Banner by Sarah Lindley
When Cannibalism Isn’t the Only Red Flag
By Aditi Choudhary
Hannibal Lecter is easily one of Hollywood’s most notorious serial killers. He has captured audiences’ attention for over four decades on both film and television. He has been long revered as one of Hollywood’s greatest villains. Yet with Hannibal having such an illustrious career, it is easy to forget that being a serial killer is only a singular aspect to his character.
Underneath his grisly notoriety lies a dual identity, one of which is firmly planted in medicine. Within Dr. Lecter, there is a tornado of swirling vices from both his career in dissecting patients’ minds and his career dissecting his victims. In the television show, aptly titled Hannibal, he is assigned as a psychiatrist to an investigator, Will Graham, to aid the FBI in catching serial killers—while simultaneously being the killer that they are trying to catch. He begins to gravitate towards Graham’s psyche appreciatively and reflectively, in order to keep Graham from suspecting his very involvement in the crimes they are attempting to solve, and eventually manipulates him, quite literally, to save his own neck. This dichotomous relationship between Dr. Hannibal Lecter and his patient, Will Graham, muddles between patient and partner, raising questions about the confinations of patient care.
So, what does this mean in terms of the provider-patient relationship, especially in the broader portrayal of medical professionals in the arena of popular culture?
To better comprehend the actions of Dr. Lecter, it is crucial to decipher his equally unique “villain origin story.” He graduated from the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, one of the best medical schools in the country, choosing psychiatry over surgery—although in my personal opinion, his dexterity would have aided him well in the latter. He resides in Baltimore, an ironic choice considering its notorious history of medical malpractice (read: HeLa cells) to run a private practice where he is paired with his patient, Will Graham, an FBI criminal profiler.
It is ironic that although Hannibal is the titular character, he is not considered the main character of the series. That honor goes to Will Graham. Graham is a mentally vulnerable patient, whose unique ability to empathize with criminals causes him anguish. In the pilot, the FBI utilizes Will Graham’s skill but assigns Dr. Lecter to him as a way of keeping him sane, and selfishly, productive. Graham likens this pairing to being babysitted and voices his skepticism when he asks Dr. Lecter not to psychoanalyze him.
Assuming that Hannibal took the Hippocratic Oath at Johns Hopkins, he reverts on the statement “If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty” many times. There is a duality of medicine explored here, a mix between morality and mortality. Hannibal disregards these ideals when he kills people, when he further harms his patient, and when he judges himself to be God-adjacent.
The Hippocratic Oath generally stands to be an overarching guiding principle in most of modern medicine. Hannibal allows his selfishness to take over the professionalism required of his profession. Selfish in his temptations, Hannibal gradually taints his patient to be more like him to remedy the loneliness of his genius. Hannibal perceives himself as the yin to Graham’s yang, and not as a provider to his patient, as he should.
Like many other TV shows today, it is apparent that the character of Hannibal is yet another addition to the tortured male genius archetype made popular by shows. Emily Nussbaum, television critic at The New Yorker, eloquently describes him as “another middle-aged male genius with a fetish for absolute control, like Don Draper and Walter White and Dr. House and Francis Underwood. Astrologically speaking, he’s a Sherlock with Lucifer rising.” He’s a hybrid of these characters, written for an audience who finds delight in knowing that the protagonist’s antagonism can be compensated by their sheer professional ability.
His duality, almost Jekyll-Hydian in nature, swings much like a pendulum between sincerity and disingenuousness. This duality is referred to as the “person suit” that Nussbaum says Hannibal dons to “[let] him pass for normal.” Hannibal’s psychiatrist Bedelia Du Maurier notes that Hannibal is “wearing a very well-tailored person suit....Less of a person suit and more of a human veil.” Dr. Lecter’s “person suit” is directly comparable to the character of Dr. Jekyll, who conceals the true “evil” nature of Mr. Hyde, the serial killer.
The show highlights the good in Hannibal’s character almost as much as they showcase the evils he is capable of committing. Abigail Hobbs, the daughter of the serial killer Minnesota Shrike, was seriously harmed by her father, but her life was saved because of Hannibal’s medical prowess. He continued to assume a paternal role, even after she had been committed to a psychiatric facility. Hannibal talks Will through his thoughts and guides him closer to comprehending the killer’s true whims and solving the murders. He’s “a libertarian life coach for his patients’ Jungian shadows,” Nussbaum says, and aids them in growing their confidence and improving their mental well being.
But it’s important to remember his knack for deceit. As a healthcare provider, it is his responsibility to inform Graham that he has diagnosed him with encephalitis, a mental condition that contributed to his seizures and rapid decline into insanity. To be quite frank, Hannibal gaslights Will into thinking that there is no reason for his diminishing mental stability. Hannibal acts paternalistically in making this decision, so that Graham can be more easily controlled like a puppet. He disperses information gained from his supposedly confidential psychiatric sessions with Graham to the FBI, even though these details are not necessary to any investigation.
Obviously, Hannibal’s cannibalistic aspect cannot be overlooked. Hannibal sees himself as a judge of humanity, free to condemn those he does not believe act up to par with his standards. In an iconic scene from the show, Lecter “[decides] what cuts of meat to source from his Rolodex of business cards belonging to people who have annoyed him,” as Sian Cain of the Guardian describes it. The refined cinematography in this kitchen scene does its job of convincing viewers that it is animal meat, momentarily distracting viewers from the fact that he is actively murdering people he finds to be subhuman for their flesh. To him, a rude person is equivalent to an animal put up for slaughter. All ethical qualms are squashed in the face of carnal desire.
The idea of relationships is toyed with in Hannibal. Relationships are formed, and broken—some nuclear, many not. The patient-provider relationship was always meant to be doomed as a consequence of the position Hannibal and Graham were placed in. Hannibal’s level of involvement in the investigations moves to the forefront rather than staying in the background. It’s not all that unbelievable that the fine line between caring for your patient as a patient and crossing the boundary between that and friendship can be crossed. Lecter’s character in the show is a more extreme example of a dangerous practitioner in the media; he is consistent with violating the most fundamental ethical principles of the profession, but also uses his position and psychiatric knowledge to commit heinous crimes, making him an inherently unethical and dangerous practitioner. While it is crucial to remember that Hannibal is a work of fiction, the visceral and dramatic representation of medicine may inadvertently contribute to a sensationalized and distorted view of the medical field. It is essential for the audience to differentiate between fiction and reality, understanding that the vast majority of healthcare professionals are dedicated individuals committed to the well-being of their patients. By associating a medical professional with such extreme and criminal behavior, there is a risk of fostering mistrust and fear towards healthcare professionals in the minds of the viewers. It can be widely agreed that although Dr. Lecter is a brilliantly created character, a physician in his likeness should remain confined in the fictional realm of medicine.