about Hannibal himself, at first, I didn’t write ANYTHING AT ALL.

Usually, I am amazed, or even dismayed, of how fast people pass judgment on fictional characters, categorizing them as “good” or “evil”. I know it is some integral part of how we learn to understand the world, and is especially important when we are children. Being brought up German I should know, but I GENUINELY understood for the first time what an evil seed Hitler has sown recently when my five-year-old nephew David had to learn that, in World War II, “we” had been the VILLAINS. I think it was a really difficult and disagreeable thing for him to understand, and I tried to explain somehow that this didn’t mean that all Germans were BAD people at the time - to no avail! And I suddenly understood that it was important for him to learn this. WITHOUT moderation. And, in a similar way, it is important for us to categorize people. For example in a professional context, or if they are about to become our flatmate or sister in law, or if we fancy them, it can be important to make up our mind quickly about them to avoid unnecessary contention.

And I didn’t fully realize before what an interesting category “characters” is – kind of taking it for granted - because it is of course the most personal part of our reading: the way we are disposed towards, or are dealing with, certain characters. But, as with other things, I am very likely to extend the benefit of the doubt, to give them a second and a third chance. Which, in this context, definitely doesn’t mean that I am waiting for them to turn out “good”! Rather if they will do anything “special”, or prove “special” – kind of like Will Graham’s relationship with Hannibal undergoes a sea change when he finally begins to find him INTERESTING. And I think I am doing this because, in the same way as in real life, you don’t really GET TO KNOW them if you are not PATIENT. Maybe we don’t have to because we think we have already seen it, but, especially with literary “classics”, I very much doubt that. I only have to recall the many, mostly unsatisfying, variations of Jane Eyre or Mr. Rochester, or Jane Austen’s characters who are somehow singular, always kind of surprising when we see them on screen, and, even when they are great, leave so much to wish for … or how long I had to wait until I REALLY saw a dwarf or a hobbit! There may be these very few cases where I never need to see another version of this character again, like when Ray Winstone played Henry VIII, or Colin Firth and Richard Armitage playing Mr. Darcy and John Thornton. Or, of course, Ian McKellen and Martin Freeman as Gandalf and Mr. Baggins. That is because ALL the input you ever get about these characters makes complete sense when you see them. But – luckily! – there is an ongoing “debate” about most literary characters. I am certainly not unhappy that I haven’t really “seen” Macbeth …

I think this may even be the most personal thing for me about Shakespeare. Because he doesn’t do it. He doesn’t pass judgement. I am aware that the “time” was entirely different but still, I think, it is special that there are (almost) no villains. Or, more precisely, that his villains are always HUMAN BEINGS like everybody else. And it is not that we SHOULDN’T pass judgment! Rather that he’d leave the unpleasant task of doing it to US, that he makes it DIFFICULT for us. Which is good. And which is why we will always need these special actors who are able to send their mirror-neurons on the expedition of understanding this character STILL better than we do. This is why I was infinitely grateful for Ralph Fiennes playing Richard III as a BAD HUMAN being WITH a sense of humour. And I think I BEGAN to understand Falstaff – and find him interesting! - when I saw Simon Russell Beale playing him in “The Hollow Crown”, almost without humour, making up for the loss of text by showing a condensed version of the abyss opening under the entertaining surface. Falstaff isn’t just the eternal looser who can’t get a grip on life but somehow escapes every calamity through his wit, but a really VISCIOUS creature underneath who doesn’t care the least bit for the damage he does to others.

But everybody will always see these complex characters differently, and this is the great thing about it. And it probably is a personal issue in my case which leads to the way I am reading. Because I really don’t like to close the book on people, putting them into categories. And this is probably because I hate people doing this to me. Especially when they are right! As it is so important we are usually very good at getting out the right set of prejudices and pinning it onto the right person. It is economical and efficient, but somehow it isn’t what I really want to “get out of” people – or a text. I have probably thought about this a lot, and I still don’t know what it is I want. But I know that this technique of deliberately slowing down my understanding became a constructive part of my reading in this case. It kind of created “open space” for more information to come in. I think this is why I got this much more complete picture of Francis Dolarhyde in the end, with all the additional “experience” from the first two seasons. And now there is actually a profit of having documented my reading so copiously in my blog because now I don’t have to describe again how I saw Hannibal or Will Graham as I have already done this. And especially because, even after such a short time, I wouldn’t have a clear recollection of it if I hadn’t written about it. So, the horrible length of my “Hannibal” chapter finally proves useful.

I have already referred a few times to the short paragraph where I described my first impressions of Francis Dolarhyde, and maybe I am reading too much into it now, but it proves again a valuable document, in this case of how CAUTIOUS I was to approach these characters. I don’t think I was just reluctant, in my usual way, to pass judgment too early, but kind of cautious not to become “involved” with them. I became aware how careful I was about the categories I used to describe Francis Dolarhyde. So, what I LEFT OUT became tell-tale. There were parts of his personality and what happens to him that I approached VERY slowly. And there is a much more ample documentation of this in my blog about Hannibal – for obvious reasons! And maybe the best proof how much I NEEDED to keep my distance was when I found a way to hold these characters at arm’s length by discovering their “fairy-tale” aspect, or their “functional” aspect as characters in a game. So there is an obvious question of WHY I thought they might be dangerous, and I don’t think I have answered it in any way.

About Hannibal and the “Red Dragon” it seems to be rather obvious. They are genuinely scary, and kind of unexpectedly attractive at the same time. Hannibal is certainly persuasive because he is so perfect, and so confident. And I think that makes him a great character to play. Whereas Richard Armitage, looking into Francis Dolarhyde, to say it pointedly, didn’t discover a serial killer but a child. And especially with my experience about how attractive and “innocent” male children can be this wasn’t just an interesting turn from anything I had expected … (I am afraid little girls actually ARE less naïve and more calculating than little boys. And I am afraid this might actually still be because they are not loved unconditionally … But of course this is basically a female perspective! One more reason though for being cautious …)

But the most difficult and “dangerous” character - and the character that came into focus LAST - proved Will Graham who is exactly the kind of character I dislike, and of course I knew this! I knew as well that a lot of getting close in the case of Francis Dolarhyde and Hannibal was about admiring the work the actors have done on these characters, and this didn’t happen with Will Graham. I think I came to appreciate the work by and by, but this really happened only “in the end” – when I finally became involved with the story. And, unlike Will Graham, Hannibal is actually “fun” as well – even if it is a viscious kind of fun. Whereas Will Graham is in fact the really “bad” part of the story … but, whereas during the first season the focus was on Hannibal, during the second one it inevitably shifted towards Will Graham and the “big” question about the whole series, I think: WHAT IS HE UP TO? “We” know what Hannibal is up to, at least we think so … Maybe I even HAD to close the book on Hannibal at some point, and I even set down the exact moment when I “dropped” Francis Dolarhyde, but I became also aware at some point that, if I wasn’t willing to go all the way with Will Graham, I would finally MISS the story.

This way of somehow “accessing” the story THROUGH the characters is typical for me but also has to do with the kind of stories I prefer and read: stories that focus on people and their relationships, their predicaments, their dreams, their successful or unsuccessful efforts to cope or to get what they want. There, analyzing the characters and figuring out what happens goes hand in hand. There was actually a time when I was writing nothing but love-stories for years, though I have never cared much for love-stories, the “typical” kind at least. But I found out that this was because, in this case, the characters already ARE the story. If you have picked the right characters the story will “write” itself and you never have to bother with it. And I usually had a theory about if there would be a happy ending or not, but I never KNEW … And finding that out, finding out about the characters on a deep level, where their real strengths and weaknesses, and the center of their being actually was, turned out to be great fun. As I must say, I have probably always been kind of bored with “story” – though I think I know how important it is for a good text. (And I think I even identified this as the reason that I don’t write fiction anymore.)

To be precise, there are at least three categories about characters - and all of them are of course intertwined, and all of them come into understanding the story - which I call PERSON, RELATIONSHIPS, and ACTIONS. And I think when we are reading a text of this kind “successfully” we are always doing this, at least about the important characters: making up our mind about what kind of people they are, observing and evaluating the relationships they have with one another and what they are actually doing. And this is my way of “getting” the story - story in the sense of what I think is actually happening - kind of “second-hand”, observing the characters. 

And there is a fourth category about characters which is probably more important than we think – in fiction as well as in real life, by the way, where I think I am deliberately very cautious about it: the way other people are talking about them. And I remember there actually was a point where I was puzzled about this in the case of Will Graham. But, as I obviously do in real life: I finally discarded the part of what people said about him in favour of what I actually SAW.

There is an extremely interesting aspect of this last category, which I don’t know how to call – maybe RUMOUR, or CHATTER, but both of them aren’t quite what I mean. It may have to do with what I really want to get out of getting to know people in a fictional context. Because, in real life, you actually don’t have ANYTHING else most of the time. At least about people you don’t really know personally. And I think we don’t even REALLY know people we think we know because all we know is the way they are interacting with US, which may be a much smaller part of their personality – or personalities, by the way – than we think. And we usually know them from what other people were talking about them FROM THE BEGINNING. Maybe "rumour" and "chatter" are both good expressions because they include a connotation of doubt about the information we are getting. It is the reason why I have actively to SHUT OUT the internet when there is somebody who I am interested in and whom I don’t know personally – which happens about every ten years or less; in this respect, I am the most incurious person I know – because I don’t want to be distracted or mislead by chatter EVEN IF I must sacrifice information I want. Sometimes, just sometimes, it is a really hard choice … There usually isn’t that much to be gained by only listening to people expressing THEMSELVES because many people, including myself, aren’t good at it. But, if somebody is, this is certainly the best you can do to get to know them. If I absolutely had to choose, the most fascinating part of “House of Cards” for me wouldn’t even be to watch Francis Underwood scheming and manipulating people but Claire Underwood managing the “exchange” of what kind of person she thinks she is, wants to be, really is, and what parts of this she uses publicly, and how she does this … I think this might be the best sample EVER of somebody managing a public image – which, as it is so precise, is even kind of painful to watch. Nonetheless I admire people who aren’t able to leave anything to chance and can be so explicit and precise about themselves. Maybe because it is kind of like making yourself into a text which you actually WANT to read … So, reading the way people want to be known, plus the information they give about themselves and what I know they have actually done that might interest me (which is NOT to whom and how often they have been married …) are the basic kind of information which you are not going to get through chatter because it is impossible to separate the information which is relevant, or “true”, from the bullshit. Only WHEN you have this kind of information it might be interesting to get input from other people – though I observed that I only use it to “confirm” something I have suspected anyway. In any case, if chatter is the only thing I can get, I usually discard it right away.

And, even though this might be absurd, I suspect that one of the main functions of reading for me actually is getting to know people in a way you don’t get to know them in real life. Even, in a way, to INTERACT with them more freely, and unconcerned of restrictions imposed by propriety and what we don’t talk about and so on … In a way, getting to know the TRUTH about people. And this is of course why I absolutely love actors who are mainly interested in the truth of their character. Well, I suspected that it would turn out to be about the most important thing in life – which, I am almost sorry to say, apart from basics like food, clean water, electricity, digestion …, actually is love. And it is about love because a big part of love is about knowing the COMPLETE truth about the loved person. It begins when we get INTERESTED so much that we actually WANT to know the truth. It is an IDEAL, of course, which we’ll never approach in real life – if only because the complete truth about somebody doesn’t exist. But, like the ideal of a complete, somehow “closed” text as what we are aiming at in a reading process, we cannot get rid of it – unless we somehow get rid of love. And I am sure that happens all the time. By the way, it happened to me …! But I obviously didn’t want it to happen, and this may be what these abstract notions and ideals in religion and philosophy are for: to give us direction, a sense of where we are headed. Because I think “we” still know THAT they are important. Which, in my way of thinking, includes that we are actually DOING something with them. And maybe this “abstract” form of love I can PRACTICE when I am reading is the reason why reading is NECESSARY for me, why it has become a central part of my life, not just something good “on the side”.