I think I’m losing my interest in the “serial killer’s perspective” genre.
Well, not entirely, perhaps, but a good amount.
I was hunting around for reviews of Hannibal, to see if it would be worth my while maybe to give it a go (but definitely not dive into the fandom, which seems as crazy and obnoxious as the Dr. Who fandom, and the GoT fandom, and the Supernatural fandom [as it stands at present], and the Star Trek fandom), and the reviews are mostly positive as far as I can tell, but they also allow that the show contains a lot of gore (not my thing) and there’s the whole cannibalism aspect that’s pretty hard to get away from.
So I’m like okay, fine, I could handle that shit, but then I’m like but wait a second, do I really want to? The whole “empathetic protagonist serial killer” element is pretty tired already, even though television is just starting to go there. Well, tired from my perspective, anyway.
I think it’s supposed to be very disturbing and fantastical, and maybe make people feel better about themselves, to find these characters to be even somewhat relatable, or appealing. But I’m just like “Murder? Sociopath? Psychosis? Blood? Okay whatever.” It’s too blase. Like I’m supposed to be shocked and repulsed by these acts of horror but I’m so, so not, and when you take that away, what is really left but another Law and Order.
It’s the same with Dexter, actually. I mean there, Deb was part of the reason I almost didn’t make it through to the end, as well as…every other character (I didn’t like a single one, except for Lundy, until he hooked up with Deb), but I stuck around for the excruciatingly careful murders, and even there I think some of it was just a mad dash to the finish line. Even now I don’t want him to get caught, although I know he will.
Interesting, though, that the Yin/Yang arc in Psych is definitely one of my favorites. Short (only three episodes! Spread out over three seasons, no less), deranged (oh my god are those two over the edge of the sanity cliff), conclusive (both caught with a delightful little Shawn/Juliet overlay at the very end), and containing two lovely extremes of the “psychotic serial killer” MO (Yang, the off-the-deep-end 100% nut bar, and Yin, the puppet master sociopath delighting in others’ suffering) without an overdose of either to bore me away.
Also Anthony Hopkins is the only Hannibal Lecter and no one will ever convince me otherwise.