Praise for Hannibal Lecter and Philosophy
“The eighteen essays in this smart and playful anthology address, among other subjects, the connections between psychiatry and empathy, aesthetics and haute cuisine, friendship, art, and the nature of desire. Get to know Hannibal Lecter, this book suggests, and you get to know what it means to live a life of the mind, as well as the flesh.”
—MIKITA BROTTMAN, Author of Meat Is Murder! An Illustrated Guide to Cannibal Culture
“Hannibal Lecter and Philosophy is a smorgasbord of dark delights. The menu offers a seared entree of our own empathetic responses as manipulated by facial close-ups, as well as an exploration of the morality of people-eating; main courses featured include a steamy analysis of sociopathic feelings of divinity and a chilled look at horror-pleasure. In servings that ponder the films, television series, and novels, this book will help anyone with a taste for intellectual blood sharpen her thoughts on the refined, sophisticated, and delicious Dr. Lecter.”
—SARA WALLER, Editor of Serial Killers: Being and Killing
“Hannibal Lecter refuses to be categorized and his multiple incarnations make any attempt nearly impossible, as well as dangerous (just remember the poor census taker). Thankfully, the contributors to this volume have not attempted to analyze Hannibal, as he cannot be reduced to a set of check marks, but instead have focused on what Hannibal reveals about various aspects and ideas ranging from aesthetics to friendship to the morality of cannibalism. More importantly, these essays explicitly and implicitly focus on why we are fascinated with Hannibal and what that fascination reveals about human nature. No matter which version of Hannibal the reader prefers, he or she will find all of the essays illuminating, perhaps frighteningly so.”
—MICHELLE GOMPF, Author of Thomas Harris and William Blake: Allusions in the Hannibal Lecter Novels
“On very rare occasions, an author will dream up a fictional character who steps from the book that first brought him to life and enters the realm of pop myth. Bram Stoker did it with Dracula, Arthur Conan Doyle with Sherlock Holmes, Edgar Rice Burroughs with Tarzan. And in a pair of now-classic horror-thrillers from the 1980s—RED DRAGON and THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS—Thomas Harris did it with Hannibal Lecter. Though Dr. Lecter informs Clarice Starling that he is a phenomenon that resists explanation, this rich and provocative collection proves otherwise. With penetrating insight and a sophisticated wit that the good doctor himself would surely appreciate, these essays shed consistently sharp light on the moral, psychological, and philosophical complexities of America’s most beloved cannibal killer.”
—HAROLD SCHECHTER, Author of Man-Eater: The Life and Legend of an American Cannibal
“Hannibal Lecter is suave, cultured, brilliant—and profoundly evil. Who is Hannibal, really—vampire, psychopath, artist, devil? Drawing upon philosophers from Plato to Foucault, and Augustine to Nietzsche, this book will engage any reader interested in this villain’s multiple incarnations on page and screen. By examining Hannibal in relation to numerous philosophical issues, including revenge, justice, evil, forgiveness, autonomy, empathy, and even humor, the authors in this collection provide subtle insights into one of our most fascinating fictional monsters.”
—CYNTHIA FREELAND, Author of The Naked and the Undead: Evil and the Appeal of Horror and co-editor of Philosophy and Film
“Like a savory multi-course meal prepared by chef cuisinier/serial killer Dr. Lecter himself, Hannibal Lecter and Philosophy stimulates the intellectual appetite, provides variety, cleanses the palate between courses, and concludes leaving the reader both satiated and wanting more. Within these pages will be found a sumptuous, complexly layered reading experience, covering in relation to the fiction, film, and television incarnations of Dr. Lecter philosophical topics as varied as the cosmopolitanism and classifications of cannibalism; natural law; moral virtues and professional ethics; the existence and nature of God; moral dualism and pluralism; corruption and incorruptibility; psychopathology, psychiatry, and psychology; neuroscience; the pitfalls of friendship, love, and empathy; the aesthetics of the culinary arts, the fine arts, and murder; behaviorism versus transcendental evil; the cruelty of wit and humor; and monstrosity and horror. All of this makes for a heady meal, to be sure; yet as is typical of the Popular Culture and Philosophy series, both the general and academic reader alike will find something to please one’s taste here. Come, let these writers show you to Dr. Lecter’s table, where pity has no place but which can be far more engaging than theater. Prepare for a dark but illuminating feast.”
—PHILIP L. SIMPSON, Author of Making Murder: The Fiction of Thomas Harris
“Poor Clarice—up against the greatest screen villain of all time! Poor Will—knowing the truth is not enough! Poor Hannibal—searching for his equal! . . . Or is it his next meal? This delectable six-course banquet cuts, peels, pulls, and savors every morsel at the table Hannibal has set before us. Chewing on the deeper meanings of the books, films, and TV series, the chefs . . . um, writers . . . in this book revel in a range of tastes that can help us better sample the world around us.”
—JOSEF STEIFF, Editor of Sherlock Holmes and Philosophy
“Psychopath. Vampire. Devil. Monster. Hannibal Lecter’s truly phenomenal popularity, homicidal though he may be, raises complex ethical and socio-philosophical issues, explored in this addition to the Popular Culture and Philosophy series.”
—ROBERT CETTL, Author of Serial Killer Cinema
Volume 96 in the series, Popular Culture and Philosophy®, edited by George A. Reisch
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Copyright © 2016 by Carus Publishing Company, dba Cricket Media
First printing 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, Open Court Publishing Company, 70 East Lake Street, Suite 800, Chicago, Illinois 60601.
ISBN: 978-0-8126-9913-5
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015949856
For Mischa, and innocence recollected
Before we begin, you must all be warned: Nothing here is vegetarian.
Bon appétit.
—HANNIBAL LECTER, MD
Le Menu
Apéritif
Hello, Dr. Lecter
JOSEPH WESTFALL
I. Having an Old Friend for Dinner
Amuse-Bouche
1. Cosmopolitan Cannibal
MANDY-SUZANNE WONG
Hors-d’oeuvre
2. I, Cannibal
JOSEPH WESTFALL
Potage
3. What’s So Bad about Eating People?
BENJAMIN MCCRAW
II. What Does He Do, This Man You Seek?
Oeufs
4. Acts of God
TRIP MCCROSSIN
Farineux
5. Office Hours Are for Patients
DANIEL MALLOY
Poisson
6. The Psychiatrist as Sociopathic God
DERRICK L. HASSERT
III. They Say He’s a Psychopath
Entrée
7. Psychopaths, Outlaws, and Us
RICHARD MCCLELLAND
Sorbet
8. Consuming Homicidal Art
JOHN MCATEER
Relevé
JASON DAVIS
IV. I Gave You a Rare Gift, but You Didn’t Want It
Rôti
10. The Light from Friendship
ANDREW PAVELICH
Légumes
11. A Rare Gift
SELENA K.L. BREIKSS
Salades
12. A Little Empathy for Hannibal Is a Dangerous Thing
TIM JONES
V. It’s Beautiful in Its Own Way, Giving Voice to the Unmentionable
Buffet Froid
13. An Aesthete par Excellence
JASON HOLT
Entremet de sûcre
14. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Dinner Party
JOSEPH WESTFALL
Savoureux
15. The Art of Killing
ANDREA ZANIN
VI. The Beauty and Art and Horror of Everything This World Has to Offer
Fromage
16. Empathy for the Devil
DAN SHAW
Dessert
17. The Beguiling Horror of Hannibal Lecter
WILLIAM J. DEVLIN AND SHAI BIDERMAN
Café
18. Doctor, Heal Thyself
RICHARD MCCLELLAND
Ingredients
The Hannibal Lecter Canon
Works about Hannibal Lecter
Other Resources
The Psychopaths
Index
Hello, Dr. Lecter
JOSEPH WESTFALL
Hannibal Lecter . . . is . . . our most recent version of Mephistopheles—erudite, omniscient, satanic, and out to seduce Starling’s very being with the promise of knowledge.
—NOËL CARROLL, “Enjoying Horror Fictions”
If Hannibal Lecter isn’t a Count Dracula for the computer-and-cellphone age, then we don’t have one.
—STEPHEN KING, “Hannibal the Cannibal”
In fact, there is no consensus in the psychiatric community that Dr. Lecter should be termed a man. He has long been regarded by his professional peers in psychiatry, many of whom fear his acid pen in the professional journals, as something entirely Other. For convenience they term him a “monster.”
—THOMAS HARRIS, Hannibal
Hannibal Lecter.
“A brief silence follows the name, always, in any civilized gathering” (Harris, Silence, p. 4). Dr. Lecter hates to be discourteous, but he is busy with a patient just now—apparently, he has something rather meaty to work through. You may await him in the waiting room. He’ll be but two shakes of a (silent) lamb’s tail—not a moment more. But while you wait . . .
Stephen King calls him “the great fictional monster of our time,” and it is a difficult point to dispute. With his suave appeal, his charm, his wit and intelligence, his vast memory and encyclopedic knowledge, his ability to excel in apparently any field of endeavor, and his immaculate taste in clothes, wine, music, art, architecture, literature, and most of all food—it would be difficult to deny him greatness. And why would we? Denying the greatness of Hannibal Lecter is usually the first step in the direction of appearing at his next dinner party. Dr. Lecter does so appreciate having the willfully blind, the ignorant, and the rude for dinner.
Of course, in our denial, then, we would discover the monster. He can be seen from two sides, as Clarice Starling noted: “one showed his charm, the other his scales” (Harris, Hannibal, p. 302). Charm and scales, a cocktail suited only to the boldest of palates.
First Principles, Clarice
He is described as “a small, lithe man . . . Very neat” (Harris, Dragon, p. 58), with “a wiry strength” (Harris, Silence, p. 14). Until he amputates it himself, he has “six fingers on his left hand” (Harris, Silence, p. 13)—a perfect duplicate of his middle finger, described more than once as “the rarest form of polydactyly” (Harris, Silence, p. 20). His “cultured voice has a slight metallic rasp beneath it” (Harris, Silence, p. 14). Looking a little more closely, we see he has “small white teeth,” and perhaps most remarkably of all, his “eyes are maroon and they reflect the light redly in tiny points” (Harris, Dragon, pp. 58–59). He is regularly described as being characterized by an extraordinary stillness, and “His ego, like his intelligence . . . and the degree of his rationality, is not measurable by conventional means” (Harris, Hannibal, p. 136). He is an acute observer, and of his physical senses, his sense of smell is perhaps the most acute: “He could smell everything” (Harris, Silence, p. 22).
Dr. Lecter has appeared in several guises over the past forty years or so, in different contexts, and at different stages (not always chronologically ordered) along his life’s way. He has appeared as a character in four novels by Thomas Harris: in the first of these, he is but a brief, daring interlude (Red Dragon, 1981); in the last two, his is the triumphal melody that overtakes all (Hannibal, 1999; Hannibal Rising, 2006); and in the middle, in Silence . . . he is the countermelody in a minor key that haunts us long after we’ve left the symphony hall (The Silence of the Lambs, 1988). And if Hannibal Lecter reminds us of music, we would be remiss not to mention the performers who have brought that music to life—the incarnations of Harris’s literary specter, as it were. Brian Cox, Anthony Hopkins (yes, of course, Anthony Hopkins!), Aaran Thomas (if only briefly), Gaspard Ulliel, and, most recently, Mads Mikkelsen. In each case, a different take on our old familiar cannibal—who somehow, even as he ages, never grows old. Of course, not every Lecter is to every Fannibal’s liking. But even when we find ourselves disappointed with one (or more) of his incarnations and interpretations, we never find ourselves thinking that Hannibal Lecter himself is not great, nor that Hannibal Lecter is not a monster. Somehow, Dr. Lecter survives even his many presentations, interpretations, and performances. The disappointing presentations are betrayals, we think, not only of the fans, but of Lecter himself. Somehow, despite the fact that he is a work of fiction, there is a “Lecter himself.” Hannibal Lecter has a life of his own. Even Thomas Harris notes that, when writing Red Dragon and getting to know his characters in that novel, “I was not comfortable in the presence of Dr. Lecter, not sure at all that the doctor could not see me” (Harris, “Foreword” to Red Dragon, p. xi).
One thing every version of Hannibal Lecter shares, besides the cannibalism, is a capacity for driving us—his readers, his viewers, his witnesses, his fans—to think. We find in Lecter an unsettling combination of things we would like to be and things that horrify, if not utterly disgust, us. We like this man whom we do not, should not, like. And this raises a whole host of questions about human existence which, in the manner of a good psychiatrist, Dr. Lecter poses but never resolves. Like Socrates, he goads us to ask them—What is the good life? What are our responsibilities to others, and to ourselves? What must we risk in order to live well? What must we preserve? What can we allow ourselves to become? What are we already?—but he has no answers for us. Which is not to say that he has not answered these questions for himself, just that he cannot make his answers our own. If we’re going to learn something from Dr. Lecter, we must—like Will Graham, like Clarice Starling—discover the lesson for ourselves. He can give us that rare gift, but we have to want it. We have to take it.
It is generally considered rude to question the motives of a man offering a gift, and I would not want anyone—least of all, our dear doctor—to suspect me of this offense against courtesy. But it is impossible to encounter Hannibal Lecter without wondering who—and what—he is. How to classify the extraordinary, perhaps unique, individual who presents himself so well-attired (in a “very well-tailored person suit,” perhaps) to the world? Naturally, I hesitate to make the census taker’s mistake—to “quantify” Dr. Lecter, to “reduce [him] to a set of influences” (Harris, Silence, pp. 19–20). No, Hannibal Lecter is infinitely more interesting when he is unquantified, unquantifiable, immeasurable, mysterious. We shouldn’t try to understand him too much, to know him too well, to get too close to him. “We can,” after all, “only learn so much and live” (
Harris, Hannibal, p. 484). But still . . . we can hazard some perhaps amateurish, admittedly incomplete, undeniably discourteous, but nevertheless well-meaning attempts at finding Lecter’s place in the world.
Certainly, the philosophical issues raised in the different chapters of this book weave through these various depictions, sometimes preferring one to the others, sometimes working two or more of them together. Hannibal Lecter prompts us to reflection, and the first thing he prompts us to reflect upon is himself. “First principles, Clarice. Simplicity. Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing ask: what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek?” (Demme, Silence).
The Psychopath
As we are told more than once, Dr. Lecter is considered—at least after his incarceration, at least by Dr. Frederick Chilton—a “pure sociopath” or a “pure psychopath,” although Will Graham cautions us that these terms don’t apply to Hannibal Lecter, strictly speaking. Strictly speaking, we don’t have a word for what Lecter is. In any case, one of the most common presentations of Hannibal Lecter is as a psychopathic killer, in the fictional tradition of Norman Bates, and the real-life tradition of Ted Bundy and others. There was for many years much speculation about who might have served as the basis for Thomas Harris’s creation, and Harris fed this speculation when, in his rare interviews, he would mention one or another serial killer as having inspired one or more of Lecter’s attributes.
Only recently, however, did Harris reveal the primary source of his inspiration—a doctor whom Harris had met in a prison in Mexico while working as a crime reporter. The doctor “was a small, lithe man” who “stood very still and there was a certain elegance about him.” His “eyes were maroon with grainy sparks like sunstones.” Harris did not know the doctor was in fact a prisoner at first, but the prison warden reveals, shortly after Harris’s conversation with the doctor, that, “The doctor is a murderer. As a surgeon, he could package his victim in a surprisingly small box. He will never leave this place. He is insane” (Harris, “Author’s Note” in Silence, 25th Anniversary Edition, pp. xi–xiii). When Harris questions the warden’s diagnosis of insanity, noting that poor people from the local community come to the prison freely and are treated by the doctor for their ailments, the warden responds, “He is not insane with the poor.” Throughout his discussion of the doctor, Harris refers to him as “Dr. Salazar.” It is a pseudonym, perhaps because, contrary to the warden’s prediction, the doctor did get out of prison, eventually. “Dr. Salazar served twenty years in prison. When he was released he went to the poorest barrio in Monterrey to serve the aged and the poor. His name is not Salazar. I leave him in peace” (p. xiv).
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