Hannibal Lector doles out samurai justice.
Hannibal Rising was the most unintentionally hilarious horror film I've seen since Jason X, a particularly ridiculous installment of the Friday the 13th series. That's the one where Jason's in space. But let's talk Lector. Spoilers ahead.
So, Hannibal Lector wasn't always creepy- he was made creepy when Russian soldiers killed and cannibalized his sister during WWII. After escaping a soviet orphanage to flee to the sanctuary of his gorgeous Japanese aunt's French estate, Hannibal learns to be a ninja. That's right. By virtue of being Asian, Auntie knows all manner of martial arts. Then, using his new abilities, Hannibal travels to Communist Russia to wreck some vengeance for his sister. It's mostly just a series of bullshit confrontations and face eating after that. The surprise reveal at the end of the film?
Hannibal to guy who killed his sister - "You ate Mischa!"
That Welsh Guy from Notting Hill must be having trouble finding work - "So did you!"
Me - "Oh, goodness. Well, I never would have guessed that all this face eating came from past cannibal experience. It just didn't occur to me. All that sloppy foreshadowing and consumption imagery throughout the film was just too subtle. Please repeat that line at least four more times."
Hannibal - "No!"
TWGNH - "You ate her! You ate her! You ate her! You did! You did!"
You get my point. When I wasn't squirming uncomfortably, because writer Thomas Harris decided to insert hyper-violent death scenes in lieu of plot, I was laughing my ass off because Hannibal Lector just can't be a cannibal samurai, because I say so. Also, because Cannibal Samurai sounds like a band name or a you tube short. Either way, Hannibal Lector film franchise, you are disqualified.
Beyond that, I'm having a good Valentine's day. David sent me flowers, good man. Roses in shades of pink, yellow, coral and white. I sent him a pizza with a pepperoni heart in the middle, as I've gone soft in my old age. Tonight I get to babysit (so romantic) but that's alright. It's always nice to get flowers, but I don't wear this day particularly well. I get all awkward, and that brings out my bitchier streak. I don't want to pick a fight with David on a day when he gave me a dozen roses. I don't know exactly what it is with Valentine's Day or what it means that I feel this way, and I do hope I'll grow out of it. Still, today I woke up and changed into my obligatory pink skirt and felt annoyed. Oh, Valentine's Day, I'm having a wonderful time. I just don't want to be associated with the kind of girls I think enjoy you. Is that so much to ask?
That's all for now. I'm exhausted, and it's Wednesday. The weekend seems so far away.
So, Hannibal Lector wasn't always creepy- he was made creepy when Russian soldiers killed and cannibalized his sister during WWII. After escaping a soviet orphanage to flee to the sanctuary of his gorgeous Japanese aunt's French estate, Hannibal learns to be a ninja. That's right. By virtue of being Asian, Auntie knows all manner of martial arts. Then, using his new abilities, Hannibal travels to Communist Russia to wreck some vengeance for his sister. It's mostly just a series of bullshit confrontations and face eating after that. The surprise reveal at the end of the film?
Hannibal to guy who killed his sister - "You ate Mischa!"
That Welsh Guy from Notting Hill must be having trouble finding work - "So did you!"
Me - "Oh, goodness. Well, I never would have guessed that all this face eating came from past cannibal experience. It just didn't occur to me. All that sloppy foreshadowing and consumption imagery throughout the film was just too subtle. Please repeat that line at least four more times."
Hannibal - "No!"
TWGNH - "You ate her! You ate her! You ate her! You did! You did!"
You get my point. When I wasn't squirming uncomfortably, because writer Thomas Harris decided to insert hyper-violent death scenes in lieu of plot, I was laughing my ass off because Hannibal Lector just can't be a cannibal samurai, because I say so. Also, because Cannibal Samurai sounds like a band name or a you tube short. Either way, Hannibal Lector film franchise, you are disqualified.
Beyond that, I'm having a good Valentine's day. David sent me flowers, good man. Roses in shades of pink, yellow, coral and white. I sent him a pizza with a pepperoni heart in the middle, as I've gone soft in my old age. Tonight I get to babysit (so romantic) but that's alright. It's always nice to get flowers, but I don't wear this day particularly well. I get all awkward, and that brings out my bitchier streak. I don't want to pick a fight with David on a day when he gave me a dozen roses. I don't know exactly what it is with Valentine's Day or what it means that I feel this way, and I do hope I'll grow out of it. Still, today I woke up and changed into my obligatory pink skirt and felt annoyed. Oh, Valentine's Day, I'm having a wonderful time. I just don't want to be associated with the kind of girls I think enjoy you. Is that so much to ask?
That's all for now. I'm exhausted, and it's Wednesday. The weekend seems so far away.