Thomas Harris has a splendid record of writing solid thrillers, crime dramas with dark, dark underpinnings. His most celebrated character is Hannibal Lecter, last portrayed by Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs, first portrayed in the "Manhunter" film version of Harris' Red Dragon by then actor, now Senator Fred Thompson, (someday President?)

     In his latest novel, "Hannibal", Harris delivers a disturbing look at the famous doctor's private life, and in this he does not disappoint. Lecter is everything you want him to be, living down to his evil potential; a bizarre amalgam of insanity, elegance, and screwed-up appreciation, steeped in haute cuisine and old-world tradition. (And later, shoat cuisine takes a liking for him...) He seems to know everything and yet lacks fundamental humanity - nothing in his God-hating world is sacrosanct except his idea of taste.

     And he is all about taste. There are plenty of people like Lecter, I suppose, less the cannibalism that he practices so delicately. (And indelicately.) Patrons of fine arts, experts on the romance languages, not in general but in specific people that wield their opinion of that taste like scalpels. They have little patience for the uncultured, and are a terrible bore and waste of time to people like me.

     Since Lecter's world is defined by his interests, and he is supremely selfish in that, he has no room for growth and an apparently closed mind. His word is the last word, or else, of course. But in "Hannibal", Hannibal does grow. Maddeningly. And the basis for his deviance is laid bare by Thomas' insightful imaginings.

     Enter Clarice Starling, the "county cornpone" who bumbles into the path of Lecter one too many times. Which is to say, once. Her voice is clear as ice-water, to the point, and humorously on-point. In "Lambs" Hannibal has a fascination for her, wants inside her head, to find out what's eating her… She is a daunting client, as he taunts her, exchanging information tit-for-tat.

     In "Hannibal", she becomes the center of Tabloid attention, and Lecter rises from his seven years of isolation to "encourage" her. This is the start of an engrossing intrigue with more than its share of bastards. And it is a good read.

     There are only a few sympathetic characters in Hannibal, which gives a not-very-encouraging portrait of big government and a damnable one of average people. I take that back. There may be one average person in the book, but by and large it is about the unusual person, isn't it? I mean, even if I was not telling you that it would have to be true to be an interesting book. Otherwise go read your high school yearbook to see what all of us averaginos are like.

     But there are no sympathetic characters here save for Clarice and her duplex-mate. And a movie without sympathy is very grating. (Smithereens, anyone?)

     Back to the point. Hannibal is not structured cinematically, and I do not know if that is a fault of the book or an over sensitivity of mine to compelling story telling. At one point, Clarice, who opens the book, and whom the story seems to center on, disappears for 100 pages while thugs hunt for Lecter, who himself was not much in evidence for the first 100 pages.

     As a film, the story/action is going to have to be more parallel. I think it could have easily been accomplished in the novel just by moving a few of Clarice's "drudgework" paragraphs into the thick of the 100 pages. A sort of "meanwhile, back at the FBI, Clarice was bored stiff", just to remind us that she still mattered. Tom Clancy, who writes interesting 800 pagers, is a master of that sort of interweaving, and I like it. But small matter to this novel.

      Since both Clarice and Lecter are so interesting, the film had better keep the two of them in sync, or the audience will get irritated. Not that the audience needs to be pandered to, just that if you want to make an interesting film, you should observe a few of the niceties. I could leave the book from time to time, just to relieve the inadvertent monotony. Not so in the Citiplace.

     Finally, the ending is weird, for its strange resolution, if you call it that. The gruesome family meal. The final analysis. An exchange of information tat-for-tit. I don't like it, for what it says about the hero, for the doubts it casts about the sanity of us all. I still want to go back and see something different. Maybe if I read it over and over, it will change.

     But I am not willing to say here that the ending is bad. Maybe the fact that I don't like it is the payoff for getting my thrills from a monster like Hannibal. I cannot say there might be a better ending somewhere, or that what I want to see is the right thing for it. Believe me when I tell you I do not have much trouble in pointing out sloppy or poor endings. (Plum Island, anyone?)

     Hannibal is too well written for me to categorically pan the end. Dammit to hell, anyway.

      What will be interesting is to see what Hollywood will do with the episodic storyline, and how they will end it. And I say Hollywood, because film will have huge stakes. It is a latent money-machine, thanks to the (deservedly) Oscar-laden immensity of Silence of the Lambs. (For details on the behind the scenes wrangling over rights and directors, look at CINESCAPE ONLINE archives about "Hannibal".)

      The funny part is, as I grow to like the ending little by little, I cannot imagine Hollywood sitting still at all for this ending. But it is a damned if you do/don't dilemma. Changing the ending on a popular book, if the public grows to like the ending, causes problems when they pay to see the movie. (The Firm, anyone?) But people unfamiliar with the book may not like the end. What to do, what to do? I see little room for compromise. Harris' name will be taken in vain many times…

     And making this into what people will expect? It only involves Getting the stars back (critical), Getting the director back (unlikely and already turned down), Finding a writer that can pull it off (tricky), Ramping up the production (piece of cake), and Igniting, Inciting, and Inviting the public to see The Monster That Ate Everybody. All this in the next three years. For 100 million dollars.

     But the book is good.

     Let's see if Hollywood does unto it what Lecter does unto others.