so I’ve finally started watching Hannibal approximately 50 years after everyone else (I have terrible anxiety and was worried the psychological and gore aspects would trigger some stuff, which it kind of has but w/e) and holy shit. what a show. WHAT A SHOW.
to put things into perspective, I started this a couple of days ago and am now on episode 3 of season 2. I cannot stop watching it, despite Netflix’s best attempts at sabotage (really, fam? only one season? 2 years after it finished?)
the humour is perfectly measured, the cinematography is sublime, the acting is [mcpoyle voice] top notch, the soundtrack is both fantastically eerie (the plink plonks! the low rumbling that seems to reverberate inside my head and could so easily be overbearing but isn’t) and joyously bombastic (beethoven! bach! stravinsky!), the meticulously crafted dishes that have inspired me to start cooking again (though admittedly with a slightly tweaked list of ingredients), the fascinating and peculiar relationship dynamics, the desaturated colour palette, the fact that there aren’t any unnecessarily lingering shots of naked women’s mutilated bodies (I’m looking at you, GoT), hugh dancy’s sad little face, the anachronistic bespoke suits, the dogs, the CHEEKBONES. just. all of it.
I cannot wait to discover how all of this unfolds and how the characters develop and I’m already dreading its inevitable, unjust end.
so let’s just finish this with a gif of my favourite part from the previous episode
oh hannibal, you cheeky fucker! rocking up in your vinyl kill suit
to appreciate a nice new avant-garde installation, like a shoreditch hipster version of patrick bateman!
I love you.