In
which this is a child of a nightmare.
“Fate
has the habit of not letting us choose our own endings, Frederick.”
(Hannibal,
to Chilton)
We’re in the end times, we are.
This televisual, cinematic tale of a man cursed with hyper-empathic visions and
his doppleganger/partner in crime/soulmate, a charming empathic vacuum, is
about to shuffle off this mortal coil. Possibly to be reborn anew in another
venue, in another format. In its wake, it leaves a sprawling fever dream fugue
state of a narrative, one which gradually abandoned the strictures of its
procedural roots to delve into the farthest corners of consciousness, of moral
and ethical ambiguity, of the great question of humanity itself. Yet for as far
afield as Hannibal trod during this
version of its existence, for the ecstatic stylistic heights to which it soared
(particularly in the more experimental passages of Season 2 and the first half
of Season 3), it has returned to more earthly trappings for its climactic
exploration of the Red Dragon’s Becoming. But as easily recognizable as this
milieu might be, it has been irrevocably been altered by the channeling of what
lies beyond consciousness, in those outer limits of the psyche and the soul. As
the Red Dragon takes his inspiration from the Book of Revelation which spawned
him, so too have these final episodes built toward the arrival of divine
retribution.
And for the arrival of the Lamb
of God, in the character of Will Graham. But even as he may bring divine wrath
upon the wicked, this Lamb emerges from a realm in which God is not such an
easily quantifiable entity. From the beginning, Bryan Fuller has used Hannibal as venue for examining the very
concept of God and the God impulse. Season 1 mined a rich vein of commentary on
irresponsible father figures, cod-manipulators whose biological and spiritual
children were left to suffer as a result of neglect. Hannibal’s affinity with
the Old Testament God, the God of theodicy, the one who impartially metes out
suffering (or impartially allows it) has allowed him to view the world from a
distant, godlike perspective (see his first view of the corpse spiral tableau
in Season 2, or his reaching for the circle of light above in him in last week’s
episode.) Jack Crawford might call him “the devil himself, bound in the pit”
(another quote from Revelation, and more credence to the theory that while
Francis Dolarhyde believes himself to be the Great Red Dragon, Hannibal Lecter
is the one and only original version), but Hannibal’s response (“Then that
makes you God, Jack…all gods demand sacrifices”) casts the purity of the deity
from whence came the Lamb in terms most unflattering.
For in this world of moral
ambiguity, the godlike figures of authority continually fail those held in
their thrall. They’re wildly different shows, but this thematic angle recalls
David Simon’s critique of modern institutions in The Wire. Like Fuller, Simon told his tales in a recognizable idiom,
but took his inspiration from much more classical sources, notably the tropes
of Greek tragedy (but with the failed institutions of Western Civilization,
modern America, and the social strata of Baltimore standing in for the
vengeful, often petty gods of yore.) And like those Greek myths, mere humans
were often the hapless puppets of those deities, cast about by whims they often
didn’t understand until death. (Quoth D’Angelo Barksdale “The king stay the
king.” Attempt ascendance to the throne at thine own peril.)
“The Number of the Beast is 666…”
revisits the puppet-like state of those underneath the gods one last time in
capsule form. Its narrative arc is almost exclusively preoccupied with the
price of manipulation. Once again, the generally moral Jack stands tall as a manipulator
par excellence. His first appearance, in conference with Will and Alana, is
centered upon tricking the Tooth Fairy into giving himself up. The scene even
opens with Will saying “Got me on the hook, Jack. Now you’re dangling me to
catch a bigger fish.” Christ instructed his followers to be fishers of men, but
this is taking things to the extreme. For as fond of the straight and narrow as
he is, Jack shares Hannibal’s penchant for the zero sum game, for justifying
any actions as necessary for a goal’s attainment (see the overlapping of
Hannibal’s reflection onto Jack during his visit to his cell.) Thus his drawing
back of Will into the sick and sordid world that almost proved to be his undoing
once before, but this time with the collateral damage of a wife and child
hanging in the balance. As Alana reprimands both he and Will “You once fooled
yourselves to believe that you were in control of what was happening. Are you
still under that delusion?”
But Alana’s protestations also
ring hollow, as she readily throws the Red Dragon’s target onto Frederick
Chilton’s back in order to save herself. I’ve discussed this before, but as
Chilton, Raul Esparza has taken a character who was a stock villain in previous
incarnations and turned him into a smarmy, cynical, hilarious, and often completely
sympathetic human being. When he confesses his true fear of Hannibal to Alana
in Season 2 (right before being plugged in the eye by Miriam Lass), it’s a
moment of raw emotional vulnerability. And he really excels in this episode
during his captivity in Francis’s house, glued to a chair and forced to recount
the sins that landed him in this spot. Several times, DP James Hawkinson lets
the camera linger on Esparza’s face for long, uninterrupted takes, and he
really sells the complex mixture of loathing, fear, and panic that is coursing
through Chilton’s head. Resident punching bad that he is, he’s finally burned
alive in the famous wheelchair sentence that destroyed Freddie Lounds in previous
incarnations of this story (and which served as the basis for the faking of
Freddie’s death in this one.) But death will not come easily for Frederick
Chilton, as he’s left alive as a burnt, blackened husk of a person, his lipless
mouth left to wail in agony as he throws responsibility for his state back at
Will.
Such responsibility is
well-warranted for our intrepid FBI profiler. James Hawkinson’s cinematography
has provided a gorgeous, often surreal sheen to Hannibal’s visual palate. but
one of the most underrated aspects of it has been his mastery of framing, and
the power dynamics expressed therein. And so it’s no surprise that when Freddie
interviews Chilton for the Tattlecrime bait piece, Will is pictured directly
behind him from a low angle, shaping his words for maximum shock effect, the puppetmaster
through and through (note the dragon or snakelike rattling that Brain Reitzell
utilizes on the soundtrack as Will pushes his vision of the diagnosis…and that
Jack literally directs Freddie on how to shoot the two men by standing behind
her.) This same blocking is repeated when Francis holds Chilton in captivity,
albeit from an even more extreme low angle. Will and Francis become mirror
images once again, the men with the vision looking to turn a mere mortal into
the vessel for their message. And at the conclusion of the episode, after
Chilton’s purpose has been achieved, Francis enlists Reba to be the new vessel
for his gospel, the witness for the final act of his Becoming.
Before his untimely flaming wheelchair
ride, Chilton does provide Will with one last, haunting bit of insight, as
amidst his taunting of the Tooth Fairy to Freddie he plants the idea that opens
this essay: that this homicidal monster is the child of a nightmare. The
stunned look on Will’s face clearly shows that this concept hits home. Later on
with Bedelia, he might slightly revel in his lack of surprise at Chilton’s fate,
but these words from his old sparring partner/caretaker are a concise, perfect
summary of the central fears that have plagued Will since we first encountered
his tortured visage at the Marlow house in the series’ first episode. And if
Bryan Fuller’s thoughts are anything to go on (he’s often stated that the
Marlows are intended to be Francis Dolarhyde’s first victims), Chilton’s
nightmare child observation, like many other plot threads throughout the show’s
history, once again brings everything back full circle. Abigail Hobbs might
have walked the line between sinner and saint in her role as Will’s surrogate
child, and her death might have irrevocably scarred him, but Francis Dolarhyde
is the true child of his subconscious, and (following the line of last week’s Fight Club self-flagellation reference)
his own twisted version of Tyler Durden, a hulking beast of an introvert who
allows himself to be fully subsumed by his darkest impulses.
So it is that all around him,
Will sees his nearest and dearest murdered in the signature Red Dragon style,
their eyes the mirrors that reflect back his sin. As Will puts it to Bedelia “The
divine punishment of a sinner mirrors the sin being punished.” And as she
advises him “We are all making our way through the Inferno.” Call it the Last
Temptation of Will Graham. If he is to be the Lamb of God, if only his hand can
unlock the seven seals and banish Satan to the pit for a thousand years, then
he must first suffer for the sins of the many. He must first take his three day
tour of Hell before his return to life. Gaining almost superhuman empathy with
Hannibal warped his psyche, but there was something almost transcendentally
romantic about their coupling. His identification with Francis Dolarhyde bears
none of that romanticism, only the intoxication of power, and, just as Satan
tempted Christ to use his divine power to leave the cross and smite his
enemies, the prospect of becoming his own worst nightmare. (Note how his first
two appearances in this episode are reveals from the rear right of his head,
Hawkinson’s framing suggesting the darkness within him that he must now
constantly draw himself out of.)
Ah, but there’s the tricky role
of the Great Tempter once again. The Devil tricking the world into believing
that he doesn’t exist. After all, that sly smirk that Will flashes to Bedelia
upon admitting his lack of surprise at Chilton’s fate looks suspiciously like
Hannibal’s grin after he learns of the same event. She opens the episode by
brazenly intimating Hannibal’s love for Will (surely the most direct statement
of the show’s massive elephant in the room), but she closes their second
meeting at episode’s end with an even more chilling statement: “Hannibal Lecter
does have agency in the world. He has you.” She also notes that he "may have well have struck the match" that burned Chilton, and that "That's participation" (a direct callback to Hannibal's retort to her in Florence from earlier in the season, when she was still trying to beg mere observation.) It’s the second time in this
haunting hour that Will is struck dumb by a simple, yet profoundly unsettling
insight. And it reminds the viewer that above all this episode’s arch
manipulative forces, it’s the one who has the least physical power and
presence, who’s been trapped in a room for three years, who is shot as a lone
figure isolated inside an empty glass cage….he’s the one with the most power.
Witness Satan tempting Christ during his forty days in the desert, almost
exclusively using nothing but his words. And so too does Hannibal wreak so much
havoc and bring about such apocalyptic fury only through the seductive, dulcet
tones of his voice. Will has felt so much guilt for so many years over the
collateral damage of his work, of his visions, but lately he has tread through
the Valley of the Shadow of Death unscathed. Because he has unwittingly become
Hannibal’s surrogate in this world. It’s the ultimate blow, the greatest
temptation to a savior figure filled with righteous anger. And at episode’s
end, Will is left to contemplate how exactly he can finish his season in Hell.
And how he might once and for all emerge from the pit of darkness that has
nearly enveloped everything about him.
And now for some penultimate
leftovers:
*Kudos again to Richard Armitage
for his phenomenal of Francis as the Red Dragon incarnate. Now fully immersed
in his alter ego, he’s gained a newfound eloquence in his speech, and a stark
mastery of his physical brutality. But the vulnerability he displays when Reba
visits with soup remind us all that this is a sad, broken man, consumed by his
worst instincts and fears of mortality.
*Note too how immediately after
Hannibal tells Jack that gods demand sacrifices, the scene cuts to Francis in
his attack raking his back with his fingernails, spreading the blood sacrifice
down his copy of Blake’s Red Dragon painting.
*“You’re not a straight
newspaper. You sell t-shirts that say ‘The Tooth Fairy is a one night stand’ “
(Will, to Freddie.)
*“I have seen a lot of hostility.
But this was quantifiably bitchy!” (Chilton, to Hannibal, in response to his
magazine article debunking the former’s book length defense of the latter’s
insanity.)
*“That would have been your lip I
was tasting. Again.” (Hannibal, to Alana, theorizing what would’ve happened if
she had filled Chilton’s role. I think this qualifies as being quantifiably
bitchy. Or, at the very least, funny.)
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