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Amanda’s Favorite Scene From the Hannibal Finale

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Editor’s Note: Amanda’s mom told us that she’d make sure her daughter delivered herHannibal commentary by Monday every week, and, by Jove, she did it.  Never before have so many crayons served such a grisly purpose.  Enjoy Amanda’s last drawing and observations before Hannibal returns next year.

Ahhh!  AHHHH!!!  This show! This magnificent, twisted, heartf**k of a show!

To review: Jack Crawford and Will Graham have this wonderful plan to catch Hannibal in the act of killing, but Kade Prurnell puts a stop to that because she is the head of the FBI’s Department of Total Buzzkills, Come On! So Jack goes to Hannibal’s death dinner anyway, because when your show needs a badass, you cast Lawrence Fishburne.

Hannibal, meanwhile, thinks that Will is on his side because fishing metaphor. In preparation for the night’s big kill, Will helps Hannibal burn all his patients’ notes, including the notes on Will which include the clock drawing and numerous scribbling of “Dr. and Mr. Lecter-Graham *heart* *heart* *heart*”. You think I’m kidding, but look at the way Hannibal smells Will:

Friends don’t smell friends like that. Friends don’t smell friends at all. That’s just not a thing that friends do. If you notice a friend trying to smell you, you would stop being friends with that friend. Then again, if we are trying to assign a sense of propriety to a man who murders and eats people for the lulz, maybe…no. It’s still weird.

Hannibal’s impeccable nose palate recognizes the scent of Freddie Lounds, whom Will visited earlier that day. Freddie, as you may remember, is assumed to be dead, and it was arranged to appear that Will murdered her. So, Lecter now knows that Will is actively betraying him and probably plotting his downfall. Hannibal also realizes that he does have a heart, because it’s breaking.

Et tu, murder boyfriend?

Jack goes over to Hannibal’s house for the dinner party of doom, and that’s when things get freaking brutal. We get to see that amazing Hannibal/Jack fight again (THAT SUPLEX, YOU GUYS!), but that is absolutely nothing compared to what follows. Hannibal stabs Jack in the neck, and Jack just barely makes it into the pantry for safety. It’s just at the moment when Hannibal is flinging his bloody body against the pantry door when Alana Bloom shows up to bring the heat.

Alana: WHAT NOW? WHAT NOW, YOU PEOPLE-EATING MOTHERF- *click*. What the- ?? *click* *click* *click*

Hannibal: I took your bullets, LOL.

Alana: *cliiick?*

The chase is on! Hannibal walks after Alana slowly, and Alana makes the classic horror movie blunder of going up the stairs when she should have run out the door. She puts fresh bullets into her gun’s…bullet holding…thing? I don’t know much about guns. Anyway, Alana’s ready to blow Hannibal’s fancy head off his well-tailored shoulders when a movement in the shadows catches her attention.

Wait. No.

NO! WHAT? IT’S ABIGAIL! ABIGAIL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD! OH MY GOD, THIS SHOW!

My boyfriend and I have gotten into various heated discussions about Abigail’s fate. He believed that she was still alive and being held somewhere like Miriam Lass. I sincerely thought that Hannibal had killed Abigail, and I really thought that when she first appeared in this episode she was some sort of hallucination. I think Alana assumed as much, too. Then Abigail pushes her out the window. Oh, Abigail.

Will arrives on the scene. Yay, Will! Will’s gonna fix everything, as long as long Will doesn’t get mindf**ked by Hannibal one last time.

Oh.

Ohhhh.

You know, I like to joke about how completely unsubtle the homoeroticism is on this show, but kudos to Hugh Dancy and Mads Mikkelson for not being afraid to go to that level of intense intimacy. They really bring this incredibly complex, obsessive and unhealthy relationship to life, and I salute them. We, Fannibals all, salute them.

So, Hannibal, the lover scorned, guts Will like a fish (metaphor, drink!) and throws Will’s betrayal back in his face. “I let you know me. See me. I gave you a rare gift, but you didn’t want it.” YOU TOLD HIM HE WAS THE ONLY ONE, WILL. Then, as a final “f**k you”, Hannibal slits Abigail’s throat for Will to see. Empath that, Will. Smell ya later.

Hannibal then walks into the rain, leaving everyone he loves dead or dying all over his nice floors. Jack tries calling his wife, Bella, one last time as he bleeds out, Alana lays in a broken heap on the front porch, and Will and Abigail writhe around in their collective blood puddles. Even the Ravenstag shuffles loose his mortal coil. Hannibal? Hannibal could give a f**k. He just throws on his coat and struts out into the night, completely unmoved by the carnage he has just wrought.

Then, this:

AHHHHHHH, WHAT???!

JUST TINKLY PIANO MUSIC AND FLUFFY CLOUDS AND CREDITS?? SERIOUSLY, WHAAAAAT???!!?!

We have, at least, one more scene after the credits before Season Two ends. We see Hannibal on a plane, sipping bubbly, heading for Europe, and guess who’s sitting next to him?

OOOOOOHHHHH MYYYY GOOOOOOOOOODDDD!!!!

Do you want to know what really horrible? This episode was shot and in the can before Bryan Fuller and co. knew they were going to be renewed for a third season. If NBC had not picked Hannibal up again, this is how the whole series could have ended. Sweet Crispy Jesus, this show.

And that is it for this season. We had highs, we had lows. We had tree men and bee men and bear men (oh my!). We had guys sewn into giant murals, we had guys bursting through horse stomachs, we had Mason Verger. Many people died, some for the second or third time. Attractive dinners were made and enjoyed. There was the fivesome that nearly destroyed us all. We worried for the dogs. Mostly, though, we learned a very valuable lesson: if your relationship is entirely based around how much you and your boyfriend love murder, you should probably get out of that relationship.

Hannibal, everybody!

Amanda LaPergola lives, writes, and sometimes even acts in New York City. She tweets at @LaPergs. You can see her previous Hannibal illustrations here.


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