Hannibal 2.1: Kaiseki


Hannibal airs Fridays at 10pm on NBC

HEY Y’ALL! It’s been a while! I hope you’ve been well. Me and my flower crown and my kitchen knife have been doing pretty good. Waiting patiently and DEFINITELY not eating any human fleshes. None whatsoever. Not even during ritual sacrifices to somehow speed up time to bring season 2 to us faster.


Hannibal serenely slices a hunk of tasty meat in his kitchen. Jack walks slowly through the doorway, looking like something vital has been ripped out of him. Hannibal can smell the betrayal and lays his knife carefully over the salad bowl, making a very sad face. Neither of them say anything, but when Jack goes for his gun, Hannibal hurls the knife across the kitchen and into Jack’s gun hand.

SWEET JESUS I KNEW IT WAS COMING BUT I WAS CAUGHT UNAWARES BECAUSE I DIDN’T ACTUALLY WATCH THE PREVIEW. The most glorious fight scene in recent t.v. memory ensues, extra excellent because it makes the most of both actors’ physicality. Fishburne is big, solid, and incredibly powerful–even his fake stage blows look like they land hard–but precise and elegant; Mikkelsen is agile and fast, calculating and mean, and his dancer’s background translates really nicely into something vicious here. It’s a great fight because it’s not just Fishburne’s size v. Mikkelsen’s speed, which is lazy choreography. It’s two very athletic and strong dudes fighting for their lives (Jack is clearly not planning on taking Hannibal in at this point), and while it’s as pretty and graceful as a choreographed fight should be, it’s also desperate and nasty and looks like it hurts. BONUS: Jack does this hot knife flip halfway through and I was like :o :o :O

PROTIP: if you want to play with flipping around kitchen knives for funsies, put a few layers of duct tape over the blade and tip for safety. DON’T FRONT LIKE YOU DON’T WANT TO.

(If you’re interested in another excellent fight scene that subverts the big/strong and small/quick dichotomy for fights, two of my favorite martial artists/actors, Sammo Hung and Donnie Yen, had this one in SPL. Sammo Hung is husky and late-middle-aged and still moves like a Navy SEAL and a ballerina having sex, it’s incredible.)

Jack manages to flip Hannibal onto his own back like a sack of handsome yams. He then leverage-strangles (the ol’ dangle-strangle) the absolute shit out of him with his tie, and when Hannibal stops struggling, he lets him down and breathes hard into his hair, exhausted and probably hurting from when knife went through his hand like 60 seconds ago and then he KEPT PUNCHING WITH IT.

What he probably should have done is just carried Hannibal all the way to Quantico slung over his back like that, because Hannibal was faking. Go ahead and see how long you can strangle yourself for, guys, because I can assure you it takes longer than 15 seconds to pass out.


While Jack sensually breathes onto Hannibal’s head, Hannibal picks up a palm-sized shard of broken glass off of the floor and plants it into Jack’s carotid.

jack's like "HWARARHGHG" and hannibal's like "eh, mondays."

jack’s like “HWARARHGHG” and hannibal’s like “sigh, mondays!”

Jack lets go of Hannibal and stumbles, bleedingly, into Hannibal’s wine cubby to gasp and head toward the light a little bit. Hannibal, a knife in each hand, runs back and forth to the door to try and open it. If I was Jack, and I knew I was about to get murdered, I would break as many of those fancy-ass wine bottles as I could. Just smash ’em all up so that when Hannibal finally got in I could just slowly raise both of my middle fingers from the middle of a puddle worth like twenty thousand dollars, plus whatever a bunch of my blood would have sold for.

This is why I would not only not make it out of this situation alive, but would in fact be exterminated with far more prejudice than anyone Hannibal has ever murdered.

Hannibal finally just hurls his entire goddamn body into the doors. There is nothing refined about Hannibal; all his cooking skills and fancy dinner parties are just a disguise for the fact that he’s an animal.

All of that brings us to a black screen that says TWELVE WEEKS EARLIER. We’re four fucking minutes in! This is too much.


Hannibal cuts up some more meat (some kind of white fish, as opposed to the red meat from the flash-forward), dips sea urchin into lemon water, and plates up something pretty.

“This dish is called mukozuke.” Hannibal says as he serves one of the plates to a concerned-looking Jack. “Seasonal sashimi of sea urchin, water clam, and squid.”


Janice Poon gives a thorough and entertaining breakdown of this episode’s featured foods here!

Jack compliments Hannibal’s presentation (Hannibal is also wearing a cute light suit that’s probably one of my favorites ever shown on the show), and Hannibal tells him that kaiseki–a Japanese multi-coursed meal–is an “art form that honors the taste and aesthetic of what we eat.” Jack says he almost feels guilty eating it.

“I never feel guilty eating anything.” Hannibal answers with a smirk. I hear you, man, but maybe you should feel a little bit guilty about like one or two of the things you have eaten.

Jack can’t place the fish; Hannibal informs him “he was a flounder.” Janice Poon’s blog mentions bleaching meat, so we can assume the flounder was a dude.

Hannibal says he last made the meal for his Aunt Murasaki under “similarly unfortunate circumstances.”

“A loss.” Hannibal continues. “This is a loss. Will is a loss, and we are mourning a death.”

“Will’s death is on me, not you.”

Hannibal says it’s on both of them. Jack laments that Will is going to be on trial for five murders while Jack himself is only on trial for one, being the metaphorical murder of Will when Will gets death penaltied. Hannibal halfheartedly tries to console Jack by reminding him that he’s not actually going to be on trial, but Jack maintains that being judged at the FBI will be pretty terrible, too, and that Hannibal’s also going to be under scrutiny. Hannibal asserts that Will, as “[Jack’s] bloodhound,” did point to him, and he should be investigated for both their sakes.

Jack’s like “DUDE I KNOW DON’T YOU THINK I HAVE BEEN WEIGHING THE VALUE OF INVESTIGATING YOU THOROUGHLY VS. NOT OFFENDING YOU TO THE POINT WHERE YOU NO LONGER MAKE ME DINNER,” which would be my central internal conflict, were I in Jack’s place. He’s concerned that investigating Hannibal might not be that worthwhile, since Will fingered him after going crazy. Then he also said Hannibal did it.


“We can’t define Will only by his maddest edges.” Hannibal reasons.

Jack answers “We can’t define Will at all.”


Will, in a cute fishing outfit, flyfishes in the middle of a river.

will graham fashion inspiration: erotic field & stream centerfold

will graham fashion inspiration: erotic field & stream centerfold

IRL, Will is sitting in one of a series of little cages, zoned out as Chilton drones on. Will’s asks WTF Chilton’s brain was just crapping out of his mouth.

“I said how does that make you feel?” Chilton repeats.

“I feel like I’m sitting in a dunking tank, and you’re lobbing softballs, hoping to make a splash…but you keep missing the target.” This is a very mundane and obvious metaphor, and I’m extremely worried about Will’s deterioration.

Chilton smugly reminds Will that Will’s his patient, and Will smugly reminds Chilton that Chilton sucks butts.

“I’m not talking to you, Frederick. I want to talk to Dr. Lecter.” Will then closes his eyes and goes back into his happy place. Unfortunately, the wendigo is also there.




Missed you!


Alana and Jack are in a meeting with Kade Purnell (Cynthia Nixon), a representative of the FBI’s oversight committee. She’s there because Alana filed a report re: Jack’s oversights re: putting Will in the field. Purnell is very obviously not interested in pursuing an investigation, warning Alana that an oversight investigator only comes in after the battle’s over to “bayonet the wounded.” Jack seems resigned to the whole thing, which I appreciate. Purnell seems very sketch, though, and tells Alana point-blank that she’d appreciate it if Alana recanted her statement.

Alana, obviously, is like hahahahaha NO. “Will Graham’s life has been destroyed! How that happened has to be a matter of record!” She then apologizes quietly to Jack, who tells Purnell “Dr. Bloom is not easily swayed.”

“This is going to get ugly,” Purnell warns.

“It already is.” Jack answers.


Two bros in fluorescent yellow safety shirts poke through a river with sticks. One of them asks if there was a storm, and the other responds that someone was probably blowing up beaver dams. What kind of asshole do you have to be to blow up beaver dams? Those beavers are just doing their best to eat wood and live in moist huts that they built themselves. Beavers are American Heroes.

One of the guys goes ahead and starts stabbing around close to the waterfall. He remarks that it smells over there, and the other guy’s like “It’s probably dead beavers.”


this is the exact moment when his fisherman waders FILLED UP with frightened poops

this is the exact moment when his fisherman waders FILLED UP with frightened poops

The man spends some time shrieking and flailing around in the water as more bodies pop up around him. Eventually he flings himself back over to his buddy and they run, probably crying, to go call the FBI.


“WILL GRAHAM HAS ASKED TO SEE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!” Hannibal shrieks. “I WOULD LIKE TO SEE HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I continue to be curious about the way he thinks,” Hannibal adds as he sits in the chair across from Bedelia. “Despite all that’s happened.”

“He’s still influencing you.” Bedelia tells him. “Will Graham asking to see you betrays his clear intent to manipulate you.”

“And if I agree to see Will?”

“It betrays your clear intent to manipulate him.”

“I miss him.” Hannibal says.

POP QUIZ HOTSHOT. There’s a dude that you like. Once the dude’s brain gets inflamed, he goes nuts. If he goes nuts, you can either be a good friend or just frame him for five murders you committed. What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?

“You are obsessed with Will Graham.” Bedelia informs him.

“I’m intrigued.” Hannibal tries to correct.

“OBSESSIVELY.” Bedelia says, totally disdainful. Haha, I can’t wait for her to turn on him. “And he will take advantage of that.”

“Will is my friend.” Hannibal says, half-firmly and half-uncomfortably.

Bedelia: lmao naaah

She asks why Hannibal thinks Will is his friend. Hannibal’s like, I’ve already made “IDK, my BFF Will.” jokes and he’s laughed appreciatively! Bedelia’s like Cingular doesn’t even exist anymore, Hannibal. You’re delusional.

“He sees his own mentality as grotesque, but useful. Like a chair of antlers. He can’t repress who he is. There’s an honesty in that I admire.”

“I imagine there’s an honesty in that you can relate to. What can’t you repress, Hannibal?”

Apparently, the answer to that is a series of 683 creepy little microexpressions that fly across his face as he thinks about Will some more.


Will’s eyes close as the door buzzes Hannibal in down the hallway. A little deer foot pops around the corner before Hannibal materializes at the cell bars.

“Hello, Will.”

“Dr. Lecter.”

“Lost in thought?”

“Not lost. Not anymore.” Will pauses. “I used to hear my thoughts, inside my skull, with the same tone, timbre, accent, as if the words were coming out of my mouth.”

“And now?”

“Now…my inner voice sounds like you.”



“I can’t get you out of my head.” Will says, smiling bitterly.

“Friendship can sometimes involve a breach of individual separateness.” Hannibal reasons, hiding his amigoboner with his coat.

Will’s like fuck what? “You’re not my friend. The light from friendship won’t reach us for a million years. That’s how far away from friendship we are.”

Hannibal’s all /trombone noise “I imagine it’s easier to believe I am responsible for those murders than it is to accept that you are.”

Will: SURE IS.

Hannibal feeds him some bullshit about his inner voice freeing his spiritual truths or whatever, but Will is VERY PISSED and warns Hannibal: “What you did to me is in my head. And I will find it. I’m going to remember, Dr. Lecter, and when I do, there will be a reckoning.”

Instead of being like “lol you reckon?,” Hannibal just says “I have huge faith in you, Will. I always have.”

They stare at each other for eleven more sexually charged hours.


Hannibal’s cheek is getting swabbed, but in closeup it LOOKS like the glistening skin of some wrinkly balls.

KATZ! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! TOO MUCH! I’m so glad it looks like she’ll play a bigger role in this season.

Hannibal swoops in behind her really entirely too close for my comfort and is like “I’M AMAZED THAT WE LEAVE EVIDENCE EVERYWHERE WE GO, DOES MINE MATCH ANYTHING, NOT THAT IT WILL, LOL BUT DOES IT.”

He tells Katz he tries to leave “an indelible mark wherever I go.”

Katz says “Hopefully not with your DNA.”

This is one of SEVERAL reasons that masturbating onto every available surface or sprinkling pubes everywhere you go is a bad idea.

Hannibal asks how long they’re going to have his suits, and Katz tells him he should probably think about supplementing his wardrobe. “I often do.” Hannibal tells her, like the richest asshole in the world.

Katz reminds him that nobody’s expecting to find anything except for Will.

“He’ll have to be disappointed.” Hannibal says.

Katz makes a great face:


They briefly discuss the certainty of forensics vs. the intuition and guesswork of psychiatry, Hannibal attempting to up his charm and flattery levels, but Katz is having none of it.

“You were supposed to protect him.” she says.

“From himself?” Hannibal asks incredulously.

“Yeah.” GO KATZ. It’s like she’s the only one at the Bureau who remembers what Hannibal was actually there for/failed to do. “I’m not mad at you, not any more than I’m mad at myself. We all missed it, whatever it was. Is.”

Hannibal, making what might go down in history as the bitchiest face of all time, says “We are not all suspects.”

“You’re not a suspect. You’re the new Will Graham.”


Hannibal approaches the crime scene in slow motion. The camera stays on the back of Katz’s head as she walks in front of him for a long time. Too long. I am uncomfortable with this. Make Hannibal stop looking at her.

Jack and Hannibal greet each other. Jack says he hopes Hannibal can help develop a psychological profile. I mean, I know it’s a show and they have to have some way of keeping Hannibal in the middle of the action, but logically there is no grounds for Hannibal having anything to do with this. He’s a psychiatrist, not a profiler. Jack IS a profiler, and Alana presumably has experience as well, so…what.

Hannibal glares down at the rotten corpses that were pulled out of the river and is like “Who would waste food like this? There are cannibals going hungry in Baltimore.”

Jack explains that they’ve been coated with some kind of resin, and Katz elaborates that one of them “was partially sealed, rotting from the inside out,” and that the other three appear to have been embalmed.

“Whatever he’s doing, he’s still figuring out how to do it.” Jack says.

“Were they injected with silicone?” Hannibal asks, peering closely at the bodies.

Katz confirms that they were injected with something, and Hannibal explains that silicone is used to make those stuffed fish keep their shape when they end up hanging on the walls at your uncle’s house. Not the singing ones. Devilry was used to make those.

“He’s making human models.” Hannibal tells them.

Jack says “You make models of things you want to keep. These were tossed in the river.”

“Maybe they were imperfect.” Hannibal suggests.

“These are his discards.”


Hannibal signs his name on a form and hands it to Bedelia, saying “I’m giving you informed consent to discuss me as your patient.”

Bedelia’s like “no ew i don’t want it.”

“With whom?” she asks.

“Jack Crawford.”

She’s confused, but Hannibal explains that he’s not only under investigation, he’s also filled Will’s slot. (And then taken his position at the FBI.)

“I got to be Will Graham today,” Hannibal tells her, arguably giddy, unarguably with a solid half-chub. “I consulted at an FBI crime scene. I stood in Will’s shoes, looked through his eyes, and I saw death…how I imagined he would see it.”

w o w

w o w

Bedelia asks why he’s inviting the scrutiny of the FBI.

“I’m being as open and honest as I know how.”

“You maintain an air of transparency, while putting me in a position to lie for you.” Bedelia–correctly–ascertains. “Again.”

“You’re not just lying for me.” Hannibal answers curtly, with a pointed look. CAN WE PLEASE FIND OUT EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED OH MY GOD.

Bedelia asks how far this “flirtation” with the FBI is going to go, and Hannibal non-answers by saying that Jack is less suspicious of him than Bedelia herself was.

“Jack Crawford doesn’t know what you’re capable of.”

Hannibal, with this kind of unsmiling smile–like a negasmile, maybe–says “Neither do you.”

Bedelia: gulp and also ugh


FINALLY, THE UPDATE WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. Alana runs around adorably with all 410 of Will’s dogs.


Alana gives Will the update he’s been waiting for, also about his 850 dogs. Alana says they’re all adjusting except for Winston, who keeps running away. Will asks where he goes, and Alana smiles sadly when she says “Home.”

that is the face of a dog who is looking for vengeance (or a ball that rolled under the couch)

that is the face of a dog who is looking for vengeance (or a ball that rolled under the couch)

Will, hilariously unhappy, probably making plans to dig a tunnel that connects his cell to Alana’s house so the dogs can come and visit him: Well, he’s not gonna find me there.

Alana steers the conversation toward Will’s current legal issues. Will keeps firing his lawyers because they’re all FBI lawyers, and Alana promises to find him someone who isn’t affiliated with the Bureau.

Will asks what defense she thinks he has. “Automatism.” Alana answers, that Will wasn’t at fault because he wasn’t mentally present for any of the murders. HE WASN’T PHYSICALLY PRESENT EITHER BUT WHATEVER.

Alana tries to convince him that he had no control over his actions and can’t even remember them, and Will asks “What if I could remember them? What if I could remember how this was done to me?”

“You believe Hannibal.” Will says, betrayed.

“I believe the Will Graham standing in front of me is incapable of that violence. I believe you lost your mind, and for periods of time, you weren’t the Will Graham that I know.”

We see that Chilton is watching the whole exchange on a laptop, looking concerned. I bet all the books on his shelf are those fake ones like they have in model homes.

Will says “I hear Hannibal’s voice, in the well of my mind. I hear him saying words he’s never said to me.”



“Have you ever helped a patient recover memories?” Will asks.


Will watches a glowy metronome–nice callback to the pendulum thing in the first season!–while Alana tells him soothing hypnosis words. I hope she makes him act like a chicken in addition to whatever crimesolving psychiatric junk they do.

Soon enough, Will is hypnotized, and Alana is a smoky shadowmonster and turns into ink when she kisses him, flowing around his head. It’s a cool and pretty effect. Will wakes up at the world’s squirmiest dinner table, with a bunch of gross wiggly snake-filled foods separating him from the wendigo. He looks down at his plate and finds a single ear, and that startles him out of his hypnosis.

He stops the metronome, shaken, and Alana tries in vain to get him to talk about what he saw.


Hannibal stares imperiously across his dining room at Chilton, who in turn is staring at that weirdass painting Hannibal has of Swan Zeus peeking at Leda’s vajeeper.

Hannibal has made salted and ash-baked celeriac for Chilton to eat, since Gideon popped out his kidney and now he can’t process proteins too good. “You have tested me.” Hannibal says. “It’s rare that I cook a meatless meal.” Haha, he can’t keep the annoyance out of his voice. Adorable. Also, that sounds way disgusting. If I were Chilton, I would definitely risk kidney failure by stopping for some chicken nuggets on the way home from Hannibal’s house. blugh.

“One can grow to love beets.” Chilton says, and the preliminary award for most hilarious line delivery of the season goes to Raul Esparza.

Chilton tells Hannibal that Alana came to visit, and expresses his displeasure that he’s the only one Will won’t talk to. “Makes me feel like I’m fumbling with his head, like a freshman pulling at a pantygirdle.” Um, were you trying to fuck a lot of grandmas in high school, Chilton? High school was nice because almost nobody felt the need to smush themselves into pantygirdles (or Spanx, for those of us not visiting from 1955). Get it together.

“Will is going to be a challenge for any psychiatrist.”

“He is so lucid, so perceptive. Trained in criminal psychology, and a mass murderer.” All the things I look for in a man. “He’s a prize patient. Or should be.”

Chilton shares the deets of Alana’s visit. Hannibal tensely asks if Alana was successful in pulling any of his memories up, but Chilton says no. Mainly because that’s not a real thing you can do. “You do realize you’re his favorite topic of conversation. Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal. Not with me, of course, but with anyone else who’ll listen. He tells everyone that you are a monster.”

Hannibal, smug: “Well, in that case…you are dining with a psychopathic murderer, Frederick.”

"I'm not kidding. The ash I used to cook with are the remains of some guy who called my hair weird." "Haha, Hannibal, you scamp!"

“I’m not kidding. The ashes I used to cook with are the remains of this guy at the farmer’s market who called my hair ‘dictator-y.'” “Haha, Hannibal, you rapscallion!”


The camera stalks its way through the crowded subway car and comes to stop on a startlingly beautiful man hanging onto one of the poles. Some other dude’s hand plants down firmly on his, and he pulls his away politely.

“You have nice skin.” says the owner of whoever’s POV we’re in. Not a lie! But the startlingly beautiful man’s only reaction is a mildly irritated look.

This is possibly in the top three spooky moments of the series so far, mainly because: who HASN’T had something like this happen? Every time I get creeped on (I work retail in Florida, and I’m not cute but I’ve got most of my teeth, so it happens a lot), I assume the person doing it wants to turn me into a meat puppet. This attitude has kept me alive and unkidnapped thus far, but someday my luck might run out. I’ll probably end up wearing a bonnet and petticoats in some white guy’s basement bunker, stuck having an eternal tea party with a bunch of stuffed animals and his mother’s taxidermied corpse. In the event of this happening, I’ve made the executive decision that I’d rather be killed immediately than, like, kept. I’m really annoying, so it shouldn’t be too hard to make sure I get machete’d ASAP.

WHAT WERE WE TALKING ABOUT? Oh yeah. Later that evening, the startlingly beautiful man’s car alarm starts going off. There is also plastic hanging out of the trunk. He can see the car clearly from the doorway to his building, and can probably see the plastic and the fact that there’s literally nothing around that could have set off the alarm, but apparently it doesn’t cross his mind to NOT go out into the darkness to check things out. Like he hits his panic button and turns off the alarm and then walks over to the car, opens the trunk to gaze in confusion at the plastic, and gets kidnapped in his own car.

These are all things you do when you want to get texas chainsaw massacred, friday the thirteenthed, wrong turned, etc.

He wakes up in a daze and gets shot up with heroin by this Bruce Jenner-looking motherfucker. He’s laced through his skin with something and then sprayed down, and is conscious for all of it.


Price and Fuckin’ Zeller! missed u.

Zeller explains that there’s no real connective tissue between the victims they pulled out of the river, except that they all went missing with their cars. They’ve all been coated with a color preservative so they look “alive,” and have eyelets in their flesh, presumably so they could be strung up or displayed somehow. The killer injects them with silicone and preservatives and then coats the skin with resin. They’re also full of enough horse to kill a…horse.

They can’t figure out how the killer is choosing his victims, so Jack orders a list of missing persons in the surrounding states who disappeared with their vehicles. A lot of dads who disappeared and went to live with their second families in Maryland just went like shit.


Ugh, eternal heartbreak. Katz goes to Will, polite but guarded, and Will is SO HAPPY TO SEE HER but she’s–reasonably, I’d never fault her for this–only there for professional reasons, and keeping a lid on her personal feelings. MY PRECIOUS DARLINGS. Katz says she’s compartmentalizing, and Will understands, but is heartbroken all the same.

“A lot of people are missing.” she tells him. His face falls so hard I’m surprised it’s still attached to his head.

“Do you have the file?” he asks eventually.


“And pictures?” This line is delivered really weirdly, like he’s got someone else’s severed finger hidden on or in his body somewhere.


These caps of their faces don’t QUITE convey the awkwardness of this scene, but they’re good faces, so they can be here regardless.

Katz hands a bunch of photos over, and admits that the BAU has no idea how the victims are being chosen. Will takes a moment to rearrange a bunch of the most attractive DMV pictures in history around on the table, sickly white/light haired people at one end, gradiating into deep brown/dark haired people at the other.

“It’s a color palette.” Will says.

Katz doesn’t go like “lol ok racist” like I would have.


A bored orderly (borederly) pushes a food cart to Will’s cell and passes him a tray.

clockwise from top left: rock, gronbons, CUP OF PEE, meat flap, mush perderder

clockwise from top left: rock, gronbons, CUP OF PEE, meat flap, mush perderder

It doesn’t look too bad, but you’d think with apparently just ONE INMATE WHO IS WILL, they might be able to splurge a little on the protein, instead of just flattening out whatever someone found on the roadside while driving into work that morning and then covering it in canned gravy.

Poor Hugh Dancy, he doesn’t get to eat any of the tasty food Janice Poon makes :(

Will zones out while chewing (or it just takes him ten minutes to chew one bite, which is also possible), makes a squeaky noise, and has a black and white flashback to OH GOD HE FLASHES BACK TO HOW ABIGAIL’S EAR GOT IN HIM.

Hannibal, after drugging him, shoves a fucking inch-wide feeding tube down his esophagus and jams the ear all the way down into his stomach. It’s violent and really gross and painful looking. Like very nasty. They’re not really similar, but watching the scene and the claustrophobic way it was filmed, all I could think of was the movie Irréversible (which is famous for its unnecessary and distressing 59865486798 minute rape/beating scene). It’s unpleasant, but effectively disturbing enough to convey exactly the level of violation Will (and the audience by proxy, since we’re in his head with him) feels upon remembering it.

Will panics and coughs up his food, which briefly turns into an ear before he calms down.


Jack stands in his living room and sighs. He notices Winston waiting on the front porch and goes out to talk to him, saying “I suppose you blame me, too.”

Winston’s like, “Nah, I blame Hannibal, but I might change my mind if you don’t get me some kibbles ASAP.”

Alana comes over to find Jack cuddling with Winston on Will’s bed, and sits down with them. Jack gently chides that Alana needs to take better care of the pups. She says she got them all chipped, and that at least they’re not running away where she can’t find them.

2 beautiful hand pets me, yet i wish only for daddy

2 beautiful hand pets me, yet i wish only for daddy

“He’s just looking for Will.” Jack says, and I feel like Laurence Fishburne loves dogs because he has an “i am talking to a dog yay” voice that betrays this.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Alana asks.

Jack nods. “I understand why you felt you needed to file that report. You questioned my judgement when it needed to be questioned.” he tells her honestly.

“Yes, it did.” she answers.

“And it will help in Will’s defense if it’s in the record.” I’m glad they’re adults about this. I love Jack, and will probably always love Jack.

They lament that Will is more interested in bringing Hannibal down than helping himself. Jack asks Alana to convince him that Will’s not guilty, and she tells him that a true psychopath wouldn’t be so afraid of the truth. She says, sadly “If Will never remembers what he did, he’ll never accept the truth.” Jack, Alana, and Winston mope REALLY hard, probably for another hour or two, in Will’s house. Which has not been aired out for a few weeks and most likely still has a lingering dog and fishing equipment stank. I’m surprised they are alive after such prolonged exposure.


Will flyfishes in his dreams some more, even though that didn’t turn out so good last time. He’s dragged out of it and back into the


by Jack’s voice saying his name, and Jack waving to him. He looks at Jack when Jack asks where he was.

“Gone fishin’.” Will answers with a tiny sad smile. It’s shades of the very first episode, where Will was twitchy and hiding behind his glasses. Now he’s twitchy and in a cell. NEW YEAR NEW ME.

They discuss Will’s new memory, which Jack deems “meaningless.” And it is, legally, which is how Jack has to look at it if he wants to distance himself emotionally from Will. Will says it’s not meaningless to him. Jack impatiently says they’ve investigated Hannibal thoroughly and found nothing. Which…is actually a lot more proactive about Will’s claims on the FBI’s part than I would have thought.

“You stood over Cassie Boyle’s body in that field and you described yourself.”

“I described Hannibal Lecter.”

“I can’t hear this anymore.” Jack says, frustrated.

“I am not the intelligent psychopath you’re looking for.” Will answers, also frustrated.

Jack can’t even look at him. “Goodbye, Will.” Jack says, and walks away.

Will calls after him “You may not believe me now, but you will.” Just like what Hannibal said to Will in the first episode.





Our startlingly beautiful young man wakes up inside a silo (so much for a lethal dose of heroin) and looks around, finds that a) he is glued to himself in the stupidest pose ever and b) he is surrounded by the resin-coated corpses of like 40 people. He starts screaming, a lot.



But we made it! We’re back! Things are looking to be pretty awesome for the remainder of this season, and I’m looking forward to sharing it with you guys each week. SEE YOU THIS FRIDAY FOR WHAT IS SURE TO BE MORE FROLICSOME MURDER AND DELIGHTFUL GASLIGHTING!