There are too many reasons for why Hannibal is such a captivating series: the artistic visuals, sound design, phenomenal acting, dialogue, character development, beautifully executed split season arcs, etc.
I could literally spend like 3 hours just praising the storytelling of the cinematography and sound design in Hannibal S3b (don't even get me started on the painfully purposeful dialogue - word choice is so thorough and deliberate, especially regarding Will). This arc is truly masterful in the way it conveys intention, intimacy, and barriers, not just in relation to Hannibal with Will, but all the characters.
In S3E8, we are instantly introduced to the way Hannibal exists within his memory palace. We first see him interact with Alana, sitting with a glass of wine in his old office. It's important to note that she's first shown there, before we transition to reality, the transparent partition separating the space between them. He brings people into that room in his memory palace to retain that old sense of composure and control.
Also, notice the way we see Hannibal interact with Frederick. There is no place in his memory palace for Chilton. In this entire arc, these two are always shown in cuts of untouched reality. Hannibal doesn't respect or hold any esteem for him. He talks to Chilton without investment, and thus, he is not worthy of the honor of Hannibal's confidence. His control in this instance is cold and completely removed.
That shifts entirely in the last scene of that episode when Will goes to see him. The music changes, a haunting few notes, incredibly reminiscent to some opening notes blended in Love Crime. We see him strut straight into Hannibal's foyer, the Norman Chapel in Palermo; Will knows where to find Hannibal; it's just as much his memory palace, as it is Hannibal's.
Will is the only one to do this throughout S3b. All other characters shown in Hannibal's memory palace, are simply there at the start of the scene, they never walk into it. Hannibal has to be the one to extend the invitation, but not with Will. For him, Hannibal has an open door policy.
In S3E9, we continue their meeting. Hannibal & Will's angles are so specific in this scene, but also, throughout this setting. When they talk between the partition, you are often seeing the other's reflection in each one shot. They are equals, both of them caged and free in their own personal ways. Their presences are fused together, fractured reflections of one another. The distance isn't absolute, because they are still so close, as if no time has passed.
Then, later, we see Alana going through Hannibal's cell. It's intentional that the camera shows her milling about in a way where we can see the holes in the glass between them, at first. We are meant to be aware of the wall ever between them, until Alana steps closer. In threatening him, showing Hannibal the true power of her position, she gets to safely encroach on his space. Suddenly, the glass wall is gone. And then, when she steps away, the angle changes so we can yet again be reminded that the wall is still there, it always was, but the threat was real. It's the closest thing we see to Hannibal being rattled by his captivity.
Then, we see Jack visit Hannibal. Hannibal's reflection is seen in most of Jack's one shots, but his face is always obscured. He's a dark looming shadow, always lingering over Jack's shoulder like a threat. (Hannibal will manifest as a reflection in this way for Alana and Frederick as well throughout this arc; just like her and Will say, as if everybody feels like he walks out with them.)
Jack's reflection is shown only once in Hannibal's shots during this meeting. When Hannibal is telling Jack that Bella once said his face was all scars, if you knew how to look, we can just barely make out a reflection of half of Jack's face beside Hannibal. I find this brief moment to be really interesting in re-watches, once you ruminate on the notion that is introduced later in S3E12.
In this story, Hannibal is the Devil, and Jack is God. So, we see God's gnarled half-reflection beside the smug devil, a reminder that in more than one way, Jack too, is responsible for Hannibal's actions. More than once in this series, we see God's lapse of judgment allow the devil to get away. Hannibal is Jack's greatest regret, proof of just how blind he can be.
Briefly, jumping ahead on that point. (The God, Devil, the Lamb & the Great Red Dragon speech is also so important as well. A scene where we see Jack's reflection in Hannibal's shots, a forced distance, expression removed, saying with certainty that he'll be standing at the end. Then, Hannibal approaches, asking him if his conscience is clear, and his reflection lands on Jack, but doesn't meld. Jack's face is not overtaken, instead it overtakes what we see, as Jack says his conscience is as clear as Hannibal's. God has made his own choices. He may be blinded, but he's never truly influenced.) AAAGGGHH! Visual Poetry!
Even in S3E10, when Dolarhyde calls Hannibal. We see Dolarhyde physically enter his old office. There's a sense of counterfeit there, Dolarhyde's desperation to be seen by Hannibal. Yet, Hannibal allows him into that room of his memory palace, not as an equal, but as a patient.
Later in that episode, we get one of the best shots in the season, which occurs when we see Hannibal & Will talking about TGRD and the question of his sanity, Will takes a step forward and this is where we see his reflection meld into Hannibal. The contrast is there, but so is the connection. Just like Jack says to Chiyoh in S3E7: Hannibal & Will are identically different. They have changed each other.
I could keep going. This show is fucking ridiculous. It's so incredibly well-made, thoughtful and fucking efficient. Yes, there's loads of flowery language and overcomplicated arguments, but that all really falls into Bryan's stylistic choices: Pretentious Art Film. But in the same vein, that is how it's able to convey so much, even when doing so little; it's efficient because, even in silence, there is so much storytelling being done.
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I know we love to bully faekonig but does their relationship have any tender moments or as tender as those weirdo can get??
Absolutely there are tender moments! This one got away from me, and I got a little misty eyed writing it, even though it's not really anything worth getting teary over.
Sometimes it's hard to be honest with yourself about what you want. You're not in a habit of asking for things. Life has always felt like it's sort of forced itself upon you, things happen to you not for you. Except König you suppose. Despite very clearly forcing his way into your life, and being just generally overpowering in every way you can think of, he asks you things startlingly often. He assumes a lot, but only once he's gotten your smaller answers.
"Do you want to be with me?" He asks out of the blue. He's taken over your couch, making himself comfortable in the way only a man can. Sat in the middle with his legs spread wide, elbows on his knees as he watches you.
The way he says it makes you wonder how long he's been thinking of asking, makes it sound like you've only been putting up with him thus far. You suppose it's a fair question, one you've heard plenty of times. Most people you date get tired of your attitude long before this. He isn't snapping it at you though, hasn't raised his voice or accused you of anything.
"Of course I do," You tell him without looking up from folding laundry. You know the rest of this conversation by heart: 'Then why don't you show it?' or your favorite 'You don't act like you do.' You know that. You know your spines as easily as you know König's, people like them until they realize they can't trim them.
"Then I'll start moving in," König stands. You look up at him in shock, when did you offer that? When- huh?
"Moving in?" You frown, unsure if you heard him right with how huge a leap that is.
"You want to be with me, I want to be with you, why should we be separated?" König tips his head, looks at you like it's the easiest thing in the world to understand.
"That's what you were asking?" You balk.
"What else would I be asking?" You see his brows draw together under his hood, his eyes darting away from you as he thinks.
"If I want to be with you," You cringe a little at your own voice, at König's continued confusion, "like, if I love you, that sort of thing." König sits back down on the couch slowly, stretches his legs long under the coffee table so they rest on either side of you. Creating a space for you within himself.
"You do love me," He tells you carefully.
"I thought you were mad," You explain, though it sounds childish to say it out loud.
"Mad that you love me." He's not getting it, and it's making you sound silly.
"Mad that I don't-" You sigh, not sure how to explain the feeling of disappointment that you seem to carry, seem to inspire in your partners. "Mad that I don't love you enough, I guess. Love you the way you want me to love you," You try.
"How do I want you to love me?"
"Louder, I guess," You try to think of the complaints you'd previously gotten, "in some grand spectacular way, without all the thorns. The way people are loved in movies and fairytales."
"Do you want to be loved like that?"
Your throat feels tight as you settle a neatly folded shirt onto the growing pile. "Not really, I like the quiet. I like how you make me feel, I don't need anything bigger than you."
"Schatz," König's voice sounds strained, when you look at him his eyes are full of concern, "I love your quiet, and your thorns. I love how you don't need me, you want me. I love how you always come find me whether you're happy or sad. I love that you set your alarm early so you can stay in bed longer." König reaches across the coffee table to take your hand, "Liebling, you love me every day, in a million quiet ways. Why would I ever want something louder?"
You swipe your fingers under your eye. It feels an awful lot like having your heart ripped from your chest. You're not sure how that's so pleasant, but it makes it a lot easier to let König direct you around the table to climb onto the couch next to him.
You love how small he makes you feel. You love how he holds you. You love how he knows you, every little detail you think no one notices. You love how he knows your morning tea, and your favorite snacks. That he knows exactly how to put you together again after you've taken yourself apart. You love how he's asking you to move in when he's been living here for months, and how in the morning he'll probably ask you if you want to skip work to celebrate, even though he knows you'll say no. You love that he'll ask anyway, just to make sure you know you always have a choice with him.
And you love that you love him, and he loves you. Spines and all.
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so i went to reblog some fanart earlier and started to tag it #oh this is. incredible actually, and then paused and thought, @self why the 'actually.' what is that adverb conveying. and i contemplated it for a bit, and finally concluded: well, shit. it's reflexive deprecation.
the thing is, deprecation is my starting position pretty much always, and that's a problem in itself, but mostly my problem; but when you're talking abt somebody else's work, and you start backing defensively away from imagined negativity before anyone's even actually voiced any? you may think you're playing bodyguard, but in reality you're the vanguard of the assault, opening a wedge for enemy forces to strike.
i was talking a couple of weeks ago abt seeing ppl tag that kristin sue lucas name-multiplied-by-one post with tags like 'this is art To Me' vel sim., and honestly i think it's a similar sort of reflex—i think exposure to the tumblr vernacular often leads people (very much including me!) to produce turns of phrase like this, that ultimately serve to convey roughly
'i, a clever girlblogger,¹ am, yeah, engaging with this frivolous hai pollai²-coded material; but my relationship to it, unlike that of most she-ple, is Intellectual and Analytical and Examined! and to make that clear, i'll be dropping in these little verbal particles from time to time, in order to distinguish my own, elevated examination of the subject from the state of risible naivete³ i'm implicitly ascribing to the other, more ordinary audience members i'm conjuring up only to instantly put down—but like, it's fine, i'm a free-and-easy girlblogger(TM), so you can't think i'd ever deliberately propagate establishmentarian prejudices! never mind the effect my rhetoric might subconsciously be having, on me or on anyone else…'
and i think this framing is worth squinting at, and worth attempting to excise from one's speech and from one's mindset, because when you get right down to it? it's just yet another insidious manifestation of respectability politics, that's gotten people to adopt it via the cuckoo-chick strategy of positioning itself as cutesy tumblr idiolect.
and like, circling back around to that fanart i mentioned at the outset: yeah, the tag did feel weirdly prosodically truncated to me without that 'actually'! but this way, if the artist ends up seeing my discussion of their work in their notes, they won't be getting slapped in the face with a wet dead fish first, so like. what's more important, you know?
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¹ ""(gender neutral)""
² https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoi_polloi in the feminine, if i haven't totally fumbled my declensions…
³ phrasing nicked from a comment of @proudheron's.
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