Greetings dearest matriarch,
As I pen this, I am struck with a combination of respect, awe, and, to be honest, indignation. That you’ve allowed Mr. Fuller to convince you that his vision of my life, his interpretation as it were, would be widely accepted (though there is little of me present) is disconcerting at best. I had hoped for better treatment at your hands.
I will admit his offering has exceptionally high production value, its packaging slick and the marketing quite ingenious. Still, your ratings, stellar in the first weeks, have subsequently and steadily declined. Why? Because you have named the show Hannibal in order that you might attract viewers. They watched in droves hoping to see me in all my glory, but to find me unrecognizable- Hannibal in name only.
Clarice and I often muse as we share a meal or a post-coital conversation (sex is a magnificent structure to which we add every day), that my relationship with Will Graham, though the fabrication is creative, it is just that. A fabrication.
He was no more engaging to me than is the mouse a cat bats about when bored.
The storyline is an interesting but highly out of character work of fiction. I might have said fanfiction but one would need to be a true admirer of the character to hold that distinction. You and your staff seem to appreciate little more of my life than my name. Otherwise, you might have protected and honored me by asking Mr. Fuller to remain true to its course. My true nature has been compromised.
I myself tuned in week one with great anticipation and interest. Which of my exploits would be shared? I observed only to find I had been reduced to no more than a psychological babysitter. Do I strike you as a man content to be a professional hand-holder for a junior G-Man with a personality disorder? And why would I leave evidence in plain sight for a trainee to find? I do not kill women, if any choice is left me. That you have me unable to outsmart and thus be forced to kill a trainee is unthinkable. And foreshadowing Clarice in such a way was an expository device handled with all the grace of a hammer to the head. I am insulted. Truly.
And in whose twisted world would I allow people into my circle? Know, my dear Martha, that I trust no one, save Clarice. Would that you focused on that, you might have more viewers. Instead, I have become father to Abigail? And who is Will, her mother? I’ve followed your tweets and those of Mr. Fuller. The degree to which you pimp my name and skew my sexuality to forward your agenda is reprehensible. This level of discourtesy is unspeakably ugly. Instead of protecting my integrity, Mr. Fuller touts promises of nudity and promotes Hannigrams? You should all be ashamed to encourage such debasement of, not only my image, my very life. Would that I could un-see some of those! Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.