Showing posts with label Gillian Anderson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gillian Anderson. Show all posts

Friday, July 3, 2015

Seen

*In the interest of pushing more content to this blog given the glacial rate at which I am developing some longer, more formalized pieces, I am going to go ahead and offer some reflection on each week’s episode of Bryan Fuller’s beautiful Hannibal TV series on NBC.

"Hannibal Title Card." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 1 Mar. 2014.

“Contorno” (aired 7/2/15)

            Hannibal has never been more brazen or vulnerable. During the show’s first two seasons, the titular cannibal’s murderous activities were largely left to viewers’ imaginations. Though we sometimes saw him on the brink of a kill (as with poor Beverly Katz back in season two), the unsavory business of murder was generally omitted in favor of the (arguably) equally unsettling experience of watching Hannibal prepare beautiful dishes that might at any given time contain human beings. Season three, for all its increasingly experimental visuals and at times ludicrously cerebral dialogue, has been the most direct of all when it comes to Hannibal’s murders. We’ve seen him snap a man’s neck, stab another in the head with an icepick, and disembowel and hang a third.

            The perpetrator of this violence never seems to lose his cool poise or drop the perpetually detached expression he wears no matter the stakes, but the fact that we are seeing all these murders firsthand now suggests that Hannibal is no longer concerned with going unseen. Though he seems in control of himself as usual and the assuredness with which he performs these violent suggests confidence in his decision to draw his pursuers to him, what remains largely unsaid is that this is a self-destructive behavior. In “Contorno” Hannibal goes so far as to murder Pazzi and then dangle his body from his (Hannibal’s) place of work like a grisly banner. It’s not a cry for help; it’s just further proof that Hannibal’s heart is broken and that as with Mischa before him, Will and what he represents have become preoccupations for Hannibal that he can only remedy through murder.

            The comparatively fast pace of tonight’s episode and the pay-off that comes in its final moments when Jack finally unloads on Hannibal likely comes as such a relief to the faithful who have been waiting for things to finally start happening that the excitement may obscure the fact that this is an altogether different Hannibal that we’re seeing. He is still a man who would never do anything as crass as to tell an opponent to “bring it on,” but that’s essentially what he does when he goads both Alana and Jack. Not only does Hannibal seem to have an eerily accurate understanding of what transpired between Jack and Bella during the latter’s final moments, but he then goes on to all but dare Jack to kill him as well. The implication in this taunt, of course, is that if Hannibal is going where Bella has gone, then she must not be anywhere good.

            We have seen little moments of weakness in Hannibal before and where his curiosity or interest in testing a what-if scenario have led him to do things that could potentially leave him exposed if they backfired (like tipping off Garrett Jacob Hobbs way back at the beginning of season one); however, he seems to have lost his sense of self-preservation. He is saved from death in “Contorno” only because of a thematic technicality—because, suggests the teaser for next week’s episode, Jack knows that Will has to be the one to finish things. Other than the trussing and near hanging he endured at the hands of Will’s errand boy back in "Mukōzuke," this is the worst beating Hannibal has taken in the series. Obviously it signals the beginning of the end for him.

            Hannibal’s conversation with Bedelia about snails, fireflies, sheep, and sheepdogs represents the doctor’s attempt to justify his dangerous behavior by insisting on the primacy of the food chain. Firefly offspring eat snails; sheepdogs have an innate desire to savage sheep even if their conditioning is supposed to keep them from doing it. “Contorno” keeps returning to the image of the monstrous firefly dotted with snails that Will created at the end of “Secondo” because it represents an inversion of the established patterns of animal behavior. Will is making human art. Snails are eating a firefly (of sorts). All bets are off as to who comes out on top, and Hannibal has made a grave miscalculation. Unfortunately, Hannibal’s lack of discretion still spells doom for Pazzi, who decides that the “half-life” of the honor he could regain for himself and his family name by apprehending Hannibal in the name of justice is outweighed by the thirty pieces of silver he could acquire by selling the doctor out to Mason. I have no idea how Pazzi thought he was going to get away with taking a fingerprinted knife right out from under Hannibal’s nose (one that he just put down and was bound to miss). Hannibal ought to have at least gotten Pazzi into his apartment or somewhere less public to kill him, but, then again, Pazzi should have known better than to step into the lair of “Il Mostro” alone and at night.

            Will exists on the fringes of this episode. His travels with Chiyo do yield a mention of Hannibal’s aunt Lady Murasaki, but her attendant’s motivations remain inscrutable. She knows Hannibal’s location somehow and tosses Will off the back of the train because, she argues, a violent gesture is the only kind he understands. What is the message here, then? Chiyo does not see herself as a killer—at least, she does not continually replay the act of killing her former prisoner in her head, suggesting that she either forgives herself or is a bit of a psychopath herself. The teaser for next week shows her setting the sights of a rifle on Hannibal, so she clearly plans to kill him for his treatment of her (still an ambiguous question mark for the most part) and his duplicity in having her guard and harm what seems to have been an innocent man. Does she toss Will off the train to protect him or to keep him from stealing her own revenge? Either way, she clearly thinks little of their shared revelation that he must kill Hannibal to stop himself from transforming into him.

            On the fringe of the fringe this week, we have Mason and Alana continuing their plan to have Hannibal captured and eaten. Although Mason’s aggressive sexual taunts are beginning to irritate me (after only two episodes), it is nice to have him cut through the faux-artistry at times with a disgusting, crass spin on the show’s preoccupation with food and eating. Sadly, Margot is missing from these brief visits to the Verger home.

            There are still two episodes left until we hit Red Dragon proper. Next week is “Dolce,” which means “sweet,” suggesting that we are having dessert… “Just desserts” perhaps? At any rate, the meal is winding down. The following week is “Digestivo,” which refers to a drink that comes before or after a meal, apparently to aid digestion.[1] That title in particular is ripe with meaning. On the one hand, it seems that the story of Hannibal in the wild is drawing to a close, but a new chapter of the story is also beginning. Given that the process of digestion involves mulling over the meal that has been consumed, it stands to reason that “Dolce” could settle the principle conflict of the first half of the season while “Digestivo” deals with the resulting fallout.


Note:

[1] I’m using a simple “_____ meaning” search to get this information, so there may be additional nuance here I’m missing.

Friday, June 5, 2015

Bonsoir, Hannibal

*In the interest of pushing more content to this blog given the glacial rate at which I am developing some longer, more formalized pieces, I am going to go ahead and offer some reflection on each week’s episode of Bryan Fuller's beautiful Hannibal TV series on NBC.

"Hannibal Title Card." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 1 Mar. 2014.

“Antipasto” (aired 6/4/2015)

It feels like so long since I have had Hannibal in my life. It has been so long, in fact, that I could no longer exactly remember what happened to Eddie Izzard’s Abel Gideon character last season. I remembered his capture by Hannibal, but I could not recall if the scenes I was seeing with him early in “Antipasto” were flashbacks or not. Of course, I soon realized that they were new material rather than just old footage given the amount of time spent on them—more than would be strictly necessary just to reintroduce the events of the previous year.

“Antipasto” is a delightfully modernist episode of Hannibal, though I use the term loosely. I simply mean that the show asks something of the viewer in watching it. My father fell asleep during the episode, which is not the most accurate way to take the temperature of a program, but it does offer a general indication of his interest. Increasingly, Hannibal eschews the straight up slasher antics of series like The Following in favor of a more cerebral experience that involves experimentation with sound, color, and composition. “Antipasto” is a slow burn of an episode, content to let its story unfold at a leisurely pace even though this is the first we are seeing of Hannibal after a year-long hiatus—a year-long hiatus following a massive bloodbath in the good doctor’s kitchen that left the fates of many principle characters uncertain. The episode toys with chronology, signaling flashbacks with grayscale and sometimes letterboxing while the present occupies the full screen, asking viewers to assemble a chain of events leading to Hannibal and Bedelia’s (Mads Mikkelsen and Gillian Anderson) mostly idyllic new living situation in Italy by way of Paris, France and a well-timed murder.

I had to put my brain to use during this episode, and I enjoyed it. I wonder what the composition of Hannibal’s fanbase looks like now and if there are any traditional fans of thrillers still waiting in the wings for people to stop talking and start slashing. I don’t mean to suggest that fans of thrillers will not enjoy Hannibal, but it has become increasingly obvious that Fuller and the show’s creators want it to be something different from the usual procedural.

Last season, the case of the week structure often felt neglected in favor of the main plot, and while the show has always been dreamy, casting its violence in lush, nightmarish ways rather than going for the shock of simply seeing and hearing knives going into bodies, the season three premiere is notable for its dreamlike qualities. Its structure is very much like a dream.

“Antipasto” starts off more than one scene with a mystery—usually an extreme close-up of an object with powerful depth of field blurring to the background—and asks you to solve it. The uncertainty this technique creates, along with the skips through time and the aforementioned surrealism of scenes like the one where Bedelia submerges herself in the bath and seems to be sinking instead into a vast, dark ocean helps create the psychological thrills of uncertainty about the character’s safety as well as the truth of what we are seeing and hearing. In this episode we are getting a look behind the curtain at Hannibal’s machinations—“seeing him” as he tells Bedelia, though only the bit he allows us to see—but we follow much of the action from the point of view of his former psychiatrist, who seems much less self-assured about the whole business of being abroad with the suave cannibal than I think most of us expected after seeing them together on a plane at the end of season two, suggesting that perhaps they were more in cahoots than previously expected.

In “Antipasto” we also finally get a look at the incident with a patient of Bedelia’s that the show has been alluding to for some time now. We get the sense from this scene especially that Hannibal’s psychic hold on his partner is at least partially a result of his helping her cover up whatever happened between her and the man whose mouth she is shown reaching into (or pulling her arm from). I do like that we see some uncertainty in Bedelia here, as she was previously one of my least favorite characters in the series—a stoic who somehow managed to out-stoic the other emotionally flat people around her. Although I can appreciate Hannibal’s deadpan, understated, often dry but philosophically-rich conversations with their many puns and allusions to the novels themselves—a style of dialogue and character interaction that has also become increasingly like a stage play as it dominates the focus of each episode—I still find the lack of emotional range in the characters bothersome. It makes sense for Hannibal, a sociopath, to be constantly straight-faced and untouched, but I started to feel with season two that this stoicism was showing up in far too many of the other characters. At least in Bedelia’s case in this episode, we get the sense that the calm is truly only a façade. The scene where she goes to a shop for the usual for herself and her pretend hubby is especially powerful since she has just learned that what Hannibal has her eating is designed to sweeten the taste of flesh.


The teaser for the rest of the season following the premiere showed us Will Graham (Hugh Dancy) and friends alive and well and on the case next week, so although it may be a relief after this slow start to (possibly) pick up the pace of the manhunt for Hannibal a bit, I do wish we could have had perhaps one more episode like this one—that capitalizes strongly on the show’s dreamlike atmosphere, basks in its rich colors and sounds, and offers a slightly more nontraditional viewing experience for the audience. After watching so many procedurals and so many hours of TV in general over the years, the old song and dance of establishing shots of buildings or streets, followed by close-ups of faces as people talk to each other and advance the plot has become boring. Hannibal still follows this formula to a degree, but its deviations into the unknown or unexpected are what make this cultured, mindful take on the source material so much more engrossing than it could have potentially been. Like Hannibal himself, the show seems a well-dressed, educated presence with which we are alone, waiting for the slips, to see what is underneath the “person suit” or the procedural suit and to feel the tension of uncertainty.