Editorials
Finding an Underrated Performance in ‘Hannibal Rising’ [The Silver Lining]
In this edition of The Silver Lining, we’ll be covering Peter Webber’s 2007 entry in the Hannibal franchise, Hannibal Rising.
No character exemplifies our fascination with charismatic madmen like Thomas Harris’ most infamous creation, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. While the overall quality of the media he’s been featured in may vary, I’d argue that every single incarnation of this charming cannibal has been captivating for one reason or another. From Brian Cox’s cold-blooded grifter in Michael Mann’s Manhunter to Mads Mikkelsen’s nearly Luciferian performance in Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, this iconic character is a gold-mine of storytelling possibilities.
That’s why it makes sense that we’d eventually see an origin story for one of the most celebrated killers in media. Back in 2006, Harris released the final addition to his Hannibal saga with Hannibal Rising, a prequel that detailed the titular character’s disturbing beginnings while also adding some controversial tragic elements to his backstory. A few months later, the Dino de Laurentis Company was already hard at work on a big-screen adaptation of the book, which was set to release the following year.
British filmmaker Peter Webber was soon hired to direct a script penned by Harris himself, with the up-and-coming French actor Gaspard Ulliel landing the coveted role of our liver-eating/chianti-guzzling protagonist. Like the novel, the film is a coming-of-age thriller that follows an orphaned Hannibal as he slowly discovers his passion for cannibalistic murder while seeking revenge against members of the Lithuanian militia that murdered his sister.
Fans of Harris’ true-crime inspired narratives were anxious to see what kind of murderous shenanigans led to Hannibal’s people-devouring habits, so when the first trailer dropped, folks were convinced that the flick was going to be a high-profile psychological thriller with a sinister edge.
SO WHAT WENT WRONG?
Grossing a little over $82 million dollars on a $50 million budget, Hannibal Rising wasn’t exactly the resounding success that the studio was hoping for. While the obvious lack of Anthony Hopkins’ star power is likely what kept the flick from reaching the same box office heights as its predecessors, the picture was also massacred by critics who accused it of cheapening Thomas Harris’ legacy. These days, the film sits at a disappointing 16% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.
Many complaints were directed towards Rising’s admittedly tacky approach to a previously complex and dignified character, with the film nearly turning Hannibal into a comic-book vigilante. The flick was even nominated for a couple of Golden Raspberry awards, though I wouldn’t put much faith in the institution that infamously criticized Shelley Duvall’s iconic performance in Kubrick’s adaptation of The Shining.
Of course, part of the problem with Rising’s negative reception is its source material. Harris was practically strong-armed into writing the novel after being pressured by producer Dino de Laurentis, who knew that a Lecter origin story was all but inevitable due to the character’s massive fanbase. Not wanting someone else to take over his beloved creation, Harris rushed out an unpolished yarn that pales in comparison to his previous work. Naturally, that lack of narrative finesse bled into his script.
Presenting audiences with paper-thin antagonists and several long stretches of movie where Hannibal deals with angst over the death of his sister, the film really isn’t as engaging as it should be. Vengeance is too simple of a motivation for a character as emotionally complex as Hannibal, so it’s hard to buy the protagonist’s Nazi-hunting adventures and clichéd moments of PTSD when we’ve already seen what kind of man he grows up to be. In all honesty, I think it would have been better to keep the iconic cannibal’s origins a mystery, as this anti-hero approach doesn’t add much to the franchise’s established mythology.
The choice to turn this chapter of the story into a prequel also sucks out much of the tension from what should have been incredibly thrilling scenes. We already know that the main character is going to survive to torment Will and Clarice as a ruthless villain in the future, so a lot of the story’s conflicts feel like characters are just going through the motions, with the experience often bordering on trope-heavy fanfiction.
THE SILVER LINING
This may be the weakest chapter in the Hannibal saga, but I’d argue that even Rising has its moments of brilliance. If you can get past the script’s shortcomings as a trope-heavy prequel with shallow psychological elements, you may find yourself enjoying a charming little revenge thriller with an underrated lead performance and some impressive production value.
While the film is impeccably shot and produced, with stunning European vistas and a nostalgic gleam that helps to set it apart from the gloom and doom of previous Harris adaptations, the real star of the show here is the late Gaspard Ulliel. No matter what you think about the rest of the flick, there’s no denying that the French thespian did this notorious character justice despite a less-than stellar script.
Ulliel is a joy to watch as this mild-mannered beast and I think it’s unfortunate that his unique take on the character was forced to live in the Hopkins’ shadow, especially when the actor made a visible effort not to simply imitate that iconic performance.
I’d also argue that Hannibal’s relationship with the Lady Murasaki makes for a genuinely human addition to his monstrous origin. The duo’s hesitant rapport becomes the true heart of the story and I wish that the idea could have been expanded further. A doomed love story between an honorable mentor and a deranged boy that’s destined to become a monster has a lot of potential for a compelling narrative, even if the film doesn’t quite nail the landing.
In fact, there are plenty of good ideas here (like the Samurai mask that foreshadows Hannibal’s iconic muzzle), but this tragic origin ultimately fumbled the execution. Fortunately, elements of the story were later salvaged by Fuller’s Hannibal series, which beautifully incorporated the titular character’s morally ambiguous motivations into the show sans the cheesy vigilante angle.
At the end of the day, Thomas Harris is a gifted writer and he still manages to deliver a compelling narrative even when rushing out a studio-mandated cash-grab. It likely won’t win over any new fans, but like its main character, Hannibal Rising has enough charm to be worth revisiting so long as you keep a safe distance.
Watching a bad movie doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad experience. Even the worst films can boast a good idea or two, and that’s why we’re trying to look on the bright side with The Silver Lining, where we shine a light on the best parts of traditionally maligned horror flicks.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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