Gannibal! Think of Hannibal, as in “Lecter,” highlighting that infamous character known for a peculiar culinary preference. Gannibal, crafted by Takamasa Oe (Drive My Car), is a Japanese production inspired by Masaaki Ninomiya’s manga sharing the same title. As the second season begins exactly where the first left off, we recap the situation first encountered by a police officer newly stationed in a remote mountain village: unsettling clues thick with suspicion and obscured by Gannibal‘s extensive use of flashbacks, suggesting generations of locals have engaged in cannibalism. Returning for season two are Yuya Yagira, Riho Yoshioka, Shô Kasamatsu, Mitsuko Baishô, Kazuki Sawai, and Aoba Kawai, with Ayumu Nakajima as a new addition.

Opening Scene: “Approaching Kuge Village airspace!” The radio crackles with overlapping voices as police helicopters descend on Kuge, spotlighting a large blaze. “Multiple casualties near the Goto residence!” 

Overview: Let’s rewind. As previously mentioned, Gannibal thrives on a disordered timeline. Officer Daigo Agawa (Yagira) was reassigned to Kuge, a diminutive village ringed by a river and nestled within cypress-covered mountains, as a consequence of a past incident. Though unspecified, whatever transpired led Daigo’s young daughter, Mashiro, to cease speaking, and compelled his wife Yuki (Yoshioka) to shoulder much of the fallout from his professional misstep. However, Kuge isn’t merely a tranquil setting for mending their lives. Upon donning his police attire, Daigo was immediately entangled in the case of Gin Goto’s (Baishô) brutalized corpse, the leader of Kuge’s most influential family. A family with so many hidden truths, their secrets harbor additional secrets. 

“The curse of this village must have begun long before I was born.” That’s Kiyoshi (Seiji Rokkaku), the mayor, who like most people in Kuge is inextricably linked to the Gotos. And while Kiyoshi has come forward to aid the larger police task force looking into the weird goings-on in the village, the Gotos themselves – led by Gin’s grandson Keisuke (Kasamatsu) – continue to terrorize Daigo on the ground. He already knows there were human bite marks on Gin’s body; he also found a stray finger, which is all that remains of his predecessor. But Daigo can’t prove the Gotos are cannibals, because in this town they’re always one step ahead of everything. Daigo can’t even determine the scope of another truth – that the Gotos have been abducting area children – because when he searches for their suspected location, he’s attacked by “That Man” (Sawai). It’s the only name given for a towering local longhair with desiccated skin who haunts the riverbank and seems obsessed with Mashiro.

Keisuke communes with visions of his dead grandmother. Gin issues commands, and as the Goto fam’s leader, Keisuke acts. This could be a function of the alleged village curse. But at the same time, Keisuke and the brothers Goto, who all carry rifles and shotguns, certainly seem motivated toward violence as a means of self-preservation. As the Gotos hound Daigo, and Sadamu (Nakajima), their newly-introduced family member, targets Daigo’s wife and daughter, Gannibal is also flashing on images of cultish rituals and subterranean ossuaries. Whatever its shape, there is evil in Kuge Village. And it’s been hungry for years.

What Shows Will It Remind You Of? Gannibal weighs much more on the folk-horror side of things than it does its police investigation side, but the people-eater commonalities with Hannibal hold. The creepiness and cultiness of Gannibal also place it alongside stuff like Apostle, the incredibly scary Dan Stevens-starring limited series, or films like Incantation, The Ritual, or even The Empty Man.    

Our Take: Throughout its first season and into its second, Gannibal has flirted with an underlying notion: that maybe policeman Daigo Agawa wasn’t simply assigned to Kuge Village, but somehow called to it. Daigo’s destiny, and concurrently that of his wife and family, is now entangled with the motivations of the Goto family. But Gannibal absolutely adores perspective-shifting flashbacks that slither through its intentions like a mischievous snake, so it’s difficult to make any solid predictions. One thing that is clear? Daigo’s connection to Keisuke Goto runs deeper than a simple cop-vs-criminal binary. And the closer this police officer gets to uncovering pieces of the Gotos’ generational history, the more urgent Gannibal becomes with its allusions to cult practices and human sacrifices.

Cult stuff: we usually love it. And Gannibal’s version is intriguing. But the fact is that the formatting of its story is extremely trying. Recollections and revelations from different characters’ point-of-view combine with action in the present – like a lengthy fight/chase between Daigo and That Man which seems to reveal the latter’s unnatural strength and movement – and leave us feeling disoriented by which thread to follow. The murky cliffhanger that ended season 1 of Gannibal was frustrating in this manner. It’s our hope that season 2 of the series clarifies some of the mysteries at its center, even as it continues to showcase a welcome appetite for gore and unsettling imagery.

Sex and Skin: Let’s say “sexual situations,” and not in a good way.

Parting Shot: Daigo Agawa thought he had placed his wife Yuki and their kindergartener daughter somewhere safe from the clutches of the Goto family. Not quite!

Sleeper Star: Shô Kasamatsu was a standout of the unfortunately-cancelled Tokyo Vice, and as Keisuke in Gannibal, Kasamatsu delivers a performance that obscures the secrets of the Goto family behind his frown’s perpetual flat line.

Most Pilot-y Line: “My earliest memory is of a place where the sun doesn’t shine. In there, I was a child kept alive only to be eaten.” 

Our Call: Stream It! For the unease! Season 2 of Gannibal should get closer to answering a few of its own questions, like who exactly the cannibals are and who they’ve planned to make their next meal. In the meantime, you can expect some impressively creepy vibes and visuals, and via flashback, a heaping helping of misdirection.  

Johnny Loftus (@johnnyloftus.bsky.social) is a Chicago-based writer. A veteran of the alternative weekly trenches, his work has also appeared in Entertainment Weekly, Pitchfork, The All Music Guide, and The Village Voice.