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Dear “Hannibal”, I Still Miss You

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On April 4th, 2013, NBC premiered the first episode of “Hannibal“, the Bryan Fuller developed series based on characters created by Thomas Harris in his novels “Red Dragon”, “The Silence of the Lambs”, and “Hannibal”. Starring Mads Mikkelsen (Casino Royale, Valhalla Rising, Clash of the Titans) in the title role, the series followed FBI special investigator Will Graham (Hugh Dancy) as an empath who has the ability to investigate and understand crime scenes, and criminals, in startling, almost eerie ways.

I don’t have cable or basic TV channels. I haven’t had them for well over 20 years. When I moved into my own place and ordered internet, Comcast asked if I wanted TV, something I explicitly turned down. To this day, I still get calls asking if I want to upgrade my account to include even the most basic package, which, ridiculously, has something like 100+ channels. For those of you who have cable, that might seem like nothing. For me, that seems unnecessary. I remember as a child having 60-ish channels and that’s it.

I bring this up because “Hannibal” was the first show to make me seriously consider upping my package so that I could watch it as it aired. Something about it just drew me in, almost hypnotizing me with its gorgeous visuals and brilliantly built characters. It was a show where I would seek a fix once an episode ended because I wasn’t ready for it to be over. I needed more but had to be patient, much like Hannibal and how he was ever vigilant in selecting and ultimately dispatching his victims.

I miss “Hannibal”, which, as I’ve mentioned previously, “…was a gift from above for horror fans.” It featured some of the most gruesome and horrifying scenes I’ve ever witnessed, such as Hannibal making Dr. Abel Gideon (Eddie Izzard) eat his own leg or the people buried alive to act as fertilizer for fungi in “Amuse-Bouche”. Every episode expertly crafted a narrative around the crimes that delved further into the minds of each character, their own psyches the truly fascinating aspect of the series. For every moment we saw something nauseating, there was far more time dedicated to the haunting impact and toll these events had on those around them. Graham was breaking more and more with every episode, Alana Bloom (Caroline Dhavernas) desperate to come to his aid, Jack Crawford (Laurence Fishburne) demanding control from his employees while desperately spiraling out of control with his wife and her illness. Hovering over them all, controlling them like a marionettist, was Hannibal, making them all dance on strings of his own weaving, his cold calculations deeply, intricately, and terrifyingly constructed.

As the show progressed, we only saw these relationships intertwine themselves further, becoming a web of distrust, suspicion, and unknowing betrayal, all according to Hannibal’s conniving plans. It’s only because of Hannibal’s affection for Will, and what he could potentially become, that the threads expose themselves, able to be pulled, unravelling the entire picture. It is because of this magnificent arrangement that the story was so enthralling. With every new revelation, with each new episode, the story moved forward and it felt meaningful, unlike shows where we have exciting premieres and finales but the middle feels lackluster. “Hannibal” was, in my opinion, a show that constantly progressed and evolved.

I miss the music, composed by Brian Reitzell. Yes, I can pop on my records anytime I wish or I can stream the soundtrack if I’m feeling lazy. But there was something delicious about hearing new music every episode that felt so disjointed and unsettling. It was dissonance of the purest form, the kind that mimics the tension on the screen as each layer of mystery is either added or unveiled, both fitting perfectly yet still feeling wrong and unwelcome. With a show so focused on intellectualism, introspection, and complex psychological patterns, there needed to be a soundtrack that aimed for those lofty heights. Reitzell met those heights and conquered them, week after week.

I miss the visuals, wonderfully brought to the screen by the directors and the show’s primary cinematographer James Hawkinson. Even in the first five minutes of the first episode, I knew that this was going to be a beautiful show and it never failed in that department. Every scene oozed beauty, even amidst the viscera. Splashes of blood arced gracefully through the air, bodies faded into nature, becoming one with the world around them, and even the food, which we knew was tainted and taboo, looked macabrely delicious. Some victims were transformed into angels, their majesty and horror vying for equal attention, while others were arranged in a gigantic eye, aimed to see a reflection that can’t possible be there.

I mourn the loss of a show that never hid from its horror foundation. Rather, it embraced it and aimed to elevate itself above all associated stigmas and preconceptions. It knew that horror could be smart, so it went there. It knew that horror could push boundaries, which it did. It knew that horror didn’t care about who or what you are, so everything was fair game. Being a witness to the craftsmanship behind “Hannibal” felt truly special as a horror fan. Rarely do we get something that looks and sounds so wonderful, that has such care and devotion given to every minute detail.

I could talk endlessly about my love of this series, but I feel that I need to come to an end and not overstay my welcome. So, to cap this off, I send these messages: To Bryan Fuller, thank you for developing “Hannibal”. To the cast and crew, thank you for bringing these characters and this story to life. To NBC, thank you for taking a chance and giving the show three seasons. To the fans of the series who so ardently and adamantly refuse to let go, thank you for your passion.

To “Hannibal” itself, thank you, I miss you, and I hope that one day we’ll see you again. Maybe for dinner?

Hannibal - Season 1

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Editorials

Revisiting ‘Subspecies’: The Gothic Horror Gem That Created an Unforgettable Vampire

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Auteur Filmmaking is a term that gets thrown around a lot these days in reference to big name directors like Quentin Tarantino and even Wes Anderson, but the truth is that film is a collective medium, and no one person can be responsible for every single aspect of a particular production. However, the smaller a film’s budget, the bigger the individual impact of every creative decision behind it – and the easier it becomes to identify a genuine auteur.

This isn’t necessarily a judgement of value, as blockbuster filmmaking comes with its own challenges and a good movie remains a miracle regardless of how big the crew is, but I’ve always been more interested in soulful b-movies produced by handfuls of passionate artists than blockbusters backed by creative armies.

That’s why I love exploring low-budget franchises that never left the hands of their original creators, as you really get to know the artists involved with these flicks and can accompany their evolution over a period of time. With that in mind, I’d like to invite readers to join me in this multi-part series as we look into a vampire saga helmed by one of the most fascinating auteurs of the 1990s. Naturally, I’m referring to Ted Nicolaou’s criminally underrated Subspecies!

The Birth of an Unlikely Horror Franchise

A proud graduate of the University of Texas’ Film program, Nicolaou got his start in the industry as a sound technician working on Tobe Hooper’s original Texas Chain Saw Massacre. From there, the filmmaker would go on to work for notorious indie producer Charles Band, the founder of both Empire Pictures and Full Moon Productions. According to Nicolaou, Band would usually contact him with an offer to direct a feature after more prominent filmmakers, such as the late, great Stuart Gordon, had already refused, meaning that his projects tended to have lower budgets and more inexperienced crew members.

The plans for Subspecies began almost immediately after the fall of Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, with screenwriter David Pabian turning in an initial draft of the film after a Romanian producer contacted Band and explained that Romanian tax incentives could cover the cost of film production there so long as Full Moon took care of the post-production process. Since Stuart Gordon was unwilling to travel to Romania, Ted Nicolaou ended up taking over the picture.

However, while the financial incentives meant that this Romanian-American co-production could look and feel much more expensive than it really was, with Nicolaou scouting for locations in advance and selecting real castle ruins to be featured in the movie, the director was soon faced with an incredibly difficult shooting process. In interviews, Nicolaou would later describe the experience as something of a nightmare, with language barriers and the generalized distrust of capitalist outsiders sabotaging many of the team’s plans for the film.

In fact, the script, which had already been altered by Band, ultimately had portions of it rewritten by both Jack Canson and Nicolaou himself in an attempt to adapt the story to their unique limitations.

Radu Is One of Horror’s Greatest Underrated Villains

subspecies

In the finished film, which was released directly to video in 1991, we follow a pair of American anthropology students, Michelle (Laura Mae Tate) and Lillian (Michelle McBride), as they reunite with their Romanian colleague Mara (Irina Movila) in her native land. The group intends to study the folklore surrounding the secluded town of Prejmer, but their research is cut short by the return of Radu Vladislas (Anders Hove) – the evil son of a vampire king (Angus Scrimm) who had previously established a truce with the region’s human residents. It’s now up to Radu’s human-loving half-brother Stefan (Michael Watson) to protect the girls from a fate worse than death as the power-hungry vampire seeks to control a magical artifact known as the Bloodstone.

Right off the bat, you may have noticed that the film’s premise sounds decidedly old-fashioned when compared to other vampire movies from around the same time. While the 1990s saw the rise of cool-looking bloodsuckers with badass elements borrowed from Westerns, as well as the sexy aristocrats of Anne Rice’s stories, Subspecies has a lot more in common with Nosferatu and the Hammer Horror series than any of its contemporaries.

This is both a blessing and a curse, as the film falls victim to overly familiar genre tropes while also standing out as a rare example of a ’90s vampire flick that isn’t afraid to flex its muscles as a Creature Feature. In fact, I’d argue that the presence of age-old clichés is a small price to pay when confronted with one of the most compelling vampire antagonists in all of cinema.

Named after Vlad the Impaler’s real-life brother, Anders Hove’s Radu is such a fascinating character and the main reason why Subspecies is still worth watching 35 years later. From his animalistic mannerisms to the joy he feels in simply existing as a chaotic creature of the night, and that’s not even mentioning the iconic makeup that almost certainly inspired the undead from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Radu is a hypnotic presence harkening back to a time when audiences didn’t mind purely evil villains that couldn’t be redeemed through tragic backstories or sex appeal.

Gothic Atmosphere on an Indie Budget

Subspecies

Of course, the film’s Romanian setting and authentic art direction do a lot of the heavy lifting whenever Radu isn’t around. From the masked festivals of the village to the visually interesting selection of local extras, Subspecies’ multicultural elements help it to stand out when compared to similar flicks from the ’90s.

That being said, Nicolaou’s unique eye for special effects and exciting action sequences – as well as Vlad Paunescu’s excellent cinematography – make the movie a delight for fans of expressionist cinema and old-timey gothic horror. While the crew is obviously dealing with limited resources, many of the flick’s blemishes (such as the odd stop-motion demons that serve Radu) end up feeling more like charming idiosyncrasies than actual flaws.

I’d argue that the only real issue here is pacing, as there are long stretches of film where the protagonists are simply bumbling around without realizing what’s really going on around them. Thankfully, the gorgeous visuals and surprisingly effective soundtrack usually make up for this. Besides, how can you dislike a movie where shotgun shells are loaded with rosary beads and our lead vampires duke it out in a dramatic swordfight that would feel out of place during the golden age of Hollywood?

Your overall enjoyment of Subspecies will mostly depend on whether or not you find low-budget corner-cutting and janky practical effects charming rather than distracting, but I know I’ll keep coming back to this Full Moon feature again and again in the future.

That being said, while this first movie is worth revisiting by its own merits as the birth of an indie horror icon, I’d like to invite you to join us as we look into the cult sequel Bloodstone: Subspecies II soon.

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