Hannibal film review

certificate_18

HANNIBAL

Break open the Chianti. Dr Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter (Hopkins) has come out of retirement and he's rediscovered the taste for human flesh. It's been 10 years since FBI agent Clarice Starling (Moore) first met Lecter in a maximum security prison in connection with the Jame Gumb murders.

The doctor is now at large in glorious Florence, living under an assumed name. However, the brilliant psychopath is in danger. Hideously disfigured, wheelchair-bound recluse Mason Verger (Oldman), the doctor's sixth and only surviving victim, has vowed revenge. Abetted by corrupt Justice Department official Paul Krendler (Liotta), Verger plans to feed Lecter to a trained pack of man-eating wild boars.

Starling must revisit her most terrifying nightmare to save Lecter from this sickening and grisly fate.

The muscle and bones of Thomas Harris's international best-seller are all here, with a few minor alterations. Hopkins's performance walks a thin line between genuinely chilling and camp, much like the film as a whole.

The scenes in which we witness Lecter transform before our eyes from witty and urbane scholar into frenzied killer make the blood run cold. But the character is now prone to chuckling one-liners as he despatches his victims, like some cliched horror movie boogieman. The old Dr Lecter would never have stooped to such things.

Moore struggles valiantly to make this incarnation of Starling her own, but the spectre of Jodie Foster looms large. Oldman is unrecognisable beneath layers of latex, while Liotta is wonderfully repellent.

Scott's direction is keenly paced. His choice of shots, and the atmospheric lighting, provide sufficient thrills to satisfy bloodthirsty appetites.

Hannibal is destined to devour the UK box office, but when the hype and expectation subsides, many audience members may be left feeling underfed.