This week’s blog is from Martha De Laurentiis, one of Hannibal’s executive producers.

Two cannibals are having dinner. “I hate my father-in-law,” says one. The other replies, “So just eat the noodles.”

Some of my favorite scenes in the series involve Hannibal throwing little dinner parties. No matter how twisted his drives or brutal his crimes, Hannibal is a man who chooses his friends and associates carefully, is eager to share his taste and passion for food with them and prepares his meals meticulously and lovingly. And of course, the scenes have an extra charge because you’re never entirely sure what the guests are being served…

My husband Dino’s passions were family, film, food and football (i.e. soccer), not always in that order. Sharing food was an important way he expressed his appreciation and affection for friends and family. When Dino came to America in the late 1960s, opening his home, and especially his kitchen, to people he respected was a big way he ingratiated himself with the American film community and crossed any cultural divide. 

 Back then, coffee was something that came pre-ground out of a can and was boiled in a percolator. Italian food meant spaghetti with red sauce and meatballs. Soon, people realized that if they were having a meeting at Dino’s, they’d be offered, even badgered into, a cup of espresso or cappuccino hand prepared on an exotic machine from freshly ground coffee beans flown in from some distant location. A business lunch or dinner at his house was “the best Italian restaurant in town.”

(Dino & Martha with a cup of coffee)

(Martha and Baz Luhrmann sharing a cup of coffee)

Now, good coffee is everywhere, and tasty, authentic Italian food is widely available in America, but I’m still lucky to have THE best Italian chef with me at home. Luigi Ferraioli, known as Gigi to friends and guests, is a gifted Neapolitan chef who came to work for Dino in 1983 to open DDL Foodshow in Beverly Hills. Dino’s dream was to share what he ate at home with everyone else. He opened lavish food emporiums in both New York and Los Angeles, bringing talented chefs, bakers and pizzaioli from Italy and importing food from all over the world that was beloved by Italians but not then widely available in America.

(Dino & Arnold at DDL Foodshow opening, Beverly Hills, 1983)

Good producers have to adopt the attitude from “Field of Dreams”: build it and they will come. The films and television we most cherish are often unlike anything that came before. A filmmaker has to believe that if they feel really passionate about something and put a lot of love, sweat and tears into executing it, audiences probably will appreciate it too. 

In this case, people came to DDL Foodshow in droves, to look at and sample the glorious food, all presented with a bit of Hollywood showmanship. But as beautiful and tasty as it was, the idea of a really expensive little bottle of extra virgin olive oil or balsamic vinegar, or fresh mozzarella that cost many times what a block of cheese at the grocery store did just didn’t make sense to enough people to keep it in business. Dino literally lost a fortune on those two stores. Yet, by helping expose a bunch of American food-lovers to authentic Italian cuisine, he gained credit from numerous food critics as helping change the culinary landscape in this country. And, most importantly, Gigi has stayed on with us.

(Gigi with Easter breads)

(Gigi teaching Kingsley, Thomas Harris’ cook, the art of pasta and meats Italian style)

The most challenging and satisfying part of producing entertainment is bringing together a group of people of diverse talents to share a common vision. Everyone involved in a project needs to put forth skill, enthusiasm, collaboration and hard work for a significant stretch of very long days. A unified team, even a surrogate family. I’ve continued Dino’s tradition, using meals to establish relationships, explore our varying tastes, connect and express my friendship and gratitude. On almost every project, I can look back to a meal - usually one cooked by myself personally or Gigi - as a point at which I felt that a meeting of the minds had been achieved.

(Neapolitan potato salad)

(Eggplant Parmigiana)

For me, the turning point Hannibal meal occurred soon after Bryan Fuller joined the project. Bryan and Katie O’Connell from Gaumont came to my home in L.A. Apropos of Hannibal, we shared a lovely bottle of chianti. We started with our signature Neapolitan pizza Margherita. On to linguini with white truffle butter sauce and 2” thick veal chops. I learned later that Bryan was steering clear of both gluten and meat, but he ate both out of politeness. I hope it was tasty enough to be worth the lapse! We ate outside under the lemon trees and talked creative ideas and personal stories well into the night. I went to bed that night well-sated and feeling optimistic we were at the beginning of something great.  

(Linguine w/ butter sauce and white truffles)

As you might imagine from the show and the naming of the episodes, Bryan is also a big foodie, so the development and production of Hannibal has involved a number of truly memorable meals. Our daily responsibilities are most importantly focused on getting things done to a high creative standard and making sure we’re on budget and on schedule. But all the principal producers stayed involved in craft service, varying the food trucks and arranging for special treats for break times to show the crew we appreciate their hard work.

(Janice Poon, our Food Stylist, had us all hungry)

(MDL breakfast)

Our first week of shooting was nights, so a special coffee truck was much needed and appreciated. Also, the chip truck was a crew favorite, especially their poutine, a French Canadian delicacy (which, for me, never quite seemed more special than its component parts of French fries, cheese curd and gravy). Needed Liquid-Plumr on those days!  

I went to Toronto frequently during the seven-month shooting schedule, and it was my joy to cook for cast and crew members for little thank-you parties, even on the set out of the craft service truck. Filmmaking is Murphy’s Law in action. There are so many moving parts, no matter how organized and vigilant you are, nothing is ever quite as it should be. With the heroic efforts of all involved, every little hiccup along the way can be overcome, but it requires a crew that is loyal and happy to go the extra mile. Cooking and serving connects you to everyone. And I hope, helps demonstrate that we’re all in it together. 

(Hannibal invites to cast dinner)

Many thanks to Joey Craft Service (Joe McGurik), who was always positive, always cooking and always feeding. Joey tolerated our meddling, embraced our recipes and was an awesome cooking partner when I decided to make pizza for a crew of 75.

Pizza is always a real winner, and if I do say so myself, I have a fantastic crust recipe. My sauce is easy, but tasty, and fresh basil and lots of shredded mozzarella complete a simple, but surprisingly lovely flatbread-style pizza. The trick is to first put the pizza pans directly on the floor of the oven or depending on the oven, the rack directly above the exposed heat coils. You have to watch it carefully: the first 10 minutes or so will crust the bottom of the pizza, but once that happens, move it up to a middle or top rack to prevent the crust from burning but allow the topping to finish cooking, until the cheese is bubbly and well-cooked. 

(Notice I rolled the dough USING a nice bottle of Chianti!)

Near the end of the seven months, we were all breathlessly awaiting Bryan’s rewrite of the final episode. I took the lull in the action as an opportunity to teach my new friend, associate producer Loretta Ramos, some home recipes. We made a double batch of fried mozzarella and paccheri with sauce cooked from fresh tomatoes and sent a care package to Bryan, who was holed up in front of his computer.

Shooting the season’s final episode, number 113, we were back to nights around the stages in Mississauga. The crew was diligently slogging through a blizzard, when NBC sent their special thanks, a fish and chips truck. Greasy burgers and greasier and yummier fish and chips significantly brightened that night. All hail!

(NBC food truck arrived)

Now that we’ve been picked up by NBC for another season, I’m excited at the prospect of more memorable meals with our incredibly gifted cast and crew and numerous new creative challenges. In Italian, the same word - “ospite” - is used to mean both “host” and “guest.” As someone who grew up in Ohio learning the language, that struck me as odd, but the duality seems especially appropriate to the job of producer. You bring together people you respect, trust and love who share your passion for a story, but at a certain point, you become as much of a guest as anyone else, the work becomes bigger than anyone involved. 

(Gnocchi with tomato sauce)

And to extend the metaphor, we’ve been working as hosts sharing our love for Hannibal, and now we’ve become guests in your living rooms. I’m especially grateful for the enthusiasm, and hospitality, the fans have given back to us. I hope you’re looking forward to the next episodes and next season as much as I am. Buon appetito!

This week’s blog is from Patti Podesta, “Hannibal’s” production designer.

With the news this week that “Hannibal” has been renewed by NBC and that Season 2 will get deeper into the madness between Lecter and Will Graham, I thought this might be a good moment to describe how we developed the look of the series and the stylistic differences between its two main characters.

 Bryan Fuller and David Slade are major talents, so coming into the project I was immediately aware that this was a chance to do something complex and haunting. In our first conversation, Bryan invoked the painter Francis Bacon as a reference for Lecter, and from David came a very striking image, the Blood-Stag; this is how it started. I assembled an array of paintings and photographs through which the three of us discussed realism and expressionism, architecture, qualities of light and palette. In addition to Bacon, Gerhard Richter, Todd Hido, Gregory Crewdson and the French painter Caillebotte. I included Wyeth for his anxious rendering of the Midwest and certain paintings by Edward Hopper. David’s photographic images were key in defining the look of the series.

What emerged from our discussions was a quartet of themes:

1. Hannibal Lecter’s world: He is a sadist, albeit an incredibly elegant one with a highly refined aesthetic. He creates for himself in an interior limbo, a “re-naturalized nature.”

2. Will Graham’s world: He needs a sanctuary from the intensity of his “gifts” and so surrounds himself in actual nature. He lives in the farmlands outside Quantico.

3.  The FBI: Envisioned as ’80s Brutalist architecture. Such buildings can be found on the FBI campus in Quantio, VA, where there is also a new state-of-the-art forensics lab, which we would interpret in our own way. On a preliminary scouting trip to Toronto we found Scarborough University and David gave us treated photographs of the buildings with a cool, steely look.

4. The Midwest: classic American, horizontal with a kind of butterscotch light. Poignant landscapes. These qualities would disappear later in the series, as the cases move to the East Coast and deeper into Lecter’s world. 

 Bryan’s script cited Sir John Soane’s library in describing Lecter’s office. Soane was an English architect known for his neo-classical buildings and marvelous library, which redefined the idea of the categorical, displaying art and artifacts that he collected during his lifetime. I thought we could rework these qualities through Americana, using the style as Lecter’s pretense for “passing.” From a stack of images, Bryan singled out a photo of the old library room in the North Carolina State Building and Lecter’s office is based on this room. 

We spun a backstory that he had purchased an historic building and updated the surfaces, leaving the architecture intact. It has to pass as a place of business, but is also his showplace, impressive and intimidating. Creating this set in the time we had was a daunting task. Our construction coordinator Dwight Doerksen, lead painter Jack McCullough and their crews were just amazing. Virtually everything on both of Lecter’s sets is custom… custom millwork, custom cabinetry, custom mixed stains. Set decorator Jaro Dick has great taste and knows where to look for special things, like Hannibal’s desk, an original Leif Jacobsen. Shopping for “the mix” that describes Lecter’s curatorial vision occupied Jaro’s team every day for 2 months. Dressing the set… the books alone took days and days. Of course they had to be organized by subject. I spent an entire day with an assistant creating a complex system of colored dots on the spine of 700+ sketch books that I decided Lecter would use for his patient notes… the dots identifying the patients and their conditions.

Lavish textures define all of Lecter’s spaces, creating the “hyper-nature” mentioned earlier. His home is an enclave; his kitchen is his performance space and reflects his orderly, highly visceral taste. It is a chef’s kitchen that conceals its transgressive activities. It envelops him (and his “guests”) in corporal surfaces while remaining strict. There is barn wood and zebrawood, top-of-the-line stainless appliances and travertine counters and backsplash. The center island is stainless with pale grey leather panels on the front and sides. Another custom-made stainless table evokes cook’s prep table/autopsy table. 

Lecter’s dining room evolved into his most theatrical chamber. The walls are made from stacked wood moldings, a bit of genius that came from Bryan Fuller… he had seen such a wall at a restaurant… for ours, I chose moldings that had voluptuous curves or simple geometry. We stained the wood indigo blue, surrounding Lecter and his “audience” in the color of the night sky. Bryan also suggested a “living wall” for Lecter’s dining room, and I thought to use a huge landscape as a backdrop. I found an etching by Oscar Grosch and loved its gothic tone, but also that it would fall into abstraction for close ups, almost like an early Jackson Pollock painting. It was reproduced as wallpaper, with box shelves that house live herbs in containers. My art department had many conversations debating whether the olfactory effect was properly epicurean; we decided in the end that the intensity was pure Lecter.

Will Graham, by comparison, dwells in a world described by association, meaning that similar colors and shapes create a continuous flow through his space, with many windows connecting to a natural setting. It’s a sensual fish tank in which everything is held in a kind of ether. I found a farmhouse outside Toronto, untouched, habited by the original owners. This became our backstory for Will: he purchased the house and land and just moved in. He lives in the downstairs, so he can be aware of anyone showing up outside. We repainted it all: a deep, dull blue/green. Some of the furniture, paintings and books belong to the owners of the house (who are the most fabulous couple - he was a motocross champion in the ’60s, she paints). The rest of the furniture was accumulated by Jaro and is a conscious hodgepodge, unmatched, not theatrical in any way. Will lives there with his dogs, his motorboat parts and his fishing tackle. He does not have a computer and does not bring work home.

Lecter and Will compose a duality, and their settings illustrate two concepts of sanctuary. Theirs is not a symmetrical opposition, but a pair of complementary colors whose qualities smear onto one another. “This is my design.” Will utters this in every episode. Is he channeling Lecter? Or Bryan? Is he asking us to reflect on design and its many meanings? It’s a multifaceted statement that makes me laugh AND tense up whenever I hear it. 

I had been designing a Stanley Kubrick exhibition that was to open at the Los Angeles County Museum on November 1, 2012. It was a project I had worked on for nearly a year, so I had an out point for “Hannibal.” During preproduction it became clear I would only be able to get the series started before I had to return to Los Angeles to oversee the exhibition. I would have liked to design more of the series, it was so provocative… although Stanley Kubrick is no slouch and designing his exhibition was a highlight of my career. “Hannibal” is a rare project in which one gets to work within a collaborative circle of highly intelligent and wildly creative people. I left the series in the capable hands of production designer Matthew Davies and the fabulous crew I encountered in Toronto. I watch the show every week and am left in its spell for days afterwards. 

This week’s blog is from Carol Trussell, Hannibal’s line producer.

Hannibal is a wonderful show to produce. Every eight days we are challenged to turn out a feature-quality episode of television. This would not be possible without talented directors and an amazing professional crew. 

While each episode shoots for eight days, we only have seven days to prep. On day one Bryan Fuller takes the incoming director and all of the department heads through a concept meeting on the upcoming show. Bryan’s scripts are always very rich in detail and every episode has new and exciting set pieces. We all sit around a big conference table and discuss ideas. Great television episodes are born in these meetings. Department heads love doing new things and are inspired by challenges. The goal of these meetings is to develop a plan of action that can be implemented in seven days. The second the meeting is over, departments go into overdrive. Set plans are drawn up, prosthetics start molding, special props are being designed, stunt people begin staging fight sequences. Even Will’s dogs are being trained.

As soon as the concept meeting is over, the incoming director and I are loaded into a van to look at possible locations. I am from Los Angeles, but I have come to know Toronto better than many locals, as I have scouted every part of the city. The director needs to see locations and choose what works best for the action in his script. By the end of the first day a lot has been accomplished.

Over the next few days, the director and I will meet with each department to discuss sets, stunts, props, wardrobe, food styling, visual effects and, importantly, schedule. By day two, the assistant director will have a schedule that lays out all the scenes in the episode. It is a complex task, but it becomes the plan of how to shoot the episode. There can be all sorts of challenges in scheduling. A certain guest-starring actor may have availability issues. Even predictions for weather are factored into the schedule. When will the new sets be ready? Are the prosthetics so complicated that they can’t be ready until the end of the shooting schedule? Once the director approves the schedule, it goes wide and everyone in every department knows when things must be camera-ready.

Directors take on a lot of responsibility in television. We have very highly regarded directors on Hannibal, and I try to provide them with the tools they need to be successful. The prep days are packed with meetings, location visits, walking sets and much more, but I always try to provide them with time alone with the script to shot list and prepare for shooting. Most of our directors do multiple episodes, and they really understand the show and what Bryan wants to achieve.

One the last day of prep, the director and I meet with Bryan Fuller for several hours to tone the script. This is where Bryan goes over each scene to discuss character and nuance. These are wonderful and creative sessions. The director is now officially ready to shoot.

I always love the first day of shooting on a new episode. In seven days, the script has transformed from the written word into a bustling and vibrant production. Every person on the crew of Hannibal has been a part of making the episode a success. The next day, the process starts again.

This week’s blog is from Matthew Davies, Hannibal’s Production Designer.

Hannibal has standing sets that were designed at the very beginning of the show, when we only had script outlines, and they are the core sets for each of our characters. They include the world of Hannibal, which incorporates his house interior and his office, both of which were designed by my predecessor Patti Podesta. They also include the world of the FBI, which I designed, showcasing Jack Crawford’s office, the interior corridors of the FBI Quantico campus, Will’s lecture hall, and the labs and other forensic setups.

On an episodic basis, we have additional sets and locations that we have to build or find. And they have to conform to the aesthetic of the show, which has always been that of an elegant horror film.

We work very closely with the show runner, as the story is told by his own particular aesthetic, and also with individual directors to find out how they want to shoot the scenes and what tools they need in order to tell the story. For the sets we don’t build, the locations team searches for places that fit or conform to the overall look of the show.

There is a very fast turnaround in terms of getting the script, breaking it down, getting the information we need from the various departments, and then harnessing all of our resources to make sure that we’re ready for camera each day. Each episode has its own identity and independent story lines and characters that are specific to it. We have to create the context or the environment for each of those characters, and, episodically, that is a lot of work, especially in contrast to our standing studio sets - they are already part of a predefined vocabulary within the show and have been well established beforehand, requiring less input on an episodic basis. We also have to generate a lot of graphics and other key props, prosthetics, and special effects elements because every episode includes at least one or two death tableau pieces, which are carefully orchestrated beforehand.

I think the episode that Tim Hunter directed, “Fromage,” is a great example, from an art department perspective, of a lot of really fun elements. We got to film in the Roy Thomson Hall, which is Toronto’s premier performance space, and set up one of our death tableaus, which was a beautiful prosthetic in and of itself. We had to do research into the production of gut strings, using animal gut. Then we built a basement in the studio, which included a pretty painstakingly accurate rendition of how someone might butcher and prepare gut strings in their own home. We created a full music store on location in an old house interior that seemed to fit with the architectural resonance that we wanted for the basement. That was all at a very short notice, so it was a real scramble to ready the locations, get everything painted, build all the set pieces and get them to location, and find hundreds of musical instruments to fill the place. And it was a pleasure working with Tim, as he’s such a visually articulate director.

This week’s blog is from Shane Million, Hannibal’s special effects coordinator.

The Special Effects Department basically has to work with every department on the show. A lot of Set Decoration and Art Department cooperation is involved, to establish what gags we have to do and how we have to make them work. On Hannibal, we do a lot of blood spray, blood spatter, blood leaking and atmospherics, so we have to work with those other departments to make sure that the sets we’re spraying onto, whether on location or at the studio, are useable for clean up and multiple takes of a particular shot. We have to ensure we aren’t messing up any other department’s decorations.

It’s always a challenge trying to come up with the best way to incorporate our effects into the shot. Often, the filmmakers depend on camera angles to hide our rigs and stunt equipment. And since we were shooting in Toronto through the winter, the weather was constantly changing, so it’s a bit of a challenge to keep up with for any exteriors. For example, for continuity, making sure we have snow, or fixing or making new snow after it rains.

My favorite thing about my job is that it always changes. You’re always doing something slightly different, you’re never doing exactly the same thing. It’s always a challenge to come up with a new way to do a similar thing, in a different location, with a different aspect of doing it.

Fun fact: We’ve gone through about 15 gallons of blood on the show thus far.

This week’s blog is from Jim Bremner, “Hannibal’s” Law Enforcement Tactical Consultant.

I assist the production by advising the cast and crew in regard to the tactical application of the law enforcement process. More often than not, I’m working with the director and talent in an attempt to make the action as true to life as possible.

My favorite thing about this job is watching the actors interpret what it is that cops do. It is exciting to meet them and try and instill a sense of what it’s like to be human and be a cop - how it is not so easy to shake off the brutality of human behavior and the courage it takes to go out day after day in an attempt to do the right thing. Essentially bringing to life on camera what is routine to any member of law enforcement. I also enjoy teaching any skill sets the actors request in order for their performance to become believable.

On “Hannibal,” the most significant challenge is that Will Graham predominantly works alone; in terms of strategy and tactic this proves to be significantly different than those used on typical SWAT teams.

What most people will not know from watching this series is the great depths the cast and crew go to in order to make the show what it is. It really is a herculean effort on everyone’s part.

This week’s blog is from Janice Poon, Hannibal’s Food Stylist.

Each week I read the script, and I try to get an idea of what would be the most appropriate, the most beautiful, and yet the most grizzly food I can think of. And of course we have to remember that Hannibal is always eating people - even if he tells you it’s lamb tongues, it’s people’s tongues.

The sky is the limit, creatively speaking. Hannibal is such an intriguing character. The dinners are like the worst nightmare mystery dinners of your life because you could be eating your best friend or your wife for all you know. He is so diabolical. The most challenging is to make food that the actors are going to be able to eat, that is palatable to them - I don’t want them freaking out! - and that isn’t going to be like spinach and get stuck to their teeth or isn’t going to be something they’ll have to chew in the middle of their line. For example, sometimes an actor is vegan and the script calls for them to eat raw hamburger, so I have to make some fetching kind of concoction that is not meat but is good for them and that they’re comfortable with.

And with on-set cooking you never know what’s going to happen. You think you know every single permutation of every possible thing that can happen with a recipe, and wouldn’t you know, the one thing you never anticipated happens and then you have to replicate it forty times, that thing you’re not ready for.

The best part of this job is dreaming up the recipes, but I love all of it. I love cooking. I love doing the displays. Creating a monstrous, diabolically hideous look, that somehow is curiously delicious.

This post is from David Slade, director of this week’s episode “Potage”

Some small spoilers.

The dim light seems blue, making everything feel colder than it actually is. The time is close to 6am, I am sitting on a wooden box in a damp cold hut in the middle of a forest, it’s raining and the gloom is getting brighter as first light begins to lift the omnipresent shadow.

Our location for this day is a small cabin with two levels, the second beautifully art directed with hundreds of stag antlers, this is “The Shrike’s Nest” or Garret Jacob Hobbes’ kill shack.

I know that I am here for the entire day but I have a smile on my face as the actors come in to block the morning’s work.

We walk out the scene and talk it through, and then, when we are happy with the basic shape of the scene, we bring in the crew to watch the technical rehearsal. I describe the shots, lenses, f-stops and a rough version of how the lighting will work and then the actors get ready to walk through the scene for us to get marks, this way we can shoot knowing roughly what the action will entail and where everyone will move during the scene.

Everyone who needs to be in the room assembles and I call “Action please.” This is how each days starts on a set.

The blocking concludes and the actors go back to the makeup chairs and the stand ins (actors whose job it is to double the actors for the purposed of lining up shots and lighting) come in and take their adopted positions.

Before everyone goes off in their various directions, I apologize to the cast and crew for the day ahead and I apologize for the weather.

It’s a Monday and the reason I am in good spirits despite the darkness of the hour is difficult to explain. The best way I can describe it is that for one its better to laugh than cry, and two, when things on set are tough for whatever reason, in this instance the cold and the mud, I generally default to a giddy, cheery disposition. I think it’s a sort of defense mechanism.

We are shooting the first full day of the Hannibal episode “Potage.” In many ways I think this is a good follow up episode to “Aperitif” the first episode or “the prototype” as we referred to it during pre-production.

This new episode seems to me to be more of a character driven horror meditation with a little less movement than the last two episodes, but nonetheless filled with plenty of darkness in which to get lost and a last act that is terrifying.

I have eight days plus the odd pick up afternoon and a time-lapse unit Sunday in which to shoot the episode. This is normal for a TV schedule. It is a lightning sprint in comparison to a feature film production where you may be shooting anywhere from 30 to 70 days or more.

I like the pace. I know I am not going to get much sleep on this schedule. I will be up most nights late after wrap fine-tuning shot designs and plans for the coming days. At the same time, I know that it’s only a week or so and I can exist sleep deprived for that amount of time.

A few hours later, I am working with a splinter unit, shooting a deer in a fenced out area of forest. The deer, being a wild animal, is not easy to get to perform. It is a beautiful creature, and like all wild animals, it comes without special training and will get tired or bored eventually. I have worked with wild animals before and the skills that come to play are stillness, patience and design.

I have a special track platform in the forest that was built the day before. We scouted the area days earlier and worked out where the camera was going to go (in this instance shooting towards the sun, backlighting the action). I have a shot plan describing the minimum I need in the way of shots to put the scene together, and I have talked all the shots through with the animal handler the day before.

Despite the planning, the next hour or so will be a bit of a fishing expedition, putting the camera in the right place and waiting patiently for the animal to stray into shot on the way to the food the animal handler has dropped ahead of us.

Our patience is rewarded as we get way more than the minimum, and my time in the open air ends as we move back to the cabin to complete our day. While we were shooting splinter unit, lights where being rigged in the cabin to shoot at nighttime.

Days later and we are shooting at the Hobbes house where the bloody finale of the first episode played out.

The autumn has turned the leaves golden, and we have planned to shoot our main scene once more backlit to the sun as it sets, bringing golden shadow and dark shape to our shots.

From the very first talks with James Hawkinson, our director of photography, I have talked about a reverse approach to our scenes, “darkening” instead of lighting. Taking away fill and bounce lights from locations to create bold forms out of shadow.

We have time restrictions now, not just in daylight but also as the tail end of Hurricane Sandy will come in from New York later in the night forcing us to take down anything that stands up outside. As the winds pick up, we have to hastily move a scene boarded as an exterior to an interior and work out the newly relocated scene with the actors. The location change makes very little difference to the scene and the rehearsals go well. So we light and set up for the first camera position. I usually shoot with one camera, which is a habit borne out of designing shots rather than opting to run coverage on a scene. This doesn’t produce as much footage as the coverage would, but we use practically everything we shoot.

We carry two camera crews at all times, both Arriflex Alexa bodies, so if I can get another angle without compromising the lighting the performance and the first camera mobility I do, but it’s more common for me to work one angle at a time.

As we wrap the night, the house is beginning to shake with the wind, but Sandy has dissipated over New York and the tail end only shakes our vehicles on the way home.

I return to my apartment to plan my day-by-day setups based on storyboards that I draw for my own reference only. This is mainly because I am not a very good illustrator so it would take me far too long to draw images that would be immediately recognizable to anyone else but me.

I also like the discipline of making shot plans with all the set ups laid out that I email to the 1st assistant director, the director of photography and the producers each day. I find these plans are more reliable than shot lists, and they offer more information for the various departments to get a sense of the day ahead.

Like all plans, they are revised and refined or abandoned when the reality of the production day hits. But they are my only means of convincing my subconscious that I have planned the scenes enough to get a night’s sleep.

It’s late and I am turning the day over and over in my head, so I pick up a novel that I am reading in an attempt to clear my head. As the small hours pass, I fall into a dreamless sleep, my sore eyes close and then open again - the break in my consciousness seems almost nonexistent, as if someone has just spliced the time of my life. In one minute my alarm will go off, so I take that minute to rest. It’s dark outside, and I know that once the alarm goes off I will have 25 minutes to shower and get downstairs.

I lay perfectly still knowing that the moment I get up, the day will flow in one continuous stream towards the call of wrap. I enjoy the stillness and as the first note of the alarm plays I throw myself out of bed and head into the stream.

This week’s blog is from Dave Wieland, Hannibal’s Forensic Consultant

My area of responsibility is as crime scene examination procedures resource for the creative team and talent on the show. I work with the writers about proper police procedure and wording that would be used; with the Art and Costume Departments on how actual crime scenes would look, the appearance of the deceased, and clothing or dress of police officials; with the directors of the show on set to advise about processing and appearance of the crime scene and proper police procedure with regard to handling of prisoners and property; and with the Props Department setting up crime scenes and determining what should be used by the examiners both in the crime scene and in the morgue or laboratory to examine the deceased.

The biggest challenge on this show is the degree of difficulty presented at the crime scenes, and how to properly advise the stars in the show on how to deal with those difficulties effectively and efficiently. The writers were constantly outdoing themselves with the level of originality, creating totally new concepts for a crime scene and all of its elements. I can’t even single out a single episode as being a highlight for me - I derived a great deal of satisfaction working on each one.

I am constantly learning on this job, and appreciate that just around the corner is another new experience and a new piece of information that I didn’t have before. The true meaning of life is that there is always something coming that will enhance your knowledge of it.

This week’s blog is from José Andrés, Hannibal’s Food Consultant.

This was one of the most exciting episodes for me because it was the first time that Hannibal was going to prepare/cook a human and feed him to Jack. I immediately thought of what a menu from Hannibal would look like. You see, his mind operated very methodically, mathematically, organized… he is highly strategic - so the meal would have to be quite sophisticated yet simple. This is really how chefs have to think…

So I suggested a pork loin, such as Iberico, to try to recreate the actual size of a human and thought about pairing this dish with fruit - pork and fruit is a classic pairing - so I would use some roasted apples. This style of cuisine food is simple in being focused on the ingredients, but sophisticated enough to interest someone like Hannibal. This needed to be credible to the audience.

Still, I felt like a red “sweet” sauce with red fruits (strawberries, raspberries, currants), like Cumberland, was needed. Cumberland is the traditional English sauce - that also happens to be in the classic Auguste Escoffier book - and I thought that referencing the conventional names of recipes would give Hannibal an even greater credibility by being gastronomically savvy. 

Then came the dish presentation. It needed to be simple but somehow also provide a glamorous visual… How would Hannibal serve this dish to Jack? A silver tray maybe? Touches of chervil here and there? Roasted apples with caramelized crystal sugar around it? Yes… This is a great moment!  We need to do this!

Of course no meal is complete without a good wine. How do we show Hannibal as a wine connoisseur? Perhaps he could use a decanter to air his wine? Perhaps we select and show wines from unknown and “dark” places - Priorat wine from Catalonia would be under this category. Maybe, because this takes place in Baltimore, we showcase Virginia wines like the Blenheim Winery - you know, Dave Matthews’ winery? Vintages from the ’60s maybe to enunciate his age?

For sure I could keep going on ideas for this… but this would do for now…

Illustrations courtesy of Janice Poon