Bryan Fuller's stylish, serialized NBC adaptation of the Hannibal novels ended last month after the conclusion of the famous "Red Dragon" storyline. Fans of the show are now left caught between suspended mourning and grateful closure. How long until Netflix or Amazon picks Hannibal up for additional episodes? Or perhaps we should just be glad there were 3 seasons at all -- since it's not often something as gory, strange, and character-driven survives so long on a broadcast channel.
To cope with Hannibal's premature cancellation and (quite literal) season 3 cliffhanger, I have lovingly combed through my favorite cinematographic moments and compiled them here. The show's aesthetic, in a nutshell: overlapping silhouettes, negative space, golden light, extreme closeups, shadow-play, symmetry too perfect to feel natural, and terrifying visual metaphors.
The great beauty of Hannibal's visuals is the sense they convey of the ordinary gone horribly wrong. It is the beauty of a dream so subtly strange that ends in screaming oneself awake but being unable to remember the reason for terror. All that is left is a racing pulse and turning stomach -- the body's memory of recent fear. In that way, the world of Hannibal is an uncanny dreamscape that threatens to rupture the aesthetic appreciation we develop for its stylish setups. Something, we are constantly reminded, is off. A tree blooms in a parking lot, and a mushroom garden grows in a forest. But we know that if we look closer, we will surely discover there are bodies in the tree and bodies in the garden.
And all around is sickness. The dreamscape is fevered; it is shot through with pallor, cold sweat, and a diseased green tinge. Forget Denmark, something is rotten right here in Maryland, and we feel it in the bones of each scene.