Hannibal: Series Premiere

As my parents would say, American television needs another serial killer like Carter needs little liver pills. (Just Google it, I didn’t understand it either.) It’s not that we don’t love serial killers, we do. They and the fictional law enforcement do-gooders who hunt them each week fulfill every morbid fantasy we have without forcing us to leave the radius of our Keurigs. But we’ve reached a corpse zenith—there are only so many creative ways to fake kill someone. The longer it goes on, the closer storylines actually get to legitimately using a Saturday Night Live-style Land Shark death.

So I’m not quite sure if it’s an act of genius, or clear desperation, that brought one of cinema’s most famous villains to NBC. (A little of column A, a little of column B…) Like Bates Motel, which premiered a few weeks ago, Hannibal is set to explore the early days of a serial killer we already know. Earlier, yes, but hardly the beginning. Hannibal doesn’t have a full-on case of The Carrie Diaries (but going by the powder blue three-piece suit Dr. Lecter sports early in the episode, he clearly shares a Carrie Bradshaw-like eye for fashion).

Although watching Hannibal Lecter (Mads Mikkelsen) evolve into the man-eater we all know and abhor could have been interesting—I’m imagining internal philosophical debates between eating the Chinese food delivery or the guy who brought it—the universe of Hannibal is past that. Heading into middle age, the titular character is already a renowned psychiatrist and cannibalistic culinarian.

Like a deranged romantic comedy about an unlikely pairing whose paths have serendipitously crossed, Hannibal is brought in by the FBI to aid in the hunt of a serial killer and introduced to profiler Will Graham (Hugh Dancy). Brought in personally by the head of the FBI’s Behavioral Sciences Unit, Jack Crawford (Laurence Fishburne), is Hannibalthere to consult on the case, or to evaluate Will himself?

With the analytical wits of Sherlock Holmes and the emotional stability of a Bad Girls Club cast-off, Will has the uncanny knack for getting into the mind of a killer but trouble getting out. Unlike the frigid, calculating Hannibal, Will’s empathetic feelings toward both killer and victim constantly leave him on the precipice of a mental break. As the two men share a Lecter-prepared breakfast of scrambled eggs and lung meat sausage, Hannibal watches Will with rapt curiosity. Either he’s finally found the Batman to his Joker—or a potential sous chef-in-training.

Under the guidance of Pushing Daisies creator Bryan Fuller, whose pie-maker touch has already sweetened what could easily have been a stale stunt, the stylish Hannibal series chucks a strong opening salvo. The visual gimmicks will hopefully even out—Will’s mental windshield wiper that cleans out crime scene flotsam, the artsy slow-mo blood splatter, the Reverse-O-Cam where everything moves backwards as his brain reconstructs the crime.

But the selling point of Hannibal, not unlike that of Fox’s The Following,isn’t the charismatic killer central to the storyline but the man following him. In both shows, the “heroes” are traumatized by their past experiences, and each endures nightmares on a regular basis. But in The Following’s pilot, while Kevin Bacon’s bad dreams leave him with a delicate line of sweat glistening across his forehead, Hannibal’s Will wakes to sauna-levels of perspiration. It’s a grossly realistic (and appreciated) small touch for a show whose main antagonist is a sociopathic killer with a taste for long pork.

Will’s power of deduction relies more on instinct, a device that at times veers closer to ESP than any observation of actual facts. The killer did this…ergo, he must have a daughter the same age of the victims with a similar physical appearance, an only child who’s leaving home and wears gaudy knee-high socks in her cowboy boots (I may have been the one observing that last part). There’s a lot of expediency in the storytelling that—while I’m going to forgive because the potential character drama is so promising—is boringly convenient. Finding an easily identifiable piece of metal shaving on the victim’s dress? (Not sloppy at all, Mr. Murderer.) Figuring out the killer’s identity because, while he didn’t leave his address on some paperwork, he did leave his real name and phone number? (Smooth.) Hannibal calling via a landline to the killer’s home—even though the phone records will probably be pulled and can easily pinpoint where and when the call came from? (I don’t think *67 is that good.)

With such Anthony Hopkins-sized shoes to fill, Mikkelsen is going to need the season to prove himself, though he’s off to a good start. When Dancy’s socially stunted Will tells Lecter he simply doesn’t find him interesting, Mikkelsen’s only reply is, “You will.” These two words are many things: a promise, a warning, a friendly edict. But it’s not a wink. In fact, there are few if any overt references to The Silence of the Lambs, a remarkable feat considering the built-in audience just waiting for some teeth hissing and fava bean product placement. With such a heritage, Hannibal has a lot to live up to. NBC is frantic for a little Must-See TV again—and I think, as viewers, we are too.

If Hannibal succeeds, we all know there’s a Rogues Gallery Palooza headed our way. Just peruse the American Film Institute’s top villains list to see all the potential prequels there are to be had. Before we know it, ABC and FX are going to be in a pilot bidding war for It Takes A Cruella de Village. Even the Great White in Jaws is on the list, which means my Land Shark theory? Not so wacky after all.