FOR YEARS WE'D BEEN PROMISED BY practically all concerned that the dream team behind Silence of the Lambs would reunite, as soon as novelist Thomas Harris got around to delivering a new manuscript to his publishers. As you've no doubt heard by now, that's completely fallen through.

Like all genre stories, the murder of the possible reunion demanded a villain, and first reports placed the blame squarely on Dino de Laurentiis, who had produced an earlier adaptation of a Harris book (Michael Mann's rather underrated Manhunter, based on the novel Red Dragon); his contract allowed him first options on future Harris projects, and after declining Silence he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

However, a reading of Hannibal reveals the true bad guy to be Thomas Harris. The previous novel and its quite faithful movie adaptation gained much of their punch from a strong woman character maneuvering through a variety of male-dominated mazes; but in Hannibal, Harris has been totally seduced by his supposedly evil creation. The title character of Hannibal is no longer a fiendishly clever amalgam of intellect and brutality--he's an outrageously cultured snob who has to breathe his wine and tune his harpsichord just so. (There are several tips of the perfectly creased hat to Patricia Highsmith, though Harris doesn't seem to understand that Tom Ripley was such a chilling creation not because of his brutal deeds or his love of the finer things, but for his lucid rationalization that the latter justified the former.)

Worse, the hints of romance between Lecter and Clarice Starling which gave Silence such ominous undertones have been similarly overblown. Now, instead of respectful antagonists, they've somehow become soul mates.

A more mature, more independent Clarice, drawn inevitably to a showdown with the ultimate manipulative father figure: That's the sequel we wanted to see. Instead, Harris gives us a lurid romance; Hannibal's over-the-top ending seems merely cruel and mean-spirited, as does his annoying habit of killing off only loathsome characters. No wonder Demme read it through and politely passed.

So whither Hannibal the feature film? Even as we speak, David Mamet is already "in talks" (standard Hollywood-speak for negotiating a larger paycheck) to adapt the novel for Ridley Scott to direct. We should see the results in November, 2000. Insert your own Thanksgiving feast jokes here.