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10 Years Later – How Bryan Fuller’s “Hannibal” Raised the Bar for Genre Television

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Hannibal series

While it’s hard not to pick favorites, there’s no such thing as a definitive version of a story. Sure, some retellings are bound to be more popular than others, but there’s nothing necessarily wrong with updating a compelling idea for a new audience. That being said, it’s quite rare for a new version of an established intellectual property to stand on its own merits, with most remakes and adaptations being content with simply rehashing the things that made their predecessors successful instead of finding a new angle from which to tell an original story.

In television, this means that we’ve seen plenty of forgettable shows based on existing franchises, with everything from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off to Clueless spawning soulless spin-offs meant to capitalize on brand awareness. And when it comes to horror, the situation was even more dire before the genre renaissance of the mid 2010s, with bombs like Blade: The Series convincing viewers that it simply wasn’t possible to translate theatrical scares to the small screen. Back in the day, it appeared that only Buffy the Vampire Slayer could escape the confines of its cinematic source material, with many viewers even forgetting that it was actually based on a movie.

Thankfully, the television landscape has changed a lot since then. These days, masters like Mike Flanagan and even Don Mancini are allowed to push broadcasting boundaries with horror-centric programs, and general audiences no longer wince when it’s announced that a beloved genre film is being adapted into a tv series. However, certain shows were at the forefront of this revolution, and I’d argue that one of the most important was Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, a refreshingly creative reinvention of Thomas Harris’ Hannibal Lecter universe that somehow managed to step out from beneath the shadow of its big-screen counterparts and deliver a memorable experience in its own right.

And with my favorite cannibal soap opera celebrating its 10th anniversary this year, I thought that this might be the perfect time to dive into why the show was so much more than a procedural serial killer investigation, with this bonkers project paving the way for a completely new kind of televised horror.

Hannibal series tv

This still hits harder than most other horror shows.

Obviously, Hannibal wasn’t the first successful small screen translation of an existing horror property, releasing a few weeks after the underrated Bates Motel (and a few years after the massively popular The Walking Dead), but I believe it was instrumental in proving that audiences are willing to set aside their fondness for classic portrayals of iconic characters if presented with a genuinely engaging story. Fuller was well aware of this when NBC tasked him with developing a prequel to Red Dragon for the small screen, asking himself what an unorthodox storyteller like David Lynch might do if given these characters to play with and re-envisioning the protagonist/antagonist rivalry as a twisted love story.

In the finished show (which boasted an initial script so impressive that NBC completely skipped over the Pilot stage of development), we follow Hugh Dancy as Will Graham, a troubled FBI profiler who initiates a partnership with the mysterious psychiatrist Dr. Hannibal Lecter as they work together to track down a serial killer. Naturally, it’s soon revealed that Hannibal has his own cannibalistic secrets, though the good doctor develops a dangerous fondness for Will as he realizes that the two of them may have a lot more in common than previously thought.

Thus, Harris’ forensic epic is transformed into a deeply psychological game of shifting loyalties and interpersonal relationships between broken people, with this compelling premise being further elevated by stunning art direction and memorable performances that stand toe-to-toe with previous incarnations of these characters. Hell, there’s no shortage of think-pieces praising Mads Mikkelsen’s star-making portrayal of the world’s most charming cannibal, and it’s no surprise that the show would spawn endless waves of erotic fanfiction celebrating Dancy and Mikkelsen’s oddly enticing chemistry.

However, I think the real source of Hannibal’s enduring success is the fact that none of its episodes ever felt like watching a cheaper version of Brett Ratner’s Red Dragon (or even Michael Mann’s Manhunter, for that matter). Despite covering much of the same ground, the final season feels like a completely new story about love and betrayal that only happens to feature the same characters and set-pieces as Harris’ novel, making this a worthy companion piece to both the book and its film adaptations instead of an ill-fated attempt at a replacement.

The movies can’t compare to this.

And fortunately for genre fans, Hannibal also pioneered gruesome visuals on network television, disturbing viewers with gnarly death tableaus and unsettling subject matter that exceeds even the horrors present in the Anthony Hopkins films. Moments like Eddie Izzard being forced to consume his own flesh as Hannibal’s prisoner and comatose patients being used as living mushroom farms are likely to haunt you long after the credits roll, and that’s not even mentioning the near-sensual displays of graphic violence.

While we’d go on to see even more gory content on television, it’s likely that many producers would hesitate to allow for so much blood and guts in contemporary genre TV if wasn’t for the precedent established by Fuller and his team. That’s why I think the show laid the groundwork for all sorts of original horror programming in the following years, with series like Yellowjackets and Slasher owing a lot to the flesh totems and enticing recipes crafted by Lecter and company.

Although Hannibal was never a ratings juggernaut, it did boast a steady viewer-base that only grew as the show became available on more streaming services, so it’s only natural that it would end up influencing a whole generation of genre TV. It’s a shame that it ended so soon, with the story concluding on a literal cliffhanger instead of going on to adapt The Silence of the Lambs as the showrunner intended (with Fuller claiming to have a whopping six seasons planned out), but I still appreciate the series that we got and there’s a reason why it remains relevant even a decade later. In fact, I defend that gruesome finale – and its Siouxie-Sioux soundtrack – as a perfect place to end the story, as fans of the books know that Lecter and Graham’s relationship would never recover from that final encounter.

I’m pretty sure that too much time has passed for any network or streaming service to want to invest in a proper revival of the series, but I believe Hannibal’s legacy reaches far beyond a potential fourth season. Even if you don’t enjoy Fuller’s romantic twist on cops and cannibals, fans of shows like Ash vs. Evil Dead, Chucky and even What We Do in the Shadows should be grateful that a certain NBC production paved the way for competent cinematic spin-offs on TV.

Hannibal series mads

Born Brazilian, raised Canadian, Luiz is a writer and Film student that spends most of his time watching movies and subsequently complaining about them.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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