On the other hand, the psychotic element is surely not forgotten. The bass strings are mixed at a very strong and ominous level of unease, nearly constantly maintaining the resonating reminder of the pure evil at work here. In a neat twist, the strings tingle and jump with delight during the middle of "Let My Home Be My Gallows," as Lecter enjoys the preaching of his own dark knowledge. The extremely weighty string performances of the title theme in "Avarice" and "To Every Captive Soul" are reminders of Shore's work for the previous film, and the only true connection to be heard. Another interesting element expressed in this film, something that wasn't clear in Silence of the Lambs, is the heavily religious implication of Hannibal. To address this need, Zimmer inserts several angelic vocals and church bells into the score, using a boy's choir to perform some of the work's most compelling statements of the main theme. Because Lecter dominates this film (in an unfortunately unequal balance with Starling), this theme often accompanies the flourishes of his own spoken lines. More or less, this association works, and it appropriately doesn't lead to a succinct point of conclusion at the end. The insertion of the vocals is especially well constructed to mimic the same duality that divides the strings. On one hand, you hear multiple performances by female operatic talents, adding an even more refined depth to Hopkins' character as he lushly holds the audience in suspense with his undeniably luring intellect. At other points, when he begins to divulge in the more carnal and less controlled aspects of his own personality, the voice multiplies into the ambience of a full choir of church-like beauty. Between these vocals and the imposing string performances, the score stands as mostly a consistent classical piece.

There are, of course, a few weaknesses to be heard, causing the score's sometimes average ratings from film music critics. The less civilized moments of fright and horror, such as at the end of "Let My Home Be My Gallows," hint at tired dissonant techniques from the ensemble. Zimmer does allow the synthetics to carry most of the frightening suspense in the score, subtly mixing them in with the strings (including a deep thumping effect in the bass that is more distracting) that sometimes degenerate into outward dissonant noise. These moments of awkward material are a slight nod to the style of Elliot Goldenthal. But even with these few moments of choppiness, the score's elegance is difficult to dismiss. A touch of Bernard Herrmann can be heard several times late in the score, with a slight tribute to the masterful string work of Vertigo in the trembling melodrama of the section's performances. Some of the more reflective moments of Hannibal are reminiscent of the same darkness that powered Zimmer's score for The House of the Spirits nearly a decade prior. Overall, Hannibal was the composer's convenient opportunity to explore some of his most cherished and personal classical favorites, and he does so with morbid enthusiasm. Learned collectors of modern classical music should be cautioned that Zimmer does once again expose significant inspiration by Gustav Mahler and Richard Wagner. While this usage isn't as annoying as it remains in Gladiator (due to the more appropriate application here), it is equally obvious in parts. The album for Hannibal is very diverse in and of itself. Eight of the twelve tracks on the top-selling Decca Records album are composed by Zimmer, with three of the four others still heavily classical in a similar nature. With only one track not composed exclusively for the film (a Bach piece that carries over from the first film, not surprisingly), the classical pieces fit well into the structure of the score, though not adding much in terms of originality.

The Martin Tillman and Mel Wesson cue "Firenze di Notte" dissolves into pure electronic sound design and is easily the product's biggest detraction. The adaptation of Dante's "La Vita Nuova" by Patrick Cassady in "Vide Cor Meum" is the gorgeous opera piece featured in the film (that drives much of the interest in the entire soundtrack). That final track of the album has a hidden moment at the end; after some moments of silence, Hopkins bids you farewell and the orchestra strikes one last, loud dissonant hit. On the surface it's an irritation, but given the subject matter, you can't help but appreciate its inclusion. Spurring much controversy at the time of the album's release were four tracks that feature dialogue by Hopkins. Three of these are mixed together with Zimmer's score, and they have a tendency to accompany the composer's very best material. And yet, the dialogue is superbly performed by Hopkins (as could be expected), and his lyrical ramblings fit very well with the mood of the score, making this album one of the few in which the dialogue actually works. Some film music fans won't accept the dialogue, no matter how well delivered, and the fact that every Zimmer score tends to be leaked in bootleg form has alleviated this problem. One downside to the dialogue is that it's mixed so that the music is still central in the overall soundscape, sometimes causing Hopkins' voice to be unintelligible if you're listening to the album on a surround sound system (in which case switching it to regular stereo helps solve the problem). On the other hand, Zimmer's music on the album constitutes between 35 and 40 minutes, and much of the music that is obscured by the dialogue is available in various forms elsewhere on the disc. One must be patient with this album; it only begins to really cook in its final four tracks, just as Hopkins' delightful monologues mature into their brilliant climax. The music for Hannibal fares well on its album even with the controversial production choices. The same uneasiness that blesses the story on the screen causes the album to be equally frightful, and yet, in the end, the moments of score and dialogue together steal the album with their often understated elegance.  ****   @Amazon.com: CD or Download